I held my beautiful black pistol Noir to my chest. I had aqquired him when I was five years old, and I never went anywhere without him. I heard a tiny click from behind, me. I opened the tiny compact mirror, and saw my opponent behind me, loding his bullet. I turned, swinging Noir round, and bang.
I had shot the boy in the stomach. He looked down in disbelieve. I knew wht he was thinging. How could a sixteen year old bet him? But I am not just any sixteen year old. I am Iris.
I got my name from my eyes, for they were bright orange. Others would think they were contacts, but they were quite real. My long black hair was tied in long plait, my pale skin dotted with sweat and beads of blood. I had only ever obtained one scar from my fights. A faint silver line that curled from my eyebrow to the bottom of my cheek.
I smiled softly. I never actually killed anyone...in the fight. I wrapped my arms round the mans figure, and hauled him out of the arena. "Iris never loses." I said softly, taking him to his family, then leaving. That had been my seventh fight today, and I think my boss would want to see me.
"Iris, babe, these are just the smll fry! Wait till ya go to the big leagues. C'mon, You've done enough for today." He told me. I slumped into a chair, and groaned. I placed Noir back into its hold in my thigh, and pulled the elastic out of my hair. Zero, my boss and boyfriend, ran his fingers through my hair, untangling it a little. I shivered in delight.
"Before long, I'm gonna have to fight you to stay in business!" Zero chuckled. I smiled. I kneww he was joking. He knew he would never stand chance against me...