Early March, The Year Before Everything Happened
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“You're fucking kidding me. I mean she's kidding right?” Sofia Gomez groaned. She stood there on the stage, wearing gym shorts and a sports bra. She'd comfortably made weight for her third professional MMA bout only to watch her opponent shed nearly all her clothing to barely make it under the 136 lb limit on the second attempt. Worse yet, the tall black woman had maintained a starry eyed, goofball expression throughout the proceedings as if she were simply happy to be there.
Sofia wondered if she'd looked that starstruck ahead of her professional debut. She doubted it; back then all she'd thought about was just beating the other girl by any means possible. As a final indignity, when they turned toward each other for the weigh in and matchup photos, her opponent had met Sofia's serious, 'fists raised' pose with a broad smile and a goofy pose more suited for a cartoon than a fighter. Sofia clenched her jaw: this girl must be fucking with her. She might not take Sofia serious yet, but once the cage door closed, this goofy teen would realize just how serious she was.
Unlike Sofia’s first two opponents, tonight's victim came with a little buzz of her own: amateur boxing, kickboxing, and MMA experience, and a famous mother. Her opponent's mother might be “The Assassin” but Sofia wasn't fighting Yolanda Freeman. She was fighting the daughter, an apparently starstruck college freshman. Sofia and her team didn't need tape to expect a technically proficient striker and only needed their eyes to recognize a girl in over her head. She ran her hands through her brown tresses and grimaced. Mauling a famous person's daughter might be just what she needed to finally earn the attention she deserved
“I hope you can back up all that shit you were talking online.” Sofia Gomez challenged as the pair left the stage. “Mom's not here to protect you anymore.”
“Me too. It'd be hella embarrassing to go out there and get knocked the fuck out.” Simone Freeman shrugged and smiled. Her black and red twists hung down her face and past her shoulders, partially obscuring her face and the wide grin she offered. “Make sure you bring your whole toolbox!”
“Wait... what?” Sofia squinted. “You were on Twitter predicting some fucking highlight reel finish for your debut, but in person you're a weirdo.” She menaced, stepping toward her opponent for the evening. “What's up with you?”
Simone didn't back down, just stared back, goofy grin still firmly affixed on her face. “Nah, not a weirdo, just… show me your whole style, OK? It's only worth it if you give it your all. Hit me with the swaggy shit. I mean, real talk, I still have to run your fade or my mom will be pissed. ” the younger fighter ran her hand through her braids with an expression between anxiety and interest. “But we can be friends afterwards? I mean, I'm not pressed but it'd be cool if we coul-”
“Are you serious?” Sofia barked. “You can't talk about 'wanting to be friends' the morning before we fight. Wait... you know we're fighting tonight, right? Against each other?” Sofia explained, unsure if this Black teen was stupid, naive, or merely goofy.
“Well yeah, duh, but we're only fighting because I need your-” Simone began before someone spoke over her.
“Quiet please.” One of the staff demanded and Simone Freeman bit her lip in frustration: banter was the fun part, and there'd be precious little time to trade it once they started trading blows in the cage tonight. Instead she found herself instinctively checking to ensure her mom wouldn't admonish her for her antics. Sofia watched the strange young woman apologize again, give a short sideways peace sign, and followed her team out of the room. The 2-0 professional MMA fighter wanted to follow her, to find out exactly what Simone meant, but the rest of their conversation would have to wait; two other members of her camp still had to weigh in for their bouts that evening.
Sofia could feel the tension drain from her body as Simone left her presence. She wanted more than this, more than this modest regional MMA promotion could offer. She wanted lights and glamour and fat paychecks and maybe an acting gig. “West Coast Warriors” was just the stepping stone towards that next goal, and knocking out a famous fighter's idiot daughter would be just the boost she needed to get noticed and signed by one of the major, national, MMA promotions. Global Fighting Championship or Bellatrix or one of the few others that could offer the money she knew she was worth. All that remained on her road to stardom was to pummel this dizzy, pampered princess.
Later that evening
“And now, fighting out of the red corner, hailing from right here in Inglewood, California and making her professional debut, let's hear it for ‘The Savant,’ Simone Freeman!” the announcer boomed. The college freshman rocked her hips back and forth in a short dance before she reached toward the sky with one open hand. She'd spent weeks thinking about what to do in this exact moment: blow a kiss? Flex? Do a backflip? In the end she'd settled for something that felt authentic and wouldn't draw her mother's ire.
