Female Fight Club 👊🏻💀👊🏾

Read the Prologue before jumping into the action by clicking here!

23:48 Joanna_Louvier: It’s the night of the fight. I’ve done my usual prep, my pre-fight workout, cool down, stretching, shower, changed into my gear, and warmed up again with some nice and easy dynamic movement. I’m wearing my green battle skirt and sports bra with gold trim, and the gold bow and arrow emblazoned on my chest. Blue spandex compression shorts beneath the skirt, chest and groin protectors underneath it all, and of course, my bright red 4 oz MMA gloves. For this fight, I’ve got my long blonde hair back in a pair of French braids that extend about 6” past my shoulders, with tufts of loose bangs hanging over my forehead, parted slightly to the left.

23:48 Joanna_Louvier: I’m in my changing room, going over the fight plan with my coach and training team one more time before it’s time to go out there. I hear your name announced, and I hear the crowd cheering as you make your entrance—as this is your debut match, you are called to the cage first. I watch you on the screen in my room, studying the way you move, the genuine confidence and excitement showing plain as day on your face. You’re ready. Finally, some real competition. I’m ready, too. Not long after, I hear my name on the speaker system, the announcer’s voice booming, loud and clear.

23:51 Joanna_Louvier: As I step out into the arena, draped in my golden satin boxing robe, I hear the familiar crunch of guitars and cymbals of my walkout song, “Bad Thing” by King Tuff… which achieves the dual purpose of pumping me up and sending the message to everyone watching, including you, about what kind of intentions I’m bringing to the cage tonight. Finally, I step into the cage, feeling the touch of the canvas, at once hard and flexible, under my bare feet. I look you up and down, all the while stretching my long, muscular arms up over my head, showing off my significant height, then remembering that you’re an inch taller than me. No matter. That’s just going to make this even more fun.

-

16:12 Marlie: After my most enthusiastic fight day prep, I'm pumped up, energized, body honed to its highest level as a weapon to direct against you. My mind is just as prepared, ready to throw down with the champion and show her exactly why I'm worthy of respect in this place. Finally, finally, it's the moment of truth. In a black sports bra and grey compression shorts, both with white trim, and black gloves to match, my gear is simple. It doesn't need to say much, serving its purpose - most eyes are drawn to where it isn't, anyway, the toned abs, obliques, the definition of my deltoids, biceps. My hair simply pulled and tied back, there's nothing else to handle before facing the crowds, and facing my opponent.

17:31 Marlie: My trainers try to drill the last bits of tactics and strategy into my head, but it's far too late for that now. The adrenaline is rushing. The announcers are booming out my name. And then, down the hall, I'm out into the arena, surrounded by the roar of the crowd. When they asked me what song I wanted to come out to, I didn't really think about it as much as I maybe should have. Some people in the audience seem to think it's a joke of some kind, but as the twang of "Top Of The World" by the Carpenters plays, I can't help but grin and give a wave. I'm high-fiving audience members down the walkway, then, up to the cage itself. Stepping inside, I pump my fist in the air to a cheer from the crowd, bouncing from foot to foot as I get set in my corner and wait, as my music fades out, and yours begins, changing the mood immediately.

17:38 Marlie: It's almost like the audience forgot exactly who I was fighting, and their enthusiasm for me quickly turns into a mix of pity and excitement to see what the Huntress will do to her newest mark. They go wild for you, and I watch with a smile at your predatory approach, admiring everything about you as you meet me in the cage and stretch out, putting your own incredibly athletic body on full display. Rolling my head on my neck and pumping my fists in front of me once more, I lean forwards a little, and call out over the noise surrounding us. For most fighters in this position, maybe it would be a jeer, some final intimidation or an attempt at getting in your head. For me... "Hey! I love your hair, looks great like that!"

-

21:04 Joanna_Louvier: Standing on the opposite side of the cage from you, I continue to study your frame, watching your muscles twitch under your skin, its bronze hue illuminated fully under the harsh stadium lighting… your fight gear is plain, and earnest, much like your affect. Noticing your braided hair tied back, just the same way it was yesterday. Those hazel eyes, endlessly gazing back at my emeralds from your side. Another impeccable smile stretching across your face as you compliment my hair… genuinely putting me on the back foot… does my hair look good like this? Or does it look ridiculous? Ugh… can’t start second guessing myself now.

21:13 Joanna_Louvier: But I can’t help myself. Your gentleness is so… disarming, in a way. And then, ugh, the fucking Carpenters are stuck in my head again. I can’t help but notice that your song is a love ballad, plain as day. It’s a bit unsettling, coming to that realization, and thinking about the violence that is about to unfold. The juxtaposition feels… perverse. But… what if, like in our previous interactions, you really mean it? I look back at you, thinking, yeah, your hair looks great too… you look… great… but right now, in here, I need to maintain kayfabe. Even if I can’t help but find everything about you completely, overwhelmingly fucking endearing, in a way that’s undeniable, in a way that I’ve never felt before.

21:21 Joanna_Louvier: The thing is, I still don’t know a single goddamn thing about you. All of this sweetness you’ve shown so far might just be an act. If it is, I’ll find out when that bell rings. Sooner or later, Marlie, I will see you. The real you. As the start time for our fight draws closer, I shadow box a bit to warm up my muscles, bouncing, rolling my neck and shoulders, making big circles with my arms… the usual warmup moves. I’m running nice and warm now, ready to get this show on the road. The announcer starts bellowing his preamble about our fight, and eventually we are called to the center of the cage to tap our gloves together while the ref recites his litany of rules and guidance: “I want a good, clean fight. Obey my commands at all times. You are responsible for your safety in this fight. Protect yourself at all times. Winner by knockout, TKO, or points after three rounds. Touch gloves.”

21:27 Joanna_Louvier: As the undefeated veteran of the league, not to mention the aggressor in pretty much everything leading up to the fight, I take the initiative to raise my hands and smack my gloves down on top of yours… not in a particularly mean way, but firmly enough to show that I’m committed to a course of action. Gazing deep into those pretty, hazel eyes, thinking about what you’ll look like with both of them shut. Keep those hands up, girl… I take what is likely one last look at the unblemished smile showing around the rubber piece protruding from your lips. Oddly at peace with the prospect of destroying something so beautiful. And now it’s time. We break, and shuffle back to our corners… the crowd is at a fever pitch now… here goes… DING DING

-

03:48 Marlie: Offering you a compliment delivered with distinct genuinity, whatever you had planned to say, if anything, doesn't appear. There is simply the briefest of pauses as you take on what I said, maybe appreciative, maybe suspecting it to be mean-spirited mind games. Your body is still prepared for anything, ready to punch through a wall, but your eyes betray something else, a feeling difficult to discern before you stash it away again, and move on with your stretches and shadow boxing. Leaving you alone for your final preparations, I simply do the same, my own final warmup routine ending with me feeling ready for anything - which I'll need to be, standing across a cage from you.

03:59 Marlie: You look... powerful, they’re in the other corner. Not just your athletic form, but the way it moves, the purposeful actions that show years of experience and total control over your body. It's like a weapon. But, your attacks are not unstoppable, your armor not impenetrable. I've honed a weapon as well, and my readiness only grows to show you my work, and let you be the ultimate test of just how ready I truly am. I only have to wait a few moments more to see how you feel. After being called into the middle and nodding through the referee's mandatory reminder of what's going on, it's time for the first touch. Raising my arms, you bring yours down, a thump on top of my fists to convey a preparedness for aggression that sends little tingles up my forearms. You're here to knock me down, first and foremost. I'm not going to let you.

-

21:36 Joanna_Louvier: Finally, it’s time… I want to use my experience to my advantage, as much as possible, so taking the initiative is important here. My first goal is to get to the center of the cage before you, or, failing that, pressure you away from the center so I can take it. We are essentially the same height, but you do have that pesky 1” on me. Are your legs longer? Not sure. But I’ll be damned if I’m letting you get there before me. From there, I’ll be sticking to my usual jab to right cross combo to try to knock your guard away up top, then shoot out a teep with my front leg, trying to thump into your upper abs with the ball of my left foot. If I can do that, I’ll have a stronger position for the rest of the fight, and victory will be all the more easily attained. I charge in, shuffling forward in an orthodox kickboxing stance, my left foot forward, elbows tucked in, left hand in front, right guarding my chin. Let’s fucking go, Marlie!

-

04:13 Marlie: My smile doesn't break as I nod and pull back my gloves, backing up into my corner, until that wonderful bell finally rings and the audience screams as both bodies leave their corners immediately. You rush for central ground, and I push forward at the same time to just about bump into you, starting to circle you to my left and showing off a bit of footwork, in a southpaw stance. Just as we nearly connect, you throw the first punches, to the surprise of no one. A tried and true 1-2 combo opener, which I guard and let smack into my forearms before opening up. Seeing you pivoting your legs, I step slightly back on my left foot to avoid the incoming kick and, using the little more reach in my legs than in yours, swinging out a roundhouse kick with my right to try and catch your exposed left leg at the outer thigh. Not so lethal when you're not putting weight on it, but a good opener to follow up with a pair of long jabs with my right aimed to tag your cheek and show off my wingspan.

-

21:33 Joanna_Louvier: Closing the distance, we both begin to converge on the center of the cage at roughly the same time. Our powerful, impossibly tall, muscular bodies on a collision course that can only end with violence and destruction—at least, in the immediate future… you take my jab and cross on your guard, obviously prepared for one of my typical opening gambits, and you manage to slide back half a step on your left foot, allowing you to just slip back out of the way of my teep, our contrasting stances making this another somewhat awkward fight, but nothing I haven’t handled before. Besides, with my kickboxing background, I’m constantly switching stances. I’m stronger in orthodox, but I can go into southpaw to set up the perfect kick, punch, or other type of move whenever I need to. But for now, I’m happy to fight you in this “open stance” orientation.

