The "Underground Brawling" was just about to commence. The people who would fight and the people who would watch were all present in the large hall, which featured an arena in the center.
There was a lot of excitement over the brawl. However, for some of them, that excitement was not destined to last. There was something lurking within these people and was eager to show up.
A midget grabbed the microphone. "Fighters are requested to maintain silence," said before he paused, and waited for the commotion to calm down.
"Ok, so let me welcome the chairman of this association .....Miss Wolfhen...." he said while handling the microphone to a lady wearing a dark colored gown.
"Thanks, professor, I want to have a little conversation with the fighters." She scanned the fighters with her eyes, and continued. "Evelyn was a kid who wasn't given any chance throughout her life. She fought for everything she got. Because she never gave up, she achieved her dreams and now she is standing before you to deliver this speech. So let me ask you a question?" The whole hall was silent; only sounds of heavy breathing could be heard. "Are you ready to push yourself harder than ever before?"
"Yes!" The fighters roared.
"Fight strong, and fight fast. Show me what you can fucking do!"
Her voice echoed in the hall like thunder striking down. She dropped the microphone and returned to her usual place.
"WAAAAA!"
Fighters were full with energy, adrenaline rushing throughout their bodies.
This brawling competition was organized by an underground association to sort out the potential talents who could become King's Guards in future. Although this thing was illegal, it had the backing of the government, so no security agencies were bothered by it.
The midget, who was also known as the professor for some reason, took up the microphone. "Ahem," he cleared his throat. "Fighters, you are requested to step into the arena." The fighters entered the arena.
Worrick was practicing his punches and warming up in a corner of arena while checking the fighters around him. Anne was jumping to get her blood flowing quickly. Christa was wrapping bandages around her fists to decrease the injury she might sustain whenever she punched someone. The fight could start any moment now, and all the eyes were focused on the arena.
The gate which was closed for some time opened again, and four people, each of them wearing long robes that concealed their faces, entered the hall. After some time, three more people entered the hall, then finally the gate of hall closed behind them, sealed for two hours. Now this gate would open only after the brawl ended.
The last three people to enter were Borgeez, Sam and Elise. Borgeez signaled his friends to an empty corner. The three of them occupied that corner. A man who was greeting everyone came to towards them, and bowed "Greetings from this humble one."
Sam snorted and spoke, "Cut this bullshit. How much are you making out of this?"
The man grinned and rubbed his hands. "Well, I'm making a little. Nothing compared to the four big shots over there," he said while looking at the four newcomers. "Please excuse me." He went towards the midget to say something.
"People can place their bets now. Each fighter has a unique number printed on his back; you can put your bet on that number. The betting stalls have just been opened." The midget announced.
Borgeez and his team moved towards one such stall. "Put all our money on Christa," said Borgeez to Sam. Sam nodded and nudged Elise, who put the bag that she was carrying on the table. "Put this on number 16." She spoke to the agent sitting in the stall.
24 fighters faced each other; the first round would end when half of the fighters were defeated. In the next level, the remaining fighters would fight each other, and the last three standing would be crowned the winners.
Borgeez was sitting in the audience, wearing a long robe and a hood that covered his facial features; beside him, his most trusted friends were also observing the matches secretly.
Borgeez frowned as he watched Anne. Pointing in her direction, he glanced at his friend. "Who is this girl? I've never heard of her before.
The guy shrugged. "I don't know. Must be some commoner with big dreams. Besides, how would you know about her? No one told you about her before."
On the other side, Anne stood opposite Vhictoria.
The referee announced, "Okay now.....start." The fight began.
Vhictoria believed in her techniques and was confident in her fist skills, so she initiated the attack. She tightened her fist and charged. Anne was alarmed, but she quickly calmed her nerves, and she maintained a defensive stance. Vhictoria propelled a kick, which was countered by Anne.
Anne saw the opening and hit Vhictoria with her elbow, and blood came out from Vhictoria's mouth. She rapidly took two strides back, out of Anne's range. In the meantime Anne was figuring what would be her best move. She took an offensive stance.
Vhictoria kicked again. This time, Anne got away from the trajectory of the kick at the very last moment and Vhictoria stumbled because of her momentum but she didn't fall.
Anne discovered this opening and kicked Vhictoria's back, just as Vhictoria was going to fall. In a single, swift motion, Anne kicked Vhictoria's abdomen. Due to these consecutive hits Vhictoria coughed blood and fainted.
Anne gained the victory out of the blue!
On the other side of Arena, Worrick was facing Grace.
Drawing his arm back, Worrick drove his fist into Grace's nose. Her head flying backward as her eyes spun skyward, Grace stumbled. Her left foot slid on the concrete and she braced the heel of her sneaker against the rough ground. Her hands rose to cover her nose, her eyes squeezed shut. A single tear leaked down her cheek. Head coming forwards, nose throbbing, she glared at Worrick over her fingers.
