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Cécile Levasseur, better known the world over as King, stood in the women’s locker room at the Hyper Galaxy Ring Arena, staring off into space as she buckled an arm garter. Although the venue was typically reserved for the Galaxy Antonov Wrestling organization’s events, upper management was paid a handsome amount to host a few matches of the larger-than-life King of Fighters tournament, which was, of course, why she was there in the first place.
Slowly, King finished with the first garter, put the other one on, and began to robotically roll up her sleeves, her eyes practically unseeing because she was so preoccupied not just by her upcoming match, but by the metaphorical demons that had been swirling in her head for days thanks to her PTSD accidentally being triggered by someone close… who just so happened to be her next opponent since, as her evidently awful luck would have it, the trio Team Art of Fighting was to square off against was none other than Team Secret Agents, which was led by King’s best friend on the entire planet, one “Blue” Mary Ryan. To make matters even worse, Mary was joined by some leggy bitch that was up to something, in addition to King’s on-again, off-again… she didn’t even know what to call her at this point.
With a troubled sigh, the Nak Muay thought back to the lengthy discussion they had had the evening before. The meeting, which also included Mary, had been as private as they could manage given the circumstances; a secret, heavy discussion that left all of them conflicted about what needed to happen…
###
The cacophony of noise issuing from the massive and enthusiastic crowd that was gathered for the big event threatened to give King a headache… and she wasn’t even in the ring yet, as Team Art of Fighting was still waiting to be called out for their pre-fight entrance. Instead, the trio was gathered just inside the large doorway leading to the partially caged area, each lost in their own thoughts while a much-too-snarky announcer droned on and on about the outcome of the previous bout.
“King!”
Robert Garcia’s sharp articulation of her moniker grabbed the Nak Muay’s attention. Mildly startled, she blinked several times before stepping away from the wall she was leaning against.
“Yes?”
“I asked if you were ready to do this,” Robert told her, frowning.
If it had been almost anyone else, King would have been chomping at the fucking bit to get out there, but this time… not so much. She couldn’t let her teammates see that, though; she’d be in for it if they found out the whys and wherefores of her real motivations for entering the tournament (not to mention all of the chaos in her head, period)… and for what she was — or wasn’t — about to do when it was her turn to fight. With that in mind, she hastily cleared her throat and put on her usual equanimous, pre-bout façade.
“I assure you, I’m ready.”
Robert raised his eyebrows at the same time that team leader Ryo Sakazaki stopped his Kata exercises to let out a perturbed sound.
“We can’t afford to lose this,” he stated as he set his stupidly nice eyes on King, who pressed her lips together into a very thin line as he went on.
“Rob and I both know what those two mean to you, but you cannot, under any circumstances, let your feelings get in the way of our path to victory. We came here to win — to show the world that Kyokugenryu isn’t some washed-up barbecue brand — but we can’t do that if your head isn’t in the game.”
“My head is in the game —”
Lies…
“ — and I know what I have to do. It goes without saying that I intend to do it!”
Ryo squinted at the Frenchwoman before suddenly breaking into a wide grin.
“That fighting spirit! I like it!”
King and Robert shared a fleeting glance (“Fighting spirit?” Please.) before the announcer outside went into a spiel about none other than… them. It must have been go-time.
“And now! Fighting out of Southtown, we have Team Art of Fighting: Ryo Sakazaki, Robert Garcia, and King!”
The crowd roared as Ryo stepped into the brightly lit area, stoic and calm (but also fired up in his own subtle way), with Robert, who was retying his ponytail, following close behind. King trailed the two men and adjusted her fingerless gloves as she trudged forward with a slight frown. She lightly shook her head and put on a cocky smirk (fake it ‘til you make it…), doing her best to appear as “normal” as possible when she caught sight of the opposition already standing in the ring. Her eyes met Mary’s, and right away, the detective’s features twisted with worry. King had been on the receiving end of that exact look so many times over the years, and while it was always appreciated, it was the last thing she needed to see before a fight. Nevertheless, she subtly nodded, then took in the appearance of the two women flanking her “wife”: the mysterious Taekwondo practitioner, Luong, with her leggy stature and downright sinister air, and…
Vanessa.