21:37 Joanna_Louvier: As I’m retracting my left leg and returning my foot to the canvas, you swing your right leg in a low roundhouse, looking to chop my left leg. I instinctively bring my leg up so that my knee is meeting my left elbow to check your kick, grunting “Hsshh!” as I do, letting your shin smack into the hardened bone of my own shin, taking some pain from that hit, but hopefully giving a bit back to you as well… and as you bring your right leg back to the canvas and shoot out your first long, right-hand jab, I step down on my left foot, bring my guard up, and charge in, under your first jab, letting your fist scrape against my left glove as I keep my guard high and tight, twisting my hips clockwise, then winding back in at your core counterclockwise with a hard right hook aimed squarely at your navel. Then, parrying away your second jab with my right hand as I bob and weave to my left, I go to unleash a vicious left hook, this one aimed at your lower right ribs.

21:40 Joanna_Louvier: Launching off of that momentum, I swing my right leg in towards you, whippping a hard, low roundhouse kick in at the outside of your left thigh, just above your knee, trying to hit your peroneal nerve bundle, hoping to blast your leg out from under you with a wide leg kick—unless of course, you can mount a defense fast enough to avoid it. Trying to get right up in your space and on top of you, probably a lot closer than you’re likely to be comfortable with… fighting in close is somewhat new to me, of course, but there’s no time like the present to start using what I learned in my camp leading up to this match. The only question left on my mind is whether you’ll be able to keep up.

-

23:45 Marlie: Everything else properly melts away now, the ironic tranquility of intense violence falling over me as the crowd's shouts fade out, the harsh arena lights grow less noticeable. All that matters - all that exists, is me, and you. Dancing with you now, our bodies moving to meet the demands of the other, it's not surprising in the least how aggressively you start. You're used to setting the pace, pushing it higher until your lesser opponent crumbles under the intense pressure. But there's no lesser in this cage with you tonight. I can keep up just fine. And when push comes to shove, the respectful thing to do will be to give you the test of your life, let you see what you can make of it.

23:52 Marlie: Having blocked and stepped around your first few blows, you show just as much capability on the defense as on your offense when I return fire. You pull your leg up, let our shins connect instead to share some pain on the impact. It doesn't slow my jabs, but you slip down, guard up, to get past them and go right back to swinging. The first solid hit of the night, a hard thump into my navel that lets me get my first taste of how much power is behind those gloves, while equally letting you get your first feel for how firm my abs really are. A simple grunt of acknowledgement to the pain, and my body adjusts. As you parry and step to the side, I draw my arms back in, matching your footwork to deny you an easy shot near my liver while lowering my right arm and blocking.

00:07 Marlie: You keep leading for now, pushing into a kick with your right at my back leg while maneuvering to stay close in. I'll oblige for now - I'm experienced enough in dissuading usually smaller opponents from staying in easy reach, even if most aren't, well, you. I step inwards with my left leg, practically pressing bodies together, to kill the leverage of your kick. I don't stop, though, keeping the momentum to plow my left knee up for your lower abdomen. Then, just after planting my foot back down, I push up in a snappy uppercut left targeting your chin, and then rotate on my hips to wind a hook in with my right aimed to meet your jawline. With that, I push back outwards as I reset my fists, punctuating the distance with a quick teep kick, right foot aiming to impact just below your sternum.

-

22:30 Joanna_Louvier: Ducking under your jab and curling my right fist in at your firm, muscular core, I feel my first solid shot of the night land flush against… the hardened, nearly impenetrable wall of your abdominal muscles, almost effortlessly rebounding a blow that would have at least elicited a pained grunt from any of my previous opponents. I know you felt it, but now I have a much better sense of just how much punishment I’ll have to dole out to start getting a proper reaction from you. My left hook, of course, you anticipate, and expertly block by tucking your elbow into your ribs, denying me an early liver shot. My kick at your rear leg also fails to outflank your defenses, and you manage to counter in impressive fashion, using the same leg I was targeting as your weapon, thrusting your left knee into my lower abs at point blank range… “Gsshh!!” It’s too fast for me to attempt any kind of block, since I basically walked right into it, but my abs are still fresh and strong, like yours.

22:32 Joanna_Louvier: Still, a knee in the gut never feels good, and I lose some breath and spittle with the impact of that stab below my navel. I’m only three moves into my close range charge, and it’s clear to me that you’re no fucking amateur… or even a mere prospect, for that matter. But then… what are you, and where the hell did you come from? No time to ponder those questions, as you’re continuing to keep me busy, dropping and turning that left shoulder towards me as you curl your left fist upwards at my chin… fortunately for me, the time it takes to get your left foot down to generate the power for your upper gives me just enough time to read your shoulder, and I intuit that you’d go upstairs after landing a body shot, so I turn my right hand over to intercept and parry your uppercut, a punch that would have surely softened me up for further punishment, had it landed.

22:34 Joanna_Louvier: My senses still sharp, I see your right hook coming in hot and I raise my left hand to block, bending my knees slightly and responding with an emphatic, fully extended right straight at your solar plexus just as you’re pushing back and resetting your guard. Seeing you chambering that right teep, I step back to get some distance myself, but you’re fast enough to catch me as I do, forcing half a breath from my lungs as the ball of your foot presses just an inch or two south of my xiphoid process… “Uhngh!”

22:37 Joanna_Louvier: Resetting my guard again, I take a hard breath and grin like a maniac through my white rubber mouthpiece, feeling the overwhelming rush of my heart pumping rapidly, the adrenaline surging through my body, the air in my lungs, the early soreness and scrapes from where our bodies have already made contact. The clarity of there being nothing in the world to think about in this moment except my own body… and yours. Not sure who ended up getting the worst of that exchange, it all happened in what felt like half a second. One thing is for sure… you’re good. Maybe as good as me. Oh, I think I *do* like you. But I’m not ready to let you dictate the pace of this fight. Moving towards you with a bit more caution this time, light, almost on my toes, aiming to apply pressure and force you to make a move. I decide to throw out a fast, probing low round kick this time with my left leg to try to target your right thigh, hoping to create and exploit an opening from there.

-

20:43 Marlie: Your opening salvos are the stuff of legends, the sort of first-seconds devastation that gives new prospects nightmares. Sure enough, guns are firing from the starting bell, and the combined speed and power you can put out immediately tests my capabilities like no other match ever has. For now, though, to the awe of the enraptured crowd, I seem to be passing the test. Coming out of our first exchange having not only defended my position well, but landed a handful of opening blows of my own, communicates to everyone in the stadium that this is no mismatch against an overblown rookie. I may not be a "pro", in the strictest sense, but I can sure as hell fight like one. A solid connection with the knee, my followup fists handled by experienced parries and blocks. Your straight for my solar plexus finds a less prepared defense, though enough to knock your arm and lessen the blow to a grunt-worthy thump rather than a disabling shot.

20:51 Marlie: Catching you with the teep kick on the way out is the icing, but you're far too tough for that to make or break things. All up, it's hard to say if there's a clear advantage to either side as the gap between us temporarily widens—it's been less than half a minute since the bell rang, after all. You're still in prime shape, and communicated why you're so feared already pretty clearly. The fact that you haven't knocked me out in thirty seconds is no reason to start getting cocky, and that's never been my style anyway. The plan doesn't change. Keep up a strong defense, make you pay for keeping the aggression... have fun. A sort of crazed grin overtakes your face in the few moments we both take to analyse the situation, and as the adrenaline rushes and the shouts all around fill my ears, I can't help but return an honest, cheery smile, just enjoying the opportunity to be in this cage, with you.

21:04 Marlie: Almost laughing from the rush, I catch myself, and keep my head in the game. Your next move is coming, and you deserve to be properly handled. Like clockwork, your pistons fire, and the gap closes in an instant for a second exchange. It's the same, but different. This time, the attack isn't an immediate surge of overwhelming force. You're almost cautious, body language and pragmatism conveying a respect quickly gained for what I can do, in contrast to your words the first time we met. I spare a moment's thought for footwork, keeping up with the powerhouse and maneuvering around the inside of the cage with you, as my eyes take in as much data as possible to process your next angle of attack. You make a quick, low motion. There it is, another kick for the legs to try and hobble me. I wonder whether you're inviting me to make the same counter-knee, with a followup prepared for when I do.

21:12 Marlie: I don't test the theory. I'm on my feet so far, but with someone like you it doesn't take many mistakes to end up spending some time enjoying the ceiling lights. I step backwards with my right leg, defensively avoiding the arc of your kick and practically beckoning you inwards. I'm not planning on dancing around for long, though. I need to keep punishing your attacks, maintain pressure even when it's responsive. In the instant after dodging the low kick, I push back off of my foot to send a surprise right overhand punch with significant force, hunting a punctuation mark blow on your face. In the same movement that sends my right fist forward, the left is winding back, gathering power for a followup hook that shoots out with a twist of my hips, aimed for the bottom of your ribs. Committing to making a statement, I stay in, arms coming back for the next move.

