Crime was out of control. So many things were illegal, things people want, things the right people will get rich off of. Alcohol, drugs, gambling, prostitution, all illegal, with the only reason cited that they cause the moral degradation of the citizens. You walk down a single street in Manehatten, and you find more of it than you may have thought possible for there to behold. Robberies, rapes, murders, sin in general. It’s a den of vice, a place of reprobates, vagabonds, and grifters. Men and women destined for failure, but keep driving on in the vain hopes of finding a grandeur in a life, doing whatever they can to survive. Where morals are as cheap as the whores that walk almost every corner in town. But don’t be fooled. There is a good side, and a dark side to Manehatten. But everybody’s looking in the wrong place.
Deandra “Rainbow” Dash, a gal who found that it was easier to beat someone down, rather than listen to their shit, was being told what’s what by a guy who did a lot of talking. But she didn’t kick his teeth in. It would mean the end of her, if she made that mistake. Instead she sat across the booth from him, pretending to listen. He rambled on about her “dropping” her pride. Tried to make sure she knew not to fuck with him, or fuck him over, if she was so tempted. He etched into her mind that if she did, it’d be the last thing she does.
“Hey, hold up.” Dash raised her hand to slow him down. “All this talk about me fuckin’ you over, how ‘bout you tell me just how much money I’m getting out of this deal. Maybe I’ll be a bit more persuaded.”
“You’ll be rollin’ in it after this, believe that.” He took a sip of his illegal beverage, a fine applejack.
“I’m not sure if I believe you, though, for all I know you’ll stiff me as soon as you collect your marks. Might not even be worth the dive.”
“Fine, you’re gettin’ fifty K.”
“How much?” Deandra leaned forward in disbelief.
“You heard me, fifty thousand.”
Dash was astounded. She didn’t make that much money in a year of fighting. How ironic that taking a dive would bring her that sweet amount.
“How much are you guys even putting down?”
“That’s a question I can’t answer.” He sat back, taking a more resentful tone. “‘Sides, you’re gettin’ more than I am from this gig.”
Rainbow didn’t know what to say, which normally was not a problem. It was even welcomed, sometimes, but not now. “Who’ve, uh, who you guys paired me with?”
“It don’t matter, you’re losin’ to ‘em.”
“It does matter, I always know who I’m fighting before a match, or I don’t fight.”
“Fine,” the man pulled the brim of his fedora over his eyes, then took a final drink of his whiskey, before standing up, adjusting his tie. “You’re fightin’ some broad from the Isle-O-Chains. Make sure she-.”
“What’s her name?”
“What?”
“Her fucking name, what is it?”
“Gilda, her name’s Gilda, alright? Some folks call her The Griffin. It’s a nickname.”
“Are you serious?”
“Do I look like a comedian?” He spread his arms in a gesture of his feigned puzzlement. “You ain’t the only one with nickname.”
“I-”
“You what?”
“Nothing. Just, nothing. Go.”
The man turned, preparing to leave, before he stopped himself. “Oh, and Dash, one last thing. You’re taking the dive, or I’ll end you myself.” He turned again, and finally left.
Dash sat there, thinking. These people she was dealing with thought low of her. Thought she was stupid, easy to control. Which was wrong, unless they tempted her with money. But they did.
Deandra knew her, yes. They were old friends. Not anymore, as fate, or maybe some other force may have it. What was she to do? Lose to her? Let her think she’s better than her? She couldn’t do that, but if she didn’t she’d be dead. She’d have to skip town if she wasn’t going to fight her. If she did fight her, and win, she’d be lucky to make it out of the cage before she was killed by some thug with hopes of her taking the dive.
Things could never be simple, could they? No, they couldn’t just pit her against some pathetic fool trying to make a name for themself. They had to put her against someone she knew, someone she couldn’t let herself lose to. Was this a coincidence? Maybe the universe wanted to test her, to see if her pride was more than just that. To find what grip it had on her. Maybe someone high up knew she’d crack if this happened, and was pushing her to shatter. Maybe it was just a coincidence. Didn’t really matter which was true, she was fucked no matter what, here.