King pressed her lips together and willed her brain to stop blaring Warrant’s Cherry Pie, but damn, was it all but impossible to look at the boxer, who had changed her usual attire, donning khaki pants with red suspenders that were hanging down, in addition to a black tie as opposed to a red one, and not think of the locker room “escapade” at So-Fi Stadium just a few days prior, or the Halloween party at Robert’s, or —
Get it together!
The Frenchwoman drew in a sharp breath as Vanessa flashed her a wan smile, which suddenly made her want nothing more than to run back to the locker room to throw up. That, however, was not an option, so she swallowed the small amount of bile that had risen to the back of her throat and took her place alongside her teammates. They each stood face to face with their respective opponents: bold, confident Robert idly rolling a coin between his fingers in front of Luong, who looked him over with a sneer; Ryo, serious as ever, across from Mary, who made a kissy face at him before derisively asking, “How you doin’, boo?”, and then Vanessa, who stood even taller than King, her expression all business despite the fact that the “I’m going to kick your ass” intensity she usually held in her eyes was gone, replaced by something much more solemn.
“Hey, you,” she told King softly.
Well aware that she needed to kick her public persona into high gear, the Nak Muay produced a single rose from her vest and offered it to Vanessa, who took it with a smirk. The audience roared and whistled, which actually made both women snicker.
“Enchantée,” King greeted as smoothly and confidently as possible, earning a look from Ryo that practically screamed, “FOCUS, GODDAMN YOU!”
It was then that the referee gave a quick rundown of the rules; when he was done, everyone took their places inside or outside the ring, all under the eager eyes of the onlookers, which somehow became even louder as the two competitors in the squared circle got ready for action.
“Get her, Rob —” Ryo said as he clapped an encouraging hand on Robert’s back.
“Good luck,” King added.
“I got this guys,” Robert assured the two as he sauntered off toward his opponent, who was waiting patiently.
“Hear the mightiest tiger roar,” he declared while hopping up and down on the balls of his feet.
Luong looked Robert up and down before tossing her long hair over her shoulder and extending her arm in a beckoning motion.
“I’m going to punish you so hard,” she drawled sweetly.
“ROUND ONE! READY? GO!”
The second the words were spoken, Luong’s leg whipped out with lightning speed, cracking Robert’s calf, immediately sending him down to the floor. He quickly kipped up and launched straight into a Hien Shippu Kyaku, which grazed Luong’s side as she front-flipped out of the way. She attempted a sharp jab, but missed and was countered by a crushing side kick that momentarily stunned her. Her recovery was swift, however, and her retaliation brutal: she threw out another blinding kick as Robert jumped toward her, knocking him straight out of the air and sending him down hard — directly on his elbow. He yelped in pain but hastily brought himself back to his feet only for his opponent to drop down into a split before nimbly twisting her body so she could sweep his leg. Somehow, he remained standing and tried to strike with a two-hit axe kick that surely would have KO’d the woman had it connected, but, unfortunately for Robert, she blocked both blows and countered with a rising kick that caught him right in his jaw and sent him down yet again.
Meanwhile, on the sidelines, King held no shortage of disdain as she watched the disgustingly graceful movements of the attractive boil that was blemishing the team that otherwise held her best friend and whatever strange word defined Vanessa to her. Though at the same time, Robert tried to give his best by unleashing a hailstorm of rapid-fire kicks without returning his foot to the ground in an attempt to overwhelm Luong with quantity, but her movement was simply too fast, and her own footwork allowed her to dance completely out of the range of whatever kicks she didn’t bob and weave.
Finally, Robert planted his foot and swung around, pivoting to unleash a massive spinning kick with the other; at the same time, Luong’s angelic features shifted into a bright, eyes-closed smile before she spun around to match him, her foot extending out and crossing his own, before she bent her calf and trapped his leg within hers, effectively catching his kick without even using her hands. King watched, bewildered, as Luong thrust her hip and slung Robert’s captive leg away, sending his body into a drunken spin before stepping forward and planting a front kick right into his back, propelling him face-first onto the floor.
King grimaced as she peered over at Ryo, who was standing only a couple of feet away from her. She made a face while taking note of his subtle winces and low grunts every time an attack landed on Robert. Passive and emotionally constrained as the Kyokugen master was, he couldn’t hide the distress of seeing his friend (or, more accurately, his brother) losing so badly while the rabid mob cheered from their seats.
