Wanted

Karma

Tables turned for Lena.

STORM! STORM! STORM! STORM!

The crowd chants my name as I smash another man into the sharp bloody corner in the ring. Spotlights beamed directly onto the ring reflecting against the sweat on my body. I stood over his bloody, battered body with a smirk on my face. The referee yells in the microphone, "STORM, YOUR CHAMPION FOR 10 YEARS, HAS JUST DEFEATED THE SMASHER OF THE WEST!!! GIVE IT UP FOR STORM!" He yelled so loud you could probably hear him from two towns over. He proudly smiled at me as I did my signature dance in the ring while they played my music. Slowly raising my arms in the air, I clapped twice, and the crowd clapped simultaneously. That fueled my ego into my next move. I started slowly bending over with my legs straight and placing one hand in the thin elastic rubber band used to hold my hair into a once high ponytail. Standing fully up, I flung my head back with my now long sweaty hair sitting messily on my head and down my back. Rolling my hips side to side, my hands slowly rubbed up my thighs to my stomach until they held my hair while spinning slowly to give everyone the view. I heard wolf whistles and sexual comments coming from the loud crowd. Mm, how much I love this place. What once was a man's ring becoming mine.

My name is Lena James and I just won yet another tournament in a ring you could say I was practically raised in. I'm seventeen years old so I have been fighting ever since I was seven years of age. Some people say child prodigy, but I say anger issues. My lovely authority is my older brother, whom I live with and our two friends. My parents died when we were young so all we every knew was each other. My brother was eight and I had just turned seven when tragedy struck and changed our lives forever. Our parents left for a party one night and when morning came, we were orphans. Thanks to dad for never turning off the television in his study which was always on the news channels we learned the reason our parents did not come home. The morning newscaster reported that there had been some kind of accident. Nobody else was hurt, just our parents. I remember I cried knowing they must really be gone but my brother was stronger than I was. Where I cried almost every night after, he simply held me not expressing any of his pain. When they passed away nobody came to check on us and nobody wanted to take us in. We hid from the society social workers that came and knocked every day until my brother asked me, "Do you want to leave this disgusting town?" Though he spoke calmly, I could tell he was angry.

"If we leave, where would we go?" I sobbed uncontrollably. He handed me tissues and waited until I had calmed down before replying, "Somewhere that's not here. Somewhere we can be safe." I had no idea what he meant about safety, but I agreed to go as long as he did not leave me behind. "Pack something you want to keep from mom and dad's room, then some clothes to wear. Only pack what you can carry, and once night comes, we will leave through the back door." I nodded in agreement. We waited until it was dark and left for what turned into a long journey with a lot of blunders. Then the owner of this gym found us, and we have been street fighting ever since.

I climbed out of the ring and collected my prize money. The tournament had ten fighters and each fighter had to place a bid known as an enter fee, five grand, to enter the ring. Then with all of the bids that came in from the large crowd and private buyers that watch only, I received thirty-five grand, and the owner of this club received the rest, fifteen grand and any private bets that got places directly through him. "It's always good doing business with you Princess. Now hurry on out my office before you brother bark my head off will you." Polly patted me on the head with a smile on his face. Princess was the name Polly gave me when he found my brother and I on the street half dead. Dashing out of Pollys office a man in a suit greets me with a smile as he walks into the office. I smiled back politely before walking down the stairs. Pollys office sits back but on top of the left large stadium seats protruding from the wall. There is a long black hallway with a staircase from the office to the base floor with pictures of every amazing fighter that fought in the ring. Pretty rhombus shaped clear crystal lights hung from the staircase ceilings. There was no wall not touched by light. It is a total of six flights of stairs; however, every floor is a door that leads to the many different rooms held. Every door was the color red but had big white labels on them. The base was the stadium and only fighters or businessmen and women were aloud past that door. Guards stood outside the door for safety purposes. The first floor is the women locker room, second floor is the weight room, the third floor is the means locker room, fourth floor is the practice rings, the fifth floor is the lounge equipped with a kitchen, sixth floor is Pollys living quarters that he raised us in, and the top floor is Pollys office with a glass wall to view to see the stadium. It's impressive that he can see out, but you cannot see in. It was once a three-story stadium but thanks to my brother and my hard work in helping repay Polly for taking us in, this gym is now number one in the world. We donate our funds as well as the share portion Polly already receives from every fight placed in his stadium. I decided to not stop at the locker room floor and headed straight down to the base floor. Chants and cheers can now be heard after reaching the second floor. The large word "Base" sat on the red door that led to the stadium floor. I twisted the doorknob and gently pushed the door open, carefully not to hit the guards. One of them opened the door fully for me as I walked out. Travis stood with a big smile on his face and his arms stretched wide. "Great fight little sis," he congratulated me as I hugged him, "but you stink." He laughed as I pushed him away from me with a glare. It did not faze him one bit. "Hurry up little legs. I left Chris and Chase at the house." We practically ran to Tavis's car, and he drove us back to the house. Chris and Chase are his friends, but they have grown up on us almost like family.