One Year Ago
Keri walked down the hall amidst a roar of cheers. Life in the slums made no shortage of residence eager to blow off some steam or watch other people blow off steam for them. The boxing fights were among the most popular sporting events for the lower tiers. It didn't take much to become a boxer for the sport, in fact anyone could enter as an amateur, however, most athletes weren't considered real fighters until their third match, or preferably their first win.
Keri had been dreaming of the day she would be considered a real fighter. The previous hours before the match she had spent harnessing her inner rage. Taping her hands and getting geared up had become a ritual that required a sharp focus and clear mind. She played back the memory of when she was bullied as a kid over-and-over again in her head as death metal boomed in her ear drums.
Two assistants assisted her, taping and wrapping her hands for the boxing gloves. Her hair was recently trimmed and her bangs were parted to the side. She glared at the brick wall opposite of her; she was projecting all her inner rage into that wall. She hated its terrible paint job, the cracks at the edges, and how it would remain their, completely indifferent to her. She wanted to punch the crap out of that wall.
Another memory suddenly hit her, one that she sometimes reflected on to truly get amped up and pissed off. When she was sixteen and she caught her then boyfriend sleeping with Mary Sparta in her own room!
Once her name was called, she was seething with hatred, pure undiluted malice that needed to be expelled. Keri was ready, and marched down the corridor flanked by both league assistants who carried her 'colors'. Every athlete, even novices, were allowed some sort of standard to identify by, she had chosen a deep purple flag with a red flame at the center. Kind of generic, but she wasn't one for theatrics. Not for today at least.
She didn't expect a huge crowd to cheer or even recognize her, so she was pleasantly surprised when her stage name was chanted as the curtains parted.
"Vixen! Vixen! Vixen!" She strutted down the isle in her boxing getup, a form fitting tank top and shorts. She could feel beads of sweat strolling between her shoulder blades as she looked up toward the crowd. The stadium was only large enough for a couple hundred patrons, and the seats were packed.
I can't believe it! They actually love me! Her hopes were dashed once her opponent stepped out from the opposite curtains. Just like before they chanted his stage name with equal, if not greater, affection. Apparently, anything would get a rise out of them.
"Butcher! Butcher! Butcher!" She eyed her opponent as he made his way to the center stage. He was tall and bulky with a barrel chest and a thick ginger beard. She didn't recognize him by name, but she did notice the guild tattoo on his arm. He was a cleaner! The cleaning guilds were responsible for managing trash disposal. Apparently he had a long career of lifting heavy amounts of garbage?
The pair entered the ring, the announcements going through the usual motions to get the crowds ready. Keri studied her opponent during that time. He was huge and could out reach her. That meant she had to rely on speed. She would have to wear him out, let him exhaust himself before she could make her move.
She knew it was possible she would be paired randomly with a male fighter, there were no separate leagues. She also knew she needed to find a way to finish this fight before the fourth round ended. She summoned her hatred to the surface, and didn't stop glaring at her opponent who looked her up and down and simply smirked.
The bell rang and she assumed her defensive stance, her strategy was sound, and she was ready.
It took five rounds! Five rounds before the Butcher finally slowed down enough to counter attack. By then Keri was soaking in sweat and blood was dripping from her nose. She was able to avoid the worst of the damage, but the Butcher had gotten a few lucky hits. Her stomach was bruised and her ears were ringing. Her knees were on fire, her legs getting sluggish under duress, and her lungs wouldn't stop burning.
She didn't think she could take much more of this.
Despite her exhausted state, the Butcher seemed worse, he had tried his damnedest to make each punch a knockout blow. Putting so much energy and strength into each throw that he had finally grown too tired to keep his arms up at chin height. Even still he bore layers of meat and muscle that could take a beating compared to herself.
Keri tried her usual favorite combo, a series of jabs followed by a mean right hook, and finally a knock out upper cut. When the hook met him it felt like she was hitting a brick wall, the very brick wall she was pushing her anger into beforehand. But she didn't relent, she couldn't stop her attacks. It was now a test of raw endurance.
When the round ended, she was horrified to see the Butcher still eager to continue. Her arms were screaming in protest, it felt like she had been lifting her max weights for hours. When the sixth round began, she realized she couldn't knock him out, she would have to focus on points. Luckily, he was still exhausted, his throws were slow and exposed him too readily for counter attacks. Hers were almost no better, but she could still use her speed against him.
The match became what some would call a 'boring contest'. She was working to dodge or weave her way past his hooks while making quick jabs in response. It was clear that she was making more impacts, however if he could get one lucky punch she could be out.