Over in the ring, Robert was back up, cursing, while Luong stood a short distance away, still with that goddamn smile and her leg raised, dangling like a fisherman’s hook. Taunting. Teasing.
It was obvious that the visage drove Robert wild with frustration, as he recklessly leaped into a double kick before falling just short and thrusting dual Koukens, one after the other. He got a running start as the ki blasts sailed towards Luong, hoping to close the distance, but his foe had other plans: With a menacing change in her expression, she turned her body sideways and cartwheeled, her slender frame passing through the offering. As her feet touched the ground again, she still had time to bring her leg back up and thrust it forward with blinding speed, catching Robert directly in the face and ceasing his momentum.
“Merde,” King growled from the sidelines. She turned to Ryo, who could only bury his face in one hand as Luong went in for the proverbial kill, unleashing a stabbing side kick into Robert’s stomach, bringing the same foot up to crack his jaw, bringing it back the other way to reverse smack him in the temple, and finally planting it back down and pushing off with it — just for the other foot to come at an upwards angle, meeting his chin and launching him airborne. She could have allowed Robert’s body to plummet back down, but she instead sadistically extended her leg, using her knee and shinbone to intercept his body in mid-air, causing his crash to be twice as painful as he slid off of her appendage and flopped down like a dead fish.
“KO!” The announcer yelled out. “WINNER! LUONG!”
The crowd thundered with competing cheers and boos as the woman rested her foot atop the body of the fallen Kyokugen fighter. Meanwhile, King glared with the most venomous of daggers as Luong, still pinning Robert, demonstrated uncanny and disturbing flexibility, bringing one slender leg beside her head. She then lowered her foot and slowly, nastily licked the sole. A rash of goosebumps spread across the Frenchwoman’s skin as her lip curled in disgust.
“A man subdued beneath me has such a… compelling flavor,” the lithe woman cooed before loftily strutting back to her corner, where Vanessa clapped her hands and smiled wide in faux delight while Mary angrily shouted something.
“Aw, shit — Rob!” Ryo yelled as he ran to help pick his confidant up from the floor.
“Fuck; I’m sorry man,” Robert grunted as he was brought into a sitting position.
“Don’t apologize,” King remarked as she reached the pair. “You did what you could against that —”
“Against that what?” came a saccharine query from Luong, who had, for some reason, made her way back toward Team Art of Fighting and was staring straight at King with a sort of threatening — but legitimate? — curiosity.
Immediately, the Frenchwoman stood straighter and looked the opposition directly in her face.
“You did what you could against that vapid. untrustworthy. cu —”
“King!”
Ryo’s yell instantly cut King’s vulgar statement off, which was probably maybe a good thing, as she had a tendency to get herself in trouble by saying the wrong things to the wrong people at the wrong times. Scowling, she turned her back to the other woman, who muttered something caustic in her native language before walking over to her teammates and getting into a heated exchange with Mary. At the same time, King helped Ryo escort Robert out of the ring, where he was lowered onto a steel folding chair. He clutched his injured elbow, peered up at Ryo, and resolutely told him, “Do what you gotta.”
Silently, Ryo nodded before pivoting and entering the court, stalking toward the announcer at the center. King pressed her lips into a thin line as she lowered herself onto a chair beside Robert.
“Are you okay?” she asked carefully.
“Pffft. I’m good, dude,” Robert answered, though there was a very distinct edge to his voice that said otherwise. His face was deadly serious as he wiped some stray blood away from his nose.
“You know shit’s about to get real. Right?”
“Yes…”
“I mean it. He’s gonna go after her with everything he’s got. Can you handle that?”
King furrowed her brow and peered across the ring at Mary, who was now standing several paces away from Ryo and performing a myriad of different stretches. The besties briefly made eye contact, and then —
“GO!”
As King watched her “wife” and Ryo size each other up, she couldn’t help but glance at his determined face, which was matched only by Mary’s own vigor, and ponder what sort of things were going through their heads at that exact moment. Maybe Ryo was motivated by Robert’s defeat? Or maybe he still held bitter emotions about the ugly fallout of the “Too Many Men” debacle? She knew for a fact that Mary, who was aware she had taken things too far back then, still held a backpack full of resentments toward the Kyokugen master, but it was worth wondering just how deep that rabbit hole went. Even though it was a feat of lunacy, King almost wanted to run out into the ring and question both parties about their current mindsets, like some Dr. Phil episode as opposed to a bare-knuckle martial arts contest.
