Down the poorly-lit alleyway, there was a brawl. Money exchanged hands, the smell of drink and smoke choked people's lungs, and there was a thrum of electric excitement coursing through the air, caused by the adrenaline that only a good fistfight could produce. A crowd had gathered to form a loose circle around the brawlers, screaming encouragement to the two fighters whaling away at each other in the middle of the ring. The spectators in the back of the crowd were quieter than the drunkards clogging the front row, but their eyes were no less keen on the outcome of the match. The fighters were some of the Slums biggest sources of entertainment, the fighters themselves likened to local celebrities, and there was money to be had in the pounding of fist upon flesh.
"C'mon, you weak little runt!" Came a hoarse cry from the center of the ring. A wild-eyed man––he couldn't be more than nineteen––was taunting his opponent, a raunchy grin on his face as curses and antagonizing expletives spilled from his mouth. That was Bryne. He moved from side to side with a restless energy, letting his hands dangle at his sides as he egged on his opponent, who was sporting a gushing nosebleed. Bryne let out an exultant, almost deranged laugh; he seemed to be buzzed on drink, or maybe it was the adrenaline high caused by the fight. He lashed forward, his movements lightening sharp, and delivered a sharp kick to his opponents gut, then sent the poor kid to the ground with a swift chop.
A whistle was blown, and the man let out a loud yell, throwing his hands up into the air and jogging around the circle, the crowd yelling back as Bryne screamed of his victory into their faces. The opponent was dragged out of the center to the edge of the crowd, out of the circle of light made by the streetlight.
Taiga watched Bryne egg on the crowd, drawing them up into a higher frenzy with his energy, her eyes watching the movements of the crowd with a cold gaze. "Don't be absurd," she muttered to herself, her hands going to crack at her knuckles––a nervous habit of hers. That arrogant turd Bryne always had to show off. If it was Taiga in there, the fight would have been over in half the time it took him. Of course, the crowd always like him better, but that wasn't Taiga's concern. There were more bidders in the audience tonight. Perhaps, perhaps... there could be one looking to hire. Taiga wasn't picky; she quite liked brawling for a living, and she was good at it. But even she knew that there were better, higher-paying, and most importantly, more honorable jobs than beating strangers up in alleyways for sport. Keeping her eyes on the arena, where Bryne was getting ready for his next fight, Taiga also kept her eyes out for potential clients.