Gaining Momentum - Madison Kelly vs. Margaux LeFeuvre

Madison hadn't even been in Japan for more than a month, a few spars with some official trainers for Momentum and she was given her debut date. The following day she was informed it was not only coinciding with the planned tournament, it was part of it. Being thrust directly into what amounted to a gauntlet as her first showing within her new league was… incredibly awesome! She had nearly run up the wall at the idea of rubbing elbows with some of the stiffest competition she was likely to find in Momentum. As intimidating a prospect as it was, she couldn't help but be excited.

Finishing off her hand wraps, she carefully flexed her fingers making sure they weren't too tight as to cut off circulation. Grinning into the mirror she threw a  test punches, stopping just short of hitting the reflective surface. It was almost time now, all she had left was to run down her pre match checklist.

Wrappings were good. She tapped out the toe of her ring boots, glancing down to eye the laces. Firm, knotted right. The brunette propped foot up on the bench, giving the bowed lace a gentle tug, nodding to how tight it remained. She pulled up her trunks a bit higher, leaning from side to side and front to back before making sure the inside drawstrings were tied off.

“All set.” She grinned at herself in the mirror before her eyes widened in a look of sudden realization. She stared at her teeth for a short while before making her way to her locker, pulling out her mouth guard from a small carry case. She tucked the protective piece of gear into the elastic band of her trunks. Now she was ready. Slipping on her robe and plucking her gloves off of a hook on the wall she hurried her way out to her corner woman to get her gloves laced up before the match began.

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Theme:

Madison made her way down the aisle to the sound of her music. Though she was an unknown, it didn't seem to matter as the general air of excitement for the return of Momentum to a grand stage again had the crowd electric. Her long green robe shimmered in the lighting, the word “Tinkerbell” written out in gold sequins twinkled brightly. Hood drawn up, her bright smile was still visible, radiating with a youthful energy that came through to any who caught a good look at her face. She didn't showboat, taking this debut, and this tournament very seriously.

Making her way into the ring, her corner woman helped her slip free from the robe, shrugging the garment off into waiting hands. She broke off with a small jog, covering half of the interior of the ring before stopping in the far corner, then making her way back while clapping the fronts of her gloves together. Her gaze met with the referee, giving the official a small nod. In her corner, she bounced on the balls of her feet, shifting from side to side as she waited for her opponent. It was time to get things rolling, the first day of the rest of her career.

Oh, how she had been looking forward to this.

There was little that went on around the federation without Margaux’s knowledge, far less that went on in the very promotion she was ascribed to. Then again, that was by no means a difficult task. Their boxing promotion had long been in decline, the federation’s attention turned to the raving success of Friction and the equal amounts of controversial allure in Tension. Any affairs that went on in Momentum were too small to care for, yet too few to miss. For the longest time, the brand had appeared to become nothing more than mere white noise. All of that, however, appears to be subject to change. Her recent endeavor into Momentum alongside a slew of new additions to the pugilist roster had sparked some relative interest. It was a mere waft at best, but it appeared more than enough for the Powers That Be to invest every inch of funding in their possession to expand it for all it was worth, attempting to build upon that narrow foundation as best they could.

That in itself was enough to whet the Frenchwoman’s appetite. A fresh new batch of tender flesh and bone to soften her knuckles with. A rousing display of blood in this magnificent ring once again. But there was one last trick to this performance. One grand slab of icing on the marvelous cake that caused her blood to rush at the mere mention of it.

De’Reignhardt was here. Of course. She had to be. Margaux had had her doubts that the woman would make a grand appearance after the...aftermath of their previous encounter. She’d expected the woman to hang up her gloves for the rest of the year, at the least. Recover from her injuries, train her body, ponder her life decisions as if it would do her any good.  But as if to spit in her eye once more, the Juggernaut rose once again. Of everyone in this federation, Margaux was perhaps the only woman to know what the German was truly capable of behind a pair of gloves. Unless she had severely underestimated the woman’s fortitude, the two would be reunited in time.

