How To Bake A Fighter

*Unknown* UUUUUGGGGGHHHHH! Will this fight ever end?! These people are wasting my damn time! My frustration and patience was fraying from watching this madness. The two grown men danced around the ring for the fifth time, not providing any real hits to each other like two tot sized mutts trying to claim the topdog of the scrapyard. I know they are trying to put on a show by taking more time to act like they are trying to figure out the others’ weaknesses, but fifteen minutes is too long! Then suddenly, the man in green collapsed from exhaustion and blood loss with an ending leg sweep from his opponent. Huh! Wimp! The ref raises the hands of the winning fighter." The winner of this fight is Loco Lucas!". And the crowd goes crazy. Yeah, yeah whatever. I bet you people have never seen a real fight before you, drunkers! "Our final fight tonight in this smackdown is the rumbling battle of the champions. Please welcome Hammerhead Sam to the ring"! The drunk men start to go crazy again with slurring cheers. I swear these people don’t even know talent! "And his opponent. The legend himself, the bloodbath of this final match, Evil Evan". The ref looks at me nervously. His face was white as chalk. Hehehe, it's showtime! Murmurs and gasps escape the crowd as I walk to the ring. Yes, I'm Evil Evan. Well, at least that's my nickname inside the ring, anyway. And to the few who crossed me wrong outside of it. I step into the ring and my opponent laughs, while the rest of the people are silent, dead silent. Bet you're wondering why he's laughing, right? Well, I have a huge reputation, but apparently this kid has never seen me in the ring before. Yes, I'm about 1/4 of a foot shorter than him at 5'7 and as big as a stick, but I'm a fierce fighter. And no, I'm not intimidated by his size. I've taken on much bigger opponents in my last few years of ring life. I just smirked at his stupidity until he quit laughing." Are you sure this is my biggest threat tonight?", He asked the ref." Well, I'm your competitor, so why does it make a difference?", I questioned sarcastically." Because I'm just going to walk out of here if you're it", He sneered. "Oh, ok. I'll collect my money and remain the undefeated champion since you are too chicken to fight." He stopped in his tracks and turned towards me again as a few chuckles echoed from the crowd." What did you say?" "You don't want to be made fun of because you may get-- no, will get defeated by a pip squeak. I understand, so let's all just go home. You heard it here first folks. I am still an undefeated champ, my peeps". I turned to leave when his voice boomed from behind." We will end this now, hot shot!" I heard steps running at me. I didn't need to turn to anticipate his first move. I slid to the right and turned sharply, landing a karate kick across his back. He was knocked to the ground for nearly a minute before he picked himself back up." That was a cheap move you know?", I said, crossing my arms." Yeah! But at least I ain't the son of a b****h and a b*****d, am I?", He sneered disgustedly. Did he just bring my parents into this?! Ah, hell no! That was it! I saw red and went into kill mode. I attacked him at such a lightning speed with a forward rush that he didn't have any time to react. I sat on top of his chest and arms, pinning them down between my legs. I repeatedly hit his face with all the force my fists would give. How dare this little punk talk that way about my parents! I'll show him! Finally, at some point, I was dragged off of my opponent by a forceful tug. It took two burly men to finally get me off of the punk and out of the ring. As I was dragged away I saw my opponent getting lifted out by two others. The two men that always have to drag me off of the smart a****s I have to fight in the ring, and are currently busy guiding me to the backroom. Tyler Cook, my best friend/sparring partner/classmate with a touch of a big brother figure, and Johnny Cook, my manager/mentor/math tutor with a sprinkle of father figure in my ring time or, as I call him, the fight father. These were the only two people allowed to drag--well, that are willing to drag me out of all bloody fights. Other people don't want to cross the line after seeing my "ring damage", as they call it here. Which is fair to me knowing how many men have been carried out of the ring because they decided to cross me. They hauled me into our private room in the club and removed my hoodie before pushing me to sit down in the chair to give me the after fight lookover. My long brownish blonde hair tumbles out of it and onto my shoulders in braids. I looked in the mirror across from where I sat to take a look to see if my opponent had managed to land any hits besides the blow to my anger problems. Rule 1: don't say any bad thing or talk sh*t about my family. My normally light blue eyes are now glowing like sapphires in the light with rage. My beet-red face was barely scratched by my arrogant opponent and slightly bruised from the fight. If you haven't figured it out yet, this was my best kept secret. I am a cool as heck, street fighting, tattoo-wearing, bad to the bone girl with a whole lot of anger and temper to back it. And trust me it's won me plenty of battles in and out of the ring.