Donna looked at the man square in the eyes and nodded. She got up and followed him out of the bathroom and into the uproar. There was an announcer on stage now, a short man standing patiently in the middle of the ring gesturing for the masses to quiet down. Quiet settled into the warehouse slowly in little factions. The front row went quiet last and anybody still causing a commotion after the front row would be treated as belligerent. The stout man spoke smoothly, like a conman in their heyday. “Good afternoon, and welcome to Jaxton’s Arena. You all know who I am. Jaxton Davis, and it’s because of me that you can see this fight. So remember when the blood spills who financed this leisure for you.” He paused for a moment, allowing anticipation to soak up into the drywall. “Now let’s introduce our fighters,” he announced at last. “Tyson Crews, 6’1 with a dynamite haymaker.” Tyson seemed taller than what Jaxton said, so much so that he would have towered over anyone who approached him. The crowd cheered as Tyson entered the ring with such ease and grace that most people missed him even moving. He was simply suddenly on the stage.
“Another veteran out of the area: Donna Dawson. The fastest fighter alive.” And she was. Speed had nothing to do with grace. Speed was pure depletion of energy and grace was withholding that energy. Donna climbed onto the stage and stood in the corner opposite Tyson.
Jaxton rung a bell and escaped the middle. They didn’t wear gloves; they were fighting until someone refused to get up. If one was too stubborn to stay down, they would die. Donna moved quickly towards Tyson and delivered a few jabs to the gut. Tyson absorbed the hits and countered with a massive right hook that missed Donna by less than an inch. Donna felt the air from the punch and knew caution would serve her best. Dancing around Jaxton, Donna taunted Tyson hoping to turn the man’s pent up anger against him. She taunted, closed the distance, and delivered a series of jabs to Tyson’s stomach, and escaped out of his reach. She did this over and over again, waiting for him to make a mistake which would inevitably come.
Tyson, with all his power, couldn’t land a solid punch because of Donna’s speed. The punches were starting to slow him down. His breath had become shallower. Concerned, Tyson rushed Donna and swung wide and uncontrolled. The grace he had at the beginning of the fight deteriorated while the speed which Donna had shown from the beginning had not waned. When Tyson got close to Donna, she launched two hooks and an uppercut. Tyson collapsed. Donna watched as he bubbled like a drunk trying to get up. She hoped the man would stay down, but he rose to his feet. Donna wouldn’t let Tyson get reoriented. A jab to the stomach, a hook to the face, and Tyson was back down. He didn’t move this time.
Follow along from the beginning