CHAPTER ONE: FIGHT

I await

Eyes open wide

Into the darkness

I run—

The battles begun

I am ready to fight

Crazy! Crazy! Crazy!"

Chanting echoed in the background, her eyes fixated on the hunched figure before her.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Suspended by a leather cord hung a yellowed, aged bulb that illuminated the figure: Him. A frown marred his shadowed features, shallow light tracing the small track of blood that dribbled down his chin dripping on to the thin wife beater stretched over his bulky, sweaty frame. The glint in those black eyes foretold of the intent to inflict pain and soon.

She was no fool.

"Put him in a headlock!"

She ignored this request, transfixed to the features of the mans face that morphed as she took a step forward, his thirst for blood clear. There was no use for the comments being shouted out. Fighting came as natural as it was to breathe. Some of that fire was fueled by hatred but also the experience of being thrown into the adult world at a young age. All moves were to be calculative, but fluid. Swift, but absent of fear lest she end up being the victim rather than the victor.

Through trial and error these ways had been acquired.

All she had to wait for was that one, single flicker of movement now, There! Her eyes zeroed in on the muscle that shifted beneath the skin of his right arm. That's all she needed. The corded muscle in her legs tightened as her back arced down, hands held out at the ready.

He lunged across the mat.

Her head ducked as his arm swung out towards her. She spun around, one hand braced against the ground as her foot thrusted out to knock his legs from beneath him. As the toe of her foot made contact with the back of his knee, he twisted around at the last second, catching her foot in his firm grip.

With a thwock her bum hit the slick mat just before he yanked her towards him. "Gotcha!" he hissed.

No, you don't.

Once again, his ego had gotten in the way missing the opening he'd just given her. She couldn't help but inwardly sigh with a twinge of disappointment as she threw her free leg up and connected with his chin.

The sheer force caused him to topple to the side in seconds with a pained, "Oomph!"

"PIN HIM! PIN HIM! PIN HIM!"

She threw her 110 lb against 175 lbs of muscle and pushed him on to his back, knee wedged against his sternum. Staring into the heat of those eyes beginning to realize defeat she leaned over, a curse spewing from his lips as her own brushed the shell of his ear. "Now if I were a real vampire you'd be dead." she hissed.

He glared, nostrils flaring. "I'm not losing to a girl!"

"You already have and not in the way I wanted." she whispered, sardonic. She could feel her sense of surroundings slowly shifting back into reality as the cheers erupted. Raising her hand into the air her fingers curled into the signal to signify the end of the match; a fist. "Pinned!"

The sounds of a distant crowd grew more prominent as she became more grounded, palms cool as they met the cement floor. With a kick she sent the mat sprawling as she detached from said opponent and stood. Instantly a sea of faces focused back into her peripheral as a sea of children drew closer.

"Oh my gosh, Crazy that was amazing!" A freckled redhead known as "Red", acclaimed for her fiery tresses looked like a jack in the box as she jumped up and down excitedly. The seven-year-olds eyes were always bright with adoration since the first time she'd been witness to the event. Every Friday she was the first one seated always ready.

"Yeah definitely worth a weeks wait!" A fair haired boy known as "Train" exclaimed. The boy had been obsessed with the classic 90's band from the first time she'd played "Drops of Jupiter" off his old CD player and had acquired the preferable nickname. His bright blue eyes remained wide as saucers as he beamed like she was some god.

Sometimes it was a bit disconcerting.

"Yes, yes, definitely worth wait, yup yup!" The curly haired girl named Melanie, or Echo as she'd been dubbed for her parrot like tendencies, bounced up and down with a squirrelly giggle of a six-year-old. The ebony ringlets framing her dark, cherub face caused Crazy to smile, small.

Her family; orphans.

Whether they were younger, older, a spectrum of various ages, most preferred a named they'd chosen or been dubbed with rather than their birth name. It was easier to disassociate from their past lives and the tragedies embroiled.

For that she didn't blame them.

If she were honest, she'd basically done the same. She found it was better to be personified as someone she could identify rather than a ghost of her past self.

"Ugh, Crazy, I think you've eternally bruised me." came a voice from behind.

Crazy looked away from her most loyal supporters to see her opponent standing beside her now, his face having regained the former, russet tone. Though his eyes remained still black as night in displeasure, the murderous glint in his eye had gone.

She rolled her eyes ruffling a few dark, feathery strands absent of sweat. "All you need to work on is your agility. Pride is another factor that plays into your mistakes. But there's been some vast improvement from the last fight, Bry."

He swatted her hand away. "Tsk, yeah." He dragged his hand across his mouth with the look of a deflated ego. He stared at the blood dotting his fingers, "Whatever."

She shook her head unaffected by his sour demeanor.

