Early November, That Year
Tensions are high at a gym near Los Angeles, California. Women from the gym and beyond are gathered in the MMA cage looking to make new friends and hash out their differences. In particular, all except for one of them attend the same college nearby. Mary, a hardnosed boxer has just challenged Jamila, one of the visitors and a Brazilian Jiu Jitsu specialist, to a sparring round. Who wins in the classic boxer vs submission grappler matchup?
Early November, That Year
A fiery conversation between Simone, college sophomore and rising pro MMA star and Rebecca Meyers, Resident Advisor for a university in southern California and a talented MMA fighter in her own right, has led to this: heated, full contact MMA sparring sessions between Rebecca, her friends, Simone, and her gymmate Jamila. Rebecca’s invited everyone to the gym she and her friends train at, and the leather has flown.
Caught in the crossfire are Theresa and Jennifer, college students, friends to Simone, and Rebecca’s residents.
The last set of sparring rounds saw everyone who stepped up struggle eventually, and in the meantime Jen and Theresa have only previously boxed and are curious about trying mixed martial arts for the first time...
Jennifer McCowan had more questions than answers swimming through her head at this moment. There was a starting point and an endpoint but only confusion in between. It didn't help that her teacher felt ridiculously, impossibly strong, and that every eye in a 10 radius was watching her flounder.
“Rebecca… can you show me again? The first bit… just… what?” The slender woman ran her hand up her forehead and swept a sweaty lock of green hair away from her face. She just wanted to get this right, to impress the older girls who’d deigned to give her the time of day.
“Sure thing, Jen.” The young blonde said with a winning smile. The pair stood up again and resumed fighting stances. At least until the college senior stopped to correct the budding fighter's stance. “Remember, don't stick your leg out like that. I know it's fine for boxing but…” and in one fluid motion the older girl crouched and shot forward, wrapping her arms around the flailing sophomore’s leg and hugging it tightly to her chest. “Here it's just asking to get grabbed and you totes don't want that.” The surly Resident Advisor slapped her resident's pale thigh playfully and backed off.
Jennifer blushed and muttered the advice to herself out loud as she tugged on her gloves; they felt almost nonexistent compared to the big bulky boxing gloves she was used to. Wiggling her fingers while training was still a novel experience.
“Try it on me now, k?” Rebecca waved her in, rousing the lanky brunette from her wild-eyed muttering.
Jen crouched, took a deep breath and crouched, trying her best to emulate her RA's pose. She lunged forward, arms ready and grasping, and locked them around Rebecca’s leg.
Holy shit, she’s got muscles.
Early November, That Year
Thursday arrived like a hungry predator, looming over Simone until it finally descended on her. Jamila Hayes and Simone Waterson stood in an unfamiliar gym’s lobby, bags strapped over their shoulders. Simone had seen it once; the same gym where Theresa and Jennifer rumbled for the first time, where Rebecca seemed to derive a lurid pleasure from beating up an overmatched kickboxer. It didn’t seem so shady midday on a weekday. The bald, scruffy guy by the front desk appraised them warily but relented when a thin brunette waved him off and called out Simone’s name.
“You’re Simone, right?” she inquired as she approached. Simone couldn't tell at first glance whether she was white or Asian, but she was thin, with freckles and a earnest smile. The woman wore an oversized sweater, her bra visible beneath, and yoga pants. Simone nodded in response. “I'm Kelsey, I'm Rebecca’s friend. Glad you showed up!” the woman said as she led the pair through the gym.
Simone merely nodded again, her body tense, hostile.
“And you are…?” Kelsey inquired of Jamila, cocking her head to the side and touching a finger to her chin.
“Jamila. Simone’s big sister,” the curvy fighter said with considerably more warmth than Simone displayed.
“Oh?” Kelsey exclaimed as she clapped her hands together with delight, “I didn't know you had a sister. Do you train too?”
“Yeah I train,” Jamila said, motioning towards her bag, “but we’re not really sisters, more like close friends.”
“Oh.” Kelsey admitted flatly. “That's cool too. Well, we're all in the back by the cage,” She pointed towards the rear of the gym. ”But the lockers are over there if you need to change. It's only a few of us; just hop in the cage when you're ready.” The young woman said sweetly, leaving the two Binary Star gym members behind.
Jamila and Simone exchanged knowing looks before heading towards the women's locker room.
Late October, That Year
The familiar sound of leather striking leather rang out through the South LA gym in fierce bursts. A gym’s striking coach and its brightest prospect, a mother and her daughter. Two women at work.
Paff.
Paff paff paff.
Paff paff… paff.
Late mornings like this almost always found the gym empty; today especially so. No more than a handful of souls occupied the place. In the boxing ring, mother and daughter spoke in between the call and response of gloves and shin guards hitting training pads.
“Mom, you’re really gonna get Jazz a fight? Forreal? Like for real for real?” Simone stammered.
“I meant what I said.” Yolanda Waterson replied curtly as she fed her daughter a punch meant to be parried. “And besides, if I can convince ‘West Coast Warzone,’” the Waterson matriarch paused to visibly shudder at the name, “that she’s an actual live fighter with talent and a misleading record who's willing to fight, they'll be more likely to let you out of your contract early. I can think of a few reasons they'd want a ringer on the payroll.” A wry smile crept across her face.
