Marina Intro

It was cold outside, even for winter. Rotan city was mostly composed of drunkards, confetti, and broken souls this New Year's night, giving the late dark an almost dangerous feel. Marina didn't feel so great herself. Having nowhere to go, she wrapped her worn trench coat around, her, hiding the cheap bottle of liquor in her hand so no one would see it. She walked down the sidewalk, eyeing several drunken teenagers who were laughing at nothing walk past her. Her head was splitting, but another swig of that trusty alcoholic beverage cured the dilemma quickly. There was a half a pack of cigarettes lodged in one of her pockets. She wasn't one to smoke, but tonight was an exception; she'd had a very shitty day.
         The previous week, her car had been stolen along with all of her money and belongings including a pistol and several very important documents containing what she needed to get any form of money. You see, Marina was a mercenary. Without those papers, she couldn't get paid or have proof of a completed job. She was homeless now, having no bridges to cross, no places to stay, and no money to buy a decent pair of clothes to wear, so all she had was this ragged trench coat, a pair of worn boots, some jeans, and a beat up tee; the only clothes on her back. This night wasn't so bad, however, being that she could find booze and food incredibly easy, what with all the parties happening.
         Still traveling down the road, another group of drunkards walked past her, but they were different, hostile. One of the men decided to grab her coat and try to run off with it, laughing while the other boys gained a safe distance, obviously amused by their friend's form of entertainment. Marina may have been slightly drunk, but she wasn't one to mess with. Ever. She quickly whipped around and grabbed her coat. The measly drunk was surprised and turned around just in time to meet a glass bottle in his teeth. He quickly released her coat to bring his hands up to his face, but barely had time to move before she had completely forgotten about the trench coat and placed her boot square in his stomach, knocking him to the ground with a solid thud. He was out cold after spitting up a couple of broken teeth.
         His friends laughed at him, fueled by intoxication, and approached Marina. She was wary, but picked up her coat and threw the broken bottle on the ground next to her unconscious assailant. As they neared her, she placed her arms in the coat sleeves and turned to look at them, trying to read them. They didn't mean any harm, so she lowered her guard, but only barely. One of the people knelt down next to their friend and laughed, but the others walked towards Marina and stopped maybe five feet from her. Then one of them spoke.
         "Damn, you just knocked him out cold!" The person laughed and stuck out his hand. "My name's Logan, who are you?"
         Marina didn't move nor speak. All she did was glance at his hand and back to his eyes.
         "Alright," he said. "That's cool. Well, listen, we're going to a fight club a few blocks from here to bust some cash and watch some blood spew, and I'm thinking you could earn yourself some cash; you look a little down on your luck, no offense."
         "Fuck you." She said. There was no emotion in her voice, but she was offended. Thinking about it, though, she shouldn't be. The guy was right, and she really could use the extra money. It'd been a while since she fought, but she obviously still had it in her.
         "Woah, hey, I'm just sayin'. Well, we're probably going to let Jimbo dwell in his own stupidity for the night, but seriously, come with us! Hell, we'll bet on you." This person didn't seem drunk to her. If he was, he did a great job at not showing it.
         "Fine. But keep your hands to yourselves, unless you want to end up like what's-his-fuck over there."
         "Hey, that's cool lady, it's chill." He looked over at "Jimbo" and laughed again before continuing on. "Well, shit, let's go. We're going to miss the fights!"
         Marina rubbed her knuckles before following the moving group down the street. She was angry, half drunk, and looking for a fight. And if it paid off, she was there.
     
      * * *
     
         The building was full of shouting drunks, blood, broken glass, and smoke. There was a fight in progress already, but it was handicapped. There was a scrawny fellow, probably his first fight, pitted against a rather, well, "experienced" man, whose bulk in muscle outweighed the first-timer probably by about three times his weight. As the fight continued, the smaller man was scared, making inevitable attempts to dodge the larger man's gigantic blows, but finally failed and was knocked to the floor.
         Marina circled the fight from the second floor, watching through the chain link fence, avoiding the people shouting through it. The scrawny man attempted to get up, but lost hope as soon as the other man picked him up by his neck with one hand. He tried to cut loose, clawing at his hand, but it was useless. The final blow was a mean left hook to the side of the poor guy's skull. He was knocked out instantly, and his limp body was thrown into the crowd. The cheered and tossed him off to the side on the cold concrete, amongst a couple other losers.
