Changes

[Ms Murder]

May 7th, 2017
Trabiju, São Paulo, Brazil
5:03 A.M.

The loud, piercing alarm awoke Erica Alvarez from her slumber. She groaned in her half-awake state as her long, silky, black hair draped over the side of the bed. It had been a whirlwind of a week. She had just been recently signed to Unleashed, and her first opponent was all lined up. It didn't matter who was across the cage from her when it all was said and done because this was so much more than a debut. It was a chance to prove her worth. Ironically enough, that was something she'd spent her entire adult life trying to do, but never felt like she had. Even receiving her black belts in Muai Thai and Brazilian Jiu-Jistu seemed to come with a grain of salt, at least in her mind.

As she rolled from her twin bed and stood, she revealed little more than a white tank top and matching underwear. As she looked around, scratching at her head, she finds her bedroom in a state of disarray. Clothes strewn about and empty and half empty water bottles lying just about everywhere. Her dehydration tugged at the inside of her mouth as she searched for a bottle that wasn't yet empty. Upon finding one on the top of a clothes hamper she quickly emptied it. A small smile formed on her lips.

These were the messy conditions she had come quite accustomed to living in. Due to many issues earlier in her life, she didn't exactly trust easily. Combine that with her career of choice and you have the recipe for a cocktail of loneliness.

Except she didn't feel that. Not anymore. She was only focused on fighting, and anything that may get in the way of that, like a man for example, seemed trivial, at best.

She scrounges around for a pair of jeans and a proper top. Surprisingly enough, she finds a pair of black skinny jeans and a red top. As she slips on her top and begins brushing her hair, she noticed something on the end table near her bed. Her cellphone was lit up. A familiar number.

"Richard." She mouthed to herself. It was almost as if she was afraid to so much as utter his name. That the mere thought of his existence, and her past would create nightmares on the spot. She seemed visibly disturbed by the simple text message that read "Hello, Erica.". Her mind raced, as did her heart. She began to wonder if he knew her whereabouts. She hadn't had the misfortune of being in his company since she moved from Ohio several years ago. Despite that fact, the memories remained vivid in her mind. As clear as the bay window to the left of her.

The pills. The needles. The pipes. All of it. It all came flooding back into her mind. As far as she had separated her herself from that world; as far as she distanced herself from him, her past still had a stranglehold on her. It still felt like it was a part of her. A major part.

Her mind continued to race. The memories were all flowing back to her. It was overwhelming.


November 16th, 2005
Columbus, Ohio, USA
11:04 P.M.

Erica laid on the bed, in a daze, as she so often was when she was with Richard. Make no mistake, that is no metaphor for her love for the "man", and feel free to use that term as loosely as possible.

Richard stood in front of the bed, his chest bare. He had just finished zipping his pants back up. He had finished with her. Tomorrow, she probably wouldn't even remember the events of the night. He smirked as he looked down on his girlfriend, so doped up on Heroin she was barely even conscious to the real world around her. Just as Richard made sure of time and again. It's really what brought her back to him. He had little to truly offer her without her addiction. She had the silly notion that he was her addiction. How sorely mistaken that thought was.

A few hours later

As Erica woke from her slumber, something was a miss. Richard was nowhere to be found. While he certainly wasn't the clingy type by any stretch of the imagination, he usually passed out, right behind Erica. It wasn't the case this time. As she exited the bedroom she saw a sight she couldn't recall seeing before, although she was sure it had always been there. A long hallway with several doors, all of which were closed. Seemingly in between each and every door was a poor soul that had also lost their way. Strung out with a needle hanging from their arm, and their mouth agape. They all looked exactly the same. Even in her (now) slightly drugged state, Erica knew his was disturbing. She knew it was wrong. While she may not be on the level of these people yet, she knew she was headed that way. The thought in of itself caused her head to throb.

As she continued down the hallway, she stumbled a few times, nearly tripping over those that laid before her. Finally, after more trouble that it should have been, she reached the end of the hallway. She walked through a decrepit old doorway and into a larger room, but more of the same was inside. More strung out addicts. I'm the middle of it all, was Richard. He was surrounded by two blonde women, and he was all smiles.

