Abattoir vs. River Styx - Once Upon A Time In Boyle Heights...

Boyle Heights - Three years ago...

Friday night, and things were finally getting interesting at the Road Warrior, a place that looked like every seedy bar from half the movies ever made. The place was a living stereotype: the floors, sticky with the occasional bits of broken glass, in dire need of mopping up. Lights that illuminated the place enough for you to see, but not see well. A bar with numerous brands of beers, none of which couldn’t be found in California. Outdated rap music playing.

There was one thing that set the Road Warrior apart from similar stock, though, but you wouldn’t be able to find it on the surface level. You’d have to go to the back, to a door that lead down into a basement. You have to make your way down the stairs - careful not to slip - follow the cheers, until you came across an open space with a large, crudely-made caged arena in the middle, a pale imitation of the octagon. No windows for law enforcement to peep in through. Dirt floor. You’d have to go down to what the Road Warrior’s patrons colloquially called ‘the Pit’.

If you did so on this particular night, you’d find a raucous and inebriated crowd hanging around the cage, getting hyped up for their illegal underground match of the evening. You’d hear DMX playing over the loudspeaker. You’d also notice the bar’s owner - a short, stumpy man by the name of Pete, whose hair had long since abandoned his head - making his way to the center of the ring, microphone in hand, as the crowd’s cheers grew louder. Almost time for the festivities to begin.

”All right, all right, settle down!” He called out, and the noise level didn’t drop a single decibel. ”Just about to get things started, don’t worry.” Pete took a moment to pull his pants up, then gestured towards the cage entrance as a hulking shadow began to emerge from the crowd. ”Introducing first, coming all the way from Nevada, on her third night in the Pit - give it up, for River Styx!”

Right on cue, the woman called River Styx stepped out of the darkness and into the light of the cage, standing tall and proud as she made her way over to her side. Tall, proud...and bored.

It had been how long since she’d left home? A year? Two? Felt longer. During that time, she’d made some good money beating the shit out of people from state to state. The pattern was always the same - she’d go somewhere, find some underground fights to mix it up with, they’d underestimate her, she’d wreck them, make some cash, move on. It was a bloody, brutal way to go through life, but never boring. Styx’s talent for combat was used and her hunger for violence was sated.

But Boyle Heights had been surprisingly tame. She’d heard good things about the Pit, but it hadn’t produced anyone worth her time yet. Some biker guy she took down with some good shots in the throat and a Tae Kwo Do guy who was some good fun until she stomped his knees enough. Not much to write home about, if she’d been the type to ever write home.

River Styx was tall. She was powerful. Her solid frame was on full display with the white sleeveless short she wore, dirty and tattered from dozens of fights. What little hair she had was cut in a short, blonde mohawk down the middle of her head, and the whole image came together to create a decidedly masculine look.

Not that anyone would say that where she could hear. Not that she would’ve care much if they did.

Tonight wasn’t a beauty pageant. Styx’s only concern was finishing this stint in Boyle Heights off, definitely getting paid, maybe getting laid, and finding a train to hitch on towards Washington. With that in mind, she started wrapping the tape around her fist as she looked in the corner, not even caring enough to face whoever her opponent was.

"Up next, we got some fresh meat in the cage tonight!"

What a wild few years it'd been.

Her ajarn had always said the skills he'd taught her were only meant to be used in sanctioned competition, but he also told her he'd done rope boxing when he was young, so it came off at least a little hypocritical.  Besides, this was all she was good at - and all she enjoyed.  Plenty of people did coming-of-age trips as they became adults, after all; it was just, well, most of them didn't do it by fight-clubbing their way across the country, and if they did, they probably didn't live quite as big a trail of victims in their wake.

And oh, what a trail.  The science of eight limbs had served her well so far.  Most of the people that fought in these underground things were wild, sloppy brawlers with barely any technique.  Precision and timing had left more than one of them with broken ribs, concussions, or in one guy's case, a jawbone broken in two places (courtesy of a jumping knee in the clinch).  Even the people who were bigger than her had a hard time getting close enough to muscle her around.  All in all, her experience so far had given her a good deal of self-assurance.

"Coming out of the Motor City, she's a first-timer with the scariest knees in the goddamn world - give a big LA welcome to Safiya Khouri!"