She gulped down her half empty glass of scotch, payed her waitress, then left the speakeasy in search of some solace for the night. Somewhere quiet to way the odds. And if not that, a place of zen. Her own calm before her storm that may, or may not hit.
The air that night was bitter, and cold. The scotch did nothing to hinder it. She pulled her collar close to her neck. It did not help. She walked forward, through the snow as it fell. The noise of the city did not assault her like it did on any other night. It was quiet. So quiet that she may have found her solace. But she did not believe the street to be it, and she kept on towards her apartment. The wind tried to push her away, but she walked quickly, and the wind did not matter. Only Deandra, and her pride mattered now.
An alarm clock rang, Deandra lazily slapped it off of her night stand. She heard its glass shatter into pieces. Any other day that would matter. But not this day. She almost fell back to sleep, but she pulled herself up, groaning, just like any other person with a lousy job, in a lousy toen. Light pierced through her shoddy blinds. She stood up, finally. Then, she prepared for the day. She had had a week to prepare for this day. She did not, there was no need. She put a T-shirt, a pair of boyshorts, and a roll of boxing tape into a brown paper bag, and put that into her overcoat. She didn’t bother putting on a tie, this day. Too much of a hassle. Instead, she took this moment to brush her hair. It’s color something she adored. Rainbow, as her a nickname might suggest.
She walked a slower walk than she normally would. The air was cold, but it burned her lungs. Each step she took on the stairs leading down to the street creaked,and moaned like a some monster ready to die, but they were drowned out by the sounds of Manehatten. A home for anyone considered a lowlife.. It was noisy because it was another day. Every day in Manehatten is just the same. Noisy, and vile. How she would have loved for it to be as quiet as it was that night a week ago.
One person in crowds of others, mixing with them, becoming just another person. Not special. They become another person because that’s what they are. Just another person. Nothing separating them from the rest, and they realize they are the rest.
Rainbow was walking down the street, blending amongst crowds, then leaving them, making her way to her destination. Taking shortcuts through alleyways, and the likes. But never did she stop. She continued her trek, keeping her mind on her mark. Keeping it from wandering. She had walked this walk so many times before, that it had become like walking in a rut.
And finally, the Rainbow arrived.
In an alleyway was door, leading to a basement to its building. The door was rusty, and creaked when she opened it, but she was used to it, and it didn’t grate her nerves like it once did. She walked down the stairs, and came upon a crowd of people around a large square cage. Inside were two people, mere silhouettes to Deandra, but still people. She skirted the crowd, and came upon another door. This one made of wood, and clearly out of place in its stained concrete wall. She opened and stepped through it. It was a locker room. It had seen Dash many times, but perhaps no more after this night.
“About fuckin’ time!” The same man from the bar last week stood up from a bench, approaching Deandra.
“What’s the rush?” Rainbow asked, taking the paper bag out of her coat.
“What’s the rush?” He mimicked. “You’re fighting next, any longer and you’d of missed it, and we’d both be dead.”
“That so?” Rainbow cooly put her coat, and shirt into a locker, then sat on a bench to untie her shoes.
“Yes, that-that’s, uh, fucking so.” He stuttered after he saw her removing her shirt.
“Hey, do you mind? I gotta get ready for the fight.” She put her shoes in her locker.
“Y-yeah, just remember, you go-”
“Down. I fuckin’ got it” Deandra stopped fiddling with her belt, looking up at the man. “Now could you kindly fuck off?”
“Uh, yeah. I guess I could.” He took a final glance at Deandra’s body, then took his leave.
He stepped out, and into the crowd of those surrounding the cage. Inside was a man finishing off a woman, one blow at a time. He heard teeth rattle on the ground. He did not look. His stomach was too weak for this gore, despite his role in this life.