-

21:36 Joanna_Louvier: It’s always nice to meet another person who seems to appreciate what I do, and how I do it. You are not just a disciplined and talented athlete. You are an artist, and a damn good one, from my current vantage point. There’s an unexpected rush of pure joy that comes over me as I come to the realization. There’s so much more to you than my initial assumptions accounted for. Now, back to the business at hand… it seems simple enough, moving with you, keeping light on my feet, keeping moving, finding a target, striking out, and getting out of reach before you can hit back… but for whatever reason, you haven’t been nearly as easy to push around as the other prey that has been on the menu leading up to this fight. Nevertheless, I continue, undeterred…

21:45 Joanna_Louvier: Stepping into range and snapping out a low leg kick with my left leg, I try to throw a wrench in the gears of your mobility and open you up for more punishment. But as I pivot into the kick, you simply pivot on your left foot, moving your leading right leg out of range, and causing me to over-rotate as my left hand swings down, leaving me wide open for just a split second. It turns out, that is all you need to launch off your right foot and push out a forceful overhand right into my open left cheek, smacking my head back and causing me to reflexively bring my hands back up… but years of training and experience tell my body to anticipate a follow up left after that right, and especially, a body shot… and it’s a damn good thing I don’t bring my right arm all the way up—if I had, I’d be getting served a mandatory summons to the canvas, the result of a well placed liver shot.

21:55 Joanna_Louvier: Still, my forearm takes some of that nasty sting as your fist clatters off of it, sending the rest of its force into my right side abs, forcing a loud grunt of pain out of me from the impact, and draining me of some breath. My left foot is still trying to get back to the canvas to recover my stance… my cheek and lower eyelid swelling, a small cut below my eye, my skull rocked by your right hand. I’m off balance, stumbling back with my left side still more exposed to you than I’d like. This is the one of the worst positions I’ve been in, in my entire fighting career. Damn, you really are good… But I don’t go down easy. I know you’re close enough to have just thrown the hook, so I take a gamble, exposing the side you just targeted and blasting back at you with a straight, horizontal right knee, just after my left foot finds its balance, aiming for your lower abs, knowing I’m taking a necessary risk to try to turn this around…

-

22:13 Marlie: The cameras in the stadium pick up our exchanged expressions for only a brief moment, before they vanish into the flurry of activity when you step in to engage. I handle the maneuvering well enough, staying on pace with you and keeping myself in position to respond properly when you make your real move. The dodge back from the kick is textbook, but the push back in is a little more improvised, and even an expert fighter can't be ready for every possibility. Your movements are near perfect, but I knew what I signed up for, and I'm ready to ruthlessly exploit those tiny gaps in the otherwise smooth wall of your defense. As my body pushes forward, my fist is propelled past your guard and finds its mark on your cheek, a brutal hit. The kind that might drop a lesser competitor outright—the kind that has, plenty of times, in my amateur fights. Your head is rocked, and seemingly only on instinct your arms get upwards to stop the next punch devastating your core.

22:27 Marlie: You get a forearm in between my fist and its target, but you're not the only one in the cage with punching power, this time. Striking your arm into your ribs, adding some pain to both and knocking some air out of your chest, is a good consolation prize for not flooring you. As you move backwards, or rather... stumble, perhaps for the first time in a long time, and to the shocked screams of onlooking supporters, I continue to move with you, bringing my guard in and matching step for step to keep you pinned down. You probably just took some of the best hits I've delivered in a cage, but you're a beast, and you're not even switching to defense, just yet. There's virtually no gap between us, and even after getting your head knocked you know immediately to try and make use of that, even if you're exposing yourself once more. Your knee comes out like a rocket, leaving me milliseconds in which to respond.

22:38 Marlie: There's simply not enough time to adjust and avoid the blow, and practically no room to block properly, either. I landed a couple of good hits, but it doesn't make me a champion-slayer just yet, and you still have weapons to use. The almost instinctual processing that happens in my brain decides quick. This is going to hurt, no matter what. I can afford to take a hit, as long as I'm trading up. My abs tense, as your knee spears into them, a clean hit that sends coughed air out of my lips as I grit my teeth through the test of my foundations. Simultaneously, though, I'm moving to exploit an opening. Rather than make the same shot, I aim to keep your defenses guessing as my target switches. While your right leg is still in the air, mine is gliding around into a hard roundhouse kick aimed for your supporting left, right above the knee, for a harsh peroneal strike, hoping to turn the attempts at a mobility shutdown around.

22:40 Marlie: Only then do I return to the other side, spinning my hips the other way as I pull my leg back to put my body behind a shovel hook left, another attempt at a liver shot that is quickly followed up by a right straight when my foot hits the ground, aimed squarely to introduce my fist to your lips.

-

23:02 Joanna_Louvier: My battle lust and genuine glee at finding an opponent who is really on my level begins to recede to the background somewhat as my survival instincts begin to kick in, sensing that, for the first time in a while, the cage is not my home, but a place where I am currently in real, mortal danger. I’m trying to remember the last time I felt this shaken up in a fight, and what I did to gather my composure again, but I’m coming up empty. Then, in the fog of battle, both of us reverting to our most basic level of training, verging on pure instinct… I feel my right knee connect and almost sink into your abs… the closest I’ve come to really hurting you yet, it seems… Sadistically, I savor the sound of air forcibly ejected from your lungs… yes… More of that… Then, suddenly, I’m hit with a blinding, white hot explosion of pain… I feel myself falling, down onto my left knee, my right leg bent, foot planted now… I’m an entire floor lower now, as you swing in low for another attempt at a liver shot…

23:14 Joanna_Louvier: Alright, now you’re starting to piss me off… not only are you using my own tactics more effectively than I am, you are going for repeated killshots, far too early. And I thought we had something special, here. I see it coming and parry it away this time, my left hand still up and—FWHUMP! I find myself getting served a right handed knuckle sandwich, my lips flattening over my mouthguard and my chin and facial features flattening against my neck, rippling from impact. For a moment, as the flashbulbs erupt, I wonder how this is going to look in the photos.

23:15 Joanna_Louvier: Fuck that. I thank the gods for a strong chin, as blood droplets explode off my face, and I basically pistol squat myself up off the canvas on the strength of my right leg alone, and throw a left uppercut to your bellybutton, then a right hook to your ribs, before charging forward and throwing all of my weight into my left shoulder as I try to wrap up your left leg and drive off my still functional right. Time to try my luck on the ground… if I can get you there…

-

23:40 Marlie: Your knee well and truly finds its mark, definitely the worst I've taken in the match so far. The sort of hit that might have left me groaning, if I wasn't flooded with adrenaline, and if it wasn't so worth it. Some in the crowd are hushed in the moment, as I exploit the opportunity at a cost to take your leg straight out from under you, with a loud enough smack to tell me I did my job in damaging your movement. You sink, knee clattering against the canvas, and right in that moment is when the chaotic fog of combat lifts, ever so slightly, revealing a shocking potential result awaiting us. Am I winning? I'm certainly on top for the moment. That won't mean much in a few seconds though, unless that pressure just keeps pushing in on you. Thankfully, I'm not one to gloat or take a position for granted, and the punches that follow do their job perfectly and emphasize even more the fact that the champion fighter, this veritable valkyrie, is presently taking a beating at my hands.

23:52 Marlie: More and more, I feel comfortable in this space, present and powerful in a way I'm more used to ascribing to you, Joanna Louvier. Someone owning a cage. You're quick enough to get your arms moving and parry the shovel hook, denying a match-ender but leaving you on the backfoot to do anything much about the right. The leather gets well acquainted with your mouth, and the novelty of the flashing cameras is not lost on me as your face is rocked. This really is the big time. Joanna on one knee, eating a glove. That sure will be one hell of a picture, later. Still, as long as your eyes aren't rolled back, you're dangerous. One of the most dangerous out there, even in that state. Right as I'm repositioning to keep up the hail of blows, you really show off your top tier status, your resilience and determination, as you pounce right back upwards. You won't make this easy. A subtle smile returns as I move to respond. I love that about you.

00:05 Marlie: The force in your uppercut, as you lift from the canvas like a firework, is the sort of force that could change the balance of a match with a clean hit. I'm fortunate to get arms in the way in time, taking a stinging hit north of the elbows that pushes my guard into my abs, instead of a fist rearranging my organs. As I'm catching up to another impressive outpouring of intense energy in your assault, maneuvering a step back, your hook clips my ribs and steals a bit more of my air, adding to the ache in my abdomen. It's a comeback attempt with killer potential, and it keeps egos solidly in check, but I'm able to avoid the worst of it and stay in fighting shape for the next step. You charge inwards, shoulder lowered, arms going for my left leg. A change in tactic, for the traditionally pugilistic fighter. I'm more than happy to come along for the ride into unexplored territories.

00:34 Marlie: I've "studied" you plenty, and I know you love to walk an opponent around the ring, beating the daylights out of them. You're no slouch on the ground, that's for sure, but you're infamous for your strikes for a reason. So, the fact that you're moving in to take us down says plenty about where things have started going. You know you need to change things up to get a fresh shot, so you're rolling with it. I'm excited to see more of what you can do firsthand, and show you what I can do in return. Even a perfect fighter couldn't exactly go for a leg takedown without a bit of telegraphing, so I ready my response as you move in. Feet firmly planted, confident in resisting the push of one good leg for at least a few moments, my right fist swings into a hook at the side of your abdomen, staying an honest fighter and shooting for ribs rather than closer to the kidneys. At the same time, my left arm moves downwards as I lean slightly over you, going to wrap along your exposed neck.

00:37 Marlie: Bringing my right back in to support, I try and close my arms into a lock around your head, and attempt to leverage you slightly downwards to send a right knee into your solar plexus.