The crowd was sparse, the air was humid, and she could see her mother at cageside complaining to her gym's other cofounder, the one serving as her actual, official MMA coach. Simone relished an opportunity to be somewhere where her mother's opinions couldn't reach her. She was an artist, a martial artist, not a dumb fighter. Tonight she wanted to use her body to make art and use her fists to speak to the woman across the cage. She hoped for a conversation but wouldn't hold her breath. After all, her mother had warned her that the modest MMA promotion had had difficulty finding a willing third opponent for Angie: neither of her first two foes had made it to the third round. For her part, Simone thought this fight wouldn't see the third round either.
“And fighting out of the blue corner, hailing from Ontario, California, with a professional record of two wins, zero losses, both by referee stoppage, Sofia 'The Huntress' Martens!” The announcer's voice pierced Simone's errant thoughts. She watched the woman flexing across the cage and then wondered if anyone cared about what fighters did during their introductions. It was just an unspoken thing that they tried to look tough or intimidating, but why? Anyone scared by this kind of posturing wasn't a factor in the first place.
Simone’s mind roamed and she only found her way back to reality after the referee called them together. Sofia glared at her; Simone resisted the temptation to do something silly while the referee repeated the rules. They were obvious, obligatory. Sofia's green and yellow kit contrasted strongly against Simone's red and white. Sofia thought her opponent looked like a Red Cross logo. The comparison was fitting, since she intended to ensure that Simone left the cage en route to the hospital. So what if this little weirdo had a famous mother? As far as Sofia was concerned, she was the highly touted prospect here, Simone was here to feed her dreams. For her part, Simone wondered if the 22 year old Sofia had intentionally worn Brazil's colors. Or was that Jamaica’s? Damn, now she really wanted to look up the two countries flags…
The referee finally stopped talking and the two women touched gloves and walked back to their corners. The whole arena seemed to hold its breath until the bell rang and the fight began. There'd be no take-backs, no redos, no mulligans tonight. Simone Freeman had begged her mom for a professional MMA debut; whatever happened next was solely ‘The Savant's’ responsibility and would stick with her for the rest of her life. Sofia Gomez looked across the ring and saw a path to stardom running right through this spacey, if broad, rookie.
SCENE 2
Early March, The Year Before Everything Happened
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The two women could scarcely have had more different body language as they left their corners of the MMA cage: Sofia 'The Huntress' Martens advanced cautiously, hands up and ready to meet her opponent, who sauntered out hands low and seemingly unconcerned. Simone Freeman extended her hand, as if to touch gloves. Sofia stared at her, hard, then shook her head and circled. “I'm not here to fucking play with you, little girl.”
“Who's playing?” Simone asked, moving too slowly to avoid the first jab of the night. It caught her on the cheek before she ducked the cross that followed and backed away.
The 19 year rookie bounced in her stance, using the wide open space of the MMA cage to avoid most of Sofia's strikes, but throwing precious few of her own in return. Simone's strikes all landed, but Sofia was winning on pure volume and aggression. The college freshman backed away until she felt the cage behind her, shortly before Sofia pinned her against it. The lanky woman corralled her head, pushed and pulled her, hit her, and did everything she could to keep the brawny rookie immobilized and uncomfortable.
“Scared, bitch?” Sofia menaced through her mouthguard.
“Bored.” Simone grunted. She moved her hands, shifted her weight, kept her legs moving. She knew what to do, slowly struggling and slipping her way free from the clinch. But actually executing those steps was so tedious, made moreso by Sofia's stubborn insistence on hitting her with whatever limb she had free.
Sofia shifted too, trying to trip or slam her freshly caught prey. Simone finally found her way out, pushing down, away, moving her hips, and finally sliding off the wall back onto the open mats with a short sharp, “Nope!”
Sofia made a large desperate lunge and found herself at Simone's feet.
“Come on. Get up. You wanted to fight, let's fight.” Simone beamed down at her. “You can lay on the ground later.”
The ref urged her up, and a grumbling Huntressa pushed herself back up to her feet. She'd won her first two fights on pressure and aggression and tonight would be no different. She was going to rough up this diva until she inevitably broke. Easy. Simple. Just keep the fight close, slow, and scrappy. The ref waved for them to continue, and Sofia figured that the judges would reward her for taking the fight to this goofball princess. She crouched low and pressed forward, looking to wrap up Simone's legs and take her to the ground.
