Death Is Never Permanent

-Blaire's POV-

The way I saw it, there was absolutely no fucking way I was gonna’ let the jerk win against me. I wanted to prove him wrong, and wipe that smirk off his face while I also made sure I kept my own dignity.

Let’s face it; if I were to tap and lose to him I might as well never fight again.

Same with him...

He was king, it was supposed to be as though it were an automatic death sentence for anyonebrave enough to try him...oddly enough many did but like so many times before the same outcome came. The “brave” person ended up in the hospital or dead...okay maybe that's a little dramatic but still.

I was going to be the one to beat him, show him who he's messing with.

And just like that the fight was on. He refused to tap knuckles with me, so what the hell, I just stared at him a moment while Since October's “Guilty” started blaring through the building, the bass vibrating my insides just like old times. It was good to be home, New York was okay but nothing compared to here in LA. Home. The buzzer sounded, and I snapped back to reality. I watched in front of me as the now shirtless “Luca” was wrapping the final part of gauze around his knuckles.

At first we just walked in circles waiting for the other to make the first move, the wrong move; thus putting the waiting, patient one at an advantage. I finally started to walk towards him slowly reading his body language because he sure as hell wasn't about to make that first move.

“Come on, are you scared to hit m-” I ducked, expecting it, as he went to punch me and instead tackled him to the ground, kicking forcibly his knee and putting pressure on his stomach. He started going down in a heap but caught himself instead, turning to land on his hands and knees. But I kicked him in the ribs hard and then again punched at his head. I saw the blood dripping before I found out it was his nose bleeding. He quickly stood up smirking.

“You think you're such a tough ass bitch?” He punched and got the side of my jaw as I returned the punch for a kick at his stomach, again. I could hear the deafening crack and his yell even over the music as he bent over for a split moment only to come back with more fury. And a sense of Pain.

He swung high to my right, and his fist slammed against my left cheek. I felt the cut and blood ooze down but that only made me angrier… A hazy of fury pervaded my every thought.
I kicked once more in the same place and punched at his chin hoping to get part of his neck in the process. It didn't work well because instead he grabbed my arm and pulled me to him. He held onto me with my arms at my sides and my back to his chest as I fought against him and he whispered in my ear.

“You know I'm not buying this routine, you know you can’t take me.”

I stomped on his right foot while leaning heavily to my right as well. He loosened and I tripped his feet from under him and he went down. Continuing to stand over him for a split millisecond, he kicked my shins and I went down in a heap directly on top of him jabbing my elbow in his ribs in the process of freefalling, on purpose making him cry out; that didn't stop me.

We wrestled around on the cement, trading places constantly and throwing punches, slamming heads off the cement and kicking already wounded or broken bones (such as my collarbone and shoulder...his ribs and wrist.) It went on for song after song. After song. Neither of us gave up and by the looks of it, we weren't going to anytime soon. Bringing every trick I knew didn't stop him and nothing he did could stop me either. I was completely numb. I didn't feel a thing; only the faint stickiness of blood that was soaking my clothes as well as the gauze on my hands and the streams running down the bare parts of my arms, legs and face. The crowds never stopped cheering, never once got bored.

“TAP OUT” He screamed bashing my head again. He was positioned on each side of my waist as he hovered over me. Blackness was creeping in but I wouldn't dare stop.

“No fucking way” I spat out un-amused at his screaming in my ear. At that point I was finally able to flip and move around so he was under me again, on his stomach. I knelt on his back to where his ribs would be affected and grabbed his arm twisting it around behind him. By now he was yelling out in pain. “How's it feel to be King now, ‘cause you are about to tap out and loose” I teased in a whispering voice to his ear, watching him struggle to move underneath my little yet strong body.

I heard the crowd yelling various things like 'get up, kick her ass, kick his ass, tap out, finish him etc.” I stood up, all my weight on his back and he easily moved. I jumped off of him and out of the way, leaning over some while I kicked him again and he just laid there.

“Never” He yelled getting to his own feet and sweeping me harshly onto my ass. He now stood over me kicking my lower stomach once and then about to again for the second time in a row when there was a loud-pitched, piercing scream from somewhere out in the crowd. That simple action was enough distraction to jump up and take him off guard. He was hurt and sluggish, just the way I wanted. I knew he wouldn't give up without a fight, but sorry this fight is officially fucking over!

