Equal Fights

Army just shrugged and waved out to the imaginary audience, bathing in their imaginary boos and dodging an imaginary cup of soda that was tossed his way. "Sad thing is, you're fucking around, but that is pretty much what'll happen when we fight in the ring." 'When', not 'if'. There weren't too many active wrestlers in Tension, and it didn't seem like Amy was going anywhere for a while. He didn't have any plans on it, either, so eventually, they'd cross up. Just a matter of time. "I'm big, you're small, so I'm the bad guy by default. That'd probably change if they knew you, but..."

One of the things Army liked most about Amy: she didn't hold back. Ever. She brought the fight back to him as his music strummed along in the background, throwing a punch his way right as the guitar started to pick back up to set a nice pace for the fight. Reflexes took over and he got his arms up to block her first punch, but things were never that simple with her - she manuevered around, came in low. and Army wound up taking a punch to the jaw befroe he could do a thing about it.

He staggered back a step, just a small one, before he shook off the blow and struck back, throwing a right hook towards her head and coming at her hard from the side.

The time between Army’s stumble and his retaliation was more than enough for Amy to escape. And perhaps it would have been the smart thing to do; she was dangerously close with his tree-trunk arms on either side, not where you wanted to be with Army. But she wanted to suck the marrow out of every advantage that came her way. The hook came in, and while she didn’t have the space to duck under, she could still move away.

She spun away from Army’s hurtling punch, her hands grabbing at Army’s shirt so that she could stay oriented, until she was behind him. She launched two sharp jabs into one of Army’s kidneys, then stepped back before he could throw an elbow or something in response.

“It's David and Goliath, I get it, and I’m not complaining. I'm learning that it really helps to have the crowd at your back. And fuck you, I’m a goddamned angel.” Amy stuck out her tongue. She was bouncing, and she was feeling good.

It occured to Army that he really, really shouldn't have been having this much fun trying to hit a little blonde white girl. Then Amy swiveled around him and shot him twice in the side with two stinging punches, and he remembered exactly who he was dealing. That made things a lot easier.

"Fallen angel, maybe." He swung around with a spinning backfist, letting his arm cruise around in a full arc, but it hardly mattered. She was long gone before he even started the attack.

Little annoying, but nothing he couldn't handle. Amy wasn't just light on her feet, she was light all over, and once he landed a good hit...

He stuck his tongue back at her and went right back to that goal, deciding it was time to get his lower body into the mix, as well. He was ran straight at her and jumped her way with a knee lift. "Where'd you learn to fight, anyway?" Not the ideal time for chatter, but he'd keep it up as long as it didn't become a problem. And he was curious.

Amy was a little startled by Army’s sudden sprint. Actually, even if she had been prepared, there was plenty to be afraid of when in the direct path of a charging heavyweight boxer. She dropped her guard and started to back up, her hands out and body bent forward to keep her center of balance low. Once Army left the ground, she threw herself into a low forward shoulder roll off to the side and away from Army's deadly knee. Amy’s mental connection between Army and boxing was too strong, and she’d nearly paid for it with all of the air in her lungs, and maybe a broken sternum. She would have to try extra hard to remember to expect both kicks and grapples from Army, too.

Amy found her feet, but Army was already on his, so she couldn’t easily follow up. Instead, she brought her fists back up to her face and answered his question. “Youtube, these days. But I guess the real answer is that I learned back in college. My school had these half credit PE classes; I enrolled in all the combat ones. As I worked my way through those, I picked up some outside lessons, too, and stuck it out for the rest of my time there. Had to get a job to pay for those, but they were worth it. Learned a bunch.”

Amy decided that if she could knee Army in the face during this fight, she'll have put in a good day's work. To that end, she settled on Army's right thigh as a target and began launching quick- but cautious- low kicks at it; shooting, then stepping back, then shooting again. "How about you?" Amy grunted. She was down to chat and fight; it kept the affair casual, even if the blows were all real. "Let me guess: boxing runs in the blood, right? 'No Rodriguez has ever had trouble scoring knockouts,' or something? Though, I have to be honest, going by some of the moves you've been using, fighting you hasn't really felt like fighting a boxer."

Army wouldn't  let on right now, but he was actually pretty impressed by that. Not exactly by the lessons Amy had gone through - not bad, but nothing much, really. What amazed him was how well she fought, despite not having any real grounded training until just a few years ago. That was natural talent.

Not just anyone would have been able to dodge the knee like she did. Army was hardly a speedster, but he could cover a good distance in a hurry when he needed to and get out a good hit quickly...just not quickly enough. She was gone by the time he landed, but she didn't go too far. More than close enough to give him a present by the time he managed to turn around.