Perhaps that was the reason for the gleaming smile on her face as she fitted into her gloves, a smile which likely couldn’t become any wider even if the corners of her mouth were pulled apart. Perhaps she was simply excited to be greeted with such a sumptuous buffet of ripe competition and waiting cattle. Perhaps she’d simply had a pleasant sleep last evening after her a delightful dinner and a long bath.

Or perhaps it was the image of her opponent she was watching on the screen backstage. Spry, bright, confident, every bit the aspiring babyface she’d expected from a competition such as this. A cute little thing, admittedly. As she tied the last lace on her glove and turned to walk out the door, Margaux desperately hoped the young thing’s parents were watching tonight.

Margaux Lefeuvre:

Theme:

A heavy guitar wail traveled across the arena. Its loud cry accompanied the arrival of a bright pink orb in the distance, peeking out from behind one bang in the darkness. As the silhouette stepped forward a, a pair of stage lights ran up and down the ramp, illuminating her form and reflecting off the pure white smile on her face. Her eyes remind fixed on the ring, razor sharp and searing past the ropes to her opponent. There seemed to be a clear excitement to the crowd upon seeing the pinkette’s return. Her last match must have left quite the impression, even if it did end in her defeat. The poor girl. If only she knew…

Margaux climbed up the steel steps and stepped between the middle and top rope. In direct opposition to her opponent’s energetic and high-spirited entrance, the Frenchwoman merely stood upright upon entering the ring. Thinning her smile to close her lips, staring across the ring at her opponent for a moment that seemed to go on like an eternity, she brought one arm to her chest, and bowed her head forward to the brunette. She then stood back upright and walked over to her corner, her back to the turnbuckles. No stretching. No waving. She merely smiled and stared, all the way until the official called them to the center, whereupon she walked over to the referee, standing above the boxing emblem of Momentum in the center of the canvas and waited for the rules to be fully recited.

Her idle bouncing came to a slow stall leaving her in an awkward state of half motion, staring towards the entry aisle. The slow grinding pace of her opponents music made for an ominous sight, especially with the woman grinning from ear to ear. Madison rolled her shoulders, trying to shake the chill running up her spine. Margaux made for an interesting sight. Despite the booming crowd, trailing lights, and landscape set before her, she was almost certain the other woman's eyes never strayed.

There was an underlying elegance to how she moved that seemed in direct contrast to the aura of intensity that seemed to radiate off of the woman. Her look, her attitude, the entire presentation was something so far removed from what she was use to back home it was both shocking and exciting. This was the big leagues now and this woman was her first hurdle towards the top. The brunette’s head tilted ever so slightly as her opponent dipped into a simple bow. She couldn't recall ever bowing to someone… that was a big thing over here in Japan wasn't it? With a slight lean, she returned the gesture with a lack of form.

Madison found herself starting, trying her best to contain her normal need to hop about and stay mobile. Was it a nervous pre-match ritual or simply habit? She never put much thought into it until now. Now, standing before Margaux she felt compelled to settle herself and wait patiently.

She hurried her way to the center of the ring, trailing behind her opponents first few strides. Up close, she did her best to take in the woman before her who was ripe with interesting little details she found herself instantly curious about. Her own lips were pulled tight, an unintentional side effect of presenting herself as imposing as she came. Her head bobbed, absentmindedly nodding along with each rule the referee rattled off.

Reaching down, Madison wiggled her mouth guard free from her waistband, slipping it between her lips. Biting down, she shifted her jaw to make sure everything was set right and comfortable. Even with her unimposing figure, the girl known as Tinkerbell managed to maintain a rather steely gaze, her own contrasting element to match her opponent. When all was said and done, it was ready to get started.

While handshakes and idle pleasantries were in short supply within the ring, Madison was almost eager to put her gloves out, leaving Margaux to decide whether or not to touch them. A show of respect and general sportsmanship, she tried to always keep business to the ring and remember before and after the bell there was another person behind those gloves. With the gesture from the official, she backed herself away into her corner again to await the bell.

As the bell’s sound echoed through the arena, she came out of the corner with purpose. Hard heady steps with long strides, closing in towards the middle of the ring quickly. Her footwork changed on approach, shorter shuffled steps. Her mind was firing on all cylinders, taking in all the details she could pull from Margaux. Guessing at her arm length, range of motion and general mobility from how she moved.