-

05:25 Joanna_Louvier: I’m in wholly unfamiliar territory now… not this specific position, but being this damaged, this compromised in the first round. Never before has it been this bad. I’ve got to have a second wind coming soon. I can feel a slight tingling in the dead weight that is my left leg as I thrust as hard as I can off my strong right leg, charging up at you like a fury from hell, refusing to die, refusing to stay dead… I don’t expect much from the uppercut without the strength of my left leg, but it’s frustrating to see my right hook only glance your ribs. You seem to be keeping a steady step ahead of me at every turn. And now, I go for it, thrusting in at you with my shoulder, into the unknown. Already starting to regret this… knowing that even if I pull out a win with grappling, it will be written off as “dumb luck,” ironically, because of my notorious striking. So when I thud into you, and you stay steady, upright, like a mighty oak tree… I’m almost relieved.

05:33 Joanna_Louvier: Of course, it’s no relief to feel your right fist thump sharply into my ribs, sending stabbing pain along my left side, and leaving a lingering soreness there as you begin to wrap your left arm under my neck… then your right over the back of my neck… of course, it’s a little awkward, since I’m holding onto your left leg… arms wrapped around your thigh, just above your knee… holding on for dear life as I surge off of my right leg, my toes digging into the canvas and putting all of my strength into pushing you backwards and forcing both of us to stay in motion. I’m floored by the strength of your arms when you begin to pry me off of your thigh, choking and coughing as my trachea is pressured by your hard, muscular forearm… I’m holding on, but my grip is loosening… getting pulled out into the open in front of you, a little more with every second…

05:45 Joanna_Louvier: Before I know it… WHAM! I’m lifted into the air, from an incredible force impacting my chest… like a freight train… I look down. It’s your knee. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can barely see. My ears are ringing. I feel like everything is slowing down, just for a couple seconds as I watch your foot returning to the canvas… that wasn’t even a clean hit, I think to myself. I feel like I’m gonna die. But I have no intention of doing that just yet. Fighting every muscular reflex in my body telling me to turtle up, I bring my left arm up inside your right forearm to clasp onto your bicep, and my right hand over the outside of your left forearm, trying to hook into your arms and break your headlock, climb your body with another adrenaline surge, and press my chest to yours, getting my hands around the back of your neck in a proper Muay Thai clinch.

05:46 Joanna_Louvier: I can feel my left leg coming back a little, just enough to put weight on it… don’t know if I can knee you once I get up there, but right now, I’m not thinking that far ahead… All I want to do right now is get close enough to look you in the eyes.

-

08:45 Marlie: The hook finds its mark, your arms far too preoccupied elsewhere, but it's not nearly enough to dissuade your forward motion. For a moment, the thunderous battle of exchanged blows between titans turns into something a little more awkward, almost desperate. You're forcing against my leg, but don't have the power with one of yours disabled to force me over. Eventually my grip around your throat is pressed tight enough to allow me to physically overpower you and move you where I want, unless you'd rather choke out. A bit of repositioning, it's not a perfect angle, but my knee glides up and in, impact powerful enough to lift you from the canvas. There have been many showstopper hits already tonight, but that was the sort of impact that would leave a professional gurgling in the fetal position. Even you, powerful as you are, can't shrug it off. It's clear in every part of your body language, your breathing just switched off, your nerves are screaming.

10:38 Marlie: But this is what separates you from the rest. It seems like nothing should be left in the tanks, but you have the willpower to push on. Almost in surprise, with an awed expression at what I'm seeing, at how beyond human the opponent I've been tangling with and proving myself against is, my arms loosen enough for you to force them apart as you start practically dragging yourself up my body. It takes me a moment to even process what you're attempting, your surge of last-reserves adrenaline bringing you upwards to practically standing, though leaned against me. You're not even thinking about recovering, or protecting yourself, are you? You're still trying to find a route towards victory. As your hands get over my shoulders to pull me into a clinch, bodies pressed together, the whole stadium seems to stand still, for a moment.

10:53 Marlie: I can feel your chest heaving against me as you inhale and exhale, our sweat intermingling. Our faces are positioned right against each other, taking from the same air. Held in a clinch right against you, feeling your breath against my face, for the briefest moment my eyes instinctively trail down to your lips, before returning to meet your own eyes. Wow. "You have... really pretty eyes." I comment, no interest in managing my tone. The moment lasts just an instant more, before the sound of the crowd starts to seep back in. You're still up, and to some surprise I'm in your grip. I consider simply relying on the difference in remaining strength, forcing you backwards and down, moving into a submission hold or even ground and pound. No, that's not what you need. My arms move in to hold you behind the neck as well, making my move before you get enough breathing time to actually start thinking about doing something to me.

11:02 Marlie: My right leg pulls back as I use my arms to tug you inwards, then springing the knee forwards to crash into your navel. Then, as the foot plants, I push off of it to bring in the left knee, aimed to blast into your core slightly higher. Right, left, right, left, I fire my knees up like a jackhammer targeted into your already brutalized foundations, trying to gradually walk you backwards towards the cage wall as I do so. When I figure your arms feel weak enough, I put mine between them to try and push out and force them to separate away from my head, before twisting into a right and left hook at your jawline, punctuating the ruthless flurry with a high right straight kick at the center of your face intended to send you reeling back against the wall.

-

01:13 Joanna_Louvier: My arms, against all odds, surge and flex with the unbridled, feral aggression of a proud fighter facing the most humbling beating of her career. Right now, I can’t process the psychological upheaval of this experience, or even think much about adjusting my tactics. All there is to do is climb. So I climb. I pull my body in tight to yours, using the leather of my gloves to get some leverage on your sweat-slicked arms, flexing my biceps and dragging my chest across your washboard abs, my face pressing close to your chest. If I could manage to draw in a breath, I’m sure I’d be getting very familiar with your scent right now. But right now, all I’m getting is a confusing mix of numbness and blinding pain…

01:14 Joanna_Louvier: I grab your right shoulder with my left, then your left trapezius with my right. I don’t know why you haven’t just shrugged me off, but I’m not going to wait around until you do. I pull up again, without a breath to exhale, my heart on the verge of exploding from exertion. Finally, my palms wrapping over the back of your neck, I press my forearms into your collarbones. A familiar position. I can work with this… even with one leg barely functional. Somehow, I force myself to suck in a desperate shred of a breath, my eyes wide with pain and exhaustion.

01:15 Joanna_Louvier: First, settling on your collarbone, and your neck. Then, your lips... I feel myself leaning in, for a second, as I take in your scent for the first time since I got in this close to you. Finally, I look up, to find your eyes meeting mine. How long have we been standing like this? Too long? Not long enough? I can’t imagine how bad I look right now, but I have a general sense that the image of me that’s currently in front of you is not a flattering one.

01:17 Joanna_Louvier: Which is why I can’t help but feel foolish when I hear you say it. My eyes… There’s a brazen sincerity in your tone. It’s not the first signal you’ve sent. I wonder if you’ve noticed that the feeling is definitely mutual on my end, despite all of my trash talking. “But there's somethin' in your eyes that says “maybe,” that's “never…” I think, as an old song plays in my head. “Never say never…” In my current condition, I can’t manage a reply, other than a pained shudder as I try to breathe, but what I’d like to say is, “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about your big, beautiful, hazel eyes since we first met in person yesterday.” Maybe, if you’re looking close enough, you can find those words in mine.

01:18 Joanna_Louvier: But now, in this moment, when you are clearly dominating this fight, it feels like you’re doing more than just admiring my eyes. You’re looking into my soul. You see me—who I really am, under all this armor and bluster. And this whole time, you’ve been seeing through the version of Joanna Louvier I’ve been “playing” for the fans, for the commentators, for the promoters, and everyone else who isn’t in this cage, leading up to this fight. You’ve been seeing through all of that, seeing me for who I really am… Which is why I haven’t managed to intimidate you one bit.

01:20 Joanna_Louvier: You’re the first opponent I’ve faced who has shown this nearly superhuman level of self-assuredness. And you have a way of showing it that doesn’t rely on cutting your opponent down with intimidation tactics. Your cheerful and genuine affect is evidences an unyielding, impenetrable force of will that is, ironically, rather intimidating. It’s a testament to a level of confidence and resiliency that I personally have never known. In fact… it reminds me of who I wanted to be, years ago, when I was starting out in the fight game. Have I met my match? Or… I shudder at the next thought… are you just… better than me, in every way?

01:20 Joanna_Louvier: I can’t quite process all of this in the moment, but it’s all there, burning just under the skin. Hearing your words as you bring your hands up between my arms, and onto the back of my neck, almost tenderly, I smile, my eyes glistening slightly as I take in another painful breath. Shifting weight onto my left leg, knowing it’s probably an exercise in futility, but also that nobody ever won a fight by giving up, and trying to jump off my right leg to swing a knee in at your obliques.

