Innocence is Overrated [ON HOLD]

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Chapter One

Yeah my sister is going to kill me.

If I get caught I will be in huge trouble. My sister specifically told me not to go out, but I still went anyways. I mean she may be my legal guardian but that doesn't mean I have to listen to everything she says. Luckily, due to the fact that half a bottle of tequila has already kicked in, I literally am laughing in the face of danger. Hell I can barely look straight.

I am currently sitting in the VIP section at an underground fight club next to another fighter named Lola Harley. She is beautiful; with her blonde hair and heart shaped face. She has big blue eyes that makes her look innocent, when in fact that girl is anything but. Currently, she is laughing her ass off at one of the fighters who accidentally tripped on stage and landed face first on the mat. Personally, I don't even know how she is a fighter.

"Chaos what are you doing here?"

I turn to a small African American man, almost as small as my grandpa Ernie and a little older. He is wearing steel-rimmed glasses, a newsboy cap on his head, and a gray fuzzy mustaches beneath his nose. Realizing who it is I leap out of my chair, grinning like a madman, and throw my arms around the man.

"Frankie I haven't seen you forever!" I shout as he wraps his arm around me and pats me on the back.

"Kid you saw me last week. That ain't forever."

I release him and let out a laugh. "Six days without your lovely advice on my technique is forever!"

Frankie has one of the sharpest eyes in fighting. He could inspect someone from head to toe and instantly decide if they had what it took to be a fighter. Once Frankie formed an opinion, whether it was about a person's viability in the ring or politics or basketball or any other issue, he would deliver his judgment with no sugar coating. He said it how it was.

Lucky for me, Frankie saw something in me those twelve years ago and agreed to train me. I started slowly, moving around the ring, getting used to the rhythm and movement, while he taught me how to use my hands and what to do with my feet - how to pivot and move, and how to get around and below a punch. Soon my brain and body began to work together; the first half strategically directing mechanics, the other executing orders on command, until the partnership became one homogeneous fighter, me.

He also taught me the difference between a regular match and a beating.

He explained that intent was everything and if an older fighter invited a younger one for some "sparring" the other fighter usually intended to treat the newbie like a heavy bag. The younger fighter was in there to serve as a moving target for the older one to work out whatever issues he was having with his right cross or whatever.

"Kid you need to get out of here," Frankie says, breaking me out of my thoughts.

Not only did Frankie teach me in mixed martial arts, he taught me literally every type of fighting known to mankind. Even the type that involves weapons, shooting guns, and killing someone.

"Why?"

He gives me a stern look and shakes his head. "Don't question me, just do it."

I nod my head slowly and get out of the chair, saying goodbye to Lola on the way. Frankie gives an annoyed grunt and grabs my arm, leading me through the crowd. "The cops are on their way. They're looking for you so, can't you go any faster?"

Immediately, I quicken my pace. The police have been looking for me for the past few months. They're trying to take down the whole underground fighting operation and to do that they're targeting the big fighters. Which just so happens to include me.