However, before she could even laugh at her own absurdity… it was too late. Mary lunged, Ryo met her in the middle, and fisticuffs ensued.
Funnily enough, King flinched at first, but once the initial shock wore off, she regained focus and saw that the two combatants were exchanging strikes at a steady rate. Swiftly, Mary barreled forward with an attempted left to Ryo’s body, which was blocked, and tried to spin around with a right backfist, but the karate master’s hand easily swatted it away, and he delivered his own offering of a straight left. Mary’s smaller frame easily sidestepped it, but she found herself a bit too far into his leg range and was sent backward with a teep kick to the chest. A fairly standard affair.
The first real curiosity of the match came when the cop closed in again: Ryo attempted a front kick to intercept her, but she was keen to it and went low into her borderline inhumanly fast Straight Slicer slide kick. Ryo recoiled as her foot struck his ankle, but as Mary tried to follow up and seize his leg for a Crab Clutch, he executed a simple jump backward, landing safely out of her reach. She wasn’t quitting, though: Against heavier odds, she didn’t regain posture, instead shooting at his knees and attempting an ill-advised double-leg. Ryo, predictably, grabbed her and hip-tossed her, sending her tumbling several yards away from him.
All of this was bringing back memories... sort of. Mary had given King a secondhand account of her skirmish with Ryo at Pao Pao all that time ago; every word, every unpleasant, brutal detail. Although these were textbook moves in their repertoires, the Frenchwoman still felt unsettled seeing this reprise between the two play out. She just hoped it wouldn’t end with Ryo’s fingers being broken again — or worse: him dealing some severe form of punishment against Mary.
Nevertheless, they were back on their feet.
Ryo thrust his palm and bellowed, “KOUKEN,” sending his signature ki blast toward Mary, but she rolled under it easily enough and regained close proximity. The duo felt each other out for a second, with Ryo’s fists up while Mary’s hands were open, like she was going to grab something… but both just stared raptly at each other. Their every breath, movement, and glance compelled King with an unquenchable curiosity, like discovering a forbidden book she was unable to tear into. Did Mary harbor outright hatred toward Ryo? Did he want to actively hurt her, or was he truly just a big, dumb Karate Doofus who only wanted to win a competition? The questions threatened to drive King insane.
It was then that Mary faked low, like she was going to ankle-pick Ryo; he fell for the feint, and his momentary lapse allowed her to connect with his cheek with a stiff jab. As he recoiled, she leaped into her dangerous elbow strike — the same one she tried to clobber him with the last time they fought. This one struck true, however, right underneath Ryo’s eye, which would no doubt start to swell in the next few moments. Ryo gave her just as well back, though: a sharp hook drilled into her ribs, immediately felt by the much smaller woman, who sucked in pained air and was sent backward, her exposed calf punished with a low kick. Ryo didn’t even allow her to collapse before he bullied her with a body-head punch combination, capping it off with a swift roundhouse that didn’t completely crack her temple, but grazed her just enough to still hurt and send her to her hands and knees.
King felt intensely uneasy. She could see that Mary was getting outright angry, as evidenced by how she slammed her fist on the ground as she scrambled up… and an outright angry Mary was never a good thing (especially if she had Matilda in hand…).
Nevertheless, it was hard for the Frenchwoman to secure her feelings, because she would never dare root against her best friend, but… she was duty-bound and expected to root for her team. Though before King could further tackle that particular moral dilemma, Ryo shot at Mary like a missile with his Hien Shippu Kyaku. King expected her friend to either dodge it or get hit… but Mary had other plans, as she jumped up in turn and matched Ryo in the air, their bodies colliding in a way that forced King to do a double-take.
In an eye-widening shock, Mary had somehow managed to seize Ryo’s arm mid-flight and not only nullify his kick… but bring him to the ground, where they rolled forward exactly two times before she clinched him in an armbar.
Just like that day.
King shuddered, as she could only imagine what her friends’ thoughts were as they found themselves in the same situation as before. Were old hostilities flooding back? How far would Mary take things this time?