"Richard?"

The name barely escaped her mouth. She was weak. Her body ached. Richard seemed amused by the sight.

"Erica, sweetheart. What are you doing out of bed?"

His tone was sarcastic. But it's not really clear why. Erica walked closer to him, surveying the disturbing surroundings of the room.

"Richard...is this what I've missed all this time? Is this what you've brought me to all along?" Again, her voice is laboured; coarse, even. Richard simply nods.

"Yes, Erica. You wanted to be my queen. Well, this is our kingdom."

Erica wanted to vomit. Although, she knew his words were correct. She knew this was the caliber of a man that Richard was. A skeevy drug dealer and user, happily aiding people in destroying their lives, and the lives of their loved ones by proxy.

Richard noticed Erica's disgust. She didn't have the energy to try and conceal it, after all. Sadly, she was about to see who Richard truly was.

As he approached her, he pulled a needle from his sweater pocket. A dirty, many times used over, needle. He proceeded to hand her the needle, but to his surprise and dismay, she recoiled.

"No." She simply said. Richard just...stood there. It was the first time she had truly uttered that word to him. Unfortunately, it didn't sit well. He was used to having everyone in the palm of his hand, Erica included. After a long, tense pause, he retracted the needle, handing it to one of his blonde girls, whom gleefully accepted the gift like a young child receiving a chocolate bar.

"What is happening to you, Erica? Are you suddenly realizing you have a higher moral fibre? You didn't seem to mind earlier, or any other if the dozens of times. It's what we always do before we fuck, remember?"

For the first time in her life, Erica stood strong; defiant.

"Not anymore."

She expected Richard to grow angry again, but to her surprise, he did not. Instead, with a much calmer demeanour he said "I have something to show you." As he smirked like a madman.

Reluctantly, Erica followed him across the room and towards the far left corner. A woman was collapsed in a heap, with vomit all over her face and the floor around her. She wasn't passed out, though. She was gone. Erica's heart raced as she realized who it was.

"Oh my god! RACHEL!!!"

This seemed to amuse Richard. The sick bastard that he was. Erica was in her knees, her face in her hands and crying her heart out.

"It seems that your best friend doesn't share the same tolerance as you do."

His message was delivered with such chilling venom. He wanted her to suffer. As Erica looked up into his cold blue eyes, she looked like she was going to explode. Then a bottle smashed the back of her head. Everything went black.


May 7th, 2017
Trabiju, São Paulo, Brazil
6:00 A.M.


Erica continued to stare down at her IPhone. She was in shock that he found a way to contact her at all. It was chilling. Even after all these years. Even after becoming as proficient as she had in Muai Thai and BJJ, and a plethora of other Martial Arts. On some level, she still feared him. She was still haunted by many things he had done to her in her teenage years. As she tried to snap out of this trance, she shook her head and shut off the phone.

"Fuck it."

She sounded defiant. Yet, with nobody else in the room, maybe she was merely trying to convince herself that she could rise above it. Prove to herself that she wasn't afraid anymore.

But she was.


May 7th, 2017
São José do Rio Preto, São Paulo, Brazil
8:04 A.M.

Despite old nightmares still haunting her, Erica continued on with her morning routine. Nothing could slow her down. She was finally in a reputable fighting organization. She wouldn't allow Richard to ruin her life all over again like he had her teen years.

She arrived at the Black River Fighting Company ready to be tested. She met her trainer and they discussed what was going to happen. As she stepped into the cage with today's sparring partner something took over her. As she miscalculated a front kick and he sidestepped her, he caught her with a right hook which rocked her and she stumbled back.

She no longer saw her partner, José. She saw the nightmare she had run from for her entire adult life. She saw Richard. She wasn't scared this time. The cage wasn't a crack house. It was a war ground. It was Erica's world.

She charged forward, ducking a left hook. She smashed José with two strong body shots. As his head lowered slightly from the impact, she clasped his head in the clinch, delivering a hellacious knee, smashing his nose, and fracturing it upon impact. As José stumbled back, Erica screamed, charging forward and left her feet, aiming a flying knee which lands flush on his chin, sending him backward into the cage, and then fell face-first into the mat. The head trainer, Franco rushed in to get in between Erica and José. It was at this exact moment that Erica realized what had just happened.

