Gaining Momentum - Simone Mackenzie Skyles vs. 'Bouncing' Betty Buchanan

Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh.

If there was one thing Betty hated - out of the long list of things she hated - it was the feel of a blocked punch. Not just any blocked punch, mind you, but when she threw out a good one, one that would put a girl on the floor, and the bitch had the nerve to get up her hands and take all the bite out of it. It was like listening to a great song with your ears plugged up. Felt wrong. So wrong.

And it was especially aggravating with the one doing the blocking was a little mouse like the girl she was up against now. Betty wanted that fucking punch, damn it.

If at first you don’t succeed…

Instead of moving back and trying again, Betty took a single step away, then lunged forward with the same attack, delivered in the same way, at the same spot, seeing if she could surprise her opponent with a little unexpected repetition. She’d caught opponents unaware with the tactic before, no harm in testing the waters, here.

Betty stepped back, giving Simone space enough to breathe, letting her brain do a couple of calculations rather than just running on pure adrenaline and instinct. She felt good about this round, overall, and it was getting to the point where the bell would ring almost any second now. As long as she didn't hit the canvas on her ass on the next punch, she felt good about earning at least an even ten with Betty to start off, if not taking the round outright.

The girl was out for blood, though, and she immediately crushed Simone's dreams of returning fire and backing her up to end the round when her step back turned out to be just that—a single step back. Then the pink-haired girl launched herself forward again—and aimed the exact same punch at Simone's face.

Quickly, Simone brought her gloves in tight in front of her face. If she had been on the attack, that probably would have caught her. But she had still been wary, and her gloves absorbed the impact once again. Still, though, the force of it shoved her backwards, her back brushing the ropes, her feet desperately stomping to a halt before she was backed up completely against them.

Knowing she couldn't let this girl get in the last punch for free, Simone would throw herself forward, tangling up their feet, their bodies shoving together as she tried to deliver a hard right jab to Betty's cheek before time ran out!

On paper, Betty should’ve been quite satisfied with the way this match was going. It wasn’t perfect, no, but she felt things were largely in her favor. The score was in her favor, she was fairly sure on that, she had a good handle on the offense, wasn’t in any big trouble.

So what if Simone was kind of annoying and persistent? She would go down.

But patience was never one of her virtues. She’d been the sort of child who would tear off a little of the wrapping on a Christmas present under the tree, hoping to get a glimpse of her present beforehand. The longer something took to happen, the more she wanted it to happen. Exponential growth. Right now, more than anything she wanted this bitch to go down.

She was denied that with her volley, as the blow struck Simone’s guard. That didn’t mean it was ineffective, just not as effective as Betty would’ve liked. The woman still had gumption, and she came back as Betty moved after her, nailing her with a clean jab to the face.

The blow landed right on the button, sent a shock through Betty’s systems, and got her riled back up in an instant. ”Want to slug it out, huh?” Standing her ground, she dropped the guard all the way and started swinging left and right, coming at Simone with a heavy barrage, daring the woman to give as good as she got and see who could take it until the bell rang.

Simone, definitely on the wrong end of momentum the way it was heading, knew that she had to make one more big push to polish off the full ten points for the round—and, ideally, to knock Betty down to nine, or eight with a nice knockdown right as the bell rang. Her jab landed cleanly on the woman's cheek, snapping her head to the side, forcing her to stay back as Simone would shove away from the ropes, their bodies smacking together as she got close—very close.

This wasn't a clinch, though, and Simone was already pulling her fist back again when Betty challenged her to slug it out, dropping her guard and bringing both of her fists to bear. Now, Simone preferred to show a little more technique with her boxing, but let no one say she was scared of a little trading of blows. She knew she was not going to take a twentieth of the punches it would take to knock her out. "Fine by me, babe," she would reply, throwing a hard right hook from point-blank range, getting nailed with Betty's wild left at the same time. That punch snapped Simone's head right into Betty's right fist, which compacted Simone's nose against her face...while at the same time Simone would bring her own left down thunderously into Betty's temple, forcing her head down—before her right glove would come up from below, uppercutting Betty nastily right in the center of her chin, snapping the girl's head up again...right as another white glove clobbered into her face again, making her see stars.

Every punch sent Simone's head spinning, but she knew for a fact that hers were hitting Betty just as hard. The last seconds of the round ticked away, and Simone aimed a series of vicious straights right at Betty's mouth, nose, and eyes!

A slugfest? Yeah, this was right up Betty’s alley.

That was what she told herself going in, anyway. Most of these Momentum bitches were ligthweights, not able to hold their own in a real fight. Didn’t know what it was like to take and receive the hard hits. She’d been in street fights before, had to hold her own when it really counted, and she was sure that she could seen this spicy little meatball packing.

That was the idea, when she went in, anyway. She threw her hardest hit. The bitch kept on coming. She threw it again. The bitch kept on coming. Every punch was returned, every shot had an answer. Betty was sure she had the advantage in raw strength, but Simone was no pushover, and every strike she landed seemed to hit harder than the last. They held their ground in the center of the ring, exchanging shot after shot, not giving an inch, as if their shoes were superglued to the mat, blow after blow after blow, after-

”Stop!”

The referee got between them, pushing them apart, and it was then and only then that Betty heard the clanging bell - half because she was so caught up in the moment, and half because her ears were ringing. The latter wasn’t enough to stop her from talking, though.