Somehow, that last question never had to be answered, because, evidently, Ryo decided he was not going to be put in that position again. Flipping his body over, he was able to face Mary forward and bring his body in — to make himself as tight against her as he could to alleviate the pressure. The cop tried to roll backward and take him for another ride, but Ryo’s body flowed with her momentum as he went over her, but stayed in control, again scrambling so he was facing forward.
Oh shit; he was completely savvy to her moves this time.
The deadlock finally broke when Ryo used his free hand and natural strength to seize the cop by her belt, physically lift her up, and pry her legs loose, ultimately throwing her to the ground way more violently than King would have liked.
As the dust settled, a bloodied, battle-worn Mary leaped forward and kneed Ryo in the chest, only stumbling him a single step backward, before a much more powerful kick came back and slammed into her midsection, enough to rattle the organs within. Before she had a chance to lose her lunch, a right hook flew forward and busted her in the jaw, sending her head into a wobble that caused her to expose her chin for a few precious seconds too long…
And that was when Ryo sealed the deal with a massive uppercut, propelling himself off the ground in the process and sending Mary flying. Seconds later, both sets of feet inevitably touched down, but with the detective’s laid out.
“MARE!” King couldn’t help screaming as she jumped out of her seat.
“Daaaaaaaaaaamn,” came the first words out of Robert’s mouth since the bout started. “Bro!”
“KO! WINNER! RYO!”
So… there it was.
“Payback.”
Oddly enough, Ryo didn’t outwardly show disrespect per se — he even bowed politely — but he abruptly spun on his heel and walked away without a single word, not bothering to approach Mary to tend to her, or shake her hand in sportsmanship. Maybe what happened last time caused his defenses to be too raised.
…Or maybe he was just an asshole.
As King raced to check on her bestie, she crossed paths with her teammate and blurted, “Were you trying to hurt her?!”
Ryo scowled.
“Yes — I was,” he admitted. “But I got over it. Mainly for your sake.”
King narrowed her eyes.
“Thanks,” she grumbled as she hurried on. “I guess.”
If Ryo said anything else, it fell on deaf ears, as the Frenchwoman was out of distance in a flash, focused only on her friend’s well-being.
“Mare!” She called out as she slid to the floor, where Mary was still sprawled out, but talking to Vanessa, who was carefully sitting her up while Luong, whose face conveyed annoyance mixed with smug satisfaction, looked on.
“Don’t make that face, bb,“ Mary groggily requested, blood trickling from one of her nostrils.
“Who cares about my face!? Are you okay?!”
The officer sniffled and wiped her nose while peering up at King.
“My shit hurts,” she answered in an oddly dreamy, sing-song cadence. She blinked several times as Vanessa helped her up; the moment she was on her feet, she threw her burly arms around King, grabbed both sides of her face, and planted a kiss on her forehead. She pulled away but kept her hands firmly in place.
“I love you, and I’m fine. Ryo may have whipped my ass in a neat, clean little martial arts tournament but I can whip his ass out on the streets — which I’m totally cool with; trust. But —“ she lowered her voice — “tu sais ce qui doit se passer maintenant…”
King briefly glanced toward Vanessa, who had turned away to chat with Luong, before settling on Mary once more.
“Ouais.”
“Then go on, bar wench; I’m alright. We’ll talk more later.”
“Je’taime,” King whispered before backing away from Mary and settling near the ref. She watched as Vanessa gingerly escorted her bestie to a seat outside the ring, with Luong trailing behind, a strange bounce in her step. It was obvious that the bitch had relished seeing Mary get taken down, and it made King furious. She wished she had been the one to go against her instead of Robert; she would have taken immense pleasure in kicking that foot-fetishist’s wet dream’s shit in. She couldn’t afford to dwell on that, though, because Vanessa had now taken her place across from King. The crowd went wild as the announcer, who had seemingly materialized out of nowhere, swiftly launched into some melodramatic tirade about how this match would decide which team would advance to the next round.
“Hey.”
Vanessa’s unusually grim voice grabbed King’s attention and snapped her out of her thoughts. She looked up at the statuesque woman before her and was met with a friendly smile.
“Let’s try to have a good time. Okay?”
“Yeah,” King uttered while arranging her gloves. Heart pounding, she velcroed the straps into place as tightly as she could, got into her fighting stance (Vanessa did the same), and attempted to clear her mind, but —
“GO!”