It was a younger, more innocent time, and the young woman who shouldered her way through the crowd would be barely recognizable in three years.  There was no shortage of whistling - she was pretty to begin with, especially with that confident grin on her face, and with her olive skin and dark hair most of the crowd just naturally assumed she was a fellow Hispanic.  It wasn't like anybody could hear much of the intros over the looping DMX music anyway.

Pausing outside the cage, Safiya pulled off her hoodie, revealing a black tank top with "KILL YOU'RE PARENTS" on it, and stepped up through the gate.  The act hadn't gone unappreciated; there was even more whistling from the crowd. No time to indulge them, though - now she had to focus on her opponent.

"Huh."

There was an amused lilt to her voice as she looked Styx over with a bright blue eye, but inwardly the nak muay felt a twinge of concern.  The woman across the cage from her was bigger than anybody she'd fought before, and from the way she carried herself, she was either delusionally confident or had plenty of experience under her belt.

"Uh, I think somebody might've fucked up the schedule," Safiya quipped, rolling her wrists and double-checking the rope bindings around her knuckles.  "They said I was supposed to be fighting in the women's division tonight."

It was blithely unkind, but then, she was a blithely unkind person.

Styx didn’t pay any attention when Pete introduced her opponent for the night. At least, she didn’t bother looking around. She was up against a woman from the sound of it - Safiya? Not the sort of name you typically heard in places like this. Indian, Styx guessed, Or something close.

She didn’t even bother looking around when she heard the voice taunting her from behind. Cute. She sounded cute, at least. Young, close to Styx’s age. Smaller. Of course. Her little joke didn’t get more than a grunt in response. After all, countless people had been saying the same thing to Styx since she was thirteen years old, in multiple variations.

‘River? Your parents must’ve been embarrased about giving you a girl’s name!’

‘Whoa! I think you’re in the wrong bathroom.’

‘You look like a dude!’

She’d grown numb to it. Though she often wondered why people seemed to think she looked this way by accident.

Styx finished up with the tape and turned around to her opponent, looking Safiya up and down, confirming everything with her eyes. She was a cute thing, though she looked a bit more serious than some. She was confident. Had the good sense to bind up her fists. She was either really stupid, suicidal, or she had the skill to make up for the size difference. For the sake of entertainment, Styx hoped on the latter.

”Yup.” Was the only retort Styx offered, with the same casual tone most would use in a coffee shop conversation. She could expand on it a minute or two.

Styx made her way to Pete at the center of the cage and held out her taped fists. All Safiya had to do was come up and bump knuckles with her, a sign of respect that neither of them really had. The bell would ring, the fight would start, and then the two of them would get to know each other.

The first time Safiya had been in one of these fights, she'd started working her way through her wai khru during the pre-fight stuff and gotten blindsided by her opponent about a quarter of the way through it.  She'd learned the lesson very quickly and condensed it down to a single kneeling gesture - not unlike the sun rising - in tribute to her instructional heritage.

It didn't concern her in the slightest that Styx didn't seem even a tiny bit rattled. People usually didn't give her a second thought until she started hitting them, and the way she was riding high on her recent successes, she couldn't imagine any reason why this one wouldn't be the same.  

Just another brute.  Precision, technique, timing, and I get paid like always.

Styx was already waiting for her in the center, and so Safiya bounded up to her, winding up one arm almost like she was going to throw a punch, and then leaned forward to gently tap that fist against both of the bigger girl's.  It was an exaggerated, almost playful gesture, one that belied the danger behind her swift movements and rapid-fire attacks.  Hopping back to her corner, she banged both her fists together, bouncing from leg to leg in a remarkable display of barely-contained energy.  It was obvious to all and sundry she was ready to go.

The bell was barely audible over the crowd and the thumping bass, but as soon as it rang, she was out of her corner and circling.  Tactical wisdom would have suggested she hang back, counter-strike a bit, and gauge her opponent's skill level, but Safiya was young, exuberant, and much too aggressive for her own good.  

"Try to keep up.  Don't make me do all the work here--"

By this point, she'd already closed the distance, darting back and forth, throwing a smokescreen of shadow-boxy feints at the air, and the second she was in the pocket she threw a push kick right at Styx's gut.  Normally that was the kind of thing she threw at the chest, if she could help it, but the height difference made that pretty difficult.

