Quin was a small dude. As he entered the ring of metal mayhem, wind blew and he seemed to have trouble fighting against lift off. Like he was about to go airborne or something. Embarrassing, dammit. Fortunately the breeze stopped and he could plant his leather clodhoppin' shoes down, which appeared to be three sizes too big for him; They were massive. - But he had big feet. The doc said he'd grow into them some day. ...Lying bastard. He was twenty-three and had the same build as his eleven year old brother.

He stood at one end of the circle, headlights reflecting off of his bleached skin. Although his reflective pastiness was blinding, that wasn't the reason Quin wore sunglasses. He heard sunglasses were cool and made one appear older. But it was alright though, he didn't look bad in them. Besides, it was f---ing bright in the circle of vehicles.

Some of the cars were gloating their sound systems, stomping the ground with bass frequencies that almost threw Quin's balance off. - It was a hard life being small-framed. He often was mistaken for his younger brother, and could only spark interest in high school freshmen girls. - Then again, he was an ugly guy too. He sported a overly prominent nose that seemed to weigh his head down, and thin facial hair that had been struggling to turn dark and coarse since he was fifteen. He had a late-arriving acne problem and his hair naturally parted straight down the middle.

Yep, he was ugly all right. --An ugly dude that sought redemption. Redemption for the wee ones. An ugly guy that was getting ready to take one or win one for the little guys of the world. The guys that never got the girls and the guys that never won fights.

He lit a cigarette and stared into his contender's eyes, trying to broaden and hulk his shoulders and appear menacing. He probably would've looked even cooler if he actually inhaled rather than just release the thick, unfiltered smoke from his mouth into the light evening air. Oh well, he reasoned. There's always hope in the afterlife.