Live And Die By The Sword

Femi wasn’t exactly a happy camper at the moment. And there were a lot of reasons as to why.

The thing is, this whole thing started fairly decent when it came to being called by this federation. He was making a tear in the Professional leagues, hopping to one country to the next, racking up wins along with his rampage of a career, what more could he want? Predicted to be the next best thing in the boxing world, the Irish-born boxer pretty much exceeded expectations, proving he wasn’t just another big man that had a lot of power fuelling those punches. Many touted to be the next Mike Tyson. That’s how much they expected him. Considering he won gold in the Olympics, awarded the Golden Gloves, which is no small feat, there was only one way but up. And things seemed that way too if one little bit of drama didn’t decide to follow with him wherever he goes.

Femi wasn’t quite sure how he managed to get caught up in such a shitstorm, a response towards a female that bragged that she could take on and beat the guys was harmless, at least in the Nigerian-Irish’s eyes. True, his response didn’t exactly bring any tact, but he wasn’t so much of a fan of PC culture. But the media circus blew it up to proportions, his next response was twisted and “perceived” to be misogynistic. Shitstorm turned into a shithurricane, and that is where he found himself getting the call for what is pretty much a novelty match in AFW. One of the biggest fighting federations in Japan, everyone knew about it. And they were pulling all the stops in getting such a big-name celebrity inside to help out the growth of AFW. Let’s say the money could let him have a comfortable, lavish life for many lifetimes.

After a few negotiations, they agreed to a provisional contract, with the match going up against one of their boxers down in Momentum. Which, when it was promoted, brought a bit of controversy as well. Momentum is a boxing federation, but it had a predominately female roster. There hadn’t been an intergender match in Momentum, let alone one that is exclusively signed one that is not the fairer sex. However, this was a monumental thing. Momentum was on the decline and it needed something to ignite the spark. The previous tournament that held there was nice, but after seeing a male being the newest Friction manager, they reckon they can go even further. So Femi would be the first-ever man ever to set foot inside the ring of Momentum. Such an event would bring eyes and asses to seats, which is what he was hoping for. Sounds good, right?

Well, if only the day itself went according to plan.

The Nigerian-Irish had his first taste of being in Japan, and he immediately saw how confusing the Land of the Rising Sun could be. The tight streets, the imposing buildings and the confusing signs. It didn’t help that the driver, who barely has a grasp of the English language, took the words AFW and one look at the man to understand where he was “meant to be”. If Femi was meant to be in Kyoto, that is. Yeah, he was taken to the wrong stadium, initially, management wanted Femi and his entourage to get there early so that they can sort out some stuff, but time is wasted in having to rush to Yokohama. At least they had the foresight to leave early. The bad news is that the big main event would have to be pushed back way later than the scheduled time. But they got here, that should be that, right?

Nope. The sound guys got the wrong song he was supposed to come out and not only that, his boxing boots was lost in the airport. At the very least, his trunks were where they should be, but he’d have to suffer going into the match with orange Converses — not exactly befitting of the best pound-for-pound fighter.

Oluwafemi:

Which is why he has a frustrated look as he bashed his gloves, pacing left and right inside the ring. The crowds were vocalising their frustrations and honestly, Femi could agree with them. This was many hours later, and just when things seemed to have gotten back on track, his opponent hasn’t arrived yet. It was mere moments but it felt like hours, he was getting restless. The crowd was getting restless. Femi didn’t come into Yokohama for his opponent to not show up. A forfeit. After all, he had just gone through. Nah. That wasn’t happening. Not by a long shot. Femi had a lot of frustration boiling inside of him; he just needed to find the outlet for it. And with every passing second, that outlet was going to get it much worse than she could believe. The crowd was going to get a show, that much Femi promised. Just that it would be at the expense of the cunt that he has for an opponent. However, the immediate question that is on everyone’s mind is this:

“Where the fuck is my opponent!?” He said with an exacerbated huff, punching the padded turnbuckle as hard as he could, trying to take it out on that if that could calm him down. Nah, not a good outlet. Not enough muscle and bone behind it.

Femi would not have to wait long. His opponent was coming.

The lights dimmed all around the arena without a warning, bathing the area in a dark glow and sending more than a few of the audience members into a temporary panic. Some thought it was a black, but that was shown wrong when they saw the faint lights coming from the outside of the ring through the door, and the glow of the monitors near ringside. No, what happened now was supposed to happen, and the more savvy among them realized what it likely meant - someone was coming. Someone who wanted to make a serious entrance.

Over the din of the crowd, a strange noise began to emanate from the speakers. It was hard to make out at first, but as the crowd quieted and the speakers grew louder, it came in clearer - a chant, some kind of ancient hymn, uttered in a long forgotten language.

...bo dai sat-ta e han-nya ha ra fu i shiki shiki soku ze ku soku ze ko ku chu mu shiki mu ju so gyo...:

At the top of the ramp, a dim, garish red light illuminated the path, just enough to reveal figures in the gloom. Men and women, dressed in clothes and little more, perhaps a dozen, writhed and gyrated to the music. Their silhouettes could barely be made out in the light, making it hard to see where their bodies began and ended, giving them the image of some giant, unseemly, heaving beast, as if the music itself controlled their own movement. They jerked about, twisted, bent into unnatural shapes, their bodies moved like puppets on strings.