Both of her own arms were up, elbows tucked in low to her body ready to react as needed as she stared over the crest of her gloves. A standard peek-a-boo guard with a slight sway bar o her body movement. There was no real doubt she was coming into this cautious, likely trying to feel out her opponent. In her stance, the back of her gloves were raised towards her opponent, the only real tick she presented with a small twist of her wrist as if she were preparing to throw a jab that never came. She seemed content to remain on the defensive, possibly looking for an easy in to punish whatever offense the other woman had planned.

Without warning she stepped forward, dipping to the side. Her whole upper body twisted with the motion, leaving her legs to be forced to quickly catch up as she brought one of her fists around in a wild hook. The blow was fast, trained towards the side of Margaux’s abdomen with far more impact behind it if it hit than it had any right to have coming from someone as delicate looking as Madison. Whatever the brunette had in mind, she didn't seem to be backing down but rather sticking to her opponent to stay up close and personal, giving chase should the other woman falter or try to retreat.

Poor girl. Poor girl. Poor girl. Poor girl. Poor girl. She had so much to live up to.

Though her time outside of the arena could be described as far from uneventful, none of it could truly compare to her first and only incursion into Momentum’s squared circle, where she stared down a pair of sanguine eyes that occupied that very same corner where Madison now found herself tonight. It had easily been some of the finest entertainment she’d enjoyed since the brightest days of her joyous, if naive youth.

First impressions of this particular specimen were...underwhelming, to say the least. Brown and boring short hair, a clear resolve lingering in her eyes, a fair complexion littered with wrinkles of determination, and an unremarkably athletic physique she’d seen close to several times in the short traipse down the hallway to this very ring alone. She certainly didn’t possess the intensity of Cicilia’s hardened posture, nor the intelligent resolve of Madame Aihara’s olympic-grade stance. There was simply...courage. Courage and optimism, if going by a simple glance at those tight fists and soft blue orbs. Visibly, there didn’t appear to be much cause for excitement.

Margaux’s smile refused to waver, however. This was a match, nevertheless. She would soon feel the crack of bones and flesh yielding beneath her fists. There was little reason not to

That feeling carried all the way to the moment they stepped into the center of the ring, the Frenchwoman’s pink boots standing firmly over the symbolic boxing glove of Momentum’s logo, a comfortable sneer across her face as she continued to look across at her petite prey. The second after the official had gone over the rules, Madison extended her gloves. Margaux’s eyes trailed down, then back up, her smile elongating a couple, grievous centimeters. She raised her hands and touched gloves with the woman’s greener pair. There was no reason to deny her the formality. It would be one of many to accompany her after tonight, when the caskets closed and the curtains were drawn.

The two stepped back and the bell rang out. As the Australian brought up her defense, Margaux matched her with one of her own, holding her left arm slightly out to protect her face, with her right a tad lower to her abdomen, putting up a basic guard. She stared down the woman’s eyes peeking out from over her guard, unable to hide the intensity pulsing within her pupils and frothing from her mouth. She took careful steps forward, watched how she moved, interested to see how this petite bit of spunk carried herself. The answer came forth in the form of a deft lunge and a fierce hook in her side.

Margaux croaked, stumbling dramatically to the side against the unprecedented force that rocked her side, nearly meeting the ropes in her fumble. She steadied herself soon enough keeping her eyes locked on the swift striker with a sidelong glance. Her smile transformed to one of untamed excitement to curious intrigue, letting her arms fall to her sides as she took advantage of the wider space between them to traipse around the woman, looking her over like a delectable slab of meat. The careful observer would note the eagerness in her movements, the slight bulge and twitch of her arm as it brought her arms back up into her guard once more, circling the woman with one careful step over the other.

Perhaps she was wrong about this one.

Sublime.

Madison dug her fist in, the thick glove padding compressing into a thin dense layer between knuckles and soft flesh, only giving as far as Margaux’s body had allowed it. It a good hit, solid form, little resistance. This marked a sudden and dramatic shift no sooner then the bell had sounded. She noticed the change in her opponent almost immediately, it was one she was use to when those who stood against her saw fit to doubt her capabilities. She had planned her banner now, in the form of a punch, she wasn't here to play at boxing, she came ready for war.