The boy had entered the orphanage three years prior. Being rather perceptive, it'd been easy to spot the stereotypical type of personality he'd harbor; an arrogant fifteen-year-old boy with the cockiness of a former jock.

His ego has only increased with age.

"Oh my gosh, Crazy!" Just then a small, dark-haired boy burst through the crowd. He held a clipboard in one hand with a pen sticking out of his crooked teeth.

It was York Yalang, a bright ten-year-old of Asian descent who everyone called, "Brainy" for his superior intelligence. For the longest time everyone had called him the "the mute kid". However, once she'd become to Edisons his silence had been broken through an established trust.

That had come in time simply by her treating him as any normal kid.

Then had come the night of his ninth birthday when he'd divulge the story of his parents' fate which he'd entrusted to her in confidence. He'd been brought to Edisons seven years ago after a fatal plane crash headed from Tokyo had taken his parents lives. No further guardians had been able care for him so under law he'd been too young to remain at home and thus found himself in an orphanage.

After, York had become like a little brother she watched out for which had only helped him grow in his confidence. These days the kid could hardly contain the ideas that spouted out of him with natural zest.

"That little scrimmage has to be the most concentrated I've seen yet!" York's black eyes beamed with admiration. He practically bounced on the balls of his feet as he held out a clipboard. A series of lines with names listed by rank addressed different areas and levels of improvement scrawled across the paper in blue, splotchy ink. Each was categorized with one of two letters.

S: Satisfactory

N: Needs Improvement.

She took the clipboard he held out and scanned through the names. Her hope in this had simply been to increase their chances of survival-out there. Recently additional rules had been established by York himself as if this were being made into an official sport. A frown crossed her lips as she marked in thick, bold print next to Bry O'Peck an N. On several occasions he'd bragged that he could beat her once he reached the "legal age" to participate. But even now as he crept toward his eighteenth year, he still didn't take it as seriously as she wished.

None of them did.

"Friday Night Fights" as York called it, had originally been created strictly as a self-defense course from her own ideas that had taken shape around the time a rumored group called the HRM or the Human Resistance Movement started. It was said to have been a small rebellion that had broken out against the new law that now consisted of vampires. However, it wasn't long after the rumor became nothing more than a mythical tale.

Just as time had changed kids that stayed here others were added into the fold. Cliques had, evidently, formed. Hormones and male egos had, since, increased. Tensions had begun to run higher. Though she'd done her best to instill equality, there would always be a few resistant. Though, she was resolved to never give up.

Her eyes slid to the rumpled blue mats scattered across the floor.

Had it already been six years since she'd discovered this place? Six years ago after a delayed supper she'd been wandering forgotten rooms lost through the ages and had stumbled upon this place hidden in the older foundations of the building.

A cellar.

The history of the orphanage had long passed on through the grapevine of orphans before her. Once the building had been Edisons strategic boarding school for boys. But at the crash of 1929 the school had lost its funding and was later purchased by the wealth of the Malroes. It would be the Malroes who'd transform the schools legacy into an orphanage for children.

Over time age would take a toll on its former status.

New cities and sights lost populace to the small town, leaving the orphanage in the dust of the past. Events such as World War II left many children behind, especially after their eldest caretaker, Arlene Malroe who had been just a young girl at the time, would lose her father in the midst of war. Later it was said her mother had died of grief, which had left Arlene to take over at the brink of eighteen. It would lead to a dark depression that would spiral into an addiction centered around a new love carefully concealed for years from authorities: alcohol. Later it would evolve into a careless attitude she'd harbor towards the orphans and leave them to suffer with a scrapped budget funded by the state.

"Hey, Crazy..." York's voice instantly pulled her from her reverie.

York smiled tapping his pen adamantly, shaped from a habit, against the paper. "Before you totally zoned, I was saying we should add the rule that no one that is very reluctant to join should be allowed to fight. You know, for the sake of their health and obviously, safety purposes."

"Oh, well," She shook her head mechanically as if a fork had been wedged into her brain. "That I will have to consider, Brainy. We can't have that growing around here."

York's eyes seemed to shine with whole new light. "Okay no worries!" He tilted his head to the side running the tip of his pen down the list of rules:

"So, rule # 1: All participants in Fight Friday must be stripped of weapons or any objects that could inflict physical and possible, severe injuries. Aside stakes on the days required..."

She couldn't help but smirk. With the lack of money around, York had come up with the idea of stakes being made out of old door frames. The wood in which it had been fashioned was far more durable than sticks so the idea had been genius.

"Rule #2: All participants must have agreed to the terms and conditions when subjecting themselves to the event.

Rule #3: All participants must be at least the age of fifteen to be accepted. Unless of course, procedure changes. Which with the little ones, we might want to think about this?

