Fight Night

Darwin Underground

Every city has its darker, seedier side that is often spoken about in whispers but is hidden from the regular persons eye. In basements and disused warehouses near the port, criminal activities flourish, and one such is the underground fighting scene.
Criminals, gang members, and other interested people in the know attend these quietly advertised events and bet on the outcomes of the fights.
Matches are sometimes fixed to make the promoters or criminal bosses more profit.
Sometimes, the bad decisions of good people get them into trouble. A spectator bets too much and takes a loan from the house. They may find their inability to pay finds them inside the ring instead of outside watching. Sometimes a person who was not involved at all, but borrowed money from the wrong person finds that they have no choice but to pay off their debt in the ring.....if they can last long enough to do so.

Fight Club

That is how the woman found herself here. A few bad decisions, living beyond her means and drinking it away. She borrowed some money from the wrong person. Mr Smith paid out her debt, but at a much bigger cost. He'd assessed that this army trained girl might bring him some money in the ring....he counted in her being able to last one fight. If she could, then he could really make some money. None of the other brutes who fought there would believe that she could hold her own.
I mean look at her. Peak of physical condition, if a little drowned in Whisky, and such a stunner. Seriously, she could be a model. He dreamed about what joys he could find between her thighs.
She was strong, and stubborn. Even if she didn't make one fight, he could bet on the outcome and make his investment back.
He organised the match. She was a girl, they didn't think she could last against any of the brutes in the lists, but they gave him one of the newbies. They ask for his fighters name.....
"Sable" he says. He'd always been a fan when she was fighting in the WWE. He thinks maybe some of the spectators may remember the wrestling Diva too and might bet on her....he could make some more money this way.
"Next round! He's a relative newcomer with 2 wins to his name......James Pike!" The crowd makes a mixture of cheer and indifferent mumbling.
"And his opponent... Fresh blood..."

Round 1

The crowd start chanting "fresh blood, fresh blood!"
"A rare treat for you tonight... We have not seen a fighter like this in quite a while and we are sure she will give you a good show... It's Sable!"
A woman steps into the centre. She's wearing black jeans and boots and a grey t-shirt. She is stunning, but also looks like she is in good physical condition. The spectators make their bets in a flurry before the match starts. "Fight!"
She is surprisingly good. It's obvious that she has had some kind of hand to hand training. While she's not a short woman she is shorter than her opponent, and uses that to her advantage. She allow him to swing and miss her several times, ducking out of his attack, while she then strikes in precise blows designed to wear him down.
He hits her in the ribs, and splits her lip, but she manages to avoid most of his blows.
She hits hard and fast. Sweeps his legs out from under him and lands a blow to his throat.
He does not rise.
The crowd erupts in surprise and excitement.
Sable has claimed her first win.

Round 2

Col has been down this path before, you spend a little too much money, someone notices you have a certain set of skills and then you find yourself knocking down a few doors to collect some late rent. No big deal usually. Usually there isn't a kid on the other side, with an abusive father in the next room laying into a wife. Action speaks louder than words, and instinct rules in the arena of Cols mind.
He didn’t realise he was in it until the father was laid out at a crooked angle against the corner of the dresser, gazing stupidly at the ceiling with a broken neck.
Col inherited his debt. Better him than the wife and child he supposed, only now he was here.
He knew this style of fight, it wasn’t the one he was built for, but he knew the principles all the same: fight off your debt, if you're lucky you won't die trying.
In his particular case it was made worse by his reputation. When you work as a debt collector and you're known for cracking a few skulls as a means of making a buck, others in your field tend to start sizing you up for little more than their own pride. He knew his first fight would be a grudge.
Stepping into the dimly lit chamber he learnt he was right. Opposite him was monster of a man he'd heard about from some of the other boys. 'Apollo' apparently ran a small racketeering gig down Palmerston way. Big ugly mofo, a thug but not a fighter.
Col rolled his shoulders and blinked a few times, then allowed his mind to settle into his fighters-focus. Somewhere an announcer called the fight, and he was vaguely aware of a bell toll as 'Apollo' came at him.

Instinct kicked in and his fists came up in time to weather a battery of blows aimed for his chin. Col still stood a few inches taller than this brick so he used a quick jab to distance his opponent from him, before taking a half step back.
Apollo pressed the attack, quick volleys of punches followed by some dancing around the ring. Before long Col found himself smiling slightly through gritted teeth, sweat rolling down his brow. Apollo was overconfident, and mistook Col's maneuvers as retreat, each time capitalising on his supposed advantage, only to find the defense close to impenetrable.