There was a strange edge to this woman though, one she hadn't really recalled. She had taken the blow in surprising stride while most tended to wear a mark of shock or frustration. Not this one, she welcomed it, seemed ready for .ore of the same. That was fine, she was ready and willing to give this woman as many more as it took to lay her out on the ground, there was time for further please tries and discussions after the final bell.

She hadn't let up, harrying Margaux like an angry wasp. A tight jab snapped out, narrowing missing its mark as her opponent moved around her. Madison followed, but was careful not to simply chase. Aware of her positioning, she moved with quick shuffled footing to remove her back from the ropes, coming in hot at Margaux from an angle. Another lunge, a shallow hook aimed up at the woman's head, thrown from the same arm the other woman used to guard in an attempt to exploit the lack of range being so close to the shoulder might afford her.

The punch had been an opener, one if it failed to land true she would focus on rounding this woman, guarding for potential retaliation. If it hit though, she would take the opportunity to try and hammer the point home by slipping in close to deny the range one could retreat under the cover of jabs and take several weighted body shots as a constant reminder that this woman was on Madison’s clock, and eventually her time was going to be up.

Contrary to public opinion and those of her rivals back home, Margaux had always enjoyed involving herself closely in her more...personal operations as closely as possible. There was no better sense of progress to her than feeling the skin give and bones yield beneath her fists. On an even rarer occasion, it actually gave her some appreciation for what her men were forced to endure each and every day at her beck and call. She’d met her fair share of bats to the ribcage, pipes to the skull, boards to the back. It reminded her of her youth.

In that regard, it was no small praise to say that her petite opponent had a remarkable left hook. Her power hadn’t quite matched the ferocity of the last opponent she’d faced in this ring, but certainly had the edge in speed. If Margaux had blinked, she may have missed the strike altogether. Quite a surprise.

And it seemed another was headed straight her way, as the young mobster narrowly dodged a jab just before bringing her guard up. Madison was hounding her. How fun.

Margaux had become so used to being the one giving chase, taking after her prey as they attempted to find refuge from her blood-drenched fists and manic enthusiasm. From the outset, however, it appeared as though the scripts of tonight’s performance had been switched. That opening lunge hadn't simply been an attempt at first blood. This was, in essence, her first opponent. A little bag of surprises.

Why hadn’t anybody told her that Christmas had arrived early?

In the blink of an eye, Margaux found herself swarmed in a flurry of blows. She brought her forearms together, creating a haphazard wall for her head to defend against one straight after another. There were clear openings, ones that Madison evidently had no reservations about exploiting. One hard body shot after another rocked her sides. One blow to the gut saw her posture falter, her knees wobble for but a moment before she managed to catch herself. It gave the petite brawler the momentum she needed to force the Frenchwoman to the other side of the ring. Margaux’s guard remained where it was, blocking whatever stinging jabs she was able, even as her back was up against the ropes and her body being thoroughly rocked left and right.

Only a fool would attempt to face this brown-haired bull head-on after tasting this level of power. Amusing as Madison was, Margaux never relished the idea of sharing her fun. The pink pugilist eyed her strikes, gauged the timing through the tempest in front of her and...there. As a left straight came shooting towards her, Margaux bent her knees and curled forward, ducking beneath the blow and pivoting on her front foot, spinning about on the spot to turn around and face Madison from the rear. She backpedaled slightly, waiting for a bit of stamina to come back after being thoroughly rattled, taking up Madison’s opening peek-a-boo guard either out of practicality or insult.

Behind her gloves, however, one could make out the thinly-veiled smile, practically radiating her excitement for the true match to come.

It was a battle between the instinctual want to lay into her opposition and play things smarter. She caught herself leaning in a bit too much, swinging wide and thankfully moved to correct it before Margaux managed to capitalize on it. It wasn't as though she was giving the other woman much room to slide in her own offense though, but that was just part about being a proactive puncher. Pacing was an ever present part of how she worked though, it had to be with how often she let out a barrage of blows and hounded her opponents throughout the ring with quick footwork. Eventually she would have to open up to fight back, the hope was she would be able to dig in and make her pay.