I punched him once in the ribs, then his right cheek, then left jaw sloppily and raised my leg to kick him in his ribs again. He went down in a heap and a deafening thump noise sounded against the cement.

The crowd instantly quieted, even the music paused mid play.

It went from metal concert sounding to no sound at all in a matter of 3 seconds flat.

I walked over, stepping on his hip before kneeling down on the cement with my other foot. I then put my right forearm to his throat, constricting his already labored breathing. I went to punch him with my left free hand but instead he grabbed it with his own-and the look in his eyes...I just can’t explain. I made me stop a moment.

“TAP!” I screamed. “JUST QUIT!” I yelled.

“Not to you shank.” I laughed at his choice of words.

“You think that name calling's going to help you any?” I moved my leg that was currently on the floor so that my knee began digging into his ribs and pressed all of my weight there and on his throat at once. He quickly gasped and turned us around so I was on the bottom somehow.

How the hell is that even possible?

For some reason this time… lying under him… It brought back all of the bad memories.
The memories were like videos of my experiences all on fast-forward; starting with my dad and his friends, switching to the creepy young director guy and then finally to the most recent, the prisoners in the Bay.

I snapped and kicked him becoming that insane person I didn't really want to know, yet again.

I'm still not sure what I had done but what seemed like only moments later, Shimmy was pulling me off him and blood was pooling everywhere, even more so than a minute ago.

“Get me out of here?” I pleaded as tears came to my eyes realizing the extent of damage I did to the man in front of me...again. I was put in jail for fighting, something I thought was unfair, but now...maybe that is where I belong after all...

Shimmy grabbed my stuff and the money I made, and then walked with me clinging to his side, outside into the sunrise. I didn't even bother getting cleaned up before walking out...
I just walked in zombie mode, wrapped in his hood. Luckily most of the blood was covered but not quite all of it, it seeped through the hood and covered my legs.

And there we were, Shimmy leading me back to my apartment with his arm slung lightly around my non-damaged left shoulder while I was hiding in his side.

-

I got home that night and went straight to the bathroom, getting in the shower with clothes still on. I just stood there with my head looking below me, unmoving as the hot water burnt my skin through the fabric and the bright cherry-red color washed off my clothes and body before pooling in the water and disappearing down the drain. Repeating that over and over again. I eventuallycollapsed dropped down and sat in the tub, crying the tears I’ve been holding in as the red was finally replaced with clear clean water again and the memories all flooded back like rapids. I curled up in a ball and sobbed until Shimmy reluctantly came in, saw me and quickly turned off the now ice cold water.

“My God, you're freezing.” He frantically grabbed my only towel and wrapped it around my blue, shaking body, pulling me out bridal style. The rest was once again, a blur.

I didn't fight his touch and even nodded when he asked me if he could take off my bloodstained tank-top and jeans. He replaced them quickly with the pajamas he must have found in the heap of clothing I had laying next to the mattress on the floor. He then held me, wrapped in blankets while I kept sobbing into his shoulder...'he must think I'm a freak' was the last thought I had that night before I was out cold.

-

I woke up alone the next morning, but also to knocking on the door. I didn't know what time it was but I wrapped the blanket I had around my still semi-damp body more tightly and stumbled over to the doorway. I opened it not even caring to take the time and find out who is was beforehand.

“What do you want?” I asked rudely as the door came open and my hand dropped back to my side revealing...Jasey?

“I followed you and Shimmy here last ni-”

“What, why?!” I yelled “You know what? Why don't you just fucking keep your nose out of other peoples fucking business!” I yelled again seeing a blur of activity towards my left.

“I... brought… him...” She said sadly taking in my shocked face before looking behind her and to what would be my left, around the corner.

_________________

-Rain's POV-

I just hung up my cell phone from talking to Ale when the guys showed up in the kitchen. I quickly x'd out of the websites I was on via my laptop and I shut the screen/lid thing quickly afterward.

Up until now, I was checking out the winners of last night’s fights in LA. I knew from Jasey that Blaire was fighting, so I was looking up what happened for Ale...