Col knew time wasn't on his side. A Boxer is taught to fight to time, being saved by the bell under the onslaught of attacks from a more powerful enemy. Allowing his opponent to exhaust himself to the point of letting his guard down before striking a winning blow. It was time to end this. Settling back into the focus he had established earlier, he dropped his guard slightly, watching for the opening while allowing his opponent a free shot.
The blows connected simultaneously, or near enough that no one would have noticed.
Apollo doubled over from the shot to the stomach that had landed moments before his own fist had connected with Col's nose. Blood streaming down his face, Col wasted no time, quickly dropping to a knee then striking up with a grunt into Apollos face, sending him backward into a somersault, smashing his face into the floor and slumping down unconscious.
Col moved to his body then let out a sigh of relief, finding a pulse quickly against Apollos neck. He stood back up, and gripping his bloody nose, moved out of the ring to await his next fight.

Round 3

Circe watches from the sides sizing up the two fighters. The thug Apollo was fast, she'd give him that, but not disciplined. He was overconfident, his size probably accounted for that. He was likely used to using it to intimidate his mark. His blows were fast, but not exactly precise, and his opponent obviously had his measure.
She watched as the other one felled his opponent with some precise blows, then bend to check for....his pulse? Interesting.
Before she had time to consider the implications of that, she was being called again.
The man she faced this time was about her height and was lanky. Hard sinewy muscles visibly flexing in his naked torso. He smirks at her to reveal a bloody grin.
Despite his previous wins, he was obviously just lucky. Telegraphing most of his attacks, Circe is able to once again dodge most of his blows, countering them with swift punches to the ribs, sternum, stomach.
She begins to think she has it won, and her lapse in concentration allows him to connect with her cheek, spitting it open just as she lands a blow to his nose.
Hers is the stronger blow however, and when she lands a blow to his cheek while simultaneously sweeping. His legs from under him, he hits the ground hard, unable to break he fall and hitting his head hard.
She keeps up her guard while she ascertains that he is unconscious and not dead.
She hears her name called as the winner.
Mr Smith is soon beside her crowing about how much cash he's already made betting on her. Just a few more rounds and she will have paid off the debt.

Round 4

Leaning with his head back against the cool concrete he half watched the next fight with mild interest. The lanky guy clearly had the reach advantage over this woman, but she was the more experience fighter. When the laughter and applause started the outcome didn’t surprise him, though his focus was drawn toward the other side of the ring where his next opponent was sitting.
He'd clearly taken a blow or two himself, his left eye bloodshot. More interesting was who he was talking too. It was one of Apollos fellow flunky’s, who kept gesturing across the ring at Col and turning to speak into the fighter’s ear. "That didn't last long" Col muttered to himself before getting to his feet and wiping the last of the blood from his face.
Walking out to the ring he sees a glint of steel change hands. Knife. He grimaced, but keeps his pace. Only way out of here is through the ring, not so much a matter of beating your opponent, just gotta stay one step ahead of them.
Stepping into the ring and assessing his opponent he realises he was correct. This idiot, probably no older than his own son, was holding a knife. Exhaling deeply, he shifts his focus, and slowly slips out of his singlet. Holding it like a rope between his two hands, it will at least give him a chance to cheat one or two potentially fatal jabs of the blade.
Again he didn’t hear the announcer, or the bell, and truth be told the fight was nearly over before it began. The kid charged, knife held backhanded over his head - first mistake. Col flicked out the length of the singlet and it caught the kid across his abdomen with a loud crack, then striking at his raised elbow with a jab from his free hand - shattering it entirely.
The kid’s eyes bulged, and his battle cry quickly turned to a howl of pain as he dropped the knife, his arm going limp. Col just stands there, singlet in one hand watching as the kid turns to collect the blade. - Second mistake. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he smartly whips the kid across his backside with his improvised flail, sending the boy stumbling away from the knife and across the ring.
Quickly crossing to the boy he loops the singlet around his neck and drops him to the ground in a tight hold. He whispers something to the kid a few times as he tightens the hold; waiting for a few seconds to be sure the much smaller, slighter man is fully out before standing and eyeing the one who had given him the knife.