Right away, Vanessa darted forward and threw out several exploratory jabs as a means to test her range more than anything else. Her hands, which were almost as fast as Luong’s legs, stopped right in front of King, who had hopped slightly backward to ensure the hits would miss. The Nak Muay’s combat instincts automatically kicked in then, and she found herself throwing strikes out without any real setup. Thus, her rather unimpressive offense was a sharp leg kick, which uprooted Vanessa’s left foot and caused her to stumble back, but the boxer quickly replanted and started circling. King threw out another kick; this one mostly slapped her opponent’s shin and did nothing, but she managed to throw a third that buried pretty deep into Vanessa’s calf. The agent wasn’t shaken, but it was definitely impossible for her not to have felt it. The two circled a bit more, with King almost lost in the eyes of the woman standing near her… until she noticed those eyes sharpen — a subtle indicator that she was about to come forward. Sure enough, Vanessa let out a breathy hiss as she lunged with an aggressive right hook, possibly aiming for a swift, one-punch knockout. However, King quickly commanded the range, extending her foot with a front kick that struck the other woman’s midsection and halted her forward progress, which caused her punch to swing off-track and stumble her a bit. King took advantage and punished her with another sharp calf kick; this one was hard enough to drop the crimson-haired agent to one knee, but she sprang back up and regained her stance. She swiftly threw out some naked jabs, but they were only a setup, as she suddenly blew forward with a speed that startled the Frenchwoman, and unleashed a hellacious shot into her stomach that elicited a borderline disgusting-sounding gasp.
Fuck!
Never a one-and-done puncher, Vanessa extended the combo with a hook behind it, and King could barely get her arms up in time to intercept it before another blow went to her already-rattled midsection and lit her up a second time. A fourth strike came (another hook) that was aimed right at her temple; King only took the blow halfway and practically threw her body against the boxer’s, seizing the other woman in a Plum Clinch and trying to pump out as many knees as she could. She managed to get at least two into Vanessa’s abdomen, but the agent was a master of the clinch herself. With loud, violent grunts, she began raining short punches into King’s tender stomach, each one felt and very much unappreciated. Labored breaths were already puffing out, and King knew she needed to step up her game. They danced a struggling waltz in a few circles before finally breaking off… but not before Vanessa left King’s chin a parting gift: a straight left that, despite only barely connecting, opened a small cut.
“Damn it, King! What are you doing?!”
Ryo’s exclamation from behind momentarily distracted King, but, luckily, Vanessa didn’t capitalize on the lapse in her concentration, opting instead to hop up and down on her heels and shake her hands out. Meanwhile, the Nak Muay pushed some hair away from her face, determined not to even glance in Ryo’s direction, since there was no doubt in her mind that his judgmental eyes held all sorts of criticism. She didn’t need to hear it either; she knew this was bad. Baby kicks and holding were glorified stalling. She had to get aggressive if she wanted to win…
…but that wasn’t part of the plan.
King furrowed her brow as she thought back to her conversation with Mary and Vanessa the night before, when they had all reached an agreement. If it had been anyone else, she would have said no — fuck no! — to the idea, but because it was those two, she accepted the proposal without any hesitation. And it was because she accepted that she knew she needed to get her ass in gear and do her “best” before anyone could become suspicious. With that in mind, she took a deep breath, held it for six seconds, and let it out slowly before locking eyes with Vanessa, flashing a lofty grin, and gesturing for her to come closer. The operative returned the smile… and closed the distance so fast that King barely had time to process what came next: Vanessa went southpaw, with the change in her stance completely shattering King’s defense as she was pelted with a one-two combination that caught her shoulder and hip. She let out a pained grunt but retained enough sense to sidestep what would have been a downright Satanic blow to the liver that one-hundred percent would have dropped her. Seeing an opening, she launched into a Tornado Kick that struck Vanessa head-on.
“Shit!”
The older woman swore as she doubled over, giving King an opportunity to continue the offensive, executing a speedy backflip kick that caught her just under the chin. King promptly followed up with several quick kicks, first to the shoulder, then two more to the chest, and a fierce roundhouse that would have nailed Vanessa in the face — had she not recovered and blocked it. Instantly, she made to counter with an uppercut, but King backflipped out of the way, which turned out ot be a bad idea, as the agent unexpectedly went airborne… and dropkicked the living shit out of her. She landed on her back — hard — before scurrying to her feet, which felt a bit wobbly. She made a face as she realized that she was taking too much of a beating.
