Jon Steel A MMA fighter with Shit Luck

As you made you way down , painfully and slowly down the 5 flights of stairs that led to your apartment. The flood of spiraling thoughts, how were you going to make rent, how soon could you get your next fight, how to not go insane from boredom while the ribs healed ,all bounced around in your skull all at once. You clenched your jaw and simply tried to focus on one goal find a damm lawyer. As you go down the damaged , delipidated , and somewhat trash strewn stairs the light from the window seems find our eyes and cause a deep seated discomfort. As you reach the door that looked like someone had recently vomited blood on it after kicking it open, the sun BURNS. It hits you as the city sounds the sirens, the masses of people and the cars hit you all at once which nearly sends you reeling. Noted if you had to guess , you probably have a concussion as well. Lovely.
You recalled the events of last night, trying them to keep the story straight if you did in fact find a lawyer willing to take your case. You showed up for your fight, going up a weight class against your opponent. After some exchange you landed a clean right hook that sent your opponent to the ground. However after directly after the bloods "police", you tend to air quote them because the essentially act like another gang just with more government on their side, raided the fight claiming that it was a illegal fight. A scuffle ensued, you ended up trying to protect some kid from 5 cops. Three of them held you down as the other two botted you in the ribs and the head repeatedly while screaming something about a gun. You do think the kid got a away though.
The streets of trash , cigarettes blood stains and cracks in the side walk that characterize the bloods. But they were small perks as well as the waft of fresh Colombian coffee travels up you nose and you find self( unfortunately metaphorically instead of literally) floating ( more like limping) over.
Zara's coffee shop , a pretty recent and bold addition to the neighborhood had attracted attention. Good enough that all the gang activity had left alone for the time being. What kind of woman she was , being just crazy enough to open a shop in the bloods you couldn't say all through you were half way certain she lived in the same building as you. Bold certainly you pondered as you continued walking.
The door opened suddenly , and despite you moving out of the way initially a incredibly heavy hand bag continued its momentum and slammed into your ribs. Despite your heavy pain resistance you dropped hard on the sidewalk. You heard sounds of a woman being alarmed. Thiers a pause as you enjoy near immobilizing agony then felt remarkably soft hands, and a grunt of effort get you up with some assistance from what control you have over your legs. You are partially carried west a block, then south, the west once more before arriving at your helper's apparent destination. You hear her shout something in a language you don't understand as she opened the door heard a response and get carried once more to a relatively comfortable couch .