And... Rule #4: All participants, if reluctant, will be discussed further and taken into consideration due to current outside threats."

He scribbled this last rule onto the yellowed, worn notebook he carried around often as his prized possession.

She tried not to laugh, amused. "I think that sounds alot better, Brainy."

York looked up and his lips spread into a full out grin that made his crooked teeth emerge. "Thanks, Crazy."

"That what's they call me." She added in dryly.

York laughed. "Ready to give the last dissertation for the night then, Teach?"

She rolled my eyes. "Don't call me that."

"One day you'll tell me your name and then, you'll never hear the end of it." He grinned as she attempted to swat at him, tucking his notebook under his arm before he started towards the fray of kids now crowding around Bry.

Bry was rubbing his neck and still glaring at her.

Figures.

She sighed and started towards a dusted, wooden crate considered to be the 'podium' used to command attention. Above the bustling commotion, however, her voice would be futile. It was such a common occurrence it hardly phased her. Placing both forefingers between her teeth a shrill whistle abruptly pierced through the incessant chatter causing heads to turn at the sound.

Perfect.

As a leader weakness couldn't be shown or that was considered a 'chink' found in the armor and it would not bypass those egotistical ones. As it was with any leader there would always be someone else vying for the position. She'd held it for nearly five years now and with that came a large responsibility and dependability.

Shoulders straightened. Back poised.

As voices quieted, her gaze swept across ever flushed face before she began the dissertation for the night, "As you know, Friday Night Fights are strictly a preparation class. It is not a scoreboard to tally off the weakest verses the strongest as I have come to notice." She made sure to look directly at Bry, voice firm. "These Friday Fights sessions we do should not be abused. It's about building your endurance for survival in the real world, finding your strengths, and working on what defenses you can use." She tilted her chin up, regarding each individual carefully as she added, "Do I make myself clear?"

Murmured "Yes's" echoed with a few head nods.

"Good." She nodded. "Now for announcements. As most of you know for those that participated, Brainy has the clipboard to see your graded efforts marked down."

She spotted a familiar pair of twin blonde girls standing off to the side looking slightly more, alert for the first time. They were fairly new, having been brought in the previous week and had stayed to themselves mostly. Their eyes often bore a heaviness burdened by whatever ordeal they'd gone through. So finally seeing even a small spark of life there she couldn't help but tack on, "Also for those who are newer to Edisons the pad of paper, or made calendar is nailed in the back to write down birthdays. I understand there are some upcoming ones this month. For those turning fifteen, meet with Brainy first to take down your names so I can add them to the list. I will start you on a general, beginner's level come Friday that is comfortable for you too. But will get harder as you progress."

Finally she took a breath, "Now, any questions?"

Silence.

Usually there was at least one question; the general slew of obnoxious or complete seriousness. But rather than voice her surprise at the lack of hands, she wrapped up the last of her speech for the night. "Alright then, I believe its bedtime for the younger ones, off you go."

A small, yet sad smile curled the corner of her lip as she watched a few of the smaller kids begin to rub at their tired looking eyes. "Trains" shaggy mane was sticking up at odd angles from where he'd been running his hands through and across his face. It was clear he was losing the battle to stay awake as other children started to stand.

He began to nod off whilst still sitting on the floor.

"Hey, Bry," She spotted her frenemy as he started to disperse with the crowd, tailing after a pretty Latina who'd arrived at Edisons a few months ago. Her long black curls were pulled up in a frazzled bun, the remnants of her fight against Crazy an hour before.

The girl was tough and she would've made a good leader as well if she wasn't wrapped up in such entanglements with "Worm" or Neil as the freckled redhead had revealed recently. The two had become near inseparable within the last few months after bonding over their shared love for books.

As bookworms.

But sadly, the freckled bookworm was due to leave in the upcoming week so Bry believed he finally had a chance with her. Crazy didn't bother to tell him differently. He'd discover soon enough once Neil left and Bry was left to pick up those pieces of a broken heart. Blanka would be an emotional wreck.

She'd seen this many times before.

"Can you make sure Train makes it up the stairs alright?"

Bry looked longingly at Blankas retreating form with a huff before rounding a glare at Crazy "Sure... Teach." He added a mock salute before jumping off the stairway towards the, now, drooling tike.

If that boy grows a heart it will be a miracle. She shook her head in annoyance and watched Bry scoop up the little blonde into his arms with a gentleness she'd seen absent when it came to women. Well at least he's good with the little kids.

"Finally... time with my babe..."