Maybe it was because she was hurting, or maybe it was just plain fighting intuition, but King’s leg flew fast and true, and a rapid-fire quick body kick stopped an aggressive Vanessa stiff; she had her hurt for sure, as the boxer was literally paused, like someone had pressed a button on a remote. King felt like she had all the time in the world to follow up, so she threw a low kick that easily brought Vanessa to her knees. By the time she scrambled up, King had already planted a front kick to her chest, knocking her backward onto her ass.
“Yes, King! That’s the way!” Ryo cheered from the sidelines.
R’oh. Now he was happy.
Right at that second Vanessa sprang up and tried to charge in, but, in a moment of either insanity or stupidity (she wasn’t entirely sure which it was), King decided to go for a high-risk, high-reward maneuver and, despite its potential to do nothing but tire her out if it missed, threw a Venom Strike that blasted Vanessa in the stomach, causing her to hunch over. Swiftly, King dashed in and spun, preparing to unleash a gargantuan back kick that would keep the agent down long enough to cook up a finishing combination: Her body went through the motion, flowing like an aggressive tide as her hip pivoted, launching her leg like a bazooka as soon as she came around. However, she and Vanessa locked eyes, and she froze, giving the agent the perfect opportunity to jump on the whiff like a dog on a steak; almost instantly, King had a one-two drilled into her body, which sapped all the momentum from her bones, resulting in her letting out out a loud, strangled sound that was unlike anything she had ever heard come out of her own face before.
“Ahhhhhh shit…!” came an exclamation from behind.
Out of the corner of her eye, King saw Ryo facepalm while Robert looked on with the appearance of someone watching a snuff film. It was readily apparent that he feared what was to come next. And with good reason.
Vanessa’s movements became a blur as King had unholy Hell unleashed upon her: Blow after blow came, and at one point, King somehow stopped feeling the pain entirely, only able to register that she was a human punching bag being wailed upon as Vanessa unloaded at a speed that could only be described as unnatural. Reality all but warped, and at one point, King became unsure if she was still standing or if she was just a lump of meat melted into the canvas.
Only one hit was truly felt in the end: the final hit, which King saw clearly, as Vanessa cocked back and unleashed a haymaker to the left side of her face that temporarily rendered everything black.
“KO! WINNER! VANESSA!”
There was a brief second where King didn’t really know what was going on around her; all she knew was that everything was killing her and she was… on the floor?
“King!”
“Bb!”
Several voices bled together, and all at once Vanessa and Mary were on either side of the Nak Muay, pulling her up while Ryo and Robert jogged over, both their faces a mix of wildly concerned and wildly disappointed.
“Bb —” Mary handed King over to Vanessa and peered into her face — “Bb, look at me. Are you there?”
“Je… what?”
“I’m so sorry,” came an almost garbled apology from the boxer. “I accidentally put my all into that one! Are you okay?!”
“Put your all into it?!” Mary exclaimed.
“Now’s not the time, Ryan,” Vanessa hissed just before Ryo and Robert reached the trio.
“King…?!” Ryo asked cautiously.
“Talk to us,” Robert coaxed. “What’s going on?”
King made a face.
“Je pense… j’ai besoin d’un verre,” she mumbled groggily as her addled brain finally started to process everything.
“Not right now you don’t,” Mary said quickly. “Do you need a paramedic or?!”
“No… No. I’m coming out of it...”
“You’re sure?” came a pointed question from Ryo, who didn’t seem at all convinced.
“I’m sure.”
“Dude, you should get looked at,” Robert advised, his voice barely audible over the raucous crowd. “You’re —”
King gave Robert a look that told him to stop talking, then gingerly pulled herself away from Vanessa so she could stand on her own, though her knees felt like jelly.
“I’ve had worse,” she remarked while wiping blood from her lip, which was split down one side and bleeding profusely. She stared at the ichor that was now all over her glove and subtly shook her head while trying not to think of terrible things that were in the past — especially since keeping up appearances was extremely important now more than ever. With that in mind, she cleared her throat, extended her clean hand toward Vanessa, and smiled as best she could.
“Good fight,” she said genially. “You really got me there.”
Vanessa tilted her head slightly and scrutinized King’s features. Something that King couldn’t quite place flashed across her face as she took the Frenchwoman’s hand and shook it.