In retrospect, that should have been another warning sign.

Styx couldn’t suppress a groan as she watched Safiya doing her little pose on the other side of the ring. She was one of those types. The serious martial artists. Not like the Tae Kwon Do guy she’d laid out a day ago, the kind of guy who just followed the style and left all that fancy stuff for when his instructor was paying attention. No, Safiya was the kind of fighter that brought her dojo with her wherever she went.

Though, come to think of it, Styx seriously doubted that her master would approve of his techniques being used in this venue. An intriguing notion. Made her wonder a couple of things.

She’d pondered for all of two seconds before her focus was redirected, shooting towards the incoming fist. She tensed up, thinking that Safiya was firmly locking herself into the ‘suicidal’ category by jumping the gun.

Not so. Just a little trick.

She watched Safiya as she moved away, then threw a quick, blank glance at Pete. He looked back with some signs of worry on his face, before he moved away and called for the bell. Styx wasn’t the best at reading facial expressions, but if she had to guess he was hoping she wouldn’t make this one too bloody. That was doable. For Safiya, broken bones would be the order of the day.

The bell rang and Safiya came in, moving like she was auditioning for a Van Damme movie. Perfect stance. Bouncing. Coming in fast and throwing a kick right into her stomach. Probably something with an overly fancy name in whatever style she was using.

Whatever the case, it was enough to drive Styx a step back. Hurt some. But a second later, her eyes narrowed, and she was moving forward once again.

There wasn’t any elegance to Styx’s punch. It was a wide, heavy, clubbing sort of blow, a right hook aimed at the side of Safiya’s skull, with her weight thrown in behind it. The kind of blow that’d put you down for a while if it hit.

The name was actually just teep.  It was a remarkably underwhelmingly-named move, by martial arts standards.

Nonetheless, it worked perfectly; the attack shoved Styx backwards and, as the bigger girl tried to recover her balance, she threw most of that recovery into a giant bomb with her right hand.  Unsurprising.  It was, in the nak muay's experience, almost always how people reacted - they tried to recover ground, and at the same time they thought they were juuuuust within range to catch you.

The reality of the situation was that Styx was within range, and as Safiya did a textbook level change and ducked under the hook (god, these people were so predictable it was like hitting pads in the gym), the sheer force of the shot passing over her head was enough to send her hair bouncing in the wind.  It was well beyond anything any of her previous opponents had thrown at her, and in hindsight, this was the second warning sign: there would be no room for error with Styx.

"Nope."

Safiya, blithe and full of life, completely ignored it.  She peppered Styx's right side with a quick one-two jab on her way under the punch, then charged forward shoulder-first, trying to grab an underhook and force the mohawked brawler up against the cage.

This was....overconfident, at best, and suicidal at worst.  She was strong, and knew all about using momentum in the clinch, but Styx was huge compared to her.  If she didn't catch her dance partner off-balance she was about to get a very nasty reality check.

Styx missed. Wouldn’t be the first time, wouldn’t be the last. Safiya was fast, sure, but in her experience, the world was full of fast, little people who thought no one could touch them. Until someone did.

This time, though, she paid for it right away - two punches, rapid fire, striking her in the ribs. None too powerful, it would take many, many more jabs like that before Styx fell, but it was a slight pain that couldn’t be ignored. She ground her teeth down hard and sneered, showing some real pain. A low mutter. A curse under her breath. She’d been here, before. This was the part where her opponent danced away, stayed out of range, trying to whittle down her defenses. Safiya didn’t seem to get that script, though. She had something a little more direct in mind.

”What-” There was some genuine surprise in Styx’s ragged voice when her small, lithe opponent plowed into her, catching her in the clench and driving forward with surprising success. Surprising to the crowd, some of whom were starting to get behind the spunky upstart. Surprising to Styx, who was driven back by a woman half her size.

She put a stop to it, though, slamming her foot down hard and ending the advance. Brave effort. Brave…and dumb. Styx was eager to show why.

Raising up, Styx used her height and threw a right cross over Sariya’s guard, looking to bust her right in the mouth with a crushing blow. Give a taste of what would be coming her way in spades, soon enough.

