Post by Mia Brande on Oct 14, 2017 13:43:53 GMT
At the midnight hour, the dark, damp streets of Dagos were aflush with illicit activies; street fights were just one of the many popular money sinks for wannabe gamblers in this city of sin. It was more than just a betting game, however; it was a way of life for the titular fighters. For them, there was more at stake than prize money: your reputation was built on raw skill and guts. The greats made their names on the backs of battered bodies and stood as living monuments to be toppled by the next cocksure challenger. This fast and highly competitive culture born in a city where there was always someone better had ensured this sport would always endure so long as there were those willing to throw down.
Tonight, all manner of Dagos citizens both poor and wealthy gathered around an isolating shipping warehouse to witness a highly anticipated match between two rookie fighters, one of which drew special attention due to her missing right arm. Whether she was just that skilled or simply overconfident didn't matter to the organizers: a one-armed girl drew in spectators, and her being quite a looker was an added bonus in their eyes. That and her magi traits gave another incentive: most of the crowd didn't mind seeing those freakish animal people get the crap beat out of them.
Within the circle that made up the "arena", Mia Brande was doing her utmost to avoid getting her ass kicked. From the start of this fight, her challenger, a dark-skinned woman in dreads, had constantly pushed a relentless offense that forced Mia into a cycle of blocking and backward movement. This woman's kicks were lightning fast, and her dance-like movements made evasion a full-time act where wavering just once would lead to a foot smashing right into her face. The woman -- Mia decided to call her Dreads -- was grinning nastily at her hapless foe, and the crowd was whipped into a fever pitch of excitement. Concentration was impossible, she couldn't focus, how-
KRRRACK!
That was the sound that accompanied the split-second image of a spinning roundhouse kick that connected straight with Mia's temple. The blow may as well have sent Mia's brain bouncing inside her skull because everything felt light, everything looked blurry, and the muddy ground was rushing to meet her face. When she regained some semblance of rational thought, her thoughts were simple.
Shit.
Everything was becoming clearer; the muddy floor that had gotten dirt in her mouth and all over her hair, the feeling of one's head pounding in pain -- and her opponent's very audible jeers.
"THAT WASN'T NO FIGHT!" she roared, cackling at the top of her lungs, "I- I can't even feel good 'bout beatin' down a cripple, even if she a damn fool!" From the corner of her eye, Mia saw Dreads turn in her direction with a wide smirk on her face, "It don't matter if they be havin' two arms or one. In Dagos, ain't no human losin' to a mag!" This elicited a raucous round of laughter, applause, and jeers from the spectators.
Dreads had turned her back on Mia at this point, "Someone get this dumbass up, I gotta-" She was swiftly drowned out by the crowd.
"She's up!"
"Holy shit, she got up?!"
"She ain't knocked out! Fight ain't over! Fight ain't over!"
"KICK THE MAG'S ASS! KICK HER ASS!"
Mia had begun to slowly push herself off the ground, propping herself up on her arm. Not to her. Not here. Not in front of them. Gritting her teeth, the young girl roared, pushing through the pain to rise up on shaking legs. Her face was the image of naked rage, and the glare she shot to Dreads was reciprocated with a sneer from the dark-skinned woman.
"Still got some fight left in ya, huh?" she asked, sauntering closer.
More than you know.
"Hope you be lovin' that dirt, girl. Cuz you about to kiss it again!" The woman's casual saunter turned into a focused sprint, and her body was tensed into a form meant to deliver another devastating kick out of her unpredictable movements. Except...Mia could see a pattern with how Dreads approached her. The way her body tensed, how she swept her foot along the ground just after one her confusing, bouncy hops-
When the kick arrived, Mia's hand had already shot out and seized it in the palm of her hand. The crowd had gone deathly silent. Dreads wore a look of utter shock. "Wh-"
A voice echoed through the throbbing pain, and time seemed to slow to a crawl.
Lash out with the temperance of an inferno. Demonstrate the burning passion in your movements, give them a reason to fear you. Lastly...understand your foe, and you will understand the rhythm of battle.
Dreads had since recovered from her shock, but by then it was too late: Mia's own sneakered foot sailed through the air at an angle, colliding with the woman's midsection with enough force to make her audibly expel air as she stumbled backward. "Ho-" she managed to almost utter through her coughs, only to gasp as a gloved fist narrowly sailed past her head. "Yo-" another interrupted sentence, this time she'd ducked under a kick and nearly fallen onto her butt from shock. The silent crowd slowly began to pick up at this unexpected turnabout.
For Mia, there were no words. There was only the assault on her winded foe. Her fist was one with the wind, but the wind was all it collided with as Dreads managed to keep evading each lightning-fast jab, hook, or uppercut. Mia didn't care how much she missed; she could do this all day. In a way, the build-up to the sickening crunch of a knuckle on one's bone was greater than the act itself.
I'm just a Mag, huh?