A dull deflating smack of her gloves meeting Margaux's defensive wall. She used it as cover to shuffle step to the side in preparation for her continued assault, any second this woman's guard was up was a time reposition. It wasn't much, but every little bit helps, especially against counter punchers she had faced in the past. She wasn't sure what to make of this woman yet though, so she fell on proven habits for now until an opportunity to adapt presented itself.

She saw an opening, heels dropping back to the mat as she planted herself to find a ground to her power. Her arms fired off like pistons, finding a simple rhythm into her eyes caught sight of a chink in Margaux’s armor and her fists flew free, jackhammering at the woman with an unloaded payload of blows. This woman stood her ground to take it all and like a shark smelling blood in the water Madison was all too happy to make every option a bad one as she cut off the quickest escape from the ropes to freedom.

This woman was a slab of meat in the moment, the process of tenderizing her neared completion. There was a glint of recognition they eyes shared, Margaux was about to move. Punching from the ropes was a fool's errand. Something evasive maybe? Did she favor a side? It was too early to tell. Left or right. The flip of a coin. Her arm cocked back, snapping down and around in a hard uppercut from her left aimed to catch her opponent if she fled to one of her two available routes. She hadn't been able to shake this woman too much, maybe she could bring her down right here and instill some healthy fear in her.

The crippling punch flew wide as Margaux slipped her, not by fleeing hard on either direction but practically moving through her space. Her eyes followed her even as he punch carried her momentum into a barren space that the other woman had once occupied. Madison grit her teeth displaying her full mouth of green, cheeks and lips butting out with a hard exhale. Madison was a well oiled machine in this moment, venting heated exhaust with a few hard gusts.

Margaux had moved from her sight, that was a giant questionable of what to expect when she turned back around. She didn't know enough yet to risk assuming so instead she played it as safe as she could, keeping the momentum of her punch and traveling with it. She turned hard, skimming along the ropes briefly as she rounded away from the corner sharply to give her a wide berth of retreat from the space both women had occupied moments prior. Safe, but unneeded. It seemed the other pugilist was content to take the moment to recover. She would do the same.

Madison brought her gloves together, patting the two covered fists against one another as she slowly approached. Slow small steps at first as she took in deep breathes through her nose. “Not bad.” Her voice was a muttered from the guard, but she projected well enough to be heard as she slipped back down into her comfortable fighting stance. If Margaux's use of her go to defensive form had been a jab, it would have been the first real one she threw but still be as effective as the woman's offense this far, which was to say it had no effect. She had no patent on the common tactic, if anything, her familiarity with it gave her a bit of a booster because she knew it so well.

This was her first real opportunity to scout this woman's ability past absorbing punishment. No better time than a small lull in the action to gather what she could. Tinkerbell approached slow, zigzag from side to side to track how well Margaux could keep her sights on her. What sharted as a gentle left to right away became more exaggerated and less predictable as she stepped longer and at random in her direction, starting to try and circle the other woman as she closed in.

This tournament had promised an endless avenue of surprises, the greatest of which Margaux had been convinced would lay at the end. Only, that would surprise would not be for her. It would be for another, one she was certain she would find standing above the mound of defeated refuse beneath her. She indicated that to be the most memorable moment of these festivities.

And then this curious little morsel crawled into her life, and the young mobster was honestly forced to reconsider.

Margaux understood how deeply this particular arena was having trouble sustaining itself, how far the lengths they would have to go to ensure the doors remained open. When she stepped into the ring, she’d expected a slaughter. This poor, unsuspecting face better fit for modeling and acting the part of a boxer, let alone committing to the role, one to be torn apart for the cravings of millions. A way to stir attention the promotion’s way, even if by questionable means. A mock first round, the real competition existing far beyond, smartly reserved as a way of legitimizing the contest. Hoping that, with this cute little offering, Margaux would go easier on the rest.

