Grant Ortega D10 {fin}

[MrMista]

Name: Grant Ortega

Age: 17

Gender: M

District: 10


One fight after another had been Grant Ortega’s world the past few years. His mother had died during childbirth, and his alcoholic father had never done too much to raise him after that. Sure, he probably would have died without the man, but that doesn’t mean Grant’s childhood was pleasant. Far from it. There was never much too eat, and what there was mostly went to his father. Grant learned early on to stay quiet, for the sound of his voice never brought him anything but punishment at his father’s hand. Though, to be fair, the drunk would take any opportunity he could to punish the child, hating him for causing the death of his wife. He had her deep brown eyes and skin the color of fertile ground. All he’d inherited from his father was the greasy hair and flat nose, soiling his mother’s features. And yet, Grant’s father never actually killed the youth, never even cast him out of the house. Because as much as he hated Grant for the tragedy his birth had caused, he was the only reminder of his mother that his father had.


By the time alcohol finally took the old man’s life Grant was a skinny youth, but a determined one. Even though he had nobody to turn to, he would not give up. He had survived 10 years of beatings and hardship, and so he would survive some more. Grant took to a life on the streets pretty well, all things considered. On good days, those who could spare some change were willing to give him some. He was still young, so even dirty and frail, he acquired the pity of passerby. On bad days, however, Grant had to be more… resourceful. He grew sneaky and learned how to steal from the market, not enough to draw attention, but just enough to sustain him for the day, until the sun rose for the next time.


That’s why when another kid, slightly bigger than Grant, but much clumsier, perhaps from the influence of alcohol, tried to steal from Grant himself, Grant took a stand. He was territorial and possessive, and stronger than he looked, so he lashed out. The first punch landed in the kid’s stomach, the second an uppercut to his jaw. That’s the one that shocked Grant. As his fist connected with the underside of the boy’s face, the kid’s entire head snapped back and he collapsed on the ground in a heap. Grant had only meant to startle him into dropping the stolen goods and running away, but now the fellow street urchin lay on the ground. He wouldn’t be getting up for a long time, if ever.


Luckily for Grant, the scuffle caught the eye of Manuel Vegas, a notorious figure in the District 10 underground scene, who happened to be passing by. Manuel liked what he saw, a desperate kid with nobody to turn to and, without any training, a solid punch. He approached him to deliver a once-in-a-lifetime deal. “Come with me,” he offered, “and you’ll never beg for another scrap in your life.” Grant wasn’t naïve; he knew there had to be more to it, but the deal itself seemed genuine. Luckily for him, it was. Though he was correct of course. Vegas wanted to train Grant to become the prized fighter of his fighting ring.


For two years, he personally saw to Grant’s development, subjecting him to a rigorous training process, the cruelty of which reminded the kid of his days with his father. Yet unlike in those early years, this time Grant was always well-fed. Even the punishments weren’t as bad, for whereas the senior Ortega had wanted to push his kid down, it was in Manuel’s best interests for Grant to be a top fighter. Nevertheless, he maintained order and strict discipline. Thus, the next two years took Grant from a skinny, lanky kid with the potential for power to a tough, strong (for a twelve-year-old) youth who took orders and carried them out without issue.


At the age of 12, Vegas entered Grant into his first bout. In his fighting ring, opponents would fight until submission or an inability to continue. The former usually got the fighter withdrawing a swift punishment from his sponsor, so fights usually ended with the latter. There were three levels of separation 12-15, 16-18, and 19+. However, that didn’t mean Grant’s first match was easy, as he was up against a 14 year old with a few inches on him for sure. Luckily, the other kid hadn’t been trained nearly as well, and by the end of the match, Grant stood bloodied, but victorious. Needless to say, Vegas was pleased with the betting winnings he earned from his new champion.


Fight after fight, win after win, Grant continued to deliver the results. He’d had a few close calls and more than his fair share of broken noses over the years, but his optimal training and never-ending determination had always pushed him over the top. Sometimes he wondered about a life that didn’t depend on beating others to a pulp, but then he would remind himself that he’d lived such a life, and his current situation was certainly preferable. Vegas might only see him as a useful tool, but he treated Grant better than anyone else in his life. Without him, Grant certainly would never have grown to be 6’3” and teeming with muscles. At 17, he’s halfway through his deal with Vegas – give him 5 more good years of fighting and Grant will join in on the administrative side of things, a much welcomed change.

[ghosty]

I like the way you've written it ^^ district ten also, yesssss