01:21 Joanna_Louvier: I never manage to throw that knee. Instead, I’m pulled down, into the path of your powerful right knee. “OUGH!!!” I tense my abs just before I take the hit directly to my navel, having lowered my forearms just over my solar plexus after my grip on your neck slipped. I know there’s only so many more of these that I will be able to withstand before my body starts to shut down, but I need to protect that target above all. My arms tuck in as the pain throbs through me… my capacity to keep track of what is happening diminishing with every blow… You pull me down to your left side, “Ughhk!!!” My upper abs stretching and tearing as my body folds over your left knee…

01:22 Joanna_Louvier: You’re not one to leave a job half finished, though. Whatever feelings you might have towards me, your mission in this cage remains the same, and I would expect nothing less from the only woman who’s ever managed to do this to me. “UHHHHgghh” The third knee hurts twice as much as the first. “AAAGH!!!” Despite my attempts to block, I can feel my core being overwhelmed with shock, growing more inflamed, bruised, and weakened with every strike… “Ouhff!!” My moans becoming shorter due to lack of breath… certainly not for lack of effort on your part. When the sixth knee hits, I don’t make a sound. I just buckle, and wheeze…

01:23 Joanna_Louvier: I’m barely on my feet when I realize you’ve managed to walk me back almost all the way to the cage wall. The only reason I’m still upright is because you’re keeping me here, in what has now become your clinch. I try in vain to wrestle for control, but you simply part my arms from your shoulders, and when you swing that right hook, I’m simply not fast enough to do anything but take it. WHAM!!! My face snaps to my right, a string of blood trailing from my mouth… WHAP!!! Then to my left, as your more powerful left hook impacts my jaw…

01:24 Joanna_Louvier: And like a cherry on top of a generous serving of humble pie, your right foot quickly follows, smashing directly into the center of my face, flattening my features and sending me hurtling back into the cage wall… I feel the cold metal rings against my skin, followed by the sensation of my body careening back towards you. The feeling has mostly returned to my left leg, but at this point, I’m so dazed that I’m barely on my feet. All I can do in this moment is focus on standing up straight, and try to get my hands up to guard against whatever is coming next.

01:25 Joanna_Louvier: Somehow, for reasons I can’t explain, I’m still conscious… it’s as if the Fates have judged me, and decided that somehow, I need this. Maybe they’re right. Maybe I do. Somehow, I understand. So I bring my eyes to yours again, wordlessly telling you that I’m ready to stand and take it, as you stand ready to continue giving me the beating of my life.

01:26 Joanna_Louvier: And then, the last thing I’d ever expect to happen, happens… I hear a bell ring.

-

02:47 Marlie: What a nice moment it was immortalized on the cameras, the two of us with arms on each other, and practically as connected as one can be under the circumstances. Another time, another place, and probably minus the demolishing your core so bad you can't access oxygen anymore, and I might have blushed like a schoolgirl having a woman like you looking at me that way. But, you didn't step into this cage to indulge a fan's adorations tonight, and nor did I step in to bestow them. I'm here to take the most formidable owner of a cage in this generation, and leave her twitching in a heap at my feet—and you're here to stop me, not just tonight, but outright. In a way, it's nothing personal. In another, it's as personal as it gets. But we both have a role, and we'll both play it to the end. We'd certainly expect no less of the other.

03:20 Marlie: And so, the demolition continues. You've just been denied too many resources by the thumping you've been handed so far to do much before I'm done looking into your eyes, and when that timer runs out it's punctuated with my arms forcing you downwards and a knee threatening to lift your toes from the canvas again. Then another, and then another, in a chain of hits much like a jackhammer, both in rhythm, and in intent to break foundations into a fine powder. The way gasps and grunts give way to gags and quiet struggles for air matches the way your initially steel-hard abs give way to an exposed core, allowing me a chance to mulch your organs properly as we move the way I want us.

03:41 Marlie: Then, a clean separation, and two beautiful hooks to send streams of sweat, spit, and blood travelling in either direction. A final, full body powered kick introduces sole to face, and your back to cage wall. You're left clearly dazed, punch drunk enough to nearly collapse were it not for the cool metal now supporting you in replacement to my warm flesh. The fact that you're on your feet at all at this point just goes to show to all observers what a beast you truly are, a bodily powerhouse near unmatched, even if I've gotten the better of your moves for a while. Your eyes are half glazed over, arms slow to put up a guard. But up they go, and your gaze is able to meet mine. You're still up. You require a little more of my work. As I raise my fists mirroring yours and take a first step forward, the bell cuts over the rest of the noise in the stadium.

03:57 Marlie: Wh-huh? Oh. Fuck. The bell! Reality washes over me, glancing up at the electronic round timer's big red 0:00. My eyes go back to you, against the cage wall, panting for breath and arms sagging. What a few more seconds could've done. But them's the rules, and I've always been the straight-laced type. Taking a deep breath, my stance relaxes slightly. "You're amazing, by the way. Best round I've had in a cage. Good luck for the second one." With a smile and a nod, I back off to leave you to your recovery, practically prancing over to my corner to rehydrate and to enjoy a moment taking in the half-crazed support of the crowd, now thirsty for the blood of the champion. Not a long countdown, until they get what they want.

-

07:04 Joanna_Louvier: I am standing about three feet from you when the bell sounds. Fists raised, lungs burning… but breathing. Eyes red and watery, but gazing back at you. Blood trickling from my cheek, and from the corner of my mouth… a red rimmed smile on my face. Stray, gnarled strands of blonde hair jutting out from my once neat set of French braids… my abs, red. My left leg hobbled, a swollen, red spot on the outside of my thigh, and my posture clearly betraying a limp. I am all but completely broken. A one minute vacation from your good natured brutality is not going to be enough to save me, at this point. I’m trying to wrap my head around how you do it… how you manage to say the nicest things to me, consistently, to the most devastating possible effect. How could you pay me a compliment like that, now, after what just happened in the first round?

07:09 Joanna_Louvier: I shake my head, trying to clear out the cobwebs. You’ve turned around fully by the time my brain has finished processing what you said, and formulated a response. “Yeah, well, you’re not so bad yourself,” I retort, hoping my deadpan humor comes through. What else am I supposed to say? You just kicked my ass, and now I’m supposed to willingly come back for more, in less than a minute. Might as well try to be funny. But… no. Stop acting like this is over. You’re still standing. You can still move. You can still punch. You’re hurt, but you’re not finished yet. And you’re *The Fucking Huntress.* Do not come back without your trophy.

07:14 Joanna_Louvier: I see the ref coming to check on me, and I wave him off. I’m still alive. I go over to my corner, and it’s like I’ve arrived at my own wake. “I’m sorry…” I close my eyes, a salty stream running down each cheek. This fucking sucks. I get some water and a towel, and some Vaseline for my cuts. My coach is just trying to encourage me, which means he doesn’t have any helpful advice. Not good. I take in a deep breath. Push the bad feelings down. Pat on the shoulder. “Give her hell, kid.” Fuck. DING DING.

-

07:24 Marlie: In my corner, a giddy energy greets me with supportive hugs, a quick checkup on any bruising, a toweling down, and some water forced into my hands. I get little advice as well, though it seems more like my coach just wants more of round one. I'm determined to give 'em exactly that. A minute later, I'm feeling the benefits of the brief refresher, lungs cleared, a little drier, and more than ready to go again. As we step back into our positions, it appears the feeling isn't mutual. It's not to say there's no sympathy for your position, but that isn't going to get in the way. You're vulnerable, body language begging to be ended. You haven't lost yet, but you're going to.

07:27 Marlie: Then, the bell rings again. Like music to my ears this time, as the crowd turns back into a cacophony of shouts and screams. Maneuvering inwards, still composed enough to keep my footwork top of the line, I slip rightwards, only to go low into a left hook aimed to immediately remind your solar plexus what's going on to start the round. I then spring upwards from the low position, anticipating you doubling over and setting up to intercept your face with a ruthless knee.

-

07:34 Joanna_Louvier: Meeting you in the center for round two, as the bell rings, I see you beaming, standing tall. Again, I think of how you remind me of who I used to want to be, before I started believing my own hype. I wonder, if our situations were reversed, would you let your shoulders slump? Would you let it show on your face? I doubt it. It doesn’t happen until after the bell rings, but I take in one more deep breath, trying again to let myself believe it’s still possible to pull out a win here. And… it’s a good thing, because you move in quickly. You’re the aggressor this time, of course… I don’t think anyone is expecting me to make the first move. But that does allow me to prioritize defense a little.

07:46 Joanna_Louvier: As you move in and slip right, I see your shoulder loading that left body hook. Instead of staying in place and blocking, I pivot on my right foot, letting your fist glide across my abs with a glancing blow that, while still hurting, doesn’t nearly achieve the devastation you intended… I don’t have time to celebrate the small victory—I see an opportunity, and I know I must act. I pump a quick right hook at your left cheek as my left leg takes the rear position, then push off a half step on my right foot as you’re springing upward at me and launch a southpaw left straight at your right eye, hoping to reverse the momentum of the past couple minutes and give myself a fighting chance…

-

07:52 Marlie: The starting moments are dominated by my movements, to be expected. You're going to be on energy conservation mode, not to mention probably more interested in keeping up a defense and looking for counters, rather than bringing the aggressive energy of the start of the match. I clear most of the space, going in to swing the hook. A minute ago, devastating. But even that recovery is enough to give you the fuel to lessen the blow, getting clipped in the abs rather than getting shut off immediately. You even manage to respond in kind, a right hook that doesn't exactly send me reeling, by tags my cheek as it goes past as a reminder of who I'm dealing with. Then, you push off to join me in the air.

07:55 Marlie: You're nowhere near eating a knee, but I smack away your left with my own as I come in, winding my right back to rocket forwards and meet you just above the collarbone as I land on two feet. Pushing the right forward is the movement I need to wind the left back, and swing into a hard hook with my upper body behind it, right for your temple, only to push back a half step to raise my right knee and target your face again with a lighting fast snap kick.