Instead, 'the Huntress' caught a bright red glove to her lip before she finished her step. She stared at Simone when she couldn't do anything else; the grinning black rookie had already slid away and out of her range. “Ok, now get me back.” Simone instructed. Between the mouthguard and her tone, Sofia couldn't tell if that was a taunt or a genuine request. It really didn't matter. She tightened her guard and pushed forward into range, leading with quick, straight punches that felt good until they landed on her opponent's shoulder or found only empty air. Simone seemed to bounce in front of her, unfazed, smiling, tagging her with strike that actually landed despite Sofia's efforts, checking her advances with sharp short hooks and elbows, and digging into her leg with a sharp low kick that slowly grew from annoying to threatening every time Sofia failed to block it. Sofia was confused: she was throwing punches, pushing the pace, spending time in the clinch, pushing Simone around the cage.
So why didn't she feel like she was winning?
Even as she threw with more volume, for every strike she landed flush it felt like the smiling, obnoxious brat landed two and then slipped away before Sofia could corral her. “Come on! Show me something cool!” Simone demanded. They both stood there in their orthodox stances, but damn if it didn't feel like there was a fist waiting for Sofia every time she waded within arm's reach. Simone's punches hurt, but so what if theis girl was a good striker? She and her team had predicted that, planned for that. Simone's precision wouldn't matter in a clinch or on the ground.
“Stupid fucking...” Sofia railed, circling again. She wanted to get close, but how, and when?
“Cut the cage off! Level change!” Her corner yelled as the two woman orbited each other.
Sofia absorbed another stray leg kick before an elbow rattled her jaw as she lunged into her preferred range. She bit down on her mouthguard and kept her hands up. She'd never been scared, hadn't gotten this far by being timid. She feinted a jab, took a long, lunging step, and pulled Simone into another clinch. This cocky little girl's punches might hurt, but she wilted when Sofia got her hands on her. The fair skinned, 2 fight veteran had visions of taking the fight to the ground and wringing the life and fight out of this dainty princess. She winged punches, knees, elbows, into whatever Simone didn't coverup, and found herself smiling at the helpless, frustrated grunts that Simone made each time she absorbed another blow. “That cool enough for you?” She mocked.
“This isn't cool at all....” Simone whined, moving this way and that, looking for the path of least resistance out of this annoying, painful clinch. “Your whole strategy is whack and uninspired.”
Sofia fought to keep her arm tucked between Simone's arm and her body, and the underhook was beginning to prove troublesome. Wrestling, grappling, clinching made sense on a theoretical level to the young woman, but in practice it required so much... effort. It was grindy and tiresome and not at all cool or innovative or dynamic. Just two anacondas squeezing the life out of each other, trying to see who'd break first. Sofia's knee crashed into her thigh again and Simone decided she no longer wished to be there and clinch with this woman. In practice she could just go limp or tap out to reset the scenario, but here, here? She'd actually have to fight her way out. It was tedious. Unnecessary. Troublesome. Professional Fighting. The South LA native covered up until she caught Sofia's wrist and slowly, patiently, unraveled their bodies, until she could push off and away. Sofia pushed forward and came with an inch of Simone's knee rocketing up towards Sofia's head. She didn't pursue after that, content to circle and play the next engagement.
Sofia cycled through her strategies and techniques in a hurry. Standing outside of her arm's reach meant absorbing more abuse, more -ouch- pain in her jaw, face, side, thigh. She couldn't compete with Simone Freeman's power or speed or precision. But Simone was a dead fish, or a pillow princess, once Sofia gripped her. She could use that. They bounced, stared at each other for a moment, until Sofia took the initiative: a simple one-two combo, followed by a wrestling shot from long range. But Sofia's takedown attempt was yet another faint, and Sofia rose into a mighty overhand punch that came down and caught the momentarily frozen fighter flush on the jaw. Simone's eye went wide and Sofia happily collected the wild black girl into a tight clinch,
“Wait, an actual feint? Into a ... superman? Finally something cool! I wanna try it!” Simone grunted.
“Stop talking so damn much. Damn!” Sofia shot back, punctuating the demand with another knee.