"What the fuck, Erica?"

Franco was beside himself, and rightfully so. Erica cringed as she peered down at her handiwork. José was a bloody heap in the corner. Erica looked on as medical personnel filed into the cage and tended to the unconscious José. She looked away, knowing she was responsible.

"I'm...sorry."

She was. She was also embarrassed. Luckily, Franco knew her past all too well. He was conflicted. Erica was far superior to all his other fighters. He wasn't about to throw her out the door. That being said, this was serious. José was out cold. Broken jaw. Broken nose. He saw the fire in her. He knew if she was able to harness that, and control it, she would be nearly unstoppable.

Of course, that's easier said than done.

He led her into the office. They sat on opposite sides of a cherry coloured mahogany desk. As Franco looked forward, Erica peered down. She assumed the worst was coming. It was a reasonable assumption.

"That was..."

Here it comes.

"Unreal."

That wasn't what Erica was expecting. She finally looked up. Franco was impressed. There was no doubt about it.

"You aren't mad?"

"Well..."

He mostly shrugged it off.

"José is in rough shape. He will need a lot of attention. Not something I'm exactly thrilled about. But, these things happen."

Wow, that was a load off. Still though, Erica was at a loss for what happened. She hallucinated a vision of Richard and she lost all control.

"Let's get to work on your control."


Trabiju, São Paulo, Brazil
May 9th
1:32 P.M.

After the training incident, Erica worked twice as hard. She had an extra chip on her shoulder. She wanted to prove to Franco and the rest of Black River that she wasn't a liability. She felt awful about José, but wouldn't dare visit. It still bugged her that she lost control in the manner that she had on that day. It was the first instance it had happened. Would it be the last?

That's the question she asked herself as she peered into her full length mirror of her bedroom closet. She was not the same girl she was when Richard was a prominent part of her life. She was not the same woman she was even a year ago. She was constantly evolving as a person and as a martial artist. It was the first time she pondered whether or not that was actually a good thing.

As she looked in the mirror, she scanned her plethora of tattoos. She could see practically all them now, as she wore a black tank top and white shorts. Each tattoo was a message, or a memory. They all meant something to her. They were constant reminders of the wars she had fought. The Battles she had survived. The lessons she had learned that had brought her to this point in her life.

Her look of confusion turned into one of determination.

She may still have feared the demon of her past. The man that had taken everything from her. Despite that, it made her who she was today. She was confident that one day, justice would be served. One day, she would get closure; finality. It may not have been today, but that was okay.

Suddenly, three thunderous knocks echoed throughout her apartment. She knew instantly who they emanated from. As she shyly peered out from her bedroom window towards the front door, she saw the culprits. Three para-militaries. A sad and inevitable aspect of life in Trabiju, at least right now. It wasn't clear to her what they could want, but she didn't feel like sticking around to find out. As her front door was smashed in, she climbed out of her bedroom window, carefully dropping to the ground below. She ran through a nearby alleyway and into the town area. Luckily they wouldn't be able to follow her, this time.

Her phone buzzed feverishly. Franco was calling. After everything that's happened, she knew she would have to answer.

"Are you okay?! A worried Franco practically screamed into the phone. He knew something Erica didn't.

"The paramilitaries?"

There was a long, tense, pause. That was as much of an answer as Erica would need.

"What's going on?"

Another long pause.

"Franco?!"

"Black River hasn't been paying them money."

She had no idea what he meant by that. Something Franco picked up on by the silence.

"São Paulo is a dangerous place, Erica. You can't pretend that it's not. Black River pays the "God's Right Hand" to protect us from it. To protect our fighters."

Erica ducks down another alleyway as she notices familiar faces ahead. Better to be safe than sorry.

"But you haven't been."

The regret was evident on the other side of the phone call. Franco's breathing was uncharacteristically frantic.

"That's kind of why we didn't do too much about the José incident.