Everything was all done with numbers.

The number on the fighter's dog tag is used on the Internet for safety/privacy reasons. Each fighter gets to pick their number but only after a specified number of fights, wins and depending on the particular club they fight at.

Others at your club know your number though few know each number without seeing a face to go with it. Only the bookers who work at the booth and post the status online and in the books know by heart the number because there aren’t any named used, only those many digited numbers. Otherwise no one else honestly knows the number until it comes up at the fight then its gone and no one remembers... usually.

Ale, knows a bunch of peoples numbers.For him those numbers are like a foreign language, a mastered foreign language.

I was able to find Blaire’s number rather quickly and easily due to his knowledge, which was a great thing because searching though 100's of numbers without any name or location listed is a pain in the ass. Other than the number only the cash gained is listed and against what opponent via their number as well. Anyways, back to the part where I make sense. I found her's... 5303207. I also found that she fought Lucas (All by sheer consequence since his was rather easy to remember 1007789)... And she won?

Shock was probably evident on my face, not necessarily that she won because fighting is well... it’s what she does best... But she won almost 200,000 dollars, fighting the current “King” in LA. All that cash was at odds to her winning, everyone bet against her and for Luca. I have a feeling though, that he won't be considered “King” much longer.

“Hey Rain do you know where Ale is?” Brian asked as he raided the fridge.

“Um, no I don't know specifics... He. Didn’t really tell me that…” I lied.

“But you do know where he is?” Jimmy said eying me while I continued squirming under his glare. Okay I can deal with anyone but him, he still confuses and scares the shit out of me...he's crazy, in both ways... good and bad.

“So you also know why he won't fucking answer his damned cell phone then, right?!” Matt added after.

“Um....”

“Um what?” Matt questioned me in monotone, almost growling in an accusing voice as he leaned over the table towards me.

“Look, all I know is that he left early this morning. Real early. Don't know where he went or what he is doing... He didn't tell me!” Lies, all lies. God, I feel so flippin’ bad right now lying to them.

There was an enormously long moment of silence as every one of them stared at me, “taking me in” so to speak.

“I think you're lying...” Johnny said, breaking the long silence. All the rest agreed with unanimous nods, all at the same time. Creepy.

“I AM NOT LYING! I don't know, so just drop it! Why do you need him so fucking bad anyways?” There was another pause.

“Guy stuff.” Jimmy said with a mouthful of some kind of leftovers in a white, square Styrofoam box.

“guy....stuff?” I asked doubtingly. Right. Like I’m going to believe it? Please. But…That's why they are tormenting me...Fucking GUY STUFF?!?! That’s their excuse?!

“Yep” Matt said popping the “p” and looking from me to the cell phone in my hand. He wasn't very discrete to say the least. It wasn’t only a quick glance; he started glaring at the small object as though he were trying to set it on fire with the look in his eye.

Nervously I grabbed my stuff and started walking out of the kitchen. Of course someone grabs me though, that person obviously being Matt (who else would it be at this point) and then he tries to rip the phone from my hand as I struggled against his hold.

“LET ME ALONE!” I scream.

“Give me the fucking phone and I will! I know you're lying!” He yelled as he pried the piece of plastic from my hand. Unluckily for me he had done so rather easily. After the phone left my hand I was held back by Jimmy. I watched as Matt put the phone on speed dial to call Ale, I already knew that part. As it rang he put it on the speaker phone and sat it down idly on the counter. Ale picked up quickly,

“Rain, I can’t talk now.” He said plainly as the yelling in the background continued to seep through. We could make out pretty much every word.

“GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY LIFE ALE!” Blaire screamed. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that it wasn’t her. Every one of us could tell by the voice that it was her. After all, you didn't need to know where he was going in order to narrow the possibilities down. Her voice was unique and although we hadn’t heard of her in months, it was easy to recognize. “I don't want you here so just fucking leave!” Everyone froze...

And I just screwed up the plan.

Majorly...

“RAIN!” Ale yelled.

“Yeah?” I said quietly breaking the shock off the guys faces.

“Hold on a second....” He said as there was a “Hey” and a loud crash before the sound of shattering glass.