-

19:20 Joanna_Louvier: YES! A flood of endorphins wash over me as I feel my 4 oz. gloved fist make contact with your cheek, causing my heart to pound with renewed vigor… I can tell it’s not the impact I need to really hurt you, lacking the force it would have had in the beginning of round 1, before you got to work demolishing my core. Still, it proves to you that I am still very much here, in this cage with you, taking up space, competing for the same oxygen, the same light, the adoration of the same crowd. Your streak of unanswered strikes has come to an end, and I intend to capitalize on this interruption of your momentum, however small.

19:20 Joanna_Louvier: I know I am far from turning the tables. Your almost effortless deflection of my follow up left straight punch is further confirmation of that. You come over top of my parried left with your right, and respond in kind with a hard right jab, which impacts before I can twist counterclockwise to block with my right, bruising my collarbone and tenderizing the flesh of my left trap and neck as I feel my upper body rocked back slightly. You haven’t lost an ounce of power since we started, and the force of your strikes is, without exaggeration, undeniable. And believe me, I have tried to deny you. It’s all I can do to avoid falling over, even on a successful block. But as you’ve come to expect from me, I can take quite a lot of punishment before giving up the ghost. Something you couldn’t have learned from watching my previous fights, because no one has ever gotten this far with me before…

19:22 Joanna_Louvier: Following the familiar pattern of bilateral movement with which all boxers are well acquainted, your left hook comes in at me again, this time looking for my jaw. You conceal your intended target well, and after targeting my liver twice before, I’m certain it’s going to be a low hook to my right side floating rib, trying to snap it off and drive it right into the target that has the power to shut me down in one well placed blow… I quickly bring my right elbow down to guard my liver, ready to counter with a MASSIVE left uppercut to your chin...

19:23 Joanna_Louvier: You make me pay dearly for my miscalculation, as your black leather glove THUMPs into my right temple, sending my head snapping down and to the left, my brain bouncing off the walls of my skull, my body unbalanced and pigeon-toed, still in southpaw, torso doubled over, hands still in front of my body… leaving my face WIDE OPEN for your right legged snap kick, a testament to your status as a true martial artist. A perfect set up, leading to a flawlessly executed strike as your instep crashes into both the bridge of my nose and my upper lip, sending an explosion of blood droplets and saliva outward in all directions as my head is snapped back upwards, and I find myself taking in the full view of the arena lights, my bodyweight finally settling onto my tiptoes after being lifted skyward by your kick.

19:24 Joanna_Louvier: My stomach churns as I struggle to set my eyes on you again, the familiar metallic taste of blood draining from my nasal cavity down my throat. I attempt to bring my right leg back to the rear to reset into my orthodox stance, lest I remain a wide open target, dizzied and vulnerable from your devastating combination. Somehow, I crack a smile, despite everything. This time, it’s not intended as a message for you. I just can’t help it. Finally, I realize what I have been training for, all my life… Who I’ve been training for. It’s this… It’s you.

-

19:35 Marlie: I might have had you against the wall when the timer ran out on round one, but it already feels like ancient history. All that matters, all my brain needs to process, is the situation here and now, and the tactics I need to put into play to send you back there, and beyond. Taking that hit might have marred the impression that this is some perfect beatdown from the movies, the simplest little indicator of the danger you pose, but it was oh so worth it. Getting through your straight to land the hit on the downswing is just the setup, before a play to ring your skull offers fruit and lines you up perfectly to eat a kick. Sometimes, a hit in the cage can be deceptively devastating, a fighter suddenly crumpling with the crowd trying to work out which blow floored them. With the splash of blood, and the upwards momentum imparted through your whole body, this is not one of those times.

19:40 Marlie: Getting both feet below me as my stance resets and my guard readies, I move in synchronicity with your reset to an orthodox stance. Right now, in one of the peaks of one of the greatest rushes a fighter ever gets, I'm reading your every movement and muscle twitch, seeking indications of your status, what you might try for next. Calling me "distracted" wouldn't quite be correct, I'm focused where I should be. But the conspicuous smile on your face passes me by, only registering in my mind after I've already taken a step into the next test of what it takes to level you.

19:44 Marlie: Stepping forward on my left foot and trying to push in as your stance is settling, I bring a right knee up for your side and obliques, hoping for a solid impact but even more intending to position you well while my left glove pulls back like a spring coiling, before bouncing into a power-punch uppercut targeting your navel squarely. The rotation in my upper body brings my right arm back, only to put it into use for a hard straight targeting near your eye.

-

20:00 Joanna_Louvier: Watching you work, I see the gears turning in your head, eyes on the prize, completely undeterred by the fact that I got a shot in earlier. You seem more than willing to trade, and for a woman who matches me in size, it only makes sense. If I were better prepared for this fight, it would be me breaking down your body up close, rather than the other way around. I can’t quite keep up with you in my battered and bloodied state, but I see you step in with your left as you mirror my orthodox stance, and as you swing in with the right knee, I bring my left leg up to meet my elbow again, letting your knee smack into my thigh with far less range of motion than it needs to make an impact… “UGH!” The effort still elicits a grunt, but it’s one of determination, not desperation.

20:10 Joanna_Louvier: My left foot STOMPS to the canvas after blocking your knee, and with that, I shift my weight, pivoting on the ball of my left foot, curling a tight left hook in at your right side jawline… but I’ve misjudged your movement again, and my glove skids harmlessly off your right arm, as your left comes in low for a power uppercut to my navel… “OOUUGHHH!!” In an instant, I’m reminded of how raw and sore you left my abs in Round 1, and my breath is taken from me as my body doubles over somewhat… but I’m not totally defenseless. I manage to see your right straight coming fast enough to parry it to the outside with my left…

20:12 Joanna_Louvier: In a split second, I’ve decided on my rebuttal, lowering my right shoulder for an intimate right uppercut of my own to your navel, followed by an almost chest-to-chest horizontal left elbow, again targeting your right side jawline. You’re correct… until my eyes roll back, I’m still dangerous, and I know I need to channel all of that danger into ending your well-earned moment of glory.

-

20:26 Marlie: The prediction of where you'll move, how you'll react, the targeting, the force to put behind the blows, each a question mathematicians could obsess over optimizing, but the sort of problems people like us just have to find the best answer we can for in the tiny sections of time between attempts at knocking the other's block off. You're able to block the knee with your own leg, shielding yourself against the blow, but its truer purpose of preparing the real assault still holds when leather meets skin again and my fist smashes into your abs, even the modest doubling over of the Huntress the sort of sight unheard of before tonight. It's not an off-switch, however, and with a professional's instincts the followup straight is parried away before the damage can be cemented even further. To be expected, the chance to try an offensive again is taken eagerly.

20:43 Marlie: Close in, right arm still resetting, options are limited to respond to your returned uppercut. Then again, I've already shown my happiness to make a trade in the cage. A turn, flex, a half-step back, and I take the impact on tensed right abs, the worst of the blow sapped by repositioning but still with more than enough thump to knock air out through gritted teeth. I'm gonna be sore as hell later, but I can work with it for now. It's the price paid for my left arm finding a purpose other than blocking—a second hook to the temple while your right arm is low. And, ready to respond to a high after you landed a low, I have the reaction time to slip back the crucial inches necessary to avoid the elbow, sending my right fist after it in a hook the other direction, toward your own jaw. Hit or miss, my hips pivot once again, and a second uppercut left seeks passage to just above the waistline.

-

23:05 Joanna_Louvier: Only a little more than a minute ago, I was a broken woman, ready to be ended, my fighting spirit all but totally snuffed out. Now, as we give and take, I am beginning to lose myself in the genuine joy of going toe to toe with an adversary who is more than worthy of my best. What a difference a few seconds can make. Somehow, I found the inspiration to keep fighting—ironically, in the very same person who has been methodically breaking me down since the first bell rang. And now, I understand the revelation I had at the end of Round 1. I really did need this. The Joanna I was becoming needed to die, so that the Joanna that will be, could be born. I didn’t realize it, but I was becoming someone I couldn’t face when I looked in the mirror. Someone I didn’t recognize when watching my own interview footage. Someone who didn’t believe the words coming out of her own mouth. Joanna is dead… Long live Joanna.

23:14 Joanna_Louvier: Of course, just because you’ve sent me on some kind of new-age journey of self discovery and enlightenment, that doesn’t mean I have any better chance of turning things around in this particular fight. And as I twist in at you with my right uppercut, your defensive skills and physical durability remain as stalwart as ever. But damn, does it feel good to make you grunt, as you turn and take the shot on your right side obliques—an impressive set of muscles, the sort I could see myself studying in further detail, some weeks from now, perhaps. You waste no time punishing me for the attempt, your left hook tagging my right temple, again, before I can gather myself enough for my next move. But it doesn’t stop me from trying, and I do my best to step with you and swing that elbow. The fact is, I’m too tired, and too hurt, and you are simply too fresh, too fast, too strong, and too smart to let me land a shot like that.

23:24 Joanna_Louvier: Your counter right hook, however, is not found lacking in range, and it absolutely rocks my jaw, rattling me and making my knees wobble from the brutal shockwave disrupting my balance and muscular coordination. It’s too disorienting for me to properly defend against what’s coming next, and your powerful left arm punches deep into my lower abs, touching me in a sensitive and vulnerable spot, even for a woman with a hide as tough and thick as mine. “Ugghk!!!” My eyes go wide, and my arms swing forward, my guard collapsing as your fist penetrates and pulverizes my guts with a purposeful twist of your powerful hips.

