“Your turn, Delph,” The half beaten up lanky boy with dark eyes said as he struggled to make his way out of the ring. There was blood sprinkling down his nose and he was drenched with sweat, be it from the leftover heat of the day or from the fight he had just dealt with, it didn’t matter. He lost, which meant Delphine had to either win the next fight or the boy still standing in the ring currently drinking a purple energy drink would be victorious in the evenings round of matches. It was a regular activity for the poorer, or wilder, kids of the Chicago suburbs. They made their own little Fight Club, to keep in shape and to keep themselves sharp. In the world they lived in, Darwinism spoke it’s truth. It was a survival of the fittest, and the fittest liked to play. Originally, their version of the club was just for training. So that walking out in the middle of the night didn’t end up in a mugging and that girls were assured the safety they deserved. However, in recent months, it had turned into a full on gladiator-esque club in a warehouse left by one of the founding members family.
Delphine wasn’t nervous for her fight. She was going to be facing a smaller boy, who was still a few inches taller than her, his name was Charlie and he was very good at slamming people down on the floor. She made her way in the ring and stood at the corner where the boy who had just been beat, Theo, was trying to make the nosebleed stop. “Be useful,” She said. “And hold my shirt. This’ll last four minutes.”
“Stop being all snarky,” Theo answered, snorting. “He’s got a mean uppercut and just because you’re a girl doesn’t mean he’ll hesitate giving you head trauma.”
Delphine rolled her eyes while picking her heavy hair, she was going to put it in a ponytail. It was standard procedure. You had to be shirtless, so no one could choke you with your clothes -- although sports bras were expected of girls -- and if you had long hair, it had to be up. “You’re just bitter because you got beat,” She picked a water bottle up from the musty matt. “And anyway, it’s not like I want him to go easy on me because I’m a girl. It should scare the shit out of him, actually.”
She sipped on the water bottle before setting it back down. The match was going to start in a minute and everyone in the warehouse, about over a hundred teenagers, were rumbling with anticipation. Every fight was important, and they all needed to be observed. She knew she had some bets placed on her winning, but thinking about it would just be a distraction. Before fights, Delphine usually found herself wondering how she got here. She knew, of course, but she always revisited the memories. It was one night when she was with Theo and he told her they’d be going to an underground show. She thought it was going to be a concert by a ratty band that’d never get signed. But when she was brought there, she was expected to start training with the newbies. Originally, she had thought it was crazy, but with crime becoming widespread, Theo thought his best friend should learn to defend herself. Six months later, she was a regular watcher, fighter, and coach to the newbies.
“I’ll pay for a beer if you win!”
Delphine snorted and then looked straight at Charlie who was in ready position. He was one of the few sickos who got off on making others bleed and Delphine fought him four times before. Three of the four times, she ended up passing out -- and she wasn’t a terrible fighter. The one time she did win, he had a dislocated shoulder and a broken finger. Her arms were in front of her, in starting position and in a second, she tuned out the whistling and the howling echoing throughout the large room. There was no rooms for distractions. Distractions were what got people knocked out in twenty seconds. A loud whistle echoed, indicating the fight had started, and in a second Delphine’s legs moved back an inch to give them space. She had to make the first move or she’d be screwed. She knew she was quick on her feet, so she pounced forward and found her right fist making it’s way towards his stomach. The impact threw Charlie off and it hurt Delphine’s knuckles like a bitch, but she had no intentions of letting him get off easily. She had a major grudge against him, especially since he was more of a bully than a friendly fighter. He made the mistake of putting his arms down, so her fist swept at his face and she hit his left cheek, along with part of his nose hard before taking a few steps back.
However, she knew she made a mistake, and that she hadn’t hit him hard enough because he had enough upper body weight and strength to ram into Delphine and pick her up off the ground. In an instant, her back slammed on the hard matt. The wind was knocked out of her, but she only had seconds to get off the ground before he took her, however, she didn’t move fast enough. He made his way behind her and held her in a choking position. She would have been out in the next ten seconds if she didn’t pull the dirtiest stunt she knew she was allowed to. She dug her teeth into his arm which forced him to let go.
“What the hell?” He exclaimed. Another mistake. Quickly enough, Delphine was on her feet and behind him. She kneed his back into the floor and heard a thump. He was trying to help himself up before she kicked him in the stomach. Never kick a man while he’s down is bullshit anyway, she thought.
Not a lot happened in the next thirty seconds, Charlie coughed up blood and he raised his hand to show he was finished with the fight. Cheering was heavy for Delphine, and someone was in the ring to help get Charlie up.
“You can redeem yourself next week, asshole,” She called to him at the other side of the ring.
He spit at the ground, in attempts to look like he was tough, “That was a cheap move you pulled, bitch.”
She rolled her eyes and snorted, “I have a name, and unless yours is douchebag, then I go by Delphine.”
It was only when the adrenaline died down ten minutes later and she was walking home with Theo and a few others who lived in their neighborhood while the sun was lazily rising that she felt the pain in her lower back. “One,” She started, after throwing the empty bottle in an empty field. “This beer is real cheap shit. Two, you’re welcome for taking care of Charlie --” Theo rolled his eyes. “Well it’s not like you were doing a better job. And three, my back’s killing me.”
Word count: 1201
Awesome, so I've had this song come up constantly on my iPod and it really reminded me of a teenager-ish Fight Club and Delphine here, my little seventeen year old OC is going in for another round in the ring. It's rough, and I only did one read through after writing, so any and all criticism and review would be appreciated! Also, I could have written a novel but this is just a short whatever. Enjoy it!