A Smile

2. The Mechanical Fist

2. The Mechanical Fist

   "Fight, Fight, Fight, Fight-!" the crowd roared with anticipation so loud, I could here them from my dressing room. Me, Marcus and my coach was sitting on a small sofa talking tactics. I was wearing my mask around my face. It covered my milky skin like a ninjas would- everywhere but the eyes-my dull grey eyes- my ginger hair popped out the material in a bouncy ponytail and the temperature of the room was cool so my face did heat up in the mask.

It was late, around 7 and the fight didn't start for another twenty minuets, yet the crowd were rearing to go- they wouldn't think that in my view. But I was actually quite famous in this little town- Ginger, the best female fighter. But that just wasn't good enough for coach's eyes, he wanted to prove that I could even win in the male fights; thus tonight's fight.

Coach thought that if I won The Mechanical Fist, I could get some serious publicity. I sighed.

"he wants to demean you" coach advised; he was a tall skinny bloke, never fought a day in his life, but, god was he good at reading people. He had brown fluffy hair and soft blue eyes, looked as though he couldn't hurt a fly "be defensive until he's tired out-"

I frowned before speaking up "I don't do defensive." I blurted out with my arms crossed, my foot tapping nervously on the grey carpet "If I'm going to fight- I'll do it right"

He sighed, running a small delicate hand through his fluffy hair "Ginger, come on... He's quite strong, and you have to win!"

I groaned, my hands rubbing my dry eyes. Coach didn't know my real name either, never mind who I was, or my family. I stood "I should get ready, coach, show yourself out" I smiled stiffly at the man; he nodded before standing and saying goodbyes.

"Just think about it" he muttered going out the door

I looked back at the door, my teeth clench and hands fisted at my sides "think about it my arse!" I hissed before turning to my outfit that was laid out on the chair. Picking it up, I turned to Marcus, my brother. His brown hair was styled on the top of his head and his blue eyes was hidden under a layer of eyelashes. He wore  white t-shirt under a red hoodie and wore tight blue jeans. A white starry stretcher went through his ear- not the gay one- and his headphones stuck out his ears "go get me a drink would ya?" I asked him "I'm a bit nervous..." I admitted shyly

Nodding, he stood "sure thing sis" he walked over to the door with a hunched walk and his hands stuffed into his pockets

As soon as the door clicked I changed into the shorts and crop top, trying to ignore my bruising from father dearest. Slowly, I wrapped my knuckles in think white bandages. My mind drifted to the upcoming fight; I wasn't looking forward to this fight. To put it bluntly; I was shitting it!

With attentive steps, I looked into the full length mirror on the wall, my eyes scanned over the tattoo on my side; This is what made Ginger, Ginger. See no one knew what I did with my spare time at school. No one knew that I was one of the best fighters- to them I just Myra. But to the fighting community, I'm known as Ginger; after my hair colour. I know what your thinking, Either:

That's mean!! Why would you like that??!!! OR Nice one! Classic GINGE!!

Well I can tell you now that it doesn't bother me. I used to being called Ginger and other names at home. And, well... The name kinda stuck once it was mentioned.

The tattoo was a tribal star design- It had nothing to do with being Ginger-but the people remember it... Somehow. But it gave me hope, it reminded me that if I didn't win I wouldn't just be disappointing myself, but also my many fans.  I plus the fact that I needed the money to pay for our house. I nodded to myself, for mental encouragement before turning away to see Marcus in the doorway holding a bottle of water. He tossed it to me. I caught it easily and quickly had a drink to calm my nerves "Thanks" I told him screwing the lid back on