One Year Ago

Keri walked down the isle 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 ameture. 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 in her head as death metal boomed in her ear drums. Two assistants meanwhile taping and wrapping her hands for the boxing gloves. Her hair was recently trimmed and her bangs parted to the side. She glared at the brick wall opposite of her, she was projecting all her inner hatred 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 boy friend 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. She 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 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 between her shoulder blades as she looked up at 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 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 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 trash?

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 was 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. She didn't think she could take much more of this.

Despite her exhausted state the Butcher seemed worse, he had tried his damnest 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. This was now a test of 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. Her's 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 and 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 going for, 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 as she desperately dodged and saw a cascade of starlight as she hit the ground. 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.

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 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 was 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 over the rounds, 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 get caught into during 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 still had a longer reach. He would easily get two hits on her before she could make her own. She 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 become 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 vixi, 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 vixi."

She couldn't help but smirk and gave him a wink in return, "Don't underestimate me Butch."

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 evening 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 review second by second. He was analyzing every mistake she made and trying to highlight them!

She looked at her 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 she was tougher than she thought? Maybe she should have attacked rather than let herself be 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.