Erica's heart sank. It made sense now. What didn't make as much sense was why she was being chased by paramilitaries.

"So they're after me?"

"They view you as the greatest incentive to get the money they are owed. You are the most recognizable and well known fighter at Black River."

Silence. Franco's breathing relaxed.

"Can you get to the airport?"

"Probably. It's not far from here. Why?"

"Get there as fast as you can. A Black River associate will meet you. The logo will be displayed on a helicopter. He will take you to St. Petersburg."

Erica didn't ask anything further. She knew why. She was too much of a target here. As much as it was to process, she couldn't fathom it. Only time would allow her to do that. For now, she was off to Russia.


May 10th
St. Petersburg, Russia
3:03 P.M.

Erica was settling into a bit of a rundown motel on the outskirts of St. Petersburg. It was a far cry from the events and situation she found herself in back home in Brazil. It wasn't beautiful, and it wasn't even peaceful. To Erica though, it was perfect. She was still attempting to wrap her mind around what exactly she had run from. Paramilitaries. Protection money. It was all crazy. Something out of a movie. There was nobody for her to turn to. She worried about contacting Franco. Nobody else would likely believe the tale.

As she stood in front of the only window in the room, looking out at the dreary, overcast weather, all she could do was think. The text from Richard, the training mishap, the paramilitary situation. All in the span of a few days. It seemed as though the closer she got to her dream, the more the world threw her way. Now, she was tasked with winning her debut. Not just for the recognition it would afford her in a new company, but now to ensure her fighting team could continue to even exist. It was a lot to handle.

Then again, that's really the narrative of her entire life so far. So, in a way, it was same old same old. That was the only bit of comforting information she had to hold on to.

As she turned from the window, she turned around and flopped back-first onto the single bed. She took a moment staring up at the beige ceiling. She sighed.

"When will it end?"

Clearly, not yet, as her phone starts to buzz over on the small dresser that's up against the wall directly in front of the bed. As she slowly peels herself from the bed, she notices a familiar number. She gasps.

"Richard." She says to herself, disgusted of the very name. She hesitates. Then...she answers, reluctantly. She knows now that he has found her, he won't give up. She would have to force her hand.

"What the fuck do you want?" She snaps upon answering.

"Now now now... That's not very lady like, Erica."

Her eyes rolled. Her blood boiled.

"I'm not the same naive little girl you used and abused years ago."

"Clearly not. I've been following your story. So inspirational."

Erica looked nauseous. Richard's words were like snake venom.

"What. Do. You. Want?"

Her patience was running on empty. Richard was amused, however.

"I want in."

Erica looked perplexed. What did he mean? Richard knew she was confused. He didn't wait for her to ask what his intentions were.

"Franco didn't tell you the whole story, Erica."

She knew something was fishy about her trainer's story.

"No...

You..."

She could barely fathom the truth. It was heart-wrenching. It was sickening and it was disturbing. Richard laughed on the other end.

"That's right, Erica. I've been in Trabiju longer than you have. I've built quite the reputation. You don't hold the power here.

I do."

Erica's heart sank. She wanted to end this man more than anything in the world. She wanted to seem him suffer like he had made her suffer all those years ago. He wanted him to pay.

It hurt that she didn't believe it would ever be possible. He had flourished in the drug underworld, even in Brazil.

"So you want my winnings." She declared, dejected."[/color]

"Not exactly. We want to back you. A lot of opportunities can come with your success. I've seen you before. I know what you are capable of. Granted, we will need 10%, but nothing more other than your unconditional cooperation."

It kept getting worse. Erica wanted to end the call immediately, but knew that would practically be suicide.

"Cooperation with what, exactly?"

] "We will be in touch."

The call ended. Erica couldn't fathom what had just occurred. She had signed a deal with her own personal satan. The man who caused her more grief than any other. She now worked for him, basically.

She launched herself back onto the bed.

Speechless.

In shock.

In tears.

Doomed to work with the man who tortured and abused her. Bound to the man she wanted to end.

"What a fucking week." She muttered to herself as she once again, fixated on the ceiling. Unsure of what to do next.