”You’re dead meat, hear me!” She spat towards Simone as the referee pushed her a couple of steps back. ”Next round, I’m leaving you flat on your pretty ass!”

Simone was actually having fun right now. Slugfests were not her usual style, and sometimes she had a reputation that downplayed the level of endurance had. Fact was, any professional boxer with the sort of record she had was damn tough to knock down. And Simone considered herself well above average even for that group.

Right now, she got a chance to show it, as she and Betty tried to bash each other's faces in and got chillingly close to succeeding. When the bell rang, they didn't stop. It was only when the referee inserted herself between the two haymaker-throwing hellcats that Simone allowed herself to breathe, her eyes fluttering closed for a second, then opening, one doing so a little more slowly than the other due to some swelling around it. She didn't move back to her corner right away, instead staring Betty down and letting a small smirk cross her face as the woman spat vitriol at her.

"Oh, come on, now, you're really all pissy about that?" Simone would chide, bringing her green gloves up, giving Betty an imploring shrug. "Bitch, I'm having fun. You're giving me and my pretty ass a great workout. But, if you want to play mean...I can play mean."

”Corners! Corners!” The referee kept pushing Betty back and motioning for Simone to follow suit. ”Geez, to your corners, or I swear I’ll throw this match out-”

Betty didn’t hear all that much, though, to be fair, it was hard to hear anything over her cursing and spitting. The only thing that really registered was Lara calling her from behind. ”Will you get the fuck back here before we’re DQed? Come on!”

Betty huffed and flipped Simone off as she retreated to the corner - a gesture that was sadly lost thanks to the boxing gloves, but it was the thought that counted. She came over and plopped down on hard on her stool, puffing hard. ”I’m fine. I’m fucking fine.”

”You don’t look fine.”

”Well, I am!” Betty spat off to the side. ”She’s just getting lucky, that’s all. Hard to keep the pace with her. Just when I’m making progress-”

”She starts turning things back on you. I’m not blind.” Lara sighed and leaned over the ropes. ”The girl is good, there’s no getting around that. She was trained well, no wonder the former champ recommended her. Lots of talent. But…”

That last syllable was an interesting one. Not the word itself, but the way Lara said it. That sly inflection. The slight curve on her lips. The knowing glance in her eye. It spoke volumes without saying much of anything all. ”Yeah.” She cast her gaze across the ring, chewing on her lip as it went. “I’ve got a few ideas.”

Oh, Simone was under Betty's skin. It was a good feeling. Not as good as fighting a girl who actually understood that you could beat the shit out of each other without swearing a blood vendetta on every bruise, but when it came to that, Simone liked to poke the hornet's nest and watch them freak out.

It could be risky, even foolhardy, but damn if it didn't make these things more fun. Simone stayed in Betty's face until the ref finally forced the issue, the darker-skinned pugilist backing up, keeping her eyes on Betty all the way back into her corner, where she plopped down onto the stool Keisha had waiting for her without even a glance back in that direction.

"Kind of playing it fast and loose, there," the cornerwoman said, grabbing Simone's shoulders and giving them a squeeze, something between a massage and a wordless warning.

Simone chuckled. "Naw...the ref'll disqualify her before me, with an attitude like that. She deserves it, of course, if it happens. But I do want to have that opportunity to punch her lights out." Simone flexed the muscles in her hands, feeling the ache of longing in them—longing for a collision with Betty's face. While she got a bit of water in her mouth and Keisha patted at some swelling on her face, Simone's eyes remained fixed on Betty, and Betty was staring right back at her as the last seconds of the break ticked away.

The referee came back to the center, motioning to both boxers. Simone sighed, stood up, and finally cast a glance back at her cornerwoman, giving her a little smile before she marched back to the center of the ring, gloves up.

Keep it calm. Keep it cool. Keep it collected.

Betty had this.

”Seconds, out!”

The woman that stood up was a far cry from the frothing, raging beast that had sat down. Betty could see the problem now, and it was just a matter of addressing it with a real gameplan. It was all she could do to contain her smile as she approached the center of the ring. Easy as you please, she came to the center. Raised her gloves. Eyes focused forward. The referee looked left and right, gave the signal for the round to start, and Betty opened by promptly stepping forward…

...right on to Simon’s foot.

It was a quick stomp, one that the untrained eye might’ve chalked off to an accident, if it was caught at all. But it was deliberate. So deliberate. And Betty made sure to take advantage of the opening with a right hook, thrown out immediately after, aiming right for Simone’s face.

Looking into Betty's eyes, Simone could see those gears in her head turning. The Chicago native smiled as the referee beckoned and they both responded to the call, their seconds removing themselves and the pugilists' stools from the ring as the second round bell rang. Simone knew that Betty was going to try something, but she was ready for it, her lips pursed coyly as she waited to see what her opponent had.

To be clear: she did know that Betty was going to try something.

She did not expect that. Betty had no qualms about an obvious violation of boxing etiquette, her sole coming down on Simone's left foot, her own boot only able to sop up so much force from the stomp. She gasped, wincing, obviously in pain from the dirty move, looking towards the ref imploringly. Sure, a lefty and a righty could get tangled up in the heat of battle. But not at the beginning of the round!

Maybe the ref would shorten Betty's leash, but, for now, she did nothing. And thanks to that inaction, Simone got bashed right across her face with that hard right hook, spittle flying and her mouthguard bulging a bit between her lips as she went stumbling to her side, totally rocked by the blow, her head spinning!