A woman in a white, designer coat, a fedora, and hair that was a voluptuous shade of violet approached him as he walked through the crowd. “Is she ready, darling?” The woman asked. She was not suited for this place. She was far too beautiful for this dump, aside from an eyepatch, that is. She takes the wrong step, she’ll wind up in the worse position for a woman like her.
He stopped as they met. “She’s gettin’ that way.”
“Good. I trust that she will be taking the loss?”
“You know it. And if she-”
A sharp ring pierced their ears. It declared that this round was over, and that within five minutes the next two combatants would face off. They looked at the cage and saw a janitor pulling a corpse away from the cage. A trail of blood followed it, smearing across the concrete. Fans either announced their glee, or showed the anger you show when you lose a bet.
Sooner than expected a tall, dark woman walked into the fighting area. Out of the darkness. The spectators either scorned, or praised her. Her hair was white as the snow that fell outside, and her skin as dark as all those from the islands where she was raised. She wore a denim vest, and ripped and worn khaki’s that may have been splendid one day. Nothing else.
“Who is that?” The woman in the winter coat asked.
“Gilda,” the other replied, after a slight hesitation.
And now, from the same place the corpse had been dragged off to, came Deandra. She was wearing a white T-shirt, cyan blue wraps on her fists and feet, and black boyshorts. She kept her eyes on her opponent. She was several heads taller than Deandra, but she knew that giants technique. Then again, that women knew Deandra’s. They eyed each other, like starved and ravenous dogs, ready to take down their first meal in months.
Deandra had no idea of what she was going to do, until now. Would she take the dive, or would she fight? It wasn’t until she saw her old pal that she finally decided upon the later. To hell with the money, and to hell with the rest of her life. Like it would have been worth living anyway. At least she’d die with pride. At least she’d remain loyal to something, despite how meaningless it really was.
And then a sharp ring pierced their ears, signalling the beginning of the battle.
The lady watched them charge each other. They lost everything human about them, and became animals. They were not content with simple kicks and punches. They bit, and scraped, looked for cheap shots to exploit, made each other bleed from any orifice they could. Bones were cracked, eyes were gouged.
“She seems to be putting up a bit much of a fight.” The woman wisely pointed out.
“She’ll take the dive. They always do.” The other man responded, keeping his eyes away from the fight.
The gal in the white coat pulled her fedora down. “She better. Or its both of you that will be paying.” With that she left, leaving a worried feeling the others stomach.
Finally, Gilda found a good grasp on the smaller girl. She pulled her towards the chain link wall of the cage, and slammed her face into it. But she did not stop there. She pushed her head farther down the wall, scraping her face against the fencing. People cheered, people punched Dash while her face was pressed against the cage. Rainbow struggled to resist, and ultimately failed to do so. Gilda pulled her from the wall, then grabbed her by the throat. She slammed her against the pole that connected two fences, then proceeded towards victory.
Then, Gilda stopped, and smiled at Dash. Her teeth were yellow, like the beak of an eagle. “I thought you had more fight, Dashie.”
Dash could not reply, Gildas elbow pressed into her neck, cutting off her oxygen. Dash only spit and sputtered blood.
“You used to have more fight than a bronco.”
Dash’s feet barely touched the ground. She tried to get position her legs for a good hit.
“I guess you’ve been tamed, huh?”
Dash found that position she sought, she looked Gilda in the eye and spat blood. The tall woman was stunned, Deandra took this moment to deliver a swift knee to Gilda’s groin. Gilda dropped Dash, and backed away, in much pain. Dash fell to the ground, breathing in as much air as possible.
In the crowd there were many voices, most of them cheers, but one stood out from the rest. “You idiot, you fucking idiot! Take the goddamn dive, you idiot!” She knew who that was. And now she remembered just why she didn’t let Gilda choke her out.
Dash pounced, less like a ravenous dog, more like feral beast, knocking the brute down, onto her back. She raised one fist, then brought it down hard, then another, and another. Gilda tried to resist, but it did her no good. With every punch, every blow, Gilda’s face became less of one. Her face contorted became covered in blood, bruises, and fear.