By the time they'd gotten halfway to the cage, Safiya was already locking in the plum.  This was usually where fights ended - she got control of the head and where the head went, the body always followed.  Get them up against something and then throw knees, and it was over.  Nobody'd ever held up to a good knee to the side of the head.

It was slow going, though; even with solid head control, Styx was pushing back and resisting her.  She had the bigger girl on the back foot and was shouldering her toward the cage hard, but there was simply too much mass in play for her to just bully Styx in the direction she wanted.  Safiya tightened her grip, preparing to whip her around.

"Arright, if that's the way you want to--"

The overhand right caught her in the jaw, with her mouth open, and sent her sprawling.

It was shocking, for a couple reasons.  Most obviously there was the pain of the impact - a sudden stabbing agony in the left side of her face, the dizziness as she scrambled across the dirt floor.  But on a less primal, more strategic level, it heralded the start of a far more menacing horror.  The plum had always worked for her in the past.  Nobody had ever just come up over the clinch and blasted her in the face before, and certainly not with the ferocity and power that Styx had done it.  

...None of them had been as big or powerful as Styx, either.

Safiya swallowed (not the best sensation, as it caused a stabbing pain in her cheek) and clutched at the hinge of her jaw, which was already scarlet and swelling.  God damn it.  Broken.  At least, that was her (admittedly very hasty) conclusion, from the agony resonating in it and the weird maloccluded feeling of her teeth not quite fitting together.  Oh, this was bad.  This was real bad.  This had never happened before.

"Fuck," the nak muay hissed, trying to wobble her way up to her feet.  "Fucking fuck, goddamn..."  She had to get off the floor, right now, or else there was a world of trouble coming her way.  Really, there was a world of trouble coming her way no matter what happened, in her current state.

Styx was strong, but she wasn’t a bodybuilder by any real definition of the word. She had muscle, it was clear she was powerful, but she wasn’t rippling, didn’t have some cut, iron-clad physique. Life on the road hadn't given her the chance for the most strigent diet. So while her opponents could always tell she was strong, they usually didn’t find out how strong until she started hitting them.

She was willing to wager Safiya was getting the idea, though. If not, she’d learn more as they went on, assuming she stayed conscious long enough.

”It is the way I want it.”

Styx walked towards Safiya, taking her time. Some of it had to do with her wanting to get a good effect, give her opponent some time to let the dread sink in. But she also wanted to get a good look at the damage she’d gotten with that punch. Hard to tell from the outside, but judging by the way Safiya was holding her jaw, there’d be a heavy dental bill in her near future.

To her credit, though, the kickboxer wasn’t staying down too long, though. A bit like a pig trying to put up a fight in the middle of a slaughterhouse, but nice effort.

Styx let Safiya get up halfway before she went on the attack again, bringing up her leg and shoot her boot out towards the smaller woman’s chest. It was a pale imitation of the same kick Safiya had started out with. Sloppier, slower, uglier, lacking none of the crisp finesse the nak muay employed. Styx’s version was only superior in one, crucial way.

Power.

Despite all indications, Safiya was by no means a babe in the woods here. She'd been in smokers all the way back to age thirteen and had done plenty of amateur fighting since then, even before striking out on her own like this, and that meant she'd encountered plenty of adversity. There had been days when she'd gotten the living daylights pummeled out of her, and in some of those cases she'd even come back and pulled out the win anyway.

With that said, none of the adversity she'd encountered had included breaking her jaw on what felt like a head-on car crash.

She flexed the offending joint experimentally and pretty much instantly regretted it, as a spark of pain flared up right in the hinge. Son of a bitch. Although she'd never had it before, she'd been told you had to eat through a straw after that kind of injury, something about steel wire and immobilization. It was...a little scary, admittedly, but mostly it just pissed her off - what a tremendous goddamned inconvenience.

"Rgh..."

Although she had her hands up and was already trying to pop back up to get some revenge, the standard muay thai guard was fairly wide, and Styx just powered right through it, booting her in the chest. The nak muay yelped in pain, practically flying backwards from the impact, and crashed down on her back. Her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to focus through the burning sensation steadily spreading through her nerves.

This was not off to a good start.