Simon replied with a few punches of her own, finally fighting through the clinch with a mixture of brute strength and careful movement. The two women traded punches and knees until Simone slipped free and back to the open cage. She planted her feet and threw and a blistering left hook meant primarily to discourage Sofia from following her. The punch was intended to miss, to give Sofia something to consider. The fact that the fair skinned brunette ran headlong into the punch was a bonus as far as Simone was concerned: if Sofia couldn't anticipate the check hook coming, she deserved to get cracked by it.
The punch caught Sofia flush; her eyes widened and she backed off immediately. Simone didn't need her corner's encouragement to pursue. The kicks came first, scything straight into Sofia's side, then her thigh. The older woman winced and gritted her teeth and flinched, committing halfway to pivoting her leg to check a third kick that never came and covering up against further abuse. Instead Simone fed Sofia a stiff straight right through her lazy guard. The punch landed flush and knocked her loopy. Sofia only knew this buzzed, floating feeling in passing; she'd been tagged in training, left wobbly and panicked. But neither of her first two opponents had hit her this hard in their actual matches. She faded against the cage and covered up, unsure of what else to do while she negotiated how to engage Simone. The crowd cheered around, behind her, while the obnoxious debuting fighter menaced her, smiling around her red and white mouthgaurd.
“Show me something.” The ref demanded, monitoring the sudden shift in the fight very closely.
“Show me something cool, Sofia!” Simone added. She was right there in front of Sofia, close enough to touch, if Sofia could only clear the cobwebs and fucking hit her, grab her.
Sofia Gomez had already grown to detest this weird woman, the one who asked goofy questions and smiled in the middle of fights and kept demanding she 'do something cool' like a moron. This was a fight, not a pageant, and in any event, Sofia was operating on a reduced set of goals and instructions while the brain fog cleared. When Simone floated, faded back away from her, Sofia sprung like a trap, lunging at the obnoxious black girl without any consideration for what Simone had in mind.
Simone complained loudly and bitterly as Sofia tackled her to the canvas. The Huntress had grabbed her right in the middle of the sick-ass spinning kick she was about to throw. To make things worse, Sofia had ended up on Simone’s back as well. Sofia wrapped her arms around Simone's torso, pushed her chest against Simone's back, and pressed the brawny striker into the canvas, eventually winging wild punches into Simone's sides and face. Simone covered up, pulled away, and groaned. “How the fu-” She railed before the bell sounded to end the first round of her professional MMA career.
Sofia only let go of her quarry when the ref tapped her on the shoulder for the third time. She released Simone, stood up, and made her way back to her corner.
Simone slapped the canvas and walked back to her corner. Aside from that a few nifty moments, Sofia's fighting style was infinitely less deep and nuanced than she'd hoped. And worse yet, Simone knew her mom and her other coach would disparage her performance so far. Ugh. Nothing about this was cool.
SCENE THREE
Early March, The Year Before Everything Happened
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She knew the question before her mom or her coach asked it. There was no answer they'd accept. They'd demand one anyways. Here her mother also served as her assistant coach, largely because Yolanda 'the Assassin' Freeman had been a fairly famous boxer a decade or two ago, and she now co-owned the gym that 'the Savant' Simone Freeman trained at. The other co-owner was the man to her left, the one serving as her official MMA coach. The two adults tended to Simone's bruises, offered her water, and asked her the questions that the 18 year old knew she couldn't avoid.
“The fuck are you doing in there? Do you even want to win?” One of them asked. Simone winced. There it was. Ugh. Pointed like a rapier, intended to draw blood and shame.
Simone looked up at them blankly. She knew what they wanted her to say. She struggled to want to say it. She settled upon a compromise. “Yeah. I know. That kinda sucked. But I figured it out. I asked a question and found the answer.”
“What are you even talking about?” Her mother demanded.
“She had that little shot-feint. That was cool. Other than that though her style is boring. No depth. No nuance. She's trying to scrap. That's it. Ugly, dirty, mad annoying.”
“And it's working.”
“Nah. I understand. She's just a bigger Ysela. It's fine.” Simone put her hands up to explain, referencing the other rookie member of their gym.
“So fucking put her away! Stop all this spinning shit and just get her out of here if it's so damn simple.” Her mother barked at her until the gym's other co-owner, the one who'd made a full career out of MMA slid between mother and daughter.