“You were really tough. Why don’t we get a drink sometime?”
“‘Drink,’” Mary snorted from nearby, earning a reproachful look from Vanessa.
“Not here, Mare,” King said through gritted teeth.
Suddenly exhausted, she furrowed her brow as she noticed several reporters and correspondents approaching, including Clemence Bellamy, who was making a beeline toward Vanessa, which was her cue to get out of Dodge. She turned to Ryo and Robert, went through the motions of excusing herself, and then waved at the cheering audience as she coolly sauntered out of the area and back to the locker room, a little lost in a wilderness of pain.
###
The hotel bar was much busier than King would have liked, as it was filled with a borderline ridiculous amount of guests who must have gathered to watch the tournament on the large flat-screen. She sat, nursing a tall glass of wine, signing an occasional autograph and all but tuning out her teammates as they discussed their performances… and hers, too.
Predictably, King didn’t really want to be there, as not only did everything hurt, but a cloying phrase from the past kept popping into her head, in a sick loop that she was barely able to tune out. However, a quick drink with the guys wasn’t necessarily a bad thing… it was just a thing.
“We put up a good fight,” Ryo was saying before taking a big swig of beer.
“Yeah, you guys did,” Robert grumbled, taking a momentary reprieve away from his lips to press his cold bottle to his face instead. “I only got what? One hit on her? It’s like she wasn’t even human. Something about her just felt… weird.”
“Sure you weren’t just distracted?” Ryo teased lightly.
“Hey, Yuri’s the only woman I look at!”
“You’re full of it,” Ryo deadpanned.
“Pft. Eat my entire ass.”
King tuned out the stereotypical bro banter that she was more than used to, but a part of her did feel guilty when Robert mentioned that they put up a good fight and not him. The truth was, he’d done more to try to win than she did… but she couldn't dare utter such a confession. Not without a scalding lecture from Ryo that would end with her wanting to give him a flying knee, anyway.
“I don’t mean that she had nice legs like that!”
Something about Robert’s exclamation brought King’s attention back to the ongoing conversation between the guys, which was… certainly a conversation.
“It can mean both, dude,” Ryo pointed out. “Just admit it and stop trying to overcorrect yourself. She was attractive; it’s not like I’m gonna ban you from my sister for making a natural observation.”
“Bitch, you couldn’t ban me from Yuri anyway,” Robert shot back.
“Brave talk from the biggest loser among us today.”
“Don’t piss me off, bro; I will —”
“Guys,” King, now adequately annoyed, finally interjected with a scowl. The duo abruptly ended their exchange as she changed the subject.
“I’m… sorry. I tried. It was down to me, and I —”
“Hey, man, it’s all good,” Robert assured while clapping a hand on King’s back. She immediately flinched, as her adrenaline rush had worn off long ago, resulting in her feeling every single bit of pain radiating throughout her body. She sucked air in through gritted teeth and noticed that Ryo was squinting at her, not unlike someone contemplating how to solve a complex puzzle, his disappointment palpable. For a fleeting moment she wondered if he was on to her, but a softening of his features quickly assuaged that worry.
“I know you did your best,” he remarked.
King pressed her lips in a thin line; that wasn’t her best by any means… but Ryo and Robert sure as hell didn’t need to know that.
With remorse starting to slowly eat away at her fragile conscience, King decided it was a good time to leave. As far as she was concerned, she fulfilled her public obligations… and the longer she sat with the two of them and heard Robert lament about his performance, and Ryo go on about how they’d “done their best,” the more her stomach bubbled with a violent tempest of the self-loathing kind. She’d let them down… and Robert’s trusting nature of her coupled with Ryo’s lack of insight hadn’t allowed them to see it yet. Now, she was burdened with this secret. It was all becoming too much, especially on the heels of swallowing the loss in the first place.
Why did it have to be her…?
Sighing heavily, King said her goodbyes and exited the bar, fully aware that the guys were watching her. She made a face as she slowly moved about in a bit of a haze, a million and one things racing through her troubled mind. At one point she became so lost in thought that she almost didn’t register the sound of her phone’s text chime going off from her pocket. She stopped momentarily to reach for her device but promptly decided that whoever it was could wait.
For now, she had some injuries to treat and more brooding to do.