From the writhing sea of flesh, a lone figure made her way out and strode towards the ring, seemingly unnerved by the chaos unfolding around her. She walked with confident steps, headless of what was before her, and while her features were nearly impossible to discern in the darkness, there was a sensual power to the way she moved. As if step she was took was designed to tempt and tantalize.

She made her way into the ring, sliding under the bottom rope and slithering towards Femi, a serpent making her way across the ring. When she was only a foot away, she rose up with her arms outstretched and coiling about each other, rising to their full extent. When the lights came back on, Saif stood before Femi, gazing up at him with the slightest sliver of a smile.


”Hello.”

Femi shouldn’t be angry when it comes to circumstances that aren’t under his control. Even the best plans of mice and men often go awry. Things will happen and mistakes will be made. No point in crying over it, the most important part is that the guest fighter, the main attraction is here. Things can resume the way it should and the crowd gets the beatdown that they deserve. However, that fact didn’t do much to bring his temper down.

Seriously though. How did that driver mistake Tension and Momentum? That driver is about to catch some hands the next day.

At this point, he was with agreement with the crowd as they were getting restless, even a moment felt too long, and he got visibly irritated. Shouldn’t be hitting stuff that isn’t an actual person. “Woahwoahwoah!” His trainer stepped in and pulled him back to the centre of the ring. An old legend in his own right, hardman, won a lot of belts back in his day. Taught Femi all there is about the sweet science. While he’s not happy with what has transpired, he at least puts a calm front for his fighter. “You already are having a shit day, best not make a broken hand add to it. Look, you’re here now. That’s all that matters. I don’t want you pulling out of this match, not when we just got here. It’s a big night. That anger that you’re feeling? What the crowd is feeling. Use it. Use that anger towards the fight and the crowd will forgive all that has happened.” He put both hands to centre Femi’s head so that he can look straight into his eyes. “Then we’ll go home and Gorbachev will be hiding in his house, trying to duck that title fight. You know he’s scared, right. So, make this your statement match. Got it?”

“Yeah...” He said before taking a deep breath. Femi’s temper has always been a problem, one that used to get the best of him. But his trainer learned to use that to his fighter’s benefit and has always been there for Femi. Without him, he wouldn’t be where he is right now. A world-class boxer whose about to go for the WBC title. And in the span of his career, Femi realised that there is a lot to learn when it came to the mental side of things. “Yeah, I got you, Grant. But this person better has a damn good reason as to why she is taking so long.” “Trust me. I’ll also be giving her an earful once she gets insi-“

Before he could finish, the lights went off completely. Femi and the rest of the entourage were wondering what is going on as they tried to look around the darkness. “Oh great, a power cut?” Irritation levels are rising again. “Nononono…look, mate. Something’s about to happen.” Said Grant as he looked at the faint glow of the entrance.

He breathed a sigh of relief; Femi’s opponent has just arrived. Took her long enough. But relief turned into uncertainty as soon as some strange noise emanating from the speakers. Grant had done a bit of research on the opponent, using most of the footage that was available from AFW’s archives to set up a gameplan that worked to his strengths. What he also did see was the entrance of the opponent. This is not the theme of his opponent. Did she change it? Was she going for something new? It is the biggest night in Momentum history so she would be putting on a show. But to have that going without Femi’s entrance done? That’s a bit bullshit of AFW if you ask him.

Grant wouldn’t get the chance to vocalise such thoughts as the lights came on in such a tawdry, gaudy way, red illuminating the whole ramp but nothing else. He can make out a body that is laying on it. No, there were more — multiple bodies. Just writhing on the floor. It was a sight to behold indeed, something that is slightly unsettling as well as captivating. Grant’s eyes could make out something, another figure, but was strutting towards the direction of the ring, walking over those writhing bodies. The light was dim that he could make out somewhat of a silhouette but not able to see the features that this person bore.

All the meanwhile, Femi’s expression was this:

Spoiler:

The two continued to stand and stare as the figure would slide inside the bottom of the ring. The answer to who is this person would be revealed as she made her grand appearance, the lights coming on as soon as she stood up, posing with her arm outstretched behind her. It is indeed a woman. One that is way shorter than what his opponent should be. Femi towered over her as if she was but a child. Grant was left confused and his mouth hanged open, bringing more questions than answers. Though there was one question that is on everyone’s mind, including Femi:

“Who the fuck are you!?”

”Saif.”

Saif answered Femi’s question as if were enough to dispel any confusion he might’ve had. It truly should have, by all rights, but she supposed there was no helping it. Word of her victory over Li-Mei might have spread far, given the nature of it, but the message she intended to carry with that match was still lost on the masses. A good start, but she had to continue to spread the word. To show the world what the new light in her soul was capable of.

She needed a bigger stage. A bigger opponent. The man before her was sufficient in that regard, in every sense.