A warm and firm hand abruptly slid around her waist. In any normal circumstance her fist would've connected with their face in its crudeness. But there was a familiarity behind that voice for which she was well acquainted with. It lulled her into a comforting embrace as her eyes closed leaning into the soft, wisp of breath that rolled off the nape of her neck. Turning her head just slightly, her lids flickered and met a pair of deep, green eyes that reminded her of mint leaves hidden behind curls of blue-black hair.

Their lips curled, lifting the silver ring that glimmered along the plump edge.

Auben Grady.

Auben was one of the few that didn't mind being called by his real name though a few still timidly referred to him as "Tough Grady." The label to her was laughable because it almost sounded like "tough gravy". Almost. After he'd set their garage on fire as a professed Pyro his parents had deemed him as unmanageable. So he'd been sent to Edisons shortly, after disowned from his own family.

A rather extreme measure in her opinion. Auben hadbonce told her he'd always been considered the black sheep in their eyes so this had been the excuse to get rid of him.

A horrible action no doubt.

Rarely anyone dare speak to him including the caretaker, Arlene who Crazy suspected she was intimidated by as well. Considered the oldest orphan Auben been deemed the ''Alpha" years before she'd come into the picture.

But once she had that status had been challenged.

By her.

It hadn't necessarily been to take the rank only to show she wasn't intimidated. Nor would she be; he hadn't been the first bully she'd ever faced. So he'd challenged her to a fight. The outcome, however, had come in her favor and his newfound respect for her. Eventually that respect had transcended to pursuit and finally to a partnership until she'd, reluctantly, come around to the label, "Grady's Girl".

A rather unfavorable name.

"I see your leadership skills only keep improving. And how does that make you feel?" His lips tickled her ear.

She flinched. "I just want them to be safe and for now they are and that's all that matters."

He nodded and pushed a red plastic cup towards her. "Your piercings."

She glanced at it. "Thanks."

"Let me know if you want any more, preferably in other places." He winked crinkling the edge of his brow, the pierced bar there glimmering in the light.

She just shook her head.

Over the years Auben had introduced her to his piercing expertise. In time she had accumulated a few along her ears, left brow, and then had come a hoop through the nose. The "expertise" usually consisted of an ice cube and a sterilized needle he kept with a bottle of rubbing alcohol. But he claimed he had friends who worked in a piercing parlor to have acquired the hoop.

Or he stole it who really knows.

Her hands felt moist as she gathered the jewelry, a sheen layer of sweat covering her skin. With a few prickling of hairs she knew Auben was watching her every move his eyes seemingly fixated with a smug expression as she adjusted the hoop slung around one nostril.

Here." He held out the simple, silver necklace she'd forgotten and his eyes glimmered like emeralds.

She eyed the small, silver cross with three tiny zirconium crystals embedded into the surface. It was the one piece of jewelry that held a reserved semblance she suspected Auben knew of. "I knew you were forgetting one." Slowly she angled her head and brushed the few stray hairs that stuck to her neck in sweat. A faint click echoed before the lock was snapped into place.

Soft lips followed and grazed the shell of her ear, "Let's go," Auben whispered, bordering on impatience. A slow smile crept across his lips as she turned around fully, carefully perusing the tight, black attire-new shirt?- and along the series of intricate tattoos that layered his muscled flesh. The letters 'OUT' were visible along the curve of his neck.

The rest she already knew: cast: outcast.

Those words did not only ring true for him.

Auben cocked his brow with a smirk as if he could read where her thoughts traveled.

The few older girls that remained here, however meek around him they were, crushed on this guy who Crazy was considered with. She should've felt lucky to call him hers but somehow the sentiment didn't quite fit.

What those girls didn't know was the man was an island.

"Aub, I haven't even cleaned up yet." She really wanted at least one warm shower tonight before there wasn't any.

"An answer enough." He started to guide her towards a metal door at the far end situated away from the stairs. The blaring, red letters: EXIT flashed in her view ahead from a-quite laughable-makeshift paper above.

Aubens strides remained forceful not up for discussion. As a girl with a well-rounded independent nature, she wouldn't normally comply to such controlling efforts. But he would surely provide the distractions she needed tonight so the shower could wait.

As they neared the exit she became distinctly aware of the shuffling of feet; no doubt a few remaining curious kids looking to spy. Auben, ever the observer, was already aware of their intended culprits. "Don't follow." He stated it in a soft, but commanding tone tossed over his shoulder.

Once the words were spoken the footsteps behind ceased.

Smart move.

One thing every orphan whether old or new was quick to learn: Auben demanded privacy without exception. This included any type of guy that had more than a friendly interest invested in Crazy. However weird and twisted the status of their relationship seemed to the others, they were considered a 'thing'.

Anyone who dared to oppose was threatened.

"Quit scaring the kids," Crazy added in afterthought glancing at him once as he led them both into the brisk, October night.