         She laughed a little bit on the inside, but kept a straight face. Her company had left and spread out through the crowd to get their own fill. As Marina watched, one of the announcers who had been blaring through the amplifiers spotted her and made everyone aware of it.
         "You there! On the top level! You, in the tan trench coat!" The man was pointing right at her. "All new folks fight on their first night!" She raised an eyebrow. "Looks like you're coming down!" The announcer's voice sounded like one you'd hear on a popular, Monday night game show. It was obnoxious, and hurt her head a little. But she smiled a crooked smirk and walked down the stairs. Everyone was staring at her, but she didn't care. She needed the money.
         "Looks like you came at a bad time, doll face; our main fighter hasn't had his fill," The man announced, trying to provoke the crowd into cheering and make everything interesting. Marina walked right to the center of the ring, through a gap the crowd had cleared out of her way. Just before getting to the middle, she was handed a rolled up bandana by one of the members of the audience; it was the man who offered to bring her, Logan.
         "Use it to keep your hair out of your face!" And with that, he pushed her into the middle with surprising force, and before she knew it, she was looking up at the same man who'd knocked the smaller one into unconsciousness. He was larger than he seemed earlier. It was almost like looking at a brick wall with "TANK" written across its chest. He laughed a stupid cackle and looked at the announcer. "Her?" The announcer nodded. "Tank" laughed again and looked down at her, seeing her pull her hair out of her face and wrap the bandana across her forehead. It felt familiar, but she kept her focus where it mattered.
         The crowd began cheering and laughing. Someone decided to throw a bottle through the fence above. It shattered and rained glass for a split second. She ignored it, but kept in mind that if she fell at all, the shattered pieces would hinder her. She could hear jeers and chants from the crowd, she didn't care though. All she focused on was her strategy. Within a few seconds, she figured if she avoided his punches and managed to get behind him, she could focus on attacking his knees and eventually slow him down enough to where she could give his a few good blows to the back of his tiny skull and knock him out, equaling a win.
         As soon as the announcer cried out a garbled mess that was supposed to mean "begin", the heavy mass of bulk attempted to hit her square in the face. She foresaw this, quickly slid to the side, making sure not to let any skin touch the sharp floor, and kicked the back of his kneecap. He cried out and attempted to drop an elbow on her from above. Again, she slid to the side, but this time kicked his other knee sideways and he fell into the glass. Blood dripped on the floor and down his arm and the side of his face. At this point he'd become angry.
         She saw this and knew his judgment would be clouded and more focused on just hitting her; his strategy seemed to just rely on his sheer mass. He ran towards her as she stood there, waiting for the right moment. Just before he reached her, she made the sacrifice of falling to the side on the floor and sticking her leg between the gap in his and tripping him into the crowd. They cheered once more and threw him back into the main ring. He stumbled forward and this was all Marina needed. Before he could turn to face her, she lept up and spun her body, using its moment to swing the back of her right foot to the back of his skull. Instant knockout. Naturally the crowd cheered, along with several shouts of "holy shit!" and "what the fuck just happened!?" A silent smirk graced her beautiful, unmarked features as she turned to the announcer. He said nothing; his jaw was dropped to far and all that came out was a whisper. It looked like a "how" but she wasn't sure.
         Marina turned to walk out of the crowd, removing her bandana and using it to soak up the blood dripping down her arms from the glass. The crowd gave her space and she walked out of the ring to the back of the garage that the fights were held in. There was a bar that was in the back for use of the contestants. See, in Rotan City, where Marina was, fight clubs were legal past ten at night, and on New Year's, there were really no rules in this dump, so it was every man for themselves. This happened to be one of the more official fight clubs. There was no payment to get in, but if you wanted to watch, you'd have to fight, too. Those were the rules.
         She sat down on one of the stools and hunched over the bar, placing her coat over her shoulder. Her arms were tired and her buzz was drifting away. The night felt like it was coming to a close as she heard more people pitted against each other in the ring. Her gaze didn't wander and she kept them down at her hands, replacing her vision with her thoughts. Not five minutes went by, however, when she felt Logan prodding her arm with his elbow. She looked over and saw him staring back, holding a handful of fives.