Round 5

Circe leans with her head against the wall, trying to focus her mind and blot out the pain. She remembers what it felt like when she was shot, and absently rubs her right bicep. That's probably why her opponent was able to hit her ribs on that side, it was still doing rehab for the injury.
"Only 4 of you left, you've got Pietro this time...guys a killer, literally. Good luck girl"
She is pushed into the centre and faces her opponent.
A bit of weight around his middle, tall, full sleeve tatts up both of his arms. Gosh his forearms look bigger than her thighs. One black eye and a broken nose, she could take advantage of that.
He strides towards her. The bell must have rung. He's heavy on his feet - that could be a good thing.
She tries to focus her mind into the pattern of his movement. Hopefully he will telegraph his attacks. She will have to be light on her feet and keep her guard up.
He closes the distance and opens with a flurry of blows to her face. She hold up her guard taking them on her forearms before ducking and landing two blows to his ribs.
He chuckles.
"My grandma hits harder little girl"
"Does she?" she replies, and lands a blow to his already broken nose.
He responds by using his height advantage and landing a blow hard on her right shoulder. her vision bursts red and he lands a blow on her already bruised ribs. She hears a sickening crack and despite her determination, she lets out a scream, stumbling and losing her balance.

A length of chain is thrown into the ring, and he picks it up, grinning as he begins to press his advantage.

UP. She willed her body to obey her mind, and MOVE. She had to get up. She was on her feet shaking her head trying to see through the pain haze. She let out a held breath and focused her mind once more.
She didn't think about it at all. The chain whistled past her head. She grabbed it and jerked the man off balance, slamming her fist into his sternum in an upwards motion as he fell forward, then digging her hand like a knife into his throat.
The man lay on the ground, rolling around clutching his throat. She pressed the advantage, collecting the discarded chain and wrapping it around his neck from behind until he lapsed into unconsciousness.
She'd just seen that other fighter do something similar. She lamented that she would likely not be able to use the tactic on him should he win the next fight.
She left the ring, holding onto her right side, wondering if she could find something to bind it before her next fight, knowing that at least one of her ribs was broken.

Round 6

This chick is good. If she had a little more focused training she probably would have worn some of those blows better than she had, but Col was glad she’d made it through regardless, even if it meant going toe to toe with a half dead girl almost 1/3 his size.
He decided he liked her, hoping that she hadn’t gotten into too much trouble to wind up in a hell hole like this.
He snapped back to the present, a blow having driven the air from his lungs leaving him barely standing. Before him stood the closest thing that had come to a ‘pro fighter' this little ring could find and throw and him, and he was living up to the reputation.
As tall as Col himself, though slimmer slightly of frame this machine threw punch after punch into his guard. Left- right- right- right- left- hail-mary. His own skills were being pushed to the limit, and worst of all – he was remembering how much he enjoyed it.
A naked jab to his jaw reminded him this was no championship title. The gloves are off and it’s fighting to the teeth. He shook his wrists and blinked through some sweat, and felt for the familiar pull of his fighters-focus. Dodge- sweep- right- left- retreat. Taking a long step backward he allowed himself a deep breath before double-stepping past his opponents swing, who had overextended to try and reach him.
Inside his reach now- 1-2-3 into the abs- BAM BAM BAM sweep out his elbows- BAM BAM slam into the underarm- BAM break the nose- CRUNCH retreat. Col watched the fighter stagger and sway on his feet for a moment, wiping some of the blood from his face with the back of his hand before smirking and raising his fists and coming at him again. This guy just doesn’t quit he thought, raising his guard.
They exchanged a few more blows before his opponent got a square hit through his guard and pushed him back against the edge of the ring. Holding him there he put 4 or 5 punches through when Col caught the last one with an open fist.
Pushing his opponent off him, straining under his weight and strength, blood pouring from his nose and running through his eyes and seeing nothing but red, Col forced him back with an enormous burst of strength which forced him to the ground while simultaneously breaking his wrist. Howling in agony, the fighter clutched his ruined arm while Col merely stood over him, watching.
Turning away, he exhaled his held breath with eyes closed, then sharply spun and backhanded the man kneeling before him, knocking him out cold.

