Short Stories

Sixteen: Combative

Adjective. ready or eager to fight

    The muffled sound of the roaring crowd in the building could be heard from the empty alleyway. I shuffled my feet nervously as I stood outside the door of the large cement building. My heart thumped hard against my chest, butterflies swarmed inside my stomach, and my hands were clammy and cold. Nonetheless, I couldn't back out now. Raising my hand to the door, I quickly rapped my knuckles against the door three times. I clasped my hands together nervously and rocked back and forth nervously on my heels as I awaited a response. A few seconds later the slit on the door slid open.

    "What are you doing here, scum?" Two angry, green eyes stared into mine. My throat, suddenly too dry, somehow croaked out, "to cause some trouble, obviously." The green eyes behind the door softened with recognition and closed the slit. A moment later, the door swung wide open and the eyes that appeared in the slit was in a short, blond-haired man. His dark, green eyes looked up at me, and he beckoned me inside with a wave of his muscular arm. Fixing my necklace, I stiffly walked inside and the door slammed shut behind me. As I continued walking forward, the sound of a roaring crowd became louder and filled every crevice of the seemingly never-ending hallway. And too soon did I reach a doorway that had people inside screaming and cheering for the two fighters in the middle. I squeezed my way through until I had reached the front of the crowd. The two fighters in the middle had bloodied knuckles and thick sheen of sweat built up on their skin. The fighter on the right had faded blue hair with appearing blue roots that was spiked up. Their face had a broken nose with a trail of blood leading down his chin and dripping onto the ground. His right eyes was swelled up and his chest was riddled with bruises. The fighter on the left had long brown hair tied back into a ponytail and a relatively clean face other then the slight swelling in his right cheek. But, his chest was littered with large bruises and his wrist was obviously sprained with the way that it swelled up. They fought with each other viciously as I slowly adjusted my necklace. I shakily breathed out and walked into the arena before the fighter on the left could make another kick.

    "Excuse me, gents, but I believe that this fight is, one, illegal and that, two, you both are injured badly. So, if you would just get on your knees and place your hands behind your head, that would greatly appreciated." I spoke out loudly. The fighters looked at me bewildered. Then, they looked at each other and back at me. The crowd and fighters all chuckled loudly.

    "What gives you the authority to place order over me?" The blue-haired boy sneered. I fished out a police badge and flashed it to him as I whistled loudly. Immediately from all parts of the crowd, hidden police stood up and held up guns and the crowd fell silent.

    "Now, if you all would get on your knees and place your hands behind your head, that would be greatly appreciated. The brown-haired boy angrily glared at me before throwing a punch at my face. I knocked his fist off to the side and upper-cutted him in the neck.

    "Now, now, boy, I know I'm always ready to fight, and you gotta get some stress out of you, but never try to attack an officer." I punched him hard in the head, and he fell to the floor unconscious. "Now, if you all would just head outside into the awaiting police cars, that would be wonderful."

Time Skip

"Hey officer. Good job today!" An officer greeted me kindly as I led the last of the people into a police car. I slammed the door shut and gave the signal for the driver to head off.

"Thanks! I was really nervous though. Goddess, this was really risky." I exclaimed as I headed over to my ride home. We continued our small talk as I unlocked the car and sidled into the driver's seat.

"Well, it was great talking to you, but I gotta head home. Bye!"

"Okay, but be careful. Always be ready to fight." The officer then walked away. I shook my head. What was that supposed to mean? I shook off the thought and drove away, ready to head home and fall into my bed. I pulled up into my driveway and unlocked the door to my house. I threw my keys into the bowl on the table that it sat on and flicked the lights on. In my kitchen stood a burglar holding a gun towards me.

Oh, that's what that meant.

(A/N): Oof, I didn't really like the ending. What do you think of the ending? I didn't really like it.