Dash was almost satisfied. She gave one more punch, then stood. She praised herself, looking into the crowd, pleased at all of the happy faces looking back, and pleased at all of the angered ones as well.
Gilda tried to crawl away, Dash knew this. She stepped over to the woman, and put an arm around her neck. She sat on her back, and then she started applying more, and more pressure. Gilda thrashed, and pulled at her arms, but when there was quick crack of her neck she was gone.
There was blood on both girls, from both girls. The only real difference was that one was dead. Deandra stood up, air intake slowing down. She stood atop her fallen enemy, a crowd cheering on, and on. But she heard only silence, and her heart beating more and more blood out of every cut, and scrape. She tasted blood. Her own blood. This is what victory tastes like.
She walked out the way she came, people cheered for her, others cursed her. She held a particular rib. It must be broken, at least cracked. She opened the locker room door. Inside was the last person she wanted to see.
“The fuck was that?!” He asked, gritting his teeth, revolted at the amount of blood on her.
She coughed. ”Me kicking ass.”
“You stupid cunt, we’re both fucked now! I told you to leave your pride at the fucking door! To fucking forget it!”
“Yeah, well pal, I never had much to live for,” she looked at him dead in the eye, “my ///pride/// was just about the only fucking thing that kept me going, so I’ll be damned if I let anyone buy it out, and I sure as shit ain’t gonna sell it out myself!”
If looks could kill they’d both be dead.
“That’s it then?” The man’s voice rose steadily, “Your pride is more important to you than your own life? More important than other other people’s lives?”
“You don’t get it. Lemme-”
“Oh, I fucking get it, y-”
“No, you fucking don’t!” She screamed. “Everybody has got to have something in their life to pull them forward, to kill for, something worth dying for, something to stay ///loyal/// to. And for me, that was my fucking pride.”
Nobody spoke for seconds, then minutes. They just stood there, staring at each other, in the same emotional state of anger. The tension was so thick that a knife couldn’t get through it. Just starring angry stares, like fools in some sad cinema.
The man spoke up, again, his voice quivering, ”Ya’ know what, you’re right. But I promised you I’d kill you if you fucked me over.” He reached into his jacket, “And I once met a gal that said somethin’ like uh, honesty will make you happiest. So I try not to lie..”
Like lightning, he pulled out a revolver, but Dash was too quick, she slipped forward, grabbing the gun, struggling for her life with this man. With one hand she held the gun away from her,with the other she slammed a fist into his face, like some ancient god seeking vengeance for his subjects failure.
But a bullet still fired, and it sped right through the hand that held the gun from her head, severing a finger. The man fell to the floor, and Rainbow Dash scrambled away, squeezing her bleeding appendage, slipping into the crowd beyond the door.
In the cage a new fight was being held, these reprobates having already forgot about Dash’s skirmish with her old nemesis.
She bound up the steps that lead to the street, bleeding like a true human being. Like any of them. She emerged onto the street, snow falling heavily from the dark, and cloudy blanket of the night sky. She heard that man cry her name, cursing her, and she sped down the sidewalk, trying to keep herself from bleeding out. She grimaced, and ran the path her mind had made rut. She didn’t think, she only acted on instinct, like a beast. The snow on the ground was becoming tainted with her blood, leaving the trail of a wounded animal.
Before she knew it she was outside her own apartment, standing in her fighting clothes. She heard footsteps chasing after her, but she did nothing. She was going to die, just like so many other people in Manehatten. She wasn’t special. It would probably be an hour before anyone notices her body, anyway.
She felt cold. The snow was ankle deep, unrelenting, and she was hardly clothed. But it wasn’t that kind of cold. It was the kind of cold that said you knew you were going to die, that there was something headed your way that you couldn’t stop, no matter how hard you tried. If you even wanted to.
“There you are, you piece of shit.” Here he was, the man who hunted the beast. He approached her, aiming his pistol right at her head. His nose was broken, and bleeding. “I’m gonna blast that ugly face of yours all over the street.”