The seventh round became a dragging contest of rage and desperation. Nearly all her energy was focused on simply not getting hit! The Butcher had evidently realized what she was trying to do, and decided to end her chances of wining a points victory. He was going to push himself to the limit-and-beyond to keep her on her toes until she made a mistake.
She almost did.
Thirty seconds before the round ended, he forced her to keep her arms up, and he went to town on breaking through. He finally glanced the side of her head and Keri saw a cascade of starlight as she fell, hitting the ground hard. The crowd counted down from ten, she stood up quickly before they got to seven.
Round eight began, and the tension was boiling. Keri was seeing double and knew she couldn't take another punch from this guy. But she couldn't give up, she advanced slowly trying to bide her time. He rushed her and sent her an earth-shattering upper cut right underneath her rib cage.
Keri threw up on the stage and sank to her knees disoriented. The crowd cheered while others began counting down again. She thought about quitting then, but she came so far! Points wise she had to have more than him, so if she could only keep herself up she might be able to still win. Her knees protested as she rose, the countdown was at 2 when she got back on her feet.
The round continued and the Butcher rushed again, this time Keri knew what to expect and dived to the right. She recognized he preferred his right hand, and thus as he tried another series of painful uppercuts, he had exposed his right side. She attacked back, and as her glove impacted his abdomen she could feel something give way. Her hand screamed in pain! But so too did the mans ribs. The Butcher howled and he lost his footing for a split second.
The pair withdrew from one another, her growls of pain easily overshadowed by the crowds' cheers. Her left hand was busted to hell, she feared bones were broken! But the Butcher was gripping his side and limping away. He looked at her, his eyes full of blood rage.
This is it! She realized. The final bout.
They were both damaged, and had only a few seconds left before the final round would end. She had scored far more hits, even if they were minor, and would likely win just on points. However, she was too hurt to use her hand! If he could stomach his own pain, he could break her here and now!
Keri tasted blood on her lips and tried to step away, keeping as much distance from the Butcher as possible. In response the Butcher sucked in a painful breath and advanced, his right arm his primary weapon. She could tell he was suffering with each step.
She was being goaded into a corner, the worst place you would ever want to be in a match. She had a choice, get in the corner and outlast the punishment, or charge ahead. She had a split second to decide.
There was no way she could risk charging him; he was wounded but still tougher than she, and he still had a longer reach. He would easily get two hits in before she could make her own, and those two would be knockouts. She wasn't sure what to do. Keri kept her distance until twenty seconds were on the clock.
With eighteen seconds remaining she was cornered.
With twelve seconds left she was hit again and again, her one hand was useless to block the blows to her head!
Eight seconds left, Keri screamed and hit the ground hard.
With six seconds left she could taste nothing but the sting of copper in her mouth. Her body was numb, her vision had grown narrow and overshadowed.
The referee descended to her and blew a whistle, never a good sign.
And that was it…
About an hour later she regained consciousness in the stadium medical center, her hand was wrapped up in bandages and ice packs were pressed against her naked body. They told her she was lucky to survive without suffering any permanent damage.
She simply smiled, that was the best fight she ever had. She knew she lost, but couldn't get enough of that feeling! She almost won! Against someone twice her strength and thrice her endurance, she almost won! Only seconds away from complete victory! She spared against a Goliath for eight rounds, almost beating him! She wanted more! She needed it!
When the doctors cleared her to leave, she was surprised to run into the Butcher himself who was also bandaged from head to toe. One of his eyes was completely swollen, and he was apparently pissing blood.
"Hell of a match Vixin, better luck next time!" He was surprisingly polite given the fact they were both beating each other to a pulp mere hours ago. "Sorry for being a little rough with ya, you're tougher than you look."
Keri couldn't help but smirk at that, and she gave him a wink in return. "Don't underestimate me Butcher."
She didn't leave immediately, instead she stayed to watch some of the other matches that went on well into the night. She learned later that even though she lost, her match was among the most watched in the city that night. Her phone was already ringing endlessly; her father was a nervous wreck, and Johnathan an overzealous critic trying to give her the full second-by-second rundown of the bout. He analyzed every mistake she made and tried to outline them!
Keri looked at her busted hand, and realized it could have been much worse. It was sprained and would take weeks to heal, but that was better than the alternative.
Maybe he was right, maybe I am tougher than I look? Maybe I should have attacked, rather let myself get cornered? She would have to think on that later.
As the matches came to a close, she had no idea her entire life was about to change, but one thing she did know was that she never wanted to escape this feeling.
It would be the last time she felt so empowered for a long time.