Introduction

(WIP ⚠️ 🚧)

• “Some people inherit power. Others steal it. I earned mine through fire, through blood, through betrayal. And I never stop earning it.”
• Origins: Born in the Cold, Raised for War.

My name is Cheyenne Dalton , a name that belongs to no land, no family, no past I care to claim. But where I come from? That’s a different story.

I wasn’t born in the South, though my name might fool you. My roots are buried in the frozen wastelands of Siberia, a land as merciless as the people who survive it. There, life isn’t given it’s taken, earned, fought for. The weak are stripped bare by the cold, and the unprepared? The unprepared don’t get second chances.

A Childhood Forged in Hardship

I didn’t grow up with bedtime stories or warm embraces. My father was a soldier without a war, a killer without a cause. He carried ghosts from battles long buried, and he trained me the only way he knew how:
• Pain was a lesson, not a punishment. I was taught to withstand it, to expect it, to channel it.
• Fear was an illusion, one that could be broken like a weak bone.
• Softness was the real enemy compassion, hesitation, regret.

I remember my first real fight. Not some schoolyard scrap. Not some playful exchange of punches. A fight for survival. I was seven years old, and my opponent was almost twice my age. My father threw me into that pit like I was a stray dog.

“Survive,” he said.

I lost. Badly. I tasted my own blood for the first time that day, felt my ribs bruise, my vision blur. But pain wasn’t the lesson getting up was. Fighting back was.

And so I did. Again. And again. Until losing wasn’t an option.

The Evolution of a Fighter

By the time I was twelve, I had been shaped into something more than a child, but not yet a weapon. I had trained under men who barely considered me human, thrown into underground fights where the only rule was survival.

I learned from every blow, every broken bone, every lesson written in my own blood. I watched, I adapted, I evolved.

A Style Without Borders

I don’t fight with tradition. I fight to win. My style is a patchwork of brutality, stolen from warriors across the world.

Muay Thai

The art of eight limbs. My elbows cut like knives, my knees land like gunfire.

Krav Maga

No wasted movement. No second chances. Strike to kill.

Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu

Some fights don’t stay standing. I can break you on the ground just as easily.

Boxing

My hands? Fast, precise, and unforgiving.

Sambo

I know how to throw. I know how to hurt.

You think you know me? You don’t. The moment you think you’ve got me figured out is the moment you lose.

The Betrayal That Cut the Deepest

I’ve taken my share of beatings. I’ve lost fights. I’ve been left bleeding in the dirt, coughing through broken ribs. But nothing not a single wound hurt like the betrayal.

She was more than a rival. More than a friend. We built something together. We were unstoppable, two warriors bound by blood and sweat, our fists carving a name into the underground. We fought for each other. We stood side by side.

Until she saw something worth more than loyalty.

She set me up. Led me into an ambush. Sold me out to a fight I wasn’t supposed to walk away from.

She wanted me broken. She wanted me erased.

But she failed.

I survived. And now, she walks the same streets I do, knowing that one day, I will find her. One day, we settle this. And when we do? It won’t be a fight. It will be a reckoning.

The Code I Live By

People call me ruthless. They’re not wrong. But they mistake ruthlessness for chaos.

I have a code.

The Laws of Cheyenne Dalton:

1. Respect is earned, not given. You want mine? Earn it.
2. I don’t fight for sport. I fight for purpose. I fight because I know nothing else.
3. Honor still matters, even in blood. I don’t start fights I don’t intend to finish. I don’t waste time with words.
4. Revenge isn’t an impulse. It’s a promise. And my promises? I always keep.

The Fighter You Don’t See Coming

You wanna fight me? Fine. But don’t expect mercy. Don’t expect hesitation. And don’t expect to walk away the same.

Because once you step into the ring with me, there’s no turning back.

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