         "You want your earnings or what?" He said with a large grin. "That was a hell of a fight you put up, uh, what's your name?"
         "Hmm, what's it to you?"
         "I dunno, I guess I just feel a little strange betting on someone and giving ‘em money when I don't even know their names."
         "Marina."
         His eyes lit up a little. "You mean like Marina Malone?"
         Marina's eyes narrowed. "This conversation is over." She then proceeded to put on her jacket and walk away. Logan ran up behind her, called her name, and put his hand on her shoulder in an attempt to get her attention, but her reaction was different from what he wanted. Instead she whipped around and attempted to drive her knuckles into the meat of his face. He caught it and knocked her fist back, as well as the next.
         She stepped back and looked at him for a moment, studying his movements. He didn't proceed to take any offensive and he only stood there, trying to talk.
         "Who the hell do you think you are?" She interrogated. He shifted his weight a little bit.
         "My name is Logan, Logan Cape. I'm here with a friend of yours, I think. Do you know a Troy Brekman?"
         "Yeah, I worked with him before. What's he doing here?"
         He hesitated. "He's-We are actually, looking for you."
         "Me?" Her mind jumped to a few possible reasons, but she didn't make a conclusion. "Why?"
         "Well, why don't you come with us and I'll explain everything?"
         "Why should I trust you? I don't even know you."
         "Fine, stay right there." Logan took off for a second into the crowd. Marina folded her arms and looked around the wall that previously obstructed her view of the ring. There were two similarly sized men in the ring this time, throwing punches and taking blows like a couple of boxers. The crowd didn't seem nearly as excited as before, but they still cheered and made noise like any other audience.
         Logan ended up coming back with a taller fellow, black feathers completely engulfed his body, aside from a few on the top of his head, which were silver and lighter than the rest. They added an experienced atmosphere to him. Marina saw her distorted reflection in his sunglasses and she knew it was her old colleague, Troy.
         His arms were wrapped up in thin bandages, however, and she noticed. "Troy, your arms, what happened?"
         "What, not even a ‘hello'?" He laughed. "I knew we'd find you here. Good thing, too."
         "What, why? And you never told me what happened to your arms."
         "Long story, I'll tell you soon. But we should go. Grab your money, lady; we're out of here."
         "Where? No, no, you're going to explain to me what the hell's going on before I go anywhere. For Christ's sake, I haven't seen you in years, Troy, and then this son of a bitch comes out of nowhere and gets me to fight. Explain to me!"
         Logan and Troy exchanged glances and proceeded to bring her back to the bar. She sat down and looked at Troy, completely ignoring Logan. "Okay," she said. "Explain or I'm out of here."
         "You remember that old dog, Lieutenant Hart?"
         Marina nodded in acknowledgement.
         "Well, he's been recruiting again, former special-ops--"
         "No, fuck that. I left for a reason, and I'm not working for him again." Marina abruptly stood up from the bar and proceeded to leave once more, except this time; Troy grabbed her upper bicep and stopped her.
         "Hey," he started. "We're getting paid good money for something easy to do. Listen to what he's got to say."
         "And where do you get off telling me what to do?"
         "You don't remember, do you?"
         "Remember what?" She spat back, raising an eyebrow. Troy only laughed at her.
         "You really don't. I remember a pact we made, back in the force, what, ten years ago, when you first joined up?"
         Marina thought back, ten years ago, working alongside one of her closest friends in the field. Nothing big time, just war games, but it was still a milestone in her life...

         A younger girl, somewhere around 19, still fresh to the adult community, stood in line with a group of larger, older men, all in standard military fatigues. Backs straight and eyes forward, they awaited their CO to issue them orders.
         Most of them thought of someone her age largely out of place, and there was no other women in the force. None of them knew who she was, this new rookie, but she'd already proven her mettle on the field before. Though nobody admitted it, they had a grudging respect for her.
         The dog-tags hanging from her neck identified her as Mary McLeod, and standing beside her was the only militant who eyed her positively, Troy Brekman. Not the most obvious friendship at the time, but it was there.