Life of a Street Fighter

Still Normal

* edited on 11/13/15

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Street fighting isn't fun. It's a cruel fight with dirty tricks involved. Some do it for money, some do it for fame. I do it for my little sister Ellie. My parents got murdered about 6 years ago and I've been street fighting ever since. My life isn't the toughest of street fighters, but only because the crowd admires the red-haired teen with fiery green eyes who fights for survival. But then again, we all do in more ways than one. I roam the streets and clubs of New York City looking for a fight that means more money so I can feed my little sister. I'm used to the hardship of life, but then again, that's the only way to survive as a street fighter. I made a living and survived on the streets until one day, I met another street fighter. Then my whole life changed. For better or worse, I'm not sure. My name is Scarlett Brooks and this is the life of a street fighter.

Scarlett leaned against the brick wall in the club, hiding in the shadowy corners. Her hood was drawn up over her face, and she wore tight-fitting clothes, with worn out black combat boots. She studied her dirty nails for a moment before looking up and watching the two men fight in front of her. She'd been waiting for one of them to fall so she could step up. It was getting late and she figured she had enough time to win one more fight before she headed home.

She'd been street fighting ever since she was 11 after both of her parents had been murdered. It was a way to make money, seeing how she had to take care of her 7 year old sister, Ellie. Before Scarlett came looking for a fight, she always made sure Elli was safe. Wether in an abandoned apartment or bringing her along to the clubs and backstreets where she fought, she always was protective of her sister.

Scarlett personally loved the thrill of fighting. The adrenaline pumping through her veins, the smugness when she took down an opponent. It was better than any drug out there.

A smile found its way to her lips, as she watched one of the men ram his knee into the other's side. They fought the old-fashioned way, with no weapons. But the crowd liked it better apparently. With knives and guns they figured it ended to quickly, but it was entertaining in only a way a street fighter would understand. Occasionally, street fighters would have feuds among each other, and kill each other off during a fight. Scarlett wasn't someone who killed for the fun of it, but if the need ever arose, she wouldn't hesitate to use the 5 inch blade in her pocket, or shoot a bullet with the gun in her boot, that was strapped to her ankle.

Her smirk stayed on her face as the muscular man threw his opponent to the ground and kicked him a few times, to make sure he stayed down. As Scarlett came back to reality, the roaring of the crowd in the club reached her ears. She looked around and saw the people around the two fighters, cash in their bets, and cheer for the standing fighter.

As the other man, who'd been knocked down, was helped to his feet and practically carried away, the victor looked around. "Who's next?!" he said, gesturing with his hands, as if to brag and get other fighters to come up.

Scarlett pushed off the wall, walking out of the shadows, though her hood still covered her face. "I'm in" she said, walking up to him.

The man looked at her slim, lean frame with scorn. "Sorry, I didn't realize we were fighting kids here" he said, looking around, as the crowd jeered, clearly not recognizing Scarlett.

"You saying your scared to fight a kid?" Scarlett questioned, smirking as the crowd roared.

The man scowled and looked around, clearly not liking the new turn of events. "Who are you? Fighters shouldn't have to hide their faces. Are you trying to intimidate me man?" he asked, glaring at her, even though he couldn't see her face.