“I wanna hear all about it Simone.” He offered, a stabilizing presence. “Tell me everything you found out about her. But tell me tonight, on the drive home, after we get this dub. She's boring. So prove it. To her, to the fans. No spins, no leaping anything. Just break her down. Prove how boring she is.” Her coach asked. Simone nodded at him and smiled slowly, running a gloved hand through her mop of black and red twists. Perhaps she could find some fun tonight after all.
Across the cage, Sofia 'The Huntress' Martens was having a very different conversation with her team. “I can beat her.” Sofia growled. Her spotless 2-0 professional record was in very real danger unless she could keep her opponent out of the striking exchanges that so clearly favored her.
“I know you can, Angie.” Her coach assured her while he tended to her superficial wounds.. “But you're not gonna do it by standing and trading with her. She's got more power than we thought she did, and she's piecing you up on the outside. That's fine. We expected that part. Keep working your way in. Hands up, light on your feet, keep pushing her back. The cage is your friend, use it. Tie her up, beat her up, take her down, and let's finish her, Angie.” The spry slugger bit down and her mouthpiece and nodded. She looked forward to spoiling 'Slick's' coming out party tonight and proving that she was the prospect people should be talking about. “How' your leg?” Her coach asked, still icing the ugly bruises that had already began to form on Sofia's thigh and calf.
“It hurts. It's fine.” Sofia protested. “It's fine.”
“Seconds out!” The referee yelled, and both women stood to continue their bout. Their support staff rose and left the cage, shouting final encouragement and instructions. The two competitors found themselves alone again, save each and the ref. The fight might be scheduled for three 5 minute rounds, but after the action in the first round, no one expected a decision finish. The judges meant to score the fight could likely take a restroom break: no one would be looking at their scores for this fight. Whoever'd booked this fight for the modest Southern California MMA promotion had delivered fireworks to the modest, but passionate crowd.
The bell tolled to begin the second round. Simone bounded to the center ring and stopped fist out as if she expected Sofia to finish the other half of the fist bump. Whether intended as an amicable gesture or an insult, Sofia couldn't be sure. “What? Come on...” Simone insisted as she stared at the shorter, lighter woman. What was certain, however, was that Sofia wouldn't waste an opportunity to take the fight where she wanted it to go. She landed a stiff right hand and quickly wrangled Simone into a clinch, starting the second round as well as she had the first. Simone complained, loudly, bitterly, even before Angie drover her knee into Simone's stomach and backed her into the cage. Simone tied her up as best she could to staunch Sofia's assault and considered her predicament.
'Slick' Simone Freeman had only herself to blame. She'd spent the last minute assuaging her corner's fears, promising them that she'd focus on the fight and only the fight. Then she'd come out and made a friendly gesture, and an obvious lapse in judgement. There was no one to blame but herself. Now she'd have to fight her way out of the clinch before she resumed trying to turn this scrappy brawler's lights off. Damn. Worse yet, even if she won now she'd hear it from her team, from her coaches, from her mother. Damn. And to top it all off, this raggedy brunette was STILL hitting her. Damn damn damn. She pulled Sofia close, wrestled with her, swam and slipped her arms under Sofia's own, pushing and pulling for better position. Grappling was a grind, a series of moves and positions connected by heavy breathing and spent effort. She wanted none of this but had no other option if she was to resume feeding her bright red MMA gloves to 'The Huntress.'
“Get used to this, space cadet..” Sofia snarled before she pivoted to throw Simone to the ground. Unfortunately, the pain in her leg throbbed loud enough to demand attention, robbing the takedown attempt of some of its power. Instead, they collapsed in a heap, Simone half sitting on the canvas, back against the cage, while Sofia held her. It was hardly the definitive takedown that Sofia had envisioned, and Sofia cursed at herself for absorbing those kicks in the first round without making Simone pay in blood.
“You're not strong enough to bully me.” Simone grunted, even as Sofia laid into her with short punches. She held onto the brawler as best she could, then pushed, pulled, and finally found the space to lean backwards against the cage and push herself back to her feet. Sofia still found her own opportunistic offense, digging knees into Simone's thigh as she sought to corral her for a second takedown. but Simone attempted her own toss and though Sofia didn't fall, she at last forced Sofia far enough off balance to disengage and escape back into the open canvas. Simone bounded away and reset back into her bouncy stance, hands at the ready. “I told you, you're too little to bully me.” She smiled. “So now what?”
