Survival Of The Fittest

OOC: Get to it.

((Continued from Round One, Fight Three; Brad vs. Melissa))

"Fuck. Brad was stubborn," Melissa cursed. The advil was starting to kick in, but the searing pain of her dislocated arm was still causing her to tear up. She took deep breaths and tried not to touch her arm. Her eyes raised to Keith's face and she nodded with a look of determination on her face.

"Do it, on the count of three, I have 25 more minutes until my next match and I still have to wrap my arms and shins. God, this is such a trip. What'd you think about the fight?"

She closed her eyes and waited for the pain she was going to feel once Keith would pop her arm back into socket. And the thoughts kept running through her mind, thoughts she tried to shove to the back of her mind.

What was she here to prove? Nothing she could think of right now. It was honestly just a whimsical decision to enter the fight, but whenever she did set her mind to something, she played for keeps. Pure pigheaded stubborn mentality she possessed, at this moment a tiny bit of doubt began to seep inside.

So she shoved it into the back of her mind and tried to relax. Tension wasn't going to help her next round, and the minutes were going by. She was going to have to face her opponent.

The last thing Keith Jackson'd figured that he'd be doing when he'd wandered into Shooters was popping a girl's arm back into place. But here he was, playing doctor to a girl that he didn't know TOO well, but well enough for her to have turned to him. As she questioned him on the fight itself, it was all that he could do to shake his head slightly disapprovingly.

"Y'know, it's your fault that I'm not in there handing some ass to people who need a full serving. If you hadn't taken that last spot..."

Keith grinned at Melissa as he grabbed her arm and shoulder, getting ready to pop the two back into place.

"Alright, girl, are you ready for this? This might sting a little!"

Seeing her nod, Keith began the count.

"One...two..."

~~~

It wasn't that the muscular high school student had missed out on the fighting at Shooters, but rather that his time was far too occupied doing other things. In fact, when he'd walked into the bar for the fights, he'd been on the phone with one of his friends, Kallie Majors, having a bit of an argument for having skipped out on an outing the previous night. Clad in a collared polo shirt and a relatively form-fitting pair of jeans, Keith had his Motorola RAZR out and pressed to his ear as he pushed open the door to the establishment.

"...No, Kal, it's not like that all...you know I wouldn't hang you guys out to dry like that...no, it's...look, I can't help it if my parents want to have a family dinner once in a while, I can't skip out all the time...yeah, I know you missed me there - parties aren't the same without good ol' K.J., but ... okay, look, I just walked into Shooters, you know, the fights that're going on? Why don't you come down and join me, I'll make it up to you. C'mon...you KNOW you want to..."

He'd paused, put his finger up to his ear, and squinted as he tried to make out the voice on the other end of the line as the noise picked up.

"...okay, look - I can hardly hear you...if you don't feel like coming down, why don't I give you a call later on, and we can go for a bite, or something? If I don't see you, I'll give you a call later on, 'kay? Alright, 'easy."

Smirking as he hung up the phone, Keith confidently wandered over to an open seat that he saw in the first row. In the ring, it looked to be Melissa Diaz against a guy whose name he didn't know. Smirking, he figured he'd sit down and enjoy the fight. If Kallie showed up? Great. If not? Great, he'd just call her up later. He'd always had a bit of a thing for Kallie Majors, and if not her? Well, there were plenty of other pretty girls at the school that he could set his eyes on. Girls were a conquest that Keith Jackson had absolutely no problems with, not even at all.

If I could just conquer that fucking next-to-last boss in Karazhan, I'd be set...all in good time, I guess...

With that, he'd settled in to watch the fight, cheering on Melissa when he could.

~~~

"...THREE!"

Pressing the two injured limbs back together, he knew that Melissa would probably be in absolute agony right about now, so as soon as he did that, he grabbed her hand for him to squeeze as hard as she could, to get some feeling back into it.

"C'mon, Mel. Squeeze the life out of me, you've got a few fights left to win!"

((Continued in Fight Night))

Melissa couldn't hear the pop as her shoulder was put back into place, because the feeling of searing pain just drove her to shriek enough to rival a goddamn banshee. Her hand felt Keith's and instead of squeezing his, she grit her teeth and gripped her shoulder with her other arm.

She could only thank Keith with a quick nod and a "Don't like to be called Mel," then she spirinted into the bathroom, grabbing her bag as she slammed open the ladies' room door. Tears from the pain of her battle wounds were smeared with her hands, and she tried to move her relocated arm to make sure it would still work with her. She needed both to wrap the gauze bangages on her scraped arms and legs.

Her eyes took in the bruises all over her legs. As she checked the mirror, she felt for the bump from the punch to the head and winced as she touched it. Melissa sighed and closed her eyes to think of a plan for the next fight, because she knew another one like her first would ultimately be her downfall, and if she somehow pulled through, her energy would be completely depleted for the final fight. She might as well have just handed a trophy to her opponent at that point.

Fuck that.

She took two of her rolls of gauze wrap out to roll on her legs and forearms, hoping the padding would keep her from irritating the wounds she sustained from Brad. Once she finished, she chugged the gatorade she had in her pack and swallowed a couple more advil for her arm. Splashing some water on her face, she checked the time and sighed. She was up.
--------

Time to face the next one.

As she stepped onto the fighting ground once more, she saw someone had wiped the blood up, as if nothing had happened. She'd only wiped the floor with Brad, and she was pretty confident, but cautious, at her next obstacle.

Paul Smith.

"Right then," she shrugged, more with her left arm than her right, which was still stinging.

Melissa scratched her head and stretched a little as she waited for Paul, trying to keep an open and wary mind to anticipate whatever he was going to throw at her.

Nobody could've expected Paul Smith coming into an underground tournament and winning his first match in less than thirty seconds. Nobody would've expected him then spending the rest of the night smoking cigarettes and talking to whomever would share his company has he waited the long while till his competition finished their matches, but as the matches where announced for the semi-finals Paul Smith couldn't help but smile at his luck.

His first match was up against someone who fought like a girl and his second was up against an actual girl. Though that's not to say that Paul underestimated Melissa, no he just intended on going in and dominating the fight, his main goal being to win with has little time and energy wasted and as he walked into the ring and stared down Melissa with his one eye he could help but smile a bit.

"Well, I suppose it's only gentlemanly of me to ask ladies to go first, eh?"

He then got into a standard orthodox boxing stance, not because of the protection and countering opportunities it gave him, but because it just looked so goddamn cool. After all, you can't go about winning two hundred dollars looking like some sort of idiot, can you?

Two seconds after Paul's comment and Melissa retched.

Her whole body fell forward and she dropped on her knees, retched once more, and vomited fairly close to Paul Smith. Whatever food was left, plus green gatorade, was on the concrete in one shot and she was left heaving.

"I'm out--"

She tried to speak through gasps.

"Two hundred wouldn't be enough for the hospital bill I'd probably get. I'm sticking with art contests."