Interlude

Circe sits on the ground with her back against the cool concrete wall. Fire burning in her shoulder. It's probably dislocated. She can't go into this last fight like this, not against that guy....what was his name? She cant remember, but he definitely has some skills, probably better than hers.
She pulls herself up and looks for a place she can try and put her shoulder back into place. This is going to hurt. She moves to a doorway that has a sign that says "toilets".
Mr Smith grabs her arm, wrenching the dislocated shoulder, but not enough to pop it back in.
"Not trying to escape the final act are you girl? Its going to be a showstopper!"
"dislocated shoulder" She replies. "Got to make sure you get your money's worth. Why don't you find me something to drink to numb the pain?"
He smiles, thinking about the pile of cash hes about to make. She won't stand a chance against that brute.
She walks into the unisex bathroom, happy that it appears to be empty. Positioning her arm, she moves, pushing the joint back into place, and involuntary scream escapes her lips.
One down, one to go.
She looks at the meager bandage she was able to scrounge from a first aid kit. She removes her shirt and begins binding her ribs.
The sound of the announcer can be heard echoing though to the bathroom.
"Last Fight......TO THE DEATH!"
"Death? Oh hell no. I'm not killing that guy even if he deserves it"
She looks down at her side as she binds her ribs, the bandages starting to cover her unit tattoos.
Honi Soit Qui Mal Y Pense ... (Evil be to him who thinks evil.) Is this opponent evil? She shakes her head, he never took a fatal blow and always checked the defeated. Maybe not him, but there was certainly some evil in this room, if they are demanding a death match.
"Which guy?" Col walks in, pulling some paper towel out of the dispenser for his bloody nose.
She looks up at him, stopping her binding. "Didn't you hear? We are supposed to fight to the death" she says, her English touched with a Russian accent.
She looks back down at her other tattoo, the words over the crossed daggers of her unit - Inter Hastas Et Hostes -(Between spears and Enemies)- would she ever have the chance to live up to that motto again?
"so, you going to kill me then?" Col says, filling his hands with water from a rusty tap and splashes it over his face.
She finishes binding her ribs and absently wipes the blood from her cheek and lip. "Are you going to kill me?"
She stands and pulls her top over her head, wincing at the still sore shoulder.
he circles to face her, eyeing her critically "shoulder and what, one, maybe two ribs?" he bends down and presses an ear against her chest for a few seconds.
"No punctured lung yet but I wouldn't want to risk it. If you take another hit it wouldn't matter if you kill me or not, you'd likely drown in your own blood before the hours out and I don't think these guys are the kind of souls to drive you to the ER"
He stands up, wipes a bloody hand on his singlet before offering it to her "Col by the way."
She is surprised a little at his forwardness pressing his ear to her chest and all, but she'd just spent 9 months in Afghanistan, men who thought they were intimidating just...weren't anymore.
Testing her shoulder, she tried to hide the wince, and takes the offered hand.
"Circe. And no, I don't think they intend on taking anyone to the ER. Not much we can do about it I guess. Perhaps today is a good day to die."
He smiles "nice to meet you, shame about the circumstances. You have good technique, but you know you're favoring your right a little yeah? Even before you started taking hits."
He takes a seat on the bench and turns on the taps on either side of him. "we could bust out." he says, in a voice loud enough for her to hear, but soft enough not to carry over the sound of the rushing water.
"During the match. Just lay into me and follow my lead when shit starts falling."
Circe looks at him for a moment trying to decide whether to trust him or not. She thinks how useful it would be to know his motives, but Astraeus warned her not to do anything in the presence of sleepers. Would he know something was happening to her now?
"Alright, deal." She agrees. "But you will have to hit me as well. you are not the only one who will know I am injured. You must make it look good"
"'Scuse me a sec" She gets up and walks to the stall.

He feels a ripple in the supernal.

Then the toilet flushes and she emerges again.
Col smiles broadly, stifling a laugh "God damn, you either just laid a golden egg or you're not tellin me something Cir."
He stands and moves to the center of the room. "Fate is fickle, that's for damn sure. But maybe, just maybe - it's done us a solid tonight."
He pulses his nimbus, and she feels a brief shock wave ripple out from him as the dust on the ground pulses away from him. A Monastery bell tolls somewhere too close and she hears whispers circling them both, and then a moment later, nothing.
Col stands there grinning like an idiot. "whats a girl like you doing in a dump like this?"
She catches his emotional state just before his nimbus flares. She shakes her head and smiles.
"Yes it would seem that fate has smiles on us tonight. As to why I'm here? Poor choices and seeking help from the wrong people. I should have known better"
"alright. We'll sort that out later, let's just focus on getting out of here. I'm pretty sure I can knock one of two of the pillars holding this shithole up if I don't hold back"
She nods, "And we distract them from the main purpose by making the fight look good. When the roof comes down, then what?"
he points to the emergency exit diagram on the wall "We make for the back office. There's a emergency exit there, not many people would know about it and I'd bet it's padlocked but that shouldn't be a problem."
She nods "No, that would not be a problem. Alright let's do this. I'm not sure how much longer I can stand. And they will come looking soon"
"alright. I'll see you out there." he leaves, giving her one last smile.

