Ava semi crawled to her feet, using the sink for stability. She took several deep breaths before opening the door and stepping out. “Sorry...” she offered meekly.
“You all good, babes?” Chris asked with a poignant look.
Ava replied with a nod but kept her mouth shut tight as Ruben squeezed a cold sponge over her shoulders and forehead. Her boys were always there for her. The official looked her up and down but thankfully said nothing as he left the room. Less than five seconds later, Ava and her boys were following him down the hallway. Past smatterings of arena officials and fans, none of which even glanced her way. Why would they? She was just another statistic walking. A notch yet to be added to Nash’s belt.
She stepped through the curtain, still keeping her mouth shut tight, and faced the Cage. Though the path she moved through to get there was filled with people on both sides of her, she could tell the seats further back were barely filled and then, even further back, completely empty.
“RIP, bitch!”
“Shoulda stayed in school!”
“Ya really got the short straw today, lamb chop!”
“Jesus, dat ass!”
“Go, blondie!”
A hand was on her shoulder. She didn’t know which of her boys it was, but she knew it meant to ignore the calls. Good advice but what the hell else was she supposed to do? Ava stepped into the Cage and walked gingerly to the edge of the ring, to her corner. Her back to the entrance. The boys set up what they had to, giving her a few seconds, quickly chatting among themselves.
She cringed when the crowd suddenly erupted into screams, applause and chants. Then blew out a huge breath as the realisation came. Her idol, her inspiration, was making her way down to the Cage. The first time she would ever meet Veronica Nash would be at the end of her fist.
She turned around and let out another breath. There she was. Belt around her waist, waving to the crowd. Her brown hair tied into a ponytail, the same black and green fighter outfit she wore every match. For a minute Ava imagined herself to be watching this on TV, not here. Not in person. She would be at home, or a pub, cheering for Nash and wanting her to beat the shit out of this chick who she would feel sorry for.
The ref called them over and gave the same instructions Ava had heard plenty of times before. She kept her eyes on him, not Nash. If she looked at her, merely a foot away, she would probably spew all over her fifteen-hundred-dollar fight boots while asking for an autograph and a hug. She lightly tapped Nash’s fist and turned back to her corner.
Ruben cupped her face. “No one fights your fight, except you. You dictate terms, not her. She knows nothing about you. So, show her you belong here. Show her, babes.”
She blessed herself and turned around just as the ref signalled the round to begin and the crowd roared. Ava crept forward, arms bent, eyeing Nash, who held almost the same stance except her fists weren’t raised as high. She wasn’t expecting an attack from this distance. Could Ava possibly manage a kick from here? Sure, but it would be easy for Nash to swerve or deflect. Ava was so concerned about what move she should try, she didn’t see the straight punch coming for her and only just managed to twist her head away. The crowd jeered, and Nash gave what Ava thought was the hint of a smile. Ava swung with a hook but hit a stiff breeze. A left and right combination aimed at The Champ struck more air. Nash moved like lightning.
“Don’t waste your punches, babes! Come on!” Ruben screamed.
Ava could feel how stiff she was. She felt uncomfortable, uncoordinated. Unprepared. It wasn’t Chris or Ruben’s fault. How could you prepare for her? Ava realised something then. You couldn’t prepare for her. You just had to fight. Ruben was right. No one dictated her fights, except her. Well, if she was going to be cannon fodder, at least she’d go down swinging.
Ava leapt and sent a superman punch directly for Nash’s head which was easily blocked. She hit only her forearms, but that wasn’t the punch she’d expected to connect. She didn’t even want it to connect. She’d wanted both of Nash’s hands busy just for a second while she was almost skin on skin with her, It was now or never.
Ava snapped a left hook, and it crunched into Nash’s cheek whose hands couldn’t protect her in time. A slinging right hand at Nash’s retreating frame struck the fighter straight in the face, hard. Nash tripped slightly, and Ava spotted the damage done to her face. Blood was streaming from her nose and across her reddened, sweaty cheeks. Ava readied another punch, but her head snapped back from a jab. Before she could even take a breath, she’d been hit twice more across the face. But she spun on her heel to smash Nash with a backfist.
“Alright, babes! Take it to her, babes! Take it to her!” Ruben was shouting louder than ever, and the crowd was suddenly going berserk.
The force had turned Nash around, blood spurting from her mouth and onto the mat. No one had expected this. The unknown going toe-to-toe with the legend. Ava shoved Nash into the Cage, her back smacking against the steel, and hammered away at her midsection.
Ava readied another superman punch fake but found Nash’s fist in her ribs as she came down. All the wind was knocked out of her, and she was sent to the canvas with a flurry of body shots. Nash almost jumped on her, now that she was down, but was sent sprawling by an elbow and cut yet again.
Ava quickly regained her feet and charged only to meet another body shot, this time from a knee. She heard a crack and hunched over but didn’t scream until a sudden drop of weight came down on her right leg. She’d had her back turned. She hadn’t seen it coming.
She cried out and gripped the remains of her shattered leg, going down on one knee when Nash thundered a kick directly into her throat. She set her body straight, only to be pummelled across the head with lefts and rights she couldn’t defend. Ava’s whole body quaked, unable to move, before Nash launched a straight kick into her back, sending her face first into the steel cage. And into darkness.
14
Ruben had thrownthe towel before he saw Ava flung into the steel. It felt like an eternity had passed since the towel had left his hand and he cried out for the ref to look. But the ref, like the entire arena, was focused on the devastation underway in the ring. It had really only been a few seconds, but Nash showed no signs of letting up and it was obvious Ava could no longer defend herself. Then, just as the ref saw the towel, Ava was launched into the steel via a kick to the back.
Out of the corner of his eye, Ruben saw a horrified Chris with his hands on his head, eyes popping. Instinct fuelled him, and he burst out onto the mat just as the ref gripped Nash to pull her away. The match hadn’t technically ended, and security converged to stop him as soon as he stepped inside the Cage, but he ploughed through them, sprinting over to Ava’s lifeless form.
He slid next to her, on his knees, bending low over her to peer at her closed eyes. “Babes... babes... oh God...” A guttural cry escaped his throat. He screamed for Chris who, after also fighting off security, joined him in less than a second.
The bell sounded. It was over. Nash had won. But Ruben didn’t care. Nothing mattered to him right now except making sure Ava was OK. He knew something was seriously wrong when Chris, always the steady and calming influence, with tears in his eyes as he looked down at her while gently checking her over, screamed, "Fuck, roll her over. Get a doctor!"
“What?”