The woman attempted to swat her fist away, but the force of her strike sent Dreads stumbling backward, this time to the ground.
You're like ALL the REST!
Mia didn't even realize she'd straddled the woman's chest. All she knew was that her fist was raised high, and it came crashing down with all the force she could muster, directly-
"FORFEIT!"
Mia's fist stopped inches from Dreads's terrified face. All of her anger, rage, and that curious tranquil fury had passed away in an instant. She stared down at her defenseless opponent...who had surrendered? She was shocked, so shocked that she couldn't find her voice.
"I-I-I o-only w-wanted an easy win against some cripple! I-I can't get bruised! I dance for a livin'!" Dreads's lower lip began to quiver, and tears welled up in her eyes. "P-Please, don't hurt me. I take it back, I take it all back!" By now, the crowd was making this displeasure clear for all to hear.
"COWARD! STAND UP AND FIGHT!"
"BREAK HER TEETH! BREAK THE BITCH'S FACE!"
"I PAID FOR A FIGHT! IT WAS JUST GETTIN' GOOD TOO!"
These suggestions were valid, and all of them were considered by Mia, who hadn't uncurled her fist. The two women stared at each other in silence for a while, Mia's face was stony and emotionless, while Dreads was visibly breaking down sobbing. Dammit. Slowly, Mia stood up and stepped away from Dreads. "You gave up," she finally said, "You're not worth knocking out," she never stopped glaring at Dreads even as an official looking man stepped into the arena and thrust her arm into the air.
"The winner is Mia Brande, the one-armed wonder!"
Standing was a struggle in and of itself; it was much easier to glare into the grumbling crowd that withheld their applause. I probably cost a lot of those people some cash, she thought, satisfied with herself. This awkward silence continued from Mia's stark refusal to offer her onlookers anything resembling a closing statement. She wasn't doing this for them.
After a while, another official-looking man in a suit approached her with a small brown bag. He'd organized the event, and Mia had the feeling he was the type of person who'd cut his mother's throat for an extra buck. "Your winnings, Ms. Brande," he said, pressing the bag into her hand. Mia inspected it and found it contained several stacks of bills; "I look forward to seeing your next bout." he said, winking before he turned and walking away.
The crowd, the organizers, and Dreads had largely dispersed by now. After stuffing the bag into the pocket of her baggy jeans, that niggling sense of lightheadedness still hadn't faded. The desire to sit down had the girl flopping onto her butt, hand nursing her aching head. She could feel a large lump where her hand was. It was bleeding. "C'mon... Get up. Get moving..." Mia whined in annoyance at herself, to no avail. She expected her first fight to be exhausting, but clearly she hadn't prepared well enough. Or maybe withdrawal was kicking in...
Cadence Avia
Tonight, all manner of Dagos citizens both poor and wealthy gathered around an isolating shipping warehouse to witness a highly anticipated match between two rookie fighters, one of which drew special attention due to her missing right arm. Whether she was just that skilled or simply overconfident didn't matter to the organizers: a one-armed girl drew in spectators, and her being quite a looker was an added bonus in their eyes. That and her magi traits gave another incentive: most of the crowd didn't mind seeing those freakish animal people get the crap beat out of them.
Within the circle that made up the "arena", Mia Brande was doing her utmost to avoid getting her ass kicked. From the start of this fight, her challenger, a dark-skinned woman in dreads, had constantly pushed a relentless offense that forced Mia into a cycle of blocking and backward movement. This woman's kicks were lightning fast, and her dance-like movements made evasion a full-time act where wavering just once would lead to a foot smashing right into her face. The woman -- Mia decided to call her Dreads -- was grinning nastily at her hapless foe, and the crowd was whipped into a fever pitch of excitement. Concentration was impossible, she couldn't focus, how-
KRRRACK!
That was the sound that accompanied the split-second image of a spinning roundhouse kick that connected straight with Mia's temple. The blow may as well have sent Mia's brain bouncing inside her skull because everything felt light, everything looked blurry, and the muddy ground was rushing to meet her face. When she regained some semblance of rational thought, her thoughts were simple.
Shit.
Everything was becoming clearer; the muddy floor that had gotten dirt in her mouth and all over her hair, the feeling of one's head pounding in pain -- and her opponent's very audible jeers.
"THAT WASN'T NO FIGHT!" she roared, cackling at the top of her lungs, "I- I can't even feel good 'bout beatin' down a cripple, even if she a damn fool!" From the corner of her eye, Mia saw Dreads turn in her direction with a wide smirk on her face, "It don't matter if they be havin' two arms or one. In Dagos, ain't no human losin' to a mag!" This elicited a raucous round of laughter, applause, and jeers from the spectators.
Dreads had turned her back on Mia at this point, "Someone get this dumbass up, I gotta-" She was swiftly drowned out by the crowd.
"She's up!"
"Holy shit, she got up?!"