Sofia Gomez said nothing, just bit down on her mouthpiece and came forward. Simone stunned her with a punch that never came, a feinted jab that whizzed through the air. She took advantage of Sofia's temporary temerity to blast another kick into her thigh. Sofia winced and fired back while hunting for another clinch. The throbbing in her rear leg made it harder to put weight on the limb, harder to pivot, more uncomfortable to use as a base for all of her offence while Simone evaded her at every turn. Simone switched stances and bobbed and weaved while Sofia pushed forward, fists pumping. The weary brawler caught a right hand that pushed her mouthguard back into her teeth. She barely had time to consider the punch before Simone switched her stance and thudded her shin across Sofia's cheek again. Sofia groaned, but returned Simone's smile even as she retreated. She knew better than to show weakness, but dammit, that hurt. They repeated that dance twice more: Sofia finding it increasingly difficult to lay hands on Simone and pull her into the kind of grinding, gritty war of attrition she wanted, instead more of Simone's fluid striking combos found their marks frustrating the threatened 2-0 fighter.
The referee hovered, alert but apparently unwilling to intervene as long as both women were standing and throwing. Sofia landed the stiff right cross she'd come to trust and Simone relented. The two women locked eyes during their brief detente and Sofia turned again to the sneaky combo she'd employed last right. A brief flurry, a feinted takedown, and a mighty right hand that left her in perfect position to take the fight wherever she wanted it to go. But as she rose to throw that downward punch, she found Simone smiling, not cowered. Sofia threw her punch but ate Simone's instead. The exchange was jarring, distressing. Her plot defused, she half-panicked and shot for another takedown. She wrapped her arms around Simone for only a moment before the smiling youngster pushed her down to the canvas and extricated herself from Sofia's desperate lunge. A textbook sprawl.
“Hell nah. Sorry.” Simone explained before urging the ref to intervene. “Stand her ass up, ref. I came here to fight.” Simone lied. She'd come to play, to explore, to share and demonstrate, and had only grudgingly accepted that Sofia had no interest in any of that. Sofia grumbled and stood up, wondering how much longer this damn round could last. She needed to regroup, to plan something better than this. When she didn't lead their dance, Simone took the initiative, standing just inside the range of her kicks. From there, nearly every move she'd learned was viable or could be made so with a single step in the right direction. The result was a flash of brilliance: a jab was a mere antenna to confirm the range before two scything kicks followed and left room for Simone to float in, throw two punches and another arcing kick before floating away. Sofia threw and stepped and lunged but Simone seemed a half step out of reach at all times until it was her turn to strike. Sofia hit shoulder and her hands slid off Simone's arm or waist. Nothing felt effective. Everything hurt.
Sofia wasn't sure which of the blows had cracked her. It didn't matter. Her legs threatened to betray her and her pulse pounded in her ears. Pain blared across her body and she wanted nothing more than a momentary reprieve. Dammit. This wasn't how tonight was supposed to go. Simone wasn't supposed to be this hard to take down or tie up. Sofia was better than this, she lamented as she shelled up and circled away. She noticed Simone stepping and recognized the motion as the wind up for a kick far too late to do anything but absorb it. The pain radiated through her thigh and she couldn't even remember how she ended up sitting on the canvas but the ref was urging her on, threatening to stop the fight.
Fuck that.
She pushed up to her feet and threw looping punches, more haymakers than measured strikes. Something might land. She just needed to survive, to scare this girl off for a moment and get her bearings as she retreated. Simone's spun and partly connected with a wild kick before whiffing entirely on a Superman punch.
Sofia abandoned any attempt at offence content to survive, until Simone's right hand split her guard and sent her stumbling back into the cage behind her. Every instinct in her brain demanded that she not absorb another punch like that. Instead her frantic thoughts turned towards diving forward and wrestling when Simone wandered too close. She could tie this woman up and run out the clock.
Sofia moved in to tie up the woman. Simone's elbow collided with her cheek, and the knee that followed drove the wind out of her body, but as long as she made it to the bell none of that mattered. Sofia scrambled, trying to contain and corral this surprisingly strong rookie, until she ate another short lead hook. The world beneath her floated and she struggled to find her footing.
Sofia felt a hand on her shoulder and swung her arm to dislodge Simone. Everything felt sluggish and heavy.