"Boo bas-turd," Grace snarled. "Bhat da bell did boo do bhat fer?"
Worrick covered his mouth. "I didn't hear that, Grace," he said. He leaned forward, hand cupping his ear. "What did you say?"
"B'oh?" Grace said, lowering her hands. "Bell, backass, bisten do dis!" She was about to attack but Worrick stepped forward, left leg pulling back and striking out. His instep slammed into Grace's shin with a solid crunch. Grace yelped, her right leg lifting off the ground, head dropping as she leaned forwards. Seizing the back of Grace's head with his fingers, he forced her skull down, knee ramming upwards into her face.
Grace lost!
Finally the initial round ended with the defeat of 12 candidates. Anne, Worrick and Christa were NOT among them.
This match was called, "The last three standing." Anne clenched her fists and took deep breaths. She had to clear this final hurdle. Worrick rubbed his face, he had to win this. Christa was shadow -practicing her punches; she would be among the last three. Borgeez fixed his gaze towards them as if sizing them up for this match.
He analyzed the other fighters and finally told his friends. "No doubt Anne is strong, but your sister is stronger in every aspect.....Anne will lose surely."
He also elaborated on all the parts in which Anne was inferior. Sam then asked him, "Of course she's my sister after all. What about that guy?" He asked pointing towards Worrick.
The prince smiled and replied, "First. He will win the match, he's a dark horse. These fights are full of surprises." He slightly tilted his head and said in joking manner.
Last three standing: the hurdle between them and their goal. They could see every fighter standing in the arena clearly; they could also hear their heavy breathing. All these fighters had the same goal, to be the king's guard. But where did they stand among them?
Right now, such thoughts were circulating inside all of them.
The midget straightened his back and spoke into the microphone," Ok people ....3 ...2...1...The Last Three Standing, start!
Worrick heard the announcement and charged towards a muscular guy. The muscular guy threw up his forearms like an offensive lineman blocking a defensive fullback, but Worrick slipped to the side, pushed the man's elbow down and away. Worrick jumped and caught his head, and rolled him onto the floor. Within a third of a second, once contact was made, Worrick rose to his feet and watched the muscular man stand up and rush toward him in slow motion. The muscular man tore his shirt and revealed his toned body. The threw a punch towards Worrick. Worrick did not try to stop the punch; he rolled his hand under the man's wrist, drove the man's arm over and back, and pulled him backward and down. The man was slammed onto the floor, and Worrick hit him on the forehead with two hard elbows.
The muscular guy was defeated!
Anne quickly stood at the corner of the arena; it was good to maintain a low profile at the beginning. A blond guy was looking at her, as if saying they should team up. Considering it was better to form a team to lighten the pressure, Anne nodded and accepted the blonde guy's invitation. She moved closer to him.
The blond spoke to Anne, "You focus on above the waist; I am going for the legs."
Anne nodded.
Both of them focused their attention on the girl standing in front of them. The blond guy moved towards her, and Anne was just a step behind him. Their target was alarmed by witnessing this sudden change. She quickly switched to a defensive stance.
Anne moved towards her left and the blond guy towards the right, with the girl standing between them. Anne quickly signaled to the blond guy, and at the same instant they launched their attacks.
Anne kicked the girl's chest from the front and consequently the blond guy kicked her legs from behind.
THUMP!
The blonde saw the girl fall and went to give Anne a victory sign, but something else happened. The Blonde promptly walked into a blazing roundhouse kick that rattled his skull. He starts to fall until Anne's other foot slammed into his rib cage.
Back and forth. Right leg, left leg. Lifting him with each kick and forcing him to remain standing, Anne wrapped her arms around his head and held him up as she thrust several wicked knee shots into his ribs.
Pain exploded in the blonde's chest as his ribs snapped. His breathing became labored. His legs turned into Jello. He wobbled as Anne punished him with an uppercut that sent him into the ropes. He bounced between the ropes and Anne's ruthless jabs.
Anne pursued him and fired her foot and fist into him repeatedly, as if she was exercising with a heavy bag rather than hitting a person. Anne then performed her kicks at him.
Cross kick!
Roundhouse kick!
Abdomen Kick!
Knee shot at his face!
Blood gushed out from the blond guy's mouth.
Bang!
Anne shot a back kick into his midsection with so much force that he flew five meters across the concrete floor.
His body flopped with a wet, fleshy THUD onto the ground.
He could only whisper, "Why? You bitch..."
He lay there looking for an answer; as if searching for some reason to remain awake, covered with blood and dust, his handsome face looking deathly pale
Anne answered with a smile, "Silly boy, this not a game....This is war ....and I am going to win this." Witnessing these turn of events, the people broke into a cheer.
The blonde fainted.
Borgeez whispered, "Well….that was dirty."