All of that was quickly disproven, and in only the opening minute of their bout. The woman was fast, talented, and, if the last hook the pinkette had just managed to dodge were proof enough, immensely powerful with her momentum. The moment of applause around them certainly attested to Madison’s prowess.

This wasn’t a wash. Margaux knew that for certain now. This was a fight. A battle. The promise of bloodshed lingering in the air. Enough evaluation had passed. The meat was seasoned, the temperature perfect.

Bon appetit.

Margaux peeked out from over guard, studying the woman’s small and careful movements as she went to reorient herself. Her eyes were razor-sharp, focused intensely on the petitie pugilist and even the slightest twitch in the contours of her arms. But from behind her gloves, one could make out the eerily wide and content sneer stretching across her mouth, just obscured from Madison’s sight. “If only ze feeling were mutual, douce enfant.”

Margaux took a strong step forward with her left foot, getting into the woman’s personal space and pivoting slightly to turn her side towards her opponent. As she did, she’d throw her left glove forward with a wide hook, capturing a full, half-circular motion to fan as much area in front of her as possible. Twist and bend all she liked, so long as Margaux’s timing and distance were correct, sweet little Madison would only be met with a swift glove to her cheek in a moment’s time.

Her eyes peered over the tops of her gloves, narrowed and intense, focused on Margaux in equal share to her own sporadic movements on approach. She took sweeping angled steps to cover the lack of forward ground she was covering, almost appearing as if gliding along the canvas like a skater on ice.

Even as she tried to circle, Margaux seemed content to follow her movements without retreat, seemingly safe behind her raised arms. She didn't seem the least bit intimidated by the show of mobility unfolding before her, even after taking a few good punches earlier in the round. It was concerning. She didn't flinch, didn't try to fight for a better position… she waited. A counter puncher? Perhaps, a woman after her own heart. She secret hoped that wasn't the case, but even still, her normally strategy of fighting didn't allow for much opportunities for such things. She was almost always too close, too fast, not throwing out along lagging strikes to be caught with her own tactics. Still, it had happened before, nothing to say it wouldn't again. Despite Momentum ironically having exceedingly little, the AFW tended to attract impressive athletes from around the globe. She had to be careful.

Mid step, Margaux moved, immediately evoking a grimace from Madison. Her striding side step was cut short, boot slapping against the canvas, heel digging in as her foot pivoted to help arrest her momentum. Her leg rummbled with the high pitched squeal of her soles dragging across the ring, she was like a driver pulling back on the emergency brake trying to make a clutch redirection of her movement.

She wasn't close enough yet to try and retaliate or trade blow, nor was she familiar enough with this woman's reach but there was a blow coming. She hurriedly pushed off the mat, attempting to circle to her right, twisting her weight into the motion. An impromptu race against a gloved fist as as it swing wide. Too wide.

She had been ready, arms up, the help absorb the blow or try to direct it away, she hadn't been prepared to the arc Margaux had committed to the swing. Had they been standing toe to toe, this would have been the prime example of the sorts of punches she punish unrelentingly. But she chased, from too far out, too obvious, she should have-

Madison preemptively closed her right eye, shoving her arms up to try to intercept the blow. The murderous mob boss’ gloved fist felt some resistance, but the angle was off, not enough to stop her. She heard it, her opponent did too, the unmistakable sound of a glove sliding along another similar surface, grazing. The curling hook caught her in the side of the head, slightly off ma k but a solid blow. Between the small road bump of Madison’s guard and the brunette smartly moving with rather than against the strike, much of the power behind the mighty strike had been lost.

It had been enough to throw her off balance though, boots speaking along the canvas as she fumbled for a moment before finding her footing. She was unmistakably on the defensive at the moment, arms tucked in tight, shoulders squared. She couldn't risk throwing a blind punch so she instead focused on planting herself firmly, securing an escape behind her if she needed to move. Behind her glove fortress her head gave a small shake, right eye squinting as it felt the aftereffect of the punch.

She didn't seem deterred or shocked, more annoyed with herself than Margaux. She huffed out again, hard, to expel another exhale of wasted air. She had learned a bit from the one punch, especially in it's execution. It was enough to make her weary with her current distance, but not enough that she risked closing in under the cover of the hit she suffered.