“Whoa, whoa, easy there.“ The voice of her coach surprised her, and she froze while the world came into focus. She blinked and breathed and found herself sitting reclined and surrounded by her team and the arena's medical personnel. It took her a few seconds to make sense of the scene, and a few seconds more to form the only word that seemed appropriate. “Goddammit.” She shouted it in her head before she croaked it aloud and muttered it again as the realization washed over her. She stared up at the ringside medic, then at her team, then at the ceiling lights of the arena before someone helped her properly sit up.
This new vantage point brought a new nightmare: Her victorious opponent facing away from the cage wall, hands on her knees, twerking. Fucking twerking in the MMA cage. Shaking her ass with carefree abandon. Simone fucking Freeman had just knocked her out. Goddammit. The words sounded putrid in her head, and she felt nauseous.
The medic asked questions and Sofia answered, focusing for a moment on the crowd around her and not on her still-dancing college student foe. The questions were stupid, obvious: she knew her own name, the date, the time, the city. She merely wanted to forget all of those things, forget any of this had happened. Sofia rose to her feet and could have done so without the doctor's help, but the hands on her shoulders also served to keep her from stopping Simone's celebration by any means necessary. Simone finally seemed to take notice of her and bounded over to her in two long strides. Sofia Gomez clenched her jaw, tried not to rage or scream or cry while she watched her insufferable opponent suppress her insufferable smile and fix her lips to greet her.
“Did the doctors say anything? Are you gonna be ok? Thanks for the fight by the way.” Simone chattered as she reached in to hug her opponent. Sofia wanted none of it, none of this, none of her.
“Yeah. I'm fine.” Sofia growled, half-heartedly embracing her opponent. How were you supposed to treat the woman who'd just knocked you out? This was novel and unwelcome territory.
“Thank God. I was worried, y'know? Like, shit. The way you went down? I was kinda worried. I mean damn, you know? But you do a lot of cool things and I’d love to train together sometime, or at least like… chat, nahmean? I meant what I said about us being friends if you want. Or you can try and get revenge later and shit. Or both. It's all good.” Simone still rode the high of her win, offering sympathy and challenges alike to the still woozy girl she’d fought.
“Mhm. Yeah. Totally.” Sofia muttered, still seething. Right now she wanted nothing to do with this cocky brat. It was easy to be magnanimous when you were distributing concussions, not receiving them. Sofia's temples throbbed. She wanted to sit down and sleep, or at least get the fuck out from under these bright lights.
Simone took the hint and let go of her. “Thank you for showing me your style. ...” She assured the shorter woman. Simone Freeman shot Sofia a last warm smile and then clapped her hands together with a short bow, a sign of gratitude to her defeated foe before she turned away and turned back to her crowd. Sofia just shook her head. Damn. She just wanted to tonight over with.
Her coach offered that she could skip the decision entirely, but the persistent fog in her head made it easier to just go along with what was happening. The simplest choice was to just get this decision read and finish tonight as soon as possible. “Let's just... let's just get this over with.” Sofia muttered to her coach, who nodded back to her. “You're gonna be fine, Angie. This sucks. Forget it. We'll get her next time.” Sofia nodded but didn't fully believe. Not right now at least.
Wrestling with Simone was alternatively frustrating and rewarding, but striking with her felt like a fool's errand. She shook her head, then winced, and tried not to think about the first loss of her career. The ref finally called for both fighters to join him in the center of the ring and Sofia grimaced. Was this what her first two victims felt like? Online, Simone had promised a highlight KO'd and then actually delivered, leaving Sofi to pick up the pieces and figure out what came next. She clenched her teeth as the referee held her arm. She knew she wasn't getting it raised tonight.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the referee has called a stop to this contest at 3 minutes and 45 seconds into the second round.” Sofia looked away as the announcer continued. “Your winner by knockout: 'Slick' Simone Freeman!” The referee announced, to the hearty applause of the modest crowd.
To her credit, Simone at least hugged her first before she ran to the cage wall to start twerking again. She danced a little while longer, gyrating her hips, looking back over her shoulder, tongue out, her short 'victory celebration.' Sofia could already hear the other fighters in the gym giving her shit for getting KO'd by a girl who twerked.
Yesterday Simone had been a prospective victim, a name on Sofia's resume. Tonight, Sofia couldn't shake the feeling that maybe she'd been the one being hunted.
Goddammit.
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