Army grunted as the kick slammed into his thigh. He tried to rush Amy and close the distance, but another kick stopped him before he could take two steps, whipping him. "Boxing's good, but you need more than punches in a wrestling ring." He stepped back out of her range and started to circle, keeping his eyes trained on hers. "Picked up some new moves, learned some fresh stuff, like-"

Army cut himself off and ran towards her with his arm outstretched, keeping it low to hit her with a clothesline to the chest.

By the time Amy realized what was happening, Army had already halved the distance between them with a single step. She didn't have time to duck- well, no, she did, but that would have only brought the blow up from her chest to her head. So, making the best of what she had, she stepped backwards, hardened her guard, and braced herself. "Mother-"

Army's arm crashed into her arms, then her chest, then powered on behind her like an unstoppable wave. Amy fell backwards and landed shoulders first on the mat, her legs bringing her body up to a 45 degree angle before following the rest of her down. Amy was grateful for the little things that she had done to soften the blow, but at present they hardly seemed to matter. Amy groaned, but got to her hands and knees in a hurry, forearms and chest aflame, and she'd find her feet again in another second.

Army was really trying to get into the wrestling moves lately, increasing his repetoire, and it was paying off in a big way. He could've swung at Amy all day and never landed a solid hit, but his new moves? They were the game changers with a girl like her. This was the benefit of having a wider toolkit to work with.

It was satisfying to land a hit, but Army knew he had to take as much advantage of this as humanly possible. Amy wasn't just fast, but she was smart...smarter than him, as much as he hated to admit. If he gave her an inch, she'd take a mile. Maybe even the whole race.

He spun around on his heel and reached out while she was rising up, coming at Amy from beind. "...fucker." Army brought his arms around her neck and tried to pull her in for a sleeperhold. Classic and effective.

Amy’s father had been in the Air Force reserves. When Amy was eight, he taught her the basics of dealing with strangers; that is to say, don’t. If the strangers were forceful, Amy’s dad had instructed her to scream No! and make as much noise as possible- standard, but good advice. He also gave her basic instructions on how to defend herself if all else had failed- they were fun lessons, but nothing that would spark the obsession with fighting that Amy would later come to cultivate.

No, what had made this interaction so memorable was what had come after their lessons. Amy’s dad had grabbed her from behind, and Amy was supposed to throw him over her shoulder and onto the ground in front of her. Naturally, Amy’s dad did most of the work, but Amy didn’t know that, and she was thrilled at her own apparent strength. Amy’s dad, in one particularly enthusiastic tumble, landed atop their glass coffee table and shattered through it. Amy’s mom had rushed into the living room, fearing the worst, but, after having assessed the scene, started to laugh while trying to scold Amy’s father the whole time. Amy’s dad, for his part, had winked at Amy before launching into exaggerated groans and pleads for mercy from his wife. Amy had been shocked at the carnage at first, but she was put quickly at ease by her dad’s wink and her mom’s clear struggles to hold back her mirth. It was one of Amy’s fondest memories from when her mom was still alive.

Amy didn’t expect Army to indulge in her play throws, of course, so she used some techniques that her dad didn’t teach her. She lifted her fist high, then started to ram her elbow back into Army’s obliques as hard as she could. Army was probably used to harder hits, but she only needed the slightest of openings to use her other hand to pry herself free from Army’s grip, escape, and get the blood flowing to her brain again.

Most people would figure that a big, strong guy like Army would have no problem riding down the struggles of a girl who was half his size. Most people would be right, about 99% of the time, but those sort of assumptions didn't apply to Amy Poford. She was the defiant 1%.

"Gotcha." Army let a raspy, hot chuckle flow into her ear as he locked in the sleeper and snagged her. "Now, I know you wanted a longer fight, but-"

Army suddenly found himself at a loss for words. A sharp elbow in the stomach tended to have that effect. He'd taken harder, sure, but rarely sharper, and never faster. The sheer alacrity of the blow took him off guard, and before he had the chance to correct it she was already gone. "Okay," He stumbled back and rubbed the sore spot. "Good escape."

"Thanks," Amy had retreated to a corner to recover in safety. Her face was a little red, but her blood was circulating just fine now, helped a little faster along with a quick face massage, and her coloring slowly returned to normal. "Good hold."

Amy felt like the only reason she could take on giants like Army was due to the element of surprise, but Army was learning a little more about her with every passing second- she suspected that she wouldn't be able to escape another sleeper in the same way, for example, at least not in this fight. She needed to shock and awe Army to unconsciousness while there was yet some underestimating going on.

That's why she pushed off the balls of her feet and went from a relaxed recovery stance in one second to charging full-speed at Army in the next. Once she was close enough, she'd leap off of the floor and aim a knee right into the center of his chest. If she could jump higher, she might have gone for the face, but all in good time.