Rainbow Dash turned to face him. She was a true sight. Both of her eyes blackened, nose gushed blood, mouth covered with that serene red liquid as well. Her shirt was ripped, tattered, and stained with blood just like the rest of her. Both her blood, and Gilda’s. She still clutched her finger, trembling in the cold.
He started to pull the trigger, “Hope you didn’t have any plans for tomorrow, bit-” ///click///
No deafening blast, no hollow head, no oblivion to escape to. She was still standing, and his smug face turned into one of slight horror.
Rainbow Dash lost her frightened posture, and close the gap between them, snatching the gun away as she heard another click. What a fool this man was. Attacking her with an empty gun? She forgot about her missing finger, and raised the gun high into the air. He looked fearful, then she brought the butt of the gun down onto his temple.
He fell back on the ground, hat falling away. Dash through the gun away, then stared at him. He was groaning, barely conscious. He deserved more than this. He deserved death, but Dash had seen enough death for the night. As he tried to get up she kicked his teeth in, with her bare and cold foot. He showed that he was aware be yelping, then falling back into the snow, ruining it with the blood that ran from his wounds, just like Deandra.
Dash looked at him. How he looked, now. His teeth falling out, him bleeding like he should be. She sat on the steps to her building, not paying attention to the man three feet away. Why would she? No one else would until daybreak.. She sat there for what should have been hours. Only the odd car passed. She was alone in this world, now. Alone for her limited time left.
Finally a woman approached her. She was like a supermodel, aside from an eyepatch, and the fact that supermodels don’t walk alone in this part of Manehatten. She strode up to Dash, and opened her big beautiful lips.
“Pardon me, uh, darling, but you wouldn’t happen to be-”
“Cut it, you’re here to kill me.”
“Is your name Deandra Dash?” The woman asked, her annoyance not showing through.
“Yes.”
“Then, I suppose so.” She looked at the battered body mere feet away. “And I suppose this is Seth Bermejo?”
“I guess.”
“Well, darling, you’ve made part of my job so much easier. I must thank you, that truly makes my life easier.”
The woman stepped over a puddle of blood, then put the heel of her boot against the temple of the mans head. He groaned. She delivered a swift kick, ending his life, skull fracturing.
She stepped back towards Dash, produceing a silenced pistol from under her white, fuzzy collared winter coat. “But that leaves only you, I’m afraid.”
“Well, hurry it up then.” Dash said, almost dismissively.
“As soon as you answer another question for me.”
“Fine, what is it?”
“Why am I tasked with killing you?”
“So you can get a fucking check,” Rainbow said sternly.
“No, darling, I mean, what is the reason someone wants you dead?”
Deandra looked deeply at the women before her. And looked deeper at the question. Deeper than she looked into most things. This woman killed people, this woman had no malice for Dash. She was an animal too, just more contained. Perhaps they could have been friends in another life. But not this one. “Pride.” Dash said it like a priest speaking to his accolades.
The woman did not aim her gun. “Perhaps we can strike a deal, you and I.”
“What kind of deal?” Dash looked up at the woman.
“One that will let you live, and let my conscience have a break.”
“Okay, go on.”
“I know that you were to be paid fifty thousand dollars, correct?”
“Yeah.”
“That is far more than what I am being paid to kill you for.”
“That so?”
“Yes, yes it is. Now, if you were to tell me who was going to hand that money to you, I would let you live.”
“Okay.” Dash hesitated a moment. Perhaps her life would not end so dramatically as she thought it would. “From what they told me, It was going to be dropped off by some weirdo girl, does anything they ask her to do.”
“A name, please.”
“Think they called her pink, I don’t know, something with pink in it.”
“Excellent, I know just who you’re talking about.” She put her weapon away, “No, as for you, I suggest you get far as away from Manehatten as possible.” The supermodel walked away, stepping over the corpse of the man, and away from Dash.
Dash sat a moment longer, then went inside to pack some things, wash up, and fix a bit of her wounds and what not, namely her missing finger that needed to be cauterized.
She would not die tonight, but deep down she felt like she had a little.