"She ain't knocked out! Fight ain't over! Fight ain't over!"
"KICK THE MAG'S ASS! KICK HER ASS!"
Mia had begun to slowly push herself off the ground, propping herself up on her arm. Not to her. Not here. Not in front of them. Gritting her teeth, the young girl roared, pushing through the pain to rise up on shaking legs. Her face was the image of naked rage, and the glare she shot to Dreads was reciprocated with a sneer from the dark-skinned woman.
"Still got some fight left in ya, huh?" she asked, sauntering closer.
More than you know.
"Hope you be lovin' that dirt, girl. Cuz you about to kiss it again!" The woman's casual saunter turned into a focused sprint, and her body was tensed into a form meant to deliver another devastating kick out of her unpredictable movements. Except...Mia could see a pattern with how Dreads approached her. The way her body tensed, how she swept her foot along the ground just after one her confusing, bouncy hops-
When the kick arrived, Mia's hand had already shot out and seized it in the palm of her hand. The crowd had gone deathly silent. Dreads wore a look of utter shock. "Wh-"
A voice echoed through the throbbing pain, and time seemed to slow to a crawl.
Lash out with the temperance of an inferno. Demonstrate the burning passion in your movements, give them a reason to fear you. Lastly...understand your foe, and you will understand the rhythm of battle.
Dreads had since recovered from her shock, but by then it was too late: Mia's own sneakered foot sailed through the air at an angle, colliding with the woman's midsection with enough force to make her audibly expel air as she stumbled backward. "Ho-" she managed to almost utter through her coughs, only to gasp as a gloved fist narrowly sailed past her head. "Yo-" another interrupted sentence, this time she'd ducked under a kick and nearly fallen onto her butt from shock. The silent crowd slowly began to pick up at this unexpected turnabout.
For Mia, there were no words. There was only the assault on her winded foe. Her fist was one with the wind, but the wind was all it collided with as Dreads managed to keep evading each lightning-fast jab, hook, or uppercut. Mia didn't care how much she missed; she could do this all day. In a way, the build-up to the sickening crunch of a knuckle on one's bone was greater than the act itself.
I'm just a Mag, huh?
The woman attempted to swat her fist away, but the force of her strike sent Dreads stumbling backward, this time to the ground.
You're like ALL the REST!
Mia didn't even realize she'd straddled the woman's chest. All she knew was that her fist was raised high, and it came crashing down with all the force she could muster, directly-
"FORFEIT!"
Mia's fist stopped inches from Dreads's terrified face. All of her anger, rage, and that curious tranquil fury had passed away in an instant. She stared down at her defenseless opponent...who had surrendered? She was shocked, so shocked that she couldn't find her voice.
"I-I-I o-only w-wanted an easy win against some cripple! I-I can't get bruised! I dance for a livin'!" Dreads's lower lip began to quiver, and tears welled up in her eyes. "P-Please, don't hurt me. I take it back, I take it all back!" By now, the crowd was making this displeasure clear for all to hear.
"COWARD! STAND UP AND FIGHT!"
"BREAK HER TEETH! BREAK THE BITCH'S FACE!"
"I PAID FOR A FIGHT! IT WAS JUST GETTIN' GOOD TOO!"
These suggestions were valid, and all of them were considered by Mia, who hadn't uncurled her fist. The two women stared at each other in silence for a while, Mia's face was stony and emotionless, while Dreads was visibly breaking down sobbing. Dammit. Slowly, Mia stood up and stepped away from Dreads. "You gave up," she finally said, "You're not worth knocking out," she never stopped glaring at Dreads even as an official looking man stepped into the arena and thrust her arm into the air.
"The winner is Mia Brande, the one-armed wonder!"
Standing was a struggle in and of itself; it was much easier to glare into the grumbling crowd that withheld their applause. I probably cost a lot of those people some cash, she thought, satisfied with herself. This awkward silence continued from Mia's stark refusal to offer her onlookers anything resembling a closing statement. She wasn't doing this for them.
After a while, another official-looking man in a suit approached her with a small brown bag. He'd organized the event, and Mia had the feeling he was the type of person who'd cut his mother's throat for an extra buck. "Your winnings, Ms. Brande," he said, pressing the bag into her hand. Mia inspected it and found it contained several stacks of bills; "I look forward to seeing your next bout." he said, winking before he turned and walking away.
The crowd, the organizers, and Dreads had largely dispersed by now. After stuffing the bag into the pocket of her baggy jeans, that niggling sense of lightheadedness still hadn't faded. The desire to sit down had the girl flopping onto her butt, hand nursing her aching head. She could feel a large lump where her hand was. It was bleeding. "C'mon... Get up. Get moving..." Mia whined in annoyance at herself, to no avail. She expected her first fight to be exhausting, but clearly she hadn't prepared well enough. Or maybe withdrawal was kicking in...
Cadence Avia
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