-

00:29 Marlie: I'm not privy to what or why, but there's clearly a lot going through your mind. I suppose it makes sense, this is shaping up to be the first loss on your record in this league, and against an entrant you were seemingly ready to dismiss outright only days ago. That would be plenty to process, but your eyes don't betray disappointment or frustration or any such feeling. You almost look like the beatdown you're going through is a revelation. Well, I'll happily oblige and reveal more to you. After the pair of hooks that rocked your skull either side, the uppercut that follows truly finds its mark, possibly the first time in this match the Huntress's core hasn't had any answer but to crumple. There's another one of those beautiful moments where time freezes, everyone in the stadium processing the sight, before things gradually stop moving in slow motion and the gloves continue to fly.

00:35 Marlie: Your arms low and out of position, my right fist soars up into an uppercut aimed to put the taste of leather in your mouth for a month. I use the upwards momentum to push off my right foot, left leg gliding out to put shin against chin. As I land, I throw a hard overhand left to the side of your head, only to even out by aiming another right hook to the cheek. An onslaught of hooks and straights begins, interspersed with the occasional less explosive uppercut aimed to the abdomen, as something inside me decides it's time to press your back against the cage wall, once again.

-

00:51 Joanna_Louvier: I’ve given up too many strikes, and I’ve incurred too much of a deficit to be able to keep up with you, now. It’s clear that this next salvo is intended to send that message, loud and clear. You’re done letting me think I still have a chance in this fight. You have methodically and repeatedly outmaneuvered my attacks and broken down my defenses, and as your right fist arcs upwards into my mouth, my eyes watching on helplessly as your glove explodes into my mouthguard, I come to the grim realization that you are moving purposefully towards a finish. “PSHhh!!!” My head snaps back, body straightened as you launch me upwards again, only to land flat footed and see your shin snapping in at me, a jumping roundhouse kick, set up by the devastating uppercut.

00:57 Joanna_Louvier: The kick alone should be enough to knock me out, but somehow, as it lands, spraying blood and spittle all over my chest and against your leg, I’ve tucked my chin to my chest enough to stay conscious… barely. But you don’t stop there. Driving me back to the cage wall with a volley of vicious strikes, you smash my right temple with an overhand left, my arms far too low, reaction speed far too slow to stop you now… for some reason, the ref doesn’t intervene. This is my fate, the thought seemingly invading my crumbling consciousness as my skull is savaged by your fists, This is my fate… and I have nothing to do but face it.

01:05 Joanna_Louvier: WHACK! “Pshuhh!!” The follow up right hook almost knocks my mouth guard out, the cut on the left side of my cheek now widened and bleeding much more heavily… but you’re far from finished with me. My head snapping side to side, I stumble back as you charge in, herding me back to the cage wall, blasting me with straight punches, working my softened core with uppercuts… My grunts become moans, my moans become guttural moans… and then, as I’m punched flat against the cage wall… a sickening sound—a would-be scream, made lower and quieter as my body is robbed of air… the sound of a dying animal… In pain like I never could have imagined in my wildest dreams. I bring my eyes to yours, trying to find them. Trying to give you “the look.” Marlie… please…

01:15 Marlie: I'm not known outright, in most circles. But where I am known, I've built a reputation as an honest and warm soul, particularly for this line of work. To be known as kind, as a cage fighter, carries many implications and assumptions. One of the biggest of those, and one of the most sorely mistaken, is that it might map to weakness of any sort, or a proclivity to "go easy" on my opponents. The cage is a sacred space, and I respect its rituals. To not give my all, to not render my best effort in totally shutting down my counterpart's ability to fight back or even resist, that would be undeserving of the kind of women who join me here, especially you. You get everything you've earned.

01:21 Marlie: The cage is filled with the deep and reverberating thwacks of leather impacting flesh, on repeat. Beads of sweat run down my back, my abs, in a show of stamina as I continue to exert my strength fully punch after punch, beating against your skull to scramble your brain until you can't think in words, regularly checking in with your core to mulch your insides until you're practically gagging. By the time your spine touches the grill once again, you look to be in an even more devastated state than last time. A single huff of air, as I match your swelling over, glazed over, fucked up gaze for a moment, before glancing up and down the wrecked body of the goddess of this cage now leaned against it to even stand. Then, I step in.

01:32 Marlie: A final right hook to the skull, maybe even enough to turn your vision black for a moment, but not enough to make you collapse. And a final, earthshattering uppercut left, right between the belly button and the bottom of the ribs, with your spine against the cage wall, to rearrange your organs around my gloved fist. Stepping into that punch, my body moves against yours, pinning you between the forgiving firmness and warmth of my form and the cold and unyielding metal behind. My right arm wraps around the side of your neck, pausing a moment to almost cradle the back of your head, while my left arm moves under your armpit and up to meet it. My lips hover near your ear, as I whisper to you while our bodies press. "Thanks for giving a rookie a chance. It's been a real honour, seriously."

-

03:05 Joanna_Louvier: It all happens very quickly, though in retrospect, the things I could say about this moment could fill volumes. First, there are the things that you and I both understand, even as this moment plays out, that cannot be expressed easily in words. If they could, these rituals might lose some value. You understand, and have understood, that my bad intentions for you begin and end with the walls of this cage, period. And I’ve understood the same of yours. But in my tenure as an undefeated fighter in the federation, I had become cynical about my top tier status. Complacent, even. Something I hadn’t realized, until it was too late. My confidence, twisted into hubris, blinded me from seeing the difference between us—between who I was becoming, and who I once wanted to become. I’ve had to recalibrate my estimation of you several times since we stepped into the cage tonight.

03:14 Joanna_Louvier: It’s clear to me now that you’re not just some rookie… Nor are you merely some kind of “flavor of the week…” though I am dying to learn what you taste like. Nor are you simply a worthy adversary, a rival to inspire me to train harder, a mountain to climb… No, nothing so mundane as that… although, I have every intention of climbing you, one of these days. No… allow me to posit a pet theory. As you stand over the broken body of a goddess, it’s clear to me that your mission is one of divine purpose. Your frankness and humility give you away. You are a messiah, sent to this cage to relieve a weary goddess of a terrible, terrible burden. And you go about your work with a sense of love and duty, and the strength of your convictions… which are very, very, very strong. And I am so glad that you have come for me, because I am fucking exhausted.

03:21 Joanna_Louvier: So what you and I both understand, that those outside the cage may not, is that when I look at you, pleading, wordlessly… I am not asking you to stop. I am not asking you to go easy on me. I am not asking for your mercy. I am asking you to do what you have come here to do, and finish me. Because I need so much more than a hard reset. I need to be destroyed, so that I can begin again. And when you step in, I feel the full force of that legendary strength of yours, in a pair of blows that, in my weakened state, feel more powerful than anything I’ve been hit with in my life, let alone, earlier tonight…

03:27 Joanna_Louvier: Your right hook CRACKs against my skull, the sound not unlike a baseball bat hitting a home run. I think I black out for a second… but who’s counting, at this point? Then, you take that supercharged left arm, curling your left-dominant bicep, and plunge your fist deep into my upper abs… the muscles giving way as your fist sinks into my chest cavity. I taste bile in my throat as your fist smashes my stomach from the inside, and I feel the last remnants of my breath forced from my lips as your brutally precise uppercut collapses my diaphragm… Punched senseless, breathless… For a moment, the only thing holding me up is your fist…

03:33 Joanna_Louvier: I’m clinging to life after those two blows, but still waiting… still waiting to be relieved. And then, you press your body into mine. Oh, fuck… I’m unsettled by just how comforting the feeling is. It’s like morphine. The cool, hard metal against my back, and the warm, (only relatively) softer form of the woman pressing her body into mine. Your right arm, wrapping around my neck, your left, under my right armpit, trapping my right bicep against the right side of my neck. A standing arm triangle choke. It feels like a hug, and I receive it as such.

03:45 Joanna_Louvier: And then, you deliver the latest in a series of devastatingly, genuinely humbling affirmations. "Thanks for giving a rookie a chance. It's been a real honour, seriously." A cruel irony that now, as you’re telling me this, I want nothing more than to reply, but I can’t, because my breath is gone, my brain can’t string a sentence together, and if you’ve ever tried to speak in a triangle… well. Thank you. Thank you for destroying me. For destroying the person I was becoming, so that I could begin again. For reminding me who I once wanted to be. Not you… not Marlie. But someone like her. The honor has been all mine. Seriously. I feel the heat, the pressure building, in my arm, my chest, my head… I feel myself getting weak. Sure, I have the option to submit… but why? I can’t help but resist… futile as it is… I need you to follow through, to make good on your commitments, take us down this path of destruction, to its logical conclusion. And, although I’m hardly thinking conscious thoughts in this moment, I have a feeling, deep in my ravaged gut… I suspect you need this, too… you need this just as much as I do.

-

04:06 Marlie: What more is to be said? The Huntress, headhunted into the wall of the cage, so thoroughly butchered by the work of my body that she can't even stand properly. A core with foundations ground into dust, a brain beat into liquid. You probably can't think, other than the call of your body to throw up and curl into a twitching ball at my feet, though no one but you alone can truly tell what goes through your broken mind as my sweat-drenched arms curl around your throat, and give it a characteristically friendly hug. My arms push around until they're passing each other, grabbing and locking to the position I want them. The vice grip tightens. No more violence, no more impacts that reverberate up the grandstands. All there is now, is slow, inevitable, constricting, squeeze.

04:15 Marlie: My body presses against yours, holding you fully against the wall while my arms end you properly. How you deserve. My cheek is nearly grazing against yours, my hot breaths rolling along it and past your ear, almost accidentally mockingly given the last choked sputters before nothing more returns from your lips the other direction. Your scent is... intoxicating, in a way. It fills my mind, thinking about the woman whose body's weak, struggled movements are fading against me. I could hold you here forever, cradled in your own total annihilation. Feeling your body start to slip slightly, I press against you harder, keeping you up. One of my legs goes between yours, pressing upwards instinctively to support you, no thought to what else such a move does.

