With Nash’s shoulder still imbedded in her ribcage, neither fighter could move effectively. Ava swore into her mouthguard and leapt as high as she could, though awkwardly, and unloaded punches directly to Nash’s ribs. Digging them in hard as her feet hit the floor, hunching her back for leverage and unleashing her rage.
“BABES! BREAK IT OFF! GET OUT OF THERE! IT’S HER TACTIC! STOP!”
But it was too late. From her own hunched over position, Nash unleashed a kick that Ava didn’t see.
“OH WHAT A COUNTER!”
“SCORPION KICK! SCORPION KICK!”
“Beckinsale was completely floored by that kick, made famous by none other than Robert Gasnier!”
“Hence, where his son got his nickname from. She got cracked right on the forehead! Nash sweeps Beckinsale’s legs out from under her. It’s the break The Champ wanted! Nash on top of Beckinsale, unloading furious strikes! But she’s still hitting forearms!”
“Mostly forearms! There’s blood streaming from Beckinsale’s forehead after that kick!”
“Nash is picking her apart! This is brutal!”
“The ref is hovering over them, making sure Beckinsale is still in this. I’d say the odds are not in her favour!”
“The crowd is stunned! They are watching a champion rise once more. It will take an absolute miracle for Beckinsale to come back from this.”
“The ref still hovering! Beckinsale’s hands are still defending her face but just barely. She looks like she’s fading. She has to show some offense...”
Ava cringed, trying to get the blood out of her eyes, but it was no use as her head kept pumping more. The boys were screaming at her. Instructions? Warnings? Encouragement?
Who knew? She couldn’t concentrate, on them or anything, as more pounding hits rained down on her. She couldn’t stand much more of this. Her head was split and spinning. Her arms and shoulders felt like jelly. If she stayed here like this, even if Nash didn’t get anymore actual strikes in, the ref would stop it for inaction on Ava’s part. She had to move. To shift. Anything. Something.
Only blind instinct fizzed in her mind. A left-handed punch crunched into her, which meant a right was next. Ava did the stupidest thing anyone could ever do in her situation. What every trainer in the world would kill her for even attempting, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Ava moved her hands away from her face, completely leaving herself open, reaching up with both to grip Nash’s top.
The right hand she’d expected crunched down but was met with her arm. The brief jolt of shock was all Ava could get, but it was all she needed. She swiped across Nash’s face and felt The Champ’s nose crunch. It was a blow designed to sting, not win as Ruben would say. But the crimson river suddenly flowing from Nash’s nostrils gave Ava what she needed: a chance.
“Nash reels back out of that! That nose would be broken, you’d think.”
“Incredible bravery shown there by Beckinsale. Incredible. She’s risen to her feet and launched a sidekick at Nash!”
“Lordy, that was only just blocked there. It was a sloppy effort from Beckinsale but, to be fair, she looks exhausted.”
“The crowd rises again! Desperate to get Beckinsale back in this match! WHO SENDS ANOTHER KICK INTO NASH!”
“That was also blocked but had more weight behind it! Nash staggers! She was blocking her face, not her side. Another kick! Nash sinks to her knees, blood continuing to pour out of that nose! Beckinsale is relentless! Another kick! And all those are from her bad leg too! You don’t think there’s any special intent behind these blows, do you? Holy hell! Bell sounds the end of the second round AND THESE GIRLS STILL WON’T STOP!”
“They are still going at each other! Pushing! Shoving! Trash talking! Only kept apart by their trainers. Take the break ladies! You both need it! Can you believe this?”
“Fucking bitch...” Veronica spat out blood like she spat out the words. She refused to sit on the stool offered to her though the quivering in her legs told her she needed it. “Ref should’ve stopped it already. What the fuck was he thinking?”
“Hey, never forget,” Pete answered, pinching the bridge of her nose, holding tissues under it. “You’re in the ring with a fighter.”
“I’m in here with a rookie!” Veronica cringed as more tissues had to be used, and Pete pressed harder to stop the blood flow. She blinked away a few stray tears as both Pete and the surrounds went in and out of focus. Veronica knew her bell had been rung a bit, but she let the tears she shed explain away her worry of blurred vision. She let it go and told herself things to keep focused. “That’s all she is. An overhyped rookie.”
“Don’t give me that ego shit, Vi. Focus on what you have to do. She’s causing damage. Don’t let her near your face. That nose is pretty bad. The pinning game is working. She’s tiring fighting out of your holds. She can barely stand. This is the round. She’s ripe. Finish it, then let’s go home. You’ll never have to hear her name again, you got it?”
“Yeah, I got it. Bitch doesn’t know when to stay down. I’m breaking my hands on her fucking head.”
“Target that wound. Left, right, goodnight.”
Veronica tapped her fists against his.
34