Mid October, That Year
Things are in motion on a fall Monday night at a major Southern California University. Last Friday night, sophomore roommates Theresa Bayan and Jennifer McCowan settled their feud in a boxing match at the behest of their Resident Advisor (RA) Rebecca Meyers, who organized the whole event and fought in the night's main event.
Now they’re ready to get back to class and homework and upcoming midterms, and hope no one notices the new bumps and bruises they acquired last Friday….
Mid October, That Year
Three weeks ago, two women fought an MMA bout in an invitation only club in Southern California. One suffered a devastating, humiliating defeat. Her boyfriend, consumed with vengeance and a talented fighter in his own right, challenged the victor to a fight, anytime anywhere. They’ve agreed to settle accounts in the small gym where Rebecca “Bliss” Myers, the winner hosts her own small-scale fights every few weeks. It hasn’t been long since “Crystal” Claire Zhang lost: now Rebecca’s looking to prove her superiority once and for all while Gunner “Gunshow” Harrison is dying to avenge, his girlfriend’s honor. The modest crowd has no idea of the bad blood these two took into the fight with them. The fight has produced no shortage of sparks, but those sparks are threatening to catch fire sooner rather than later.
Early October, That Year
“Crystal” Claire Zhang slumped onto the hard stool in her corner of the ring, her chest rising up and down, desperate for air. “Sit up,” her boyfriend chided, and she placed her green MMA gloves on her thighs for leverage as she straightened up and tried to fill her lungs. She'd been in tight spots and desperate situations before, but this had to be the worst night of her blossoming career. Or rather, her blossoming second career, moonlighting as an underground fighter.
Mid October, That Year
On a cool October night, mere blocks away from a major Southern California University, a gym is hosting the last of its scheduled fights. Unbeknownst to the patrons, most of the gym’s staff is gone and it is instead operated by a college student acting as both manager and MC. This arrangement benefits all involved: the owners make money with little overhead, and she gets a quiet place to hold fights without them to not ask questions about just what goes on Friday nights.
The modest crowd of patrons is a mixed group: local MMA and boxing enthusiasts, friends of the fighters, fellow college students looking for a good time on a Friday night, and a few, never more than two or three at a time, of something else entirely. This last group went mostly unnoticed by the rest of the audience but watched intently, not just the contestants, but the impromptu management as well, as if looking for something small and significant.
Mid October, That Year
Rebecca leaned over the top rope of the cozy little gym’s boxing ring and looked out over the gathering crowd, trying a little too hard to relax. This would be fine like it always was. There’d be fights like always, money'd change hands like always, and life would go on, just like it always had.
Nothing to worry about
So why couldn't she shake the ominous feeling that tonight'd be the night when the disparate halves of her life violently collided? The thought gave her more than a little pause. The night was warm, a small blessing of the Southern California weather. Fall and winter didn’t really exist, not in any traditional sense. They were just slightly colder, slightly wetter than the seasons that’d preceded them
Only four fights tonight since one of the fighters had suddenly come down with a “sprained ankle” this week. She’d be paying her a personal visit. In any event she still had enough for a full card. No need to panic.
Keep breathing
The spectators milled about, mostly regulars she recognized. It was too late to stop now. She shrugged her shoulders, exhaled deeply, and muttered to herself.
“Showtime”
Mid October, That Year
Jennifer McCowan wasn’t wearing anything that would be out of place at a gym, but the few times she went to the gym to run, everyone else wasn’t there to watch her have a fist fight with her roommate. She looked herself over in the dressing room mirror, turning to get a better look at her profile; tall and slim, she was wearing her favorite pair of soccer shorts, high cut and blue with aquamarine and yellow stripes. She’d never been so self-conscious how skinny they made her legs look, pale and freckled despite the best efforts of the Southern California sun. She barely tipped the scales at 112 lbs. and owed her flat stomach to that more than any actual attention paid to her diet or exercise. It certainly didn’t hurt though. Her eyes wandered north and she sighed; the same low body fat percentage that produced her slim physique also gave her little in the way of cleavage, a fact unfortunately emphasized by her bright turquoise sports bra. She pushed her breasts together, well, as best she could with these big bulky black boxing gloves on. The woman who’d helped tie them assured her that they were her size, but Jennifer couldn’t help but think they looked comically oversized on her. She was thankful that her pixie cut naturally stayed out of her eyes, faded streaks of green still evident in her auburn tresses. Standing in front of the mirror, wearing what felt like basically nothing, Jennifer suddenly felt very small, very frail, and very nervous about the next 10 minutes of her life. She hoped this wouldn’t end up on Youtube somehow. She-
“Hey, Jen, let’s go!” shouted Kelsey, the upperclassman who’d helped her with the preparations. She’d peeked inside the dressing room to find Jen staring off into space. “The first fight just finished; time to show them what you got!.” Jennifer turned around with a start, shaken from her introspection. When the older girl saw the apprehension in her eyes, she placed a warm hand of Julie’s slender shoulders. “You sure? Maybe we should have agreed to wear headgear after all. Maybe we-,” “Listen,” Kelsey said warmly, “You’ll be fine. You look great; she’s probably more nervous than you are. Just take a deep breath, remember why you wanted to fight her in the first place, and try to remember some of what we taught you. Think about why you got so angry at her in the first place and just keep hitting her. Keep hitting her and let the ref break it up.” She repeated, as she playfully slapped the brunette on her ass and sent her on her way to the ring, following close behind her.