04:20 Marlie: You didn't have any air to start with, after I bludgeoned everything you had to give out of you, and the access to more just gets further away by the second. As my biceps flex and the arm triangle tightens, your own arm caught above mine is forced further into your throat. Perhaps it's poetic, for me to end this strangling you with your own limb, but I've never been good at poetic meanings. All I'm interested in is the effectiveness, as you slip limper against me.

-

04:34 Joanna_Louvier: The blood ritual draws to a close, a perfect blend of violence and art, a spectacle created for the amusement of the masses who live dimly and die slowly, forged by those who burn so much brighter, so much faster. We don’t have to be good at poetic meanings, because we create the raw material from which they are harvested. You, Marlie, make poetry with your ever capable body. Just as I see in every opponent, a canvas on which to create a masterpiece. Of course… sometimes the masterpiece masters me. And that is exactly what you have done here tonight. I knew there was more to you than you let on… How much more, I had no idea… I’ll have to wait until at least tomorrow to really get inside that incredible mind of yours… perhaps, to get better acquainted with your incredible body, as well. Because presently, you are using that magnificent, powerful, beautiful body of yours to all but kill me in this cage, for sport.

18:12 Joanna_Louvier: Maybe it sounds as if I’m trying to find the silver lining in all of this… As far as my career as a fighter is concerned, it’s true, this is a dark day. On top of that, it’s possible that my body will carry the scars of this battle, inside and out, for the rest of my life. I know that I will do everything in my power to rebound from this humbling defeat, and maybe some day, I will get a chance at a rematch… but even if that never happens, even if I ultimately make the difficult decision to retire, hang up my gloves… I truly believe that I will always be in your debt.

18:14 Joanna_Louvier: I didn’t realize it before tonight, but I was losing the sense of joy I used to find in this sport. I was heading down a path that threatened irreversible damage to my soul. You forced me to come face to face with the truth—that I had lost respect for the sacred work that we do—and you forced me to face the consequences. I’m not a religious or even spiritual person, not in the traditional sense, at least… but I can’t help but find salvation in the destruction you have wrought tonight.

18:27 Joanna_Louvier: Coming back down to Earth, I find myself again vaguely aware of the sensation of being held… being close to someone… to you. Held tightly against your body, as you press my back against the cage, even in my current punch-addled state, my body tunes into the warm, firm touch of your flesh against mine, the heat of your breath against my ear and my neck, the shape of your breasts pressing into mine. Your… leg… in between my legs… pressing into my womanhood to keep me pinned against the cage. Sure, I’m wearing a groin protector, as it’s standard protocol, but I can feel the upward pressure you exert.

18:28 Joanna_Louvier: Even in my barely conscious state, my body can’t resist the temptation to respond to the attention… as a more welcome swelling begins to occur between my legs, and my legs weaken, momentarily… this time, not from violence, but from a newfound tenderness in your touch, even as you choke the life out of me… I can only guess at your intentions—are they purely mechanistic, merely aiming to keep me in the proper position long enough to execute the choke, or is there something more there, perhaps something you wouldn’t even consciously admit to yourself? It could be that all of your subtle flirting has been part of an elaborate act to get me to lower my guard… after all, I haven’t seen you show any meaningful vulnerabilities yet, despite my best efforts. If that’s the case, then bravo… bravo, Marlie. Whatever your intentions, you have me at a disadvantage… perhaps the understatement of the night.

18:42 Joanna_Louvier: No… I can feel it in the way you hold me, in the way your breaths linger as you take in my scent… in the way your muscles tense as you squeeze… you don’t want to let go. You would hold me here forever… devour me, right here and now, if you could. But I can’t stay here forever. I’d struggle, fight back, if I had anything left to fight you with. You’d expect nothing less of me. But I can’t fight back, because you’ve taken everything from me, in order to give me the only kind of finish you deem worthy of a fighter like me… like us. I have nothing left to give you. I have no oxygen, and no breath, no room for my lungs to expand… no blood flowing back to my heart, from my neck down, as you force my own bicep against my right carotid artery, as your right arm closes off my left, and your body cuts off the remaining point of circulation to complete the triangle. I am undone, lost in the merciful morphine drip of your warm, crushing squeeze.

18:49 Joanna_Louvier: My face, already a swollen, reddened mess before the choke, is now a dark shade of red, blown up like a balloon. I feel the room fading out… my heart pumping harder and harder, like a heart attack… and then, suddenly, I’m gone. I slip in your grip, my legs turning to jelly, but you keep holding me up against the cage. I’m now fully at your mercy, my life hanging in the balance… all depending on when you or the ref notice I’ve gone out, and when you decide to let up the pressure and release me. But I’m not worried about this. Another thing we both understand, that others may not—none of this is my concern now. Because those worries are for the living, and warriors know that when our bodies shut down, it’s out of our hands. You’ve given me a finish befitting a true warrior. Now, the rest is up to you.

-

23:01 Marlie: It is over, as certainly and definitively as any ontological truth. As the cameras flash and the crowd screams watching the cage below and big screens above, the last force keeping your battered body operational is compressed and throttled away, in a python's lethal embrace with my arms. Only continuing to pump muscles tighter against you, the constriction of air, of lifeblood, is what finally fells the Huntress in what was once her cage. When the last light is extinguished, and I've well and truly put you out, it takes a moment to register. The champion's body, which has painted the canvas below us in the blood of would-be challengers, is limp against me. No more threat. No more struggle, no more straining to wheeze in air or push off. Just a debilitated form, unmoving, called by gravity to crumple into a heap at my feet.

23:09 Marlie: Pressed between my body and the cage wall, propped up by my leg, and held tightly by my arms, you are so thoroughly destroyed that you can't even collapse unconscious, without me allowing it. At least in one way, you're fortunate this match has been against me. When I know it is over, you are defeated, I grant you passage to the canvas. My hands release their lock, arms carefully withdrawing from your throat, as I practically cradle the back of your head and squat down, laying you down safely onto your side. I absentmindedly move a strand of hair out of your knocked out face, giving a glance along your entire form to be sure you are safe. The match is over, there is no malice in this cage. At peace with your seemingly stable condition, I give up the space for the medics to look a little more closely. Stepping back and up to my full height, I back off and turn around, face to face with a referee to lift my arm and proclaim me the shock victor of the night.

23:16 Marlie: Looking around the stadium with a warm smile, I take in the cheering crowd as a unique novelty, though more important to me is the concealed surprise and enthusiasm of my close friends, my coach pumping fists and high fiving cameramen without any sense of decorum. I can't help but laugh a little, the adrenaline high mixing with my affections for the supporters that pushed me the whole way here. But, they're not the only ones on my mind. Even as the announcers are still saying my name, I steal a glance back to where I left you, at the edge of the cage. Truly, no one could better challenge me, no other could bring the kind of heat that had forged and refined me down into what I was tonight. More essential to this moment than anyone else, was you.

-

23:34 Joanna_Louvier: Oblivious… Completely unaware, completely unconscious, my mind, frozen, the sense of space and time completely disabled… when they say, “out cold,” it’s for a reason. There are no dreams in this state, nor the faintest hint of brain activity. I am oblivious to the way you gently guide my broken body down to the canvas, laying me on my side, and brushing a stray strand of hair out of my face as you step back to give the medics room to revive me. I don’t see you getting your arm raised, getting to smile and laugh with your supporters, getting to enjoy your hard earned moment in the spotlight.

23:40 Joanna_Louvier: I’m also oblivious to the way you glance back at me, acknowledging another thing that both of us, as fighters, understand—that our opponents are the ones who make it possible for us to do what we do. I love my opponent, because she gives me life. Something I wrote down, in a journal entry, long ago. She gives me the chance to do what I do best. Without her, there is no “me,” in the ring… in the cage… And you did so much more than that for me tonight—you reminded me that I love what I do. And I want to do it again. Of course, I’m not thinking about this as the medics revive my body… as my chest heaves, pumping quick, shallow breaths of air back into my oxygen starved lungs… as my heart pumps freshly oxygenated blood through my body, and my brain starts to switch back on, slowly… everything gradually coming back into focus. I’m too weak to get up, but it doesn’t take long for me to realize what has happened.

23:54 Joanna_Louvier: To my surprise, I’m not as upset as I thought I’d be. I’m overcome by a feeling of being at peace. The memory of our lopsided battle coming back quickly enough… you put on a clinic tonight. There’s no one I’d rather have handed me my first defeat. Your time has come… your star is rising. And I hope you know, you can count me among your latest fans. So funny… here I was, thinking I was the “superstar,” the idol, just taking a minute for a quick photo or two for a fan. But even then, it’s not quite that simple. This was more than just a hard-fought battle between two warriors. There was a heat between us… the heat of battle, forging you in a trial by fire, sure… but that wasn’t all. I wonder… will that heat I felt with you dissipate in the entropy of the universe… or will it kindle something between us… something to settle outside of the sacred space of the cage? Will it light a new path, leading me back to this cage with you again? Will it fuel the fire in my heart, in my soul, to burn brighter for you than I’ve ever burned before? I hope… I hope… I hope… I… I hope this isn’t the end of my chapter in your story, Marlie… Because one day, I want to show you just how much I admire you. I will show you… one of these days.

(End)

Published: 2022-10-11, viewed 137 times.