“If quitters ruled the world, we'd basically be screwed up the ass and getting blown sky high.”
- Trish Newborn -
Santa Monica, California. 10:23 P.M. – Five Years Ago.
It begins on a dark and stormy night, the rain pours over the underbelly of Santa Monica, California as the scene opens to the sound of a hundred people screaming Bloodshed repeatedly inside an abandoned warehouse. Suddenly, a guitar riffs throughout the speakers following drums to a familiar tune, The Donna's Fall Behind Me, starts to play as a pair of legs with laced up black boots are shown backstage. Its revealed to belong to a blonde-headed, fragile, young, 25 year old woman wearing a black halter and dark jeans.
The alluring smell heavy alcohol and cloud of smoke appeared to hover aside the poor lighting in this small, gritty space. In the corner a male figure stood. He appeared to lurk in the shadows to seal he's face.
“So, looks like you got another fight tonight. It's do or die time, you make it here, you're in the Los Dablos. Are you ready?” He said, leaning back against the wall.
“Does a pigeon shit on vehicle windshields?”
“Ha-Ha, I guess they do.”
“Just make sure my money is all tens this time. After that fight with that Asian chick, I had some people questioning me.”
“Someone thinks you're doing drugs or something? Is it your family?”
“Negative.” She responded, lifting her head off to the side before continuing her last knot on her boot.
“I'll make sure that doesn't happen again, but right now I would be more worried about your next opponent. They say he's the best.”
“Like, I would totally be afraid of a 400 plus bald guy and his fart of doom that would knock me out. He's weak sauce. I saw his fight with that Asian guy, Kyo. He fucking barely beat him within an itch.”
“Look, just be careful out there.”
“I don't need a babysitter. I'm a big girl now and learned to use the potty.”
“Sarcasm like that will get you killed in this kind of environment. This isn't some kind of kid's game out there. You may have made it pass the other two fighters, and have been involved in some small work for us. But in there... In there you are dealing with some of the most violent fighters. Which brings me to my next question, how come you're so good? It's almost as if you know what is going to happen before it does.”
“What can I say, I have a natural way about me when I defend myself. Now, if we are done playing 20 questions, I think that's my music I hear.”
He steps aside. Patricia gets up and heads to the fighting ring.
***
The lights dimmed. The crowd grew silent, as the two circled each other to see who would strike first. Patricia approaches this bald, overweight man that appeared in greasy attire. The first thing that coursed through her head "Damn, I didn't know we'd have Butter Bean." She sniggered to herself trying not to burst out laughing and lose the fight. Newborne extends her arm out. Suddenly, she sees him pulling something from his pocket, she jumps out-of-the-way in case that fat bastard was carrying a loaded gun. Instead this 5'6 guy pulls out a damn turkey leg and holds it high.
Patricia looks on, “Retardation just hit an all-time low.”
He takes a huge bite out of the thing. Patricia decided she had enough of this shit, and proceeded near this guy but he hits Patricia across the face with that same turkey leg. This pisses off the Californian native, and she grabs some dirt from the ground and tosses it in his eyes. Big Bastard turns and struggles to get the dirt out, Patricia grabs a pipe from one of the crowd and clocks him across the face. BOOM!
“Everybody freeze! Put your hands behind your head now!”
She looks and sees cops coming into the building.
“Son-of-a-bitch.”