Round 7

She nods and waits a few moments before walking back out. Gritting her teeth, she is determined not to show these low lives just how much she is hurting.
She tried to block out their words as she passes, knowing that most of them are betting on Col.
She makes her way into the ring, the rest of the walk there a blur.
She doesn't hear the announcer, but hears the crowd react to the call of to the death.
She takes her defensive stand and approaches Col.

Col has once again stripped down to the waist, though this time he has torn and wrapped his dirty singlet around his fists. He raises both as she approaches and drops into a fighting stance.
If anything he looks more at peace now that he had while fighting the others, a serene calmness hidden behind two fists.

Her mind clears and she can see through the pain again. She closes the distance, putting on a show of sizing him up before testing her first flurry of blows.
She grunts and grinds her teeth as her right arm burns with pain, still obviously weaker than the left, but wanting the crowd to believe she is fighting for her life. LEFT, RIGHT LEFT, body- body chin. She counts on Col being tough and able to take the blows before darting to the right, in an obvious move to protect her right side.
Col presses the exposed advantage, jabbing right at her weaker flank with his left then stepping and following through with his right into her left, while simultaneously pushing her closer to one of the pillars. He's barely watching her, more seeing through her in his focus.
Knowing the plan and sensing his direction she falls back towards the pillar. The crowd voices raise in pitch as they can see him press her back where she wont be able to escape his attacks. She can sense where the pillar is and positions herself exactly in a position so that if she ducks he could easily hit the pillar.
He puts a few jabs in before winding up for a huge telegraph. For a fraction of a second she might see a faint smile cross his lips before she feels his nimbus flutter -then surge - twice. A bell tolls and dust is thrown into the air as his fist connects when the I-beam holding up the warehouse roof, which buckles, fractures, then shears in two against his fist.
He feels her nimbus- Her eyes seem to glow with an unearthly light and shadowy wings appear behind her, she seems to grow in height, space seems to warp around her. She moves expertly out of the way of the falling debris and around Col, pressing the attack again, this time a few blows to the face before a left right combination to the torso.
Knowing the plan, she circles around so her back is facing the other pillar, taking a few steps back to appear like she is retreating to re-group.

Col follows, blood beginning to stain the impromptu bandage of his left hand. Favouring it a little he chases after her jabbing low putting pressure on her to move rather than block.
Circe follows his lead, moving once again in an obvious effort to guard her right side. She jabs out a few times, feinting to the body, then connects one good blow right under his eye.
He reels, brought back to reality by the blow, then grins and shakes off the blow. He feints a few more to the right then sneaks one in under her left.
She stumbles back exaggerating the movement to play to the crowd. Their jeering rises to a fevered pitch as Col presses his advantage on the girl. She backs up further, closer to the other pillar.
He rushes her, throwing feints and punches across her defense while he drives her back into the pillar. He continues the assault for a moment before dropping his defense to deliver the final blow.
Circe puts on a show of losing the fight. Her actions almost not a show at all. Through gritted teeth she defends the attacks, stepping closer and closer to the pole. When he drops his defence, she lashes out at his jaw once more, skimming across it, but landing one blow on the opposite cheek to the one she hit before. She prepares to duck and weave out of the way of his blow so it lands on the pillar.
He doesn't seem to notice the graze as he pulls back for his pole-driver. Eyes closed, his nimbus flares again as he slams his remaining good fist against the I-beam, shattering it with impossible force.

Chaos ensues as the roof, already in a precarious situation from the first pillar being shattered falls down on the ring and the crowd below. Spectators scream and begin to flee as the ill maintained structure begins to collapse inward. Circe exchanges a look with Col and her nimbus flares again. This time as she speaks a word "citius", her voice seems to take on a resonating tone as if more than one person were speaking.
Then, moving quicker than she should with her level of injury, Circe jumps the ropes and makes her way to the back office of the building and the emergency exit beyond.
Col follows suit, diving through the ropes as he runs after her, dodging the falling roof-work. "left ahead then it's the third right."
"Yes, I can see it" she says, still moving quicker than he, though the pain of her movement evident on her face. Blood freely pours from the cuts under her eyes and she is holding her right side with her left hand.
He ducks out into the alley as a swirl of dust and debris is kicked up behind him and he sucks down a deep breath of the night air. "alright, that went about as well as I could have hoped" he studies her for a moment. "you don't look so good though, we need to get you out of here. C'mon, my car is over here somewhere."

Aftermath

(coming soon..!)

Credits

• Luke Cox 2013030010 (Content, Formatting)
• Ali Lawrie 2000100224 (Content)
• Sara Tribe 2014040010 (Content, Formatting)
• Alex MacKenzie 2016020006 (Content)