Saif kept her slim, small smile on, undeterred by his raging greeting, and only broke her gaze to take a momentary look at her surroundings. A large crowd, mostly confused, but the scenario was not unfamiliar. She had fought in similar arenas in her previous life, and even against similar opponents, with the Basement Wrestling League allowing mixed fighters in all shapes and sizes. She did not always win those battles, and the defeats had often been humiliating in retrospect.

But this was a different time, and she was eager to show why.

She brought her stare back to Femi soon enough, looking straight into his eyes with an unwavering gaze. Not so much as a blink. ”Do you have further questions, or may we begin?”

"Yeah, here's one...What the hell is this!? Why are you here, you doughnut!?" Ask stupid questions, get stupid answers.

At the very least, this broad liked to cut to the chase, keep things simple and easy to understand. Any other situation than this and Femi would have liked that. But such an answer didn’t do much to ease his anger. She has a name, that’s a start. There were a few other questions that came up and some that haven’t been answered yet, most importantly, why and what is she doing here?

The masses that made up the Momentum crowd were as stupefied as Femi and his entourage. While the word may have spread about her recent match, it seemed not to reach as far as Yokohama. And Femi never paid much attention to what is going on in AFW, let alone Friction. Many in the crowd thought that she was simply a performer to introduce the actual opponent, such an entrance was too elaborate and showy for someone that, need reminding, is not supposed to be here. What is crazy is Saif’s unrealistic expectation that just saying her name and who she is enough to give her a pass and things go on as she’d imagine.

Who the fuck does she think she is?!?

Even dumber was the fact that Saif sounded as if she was ready to take Femi on as if she was his opponent for the match. Her unwavering gaze would be met with a look of bewilderment. She can’t be serious, can’t she? “Hey. Hey!” Grant would come in between them before Femi would have a chance to respond, separating the two. “I don’t think so, missy. That’s not how things work around here. Now. I’m not sure if you’re lost, or you got a very bad case of CTE, but you’re not supposed to be here. Because as far as I am concerned, you’re not Femi’s opponent. I know very well who it is, so you can’t blab your way through this one.”
Grant would say with a growl, shoving Saif’s shoulder before pointing the finger towards her face. “You’re lucky that all of us didn’t gang up on you the moment your head entered the ring and if you haven’t known, Femi, the champion, isn’t in the best of moods. So, I’m giving you a chance to leave right now and take that foolishness out of this ring, or we’ll drag you out. Willingly or not.” Grant’s gaze turned around to the announcer. “You! Where the hell is she!? Why hasn’t she came out yet!? And for fuck sake, somebody come and take her away before we do something about it!”

It would seem that Saif’s opponent was not pleased. Such a shame, that. She already liked so many things about the man. His form, so hulkin and impressive, was the kind of body that many men wished for. A record such as his preceded him, achievements that he could be proud of, testaments to his strength. This was the sort of strength she sought, the might that would make a worthy addition to her master’s cause - it simply fell on her to claim it, to bring him into the fold that she herself had been blessed to join. Knowing what the task was did not make the task itself any easier.

But she was eager for the challenge to begin, and begin it would, after they cleared certain hurdles.

When she was shoved by Femi’s manager, Saif made no move to defend herself, nor did she resist the push. Quite the opposite, in fact. She merely stayed rocking back, and examined her shoulder for a moment, as if some strange creature had alighted there and was staring back. She did not turn to the man as he spoke, waiting for a few seconds after he was done to crane her head his head way.

”I am called Saif. I am your opponent.” She closed her eyes and bowed, the slightest tip of her head, showing them the courtesy she had been denied. There was little harm in being somewhat friendly at this juncture. ”If you do not believe I am worthy of such a challenge, then there is a simple way to show that - though I do not believe this will go the way that you envision.”

She eyed Femi from the side with a twitch in her lips, the slightest sign of a smile to prick at his ego. Men like this were not difficult to goad, a lesson she had learned well in her earlier days.

“For fuck sake, we got your name the first time…” Neither Femi and the rest of his entourage are getting closer to the truth, and neither was getting the answers they seek. Even if they manage to get something out of this mysterious woman, it isn’t satisfactory in their view. Constant dead ends wherever they go, it was as if they might as well be talking to a brick wall. Indeed, her “opponent” isn’t pleased. Not in the slightest.

The whereabouts as to where Femi’s actual opponent remains unanswered and the crowd is getting restless by the minute. They came for action, and they weren’t getting it. And each passing second continued to annoy Femi. Grant let out an exasperated groan as Saif kept insisting that she is his opponent. It seemed as if she did have a death wish. Femi saw the twitch on her lips a slight smile, something that went unnoticed by the Nigerian-Irishman. His mouth began to speak, defending his champion, not willing to take this nonsense any longer.

“Grant, just leave it.” His voice was the one that kept Grant from giving this woman another verbal lashing. And perhaps doing something he’d come to regret. “Look, if this…Saif, was it? Whatever, if this woman wants to fight then let her.”

“Are you sure about this?” Grant turned his head around at the champion. Femi had that look in his eyes. He was doing his best to keep his frustrations at bay, and Grant knows that it isn’t easy, especially all that happened today. “I didn’t come all this way not to get some action. She isn’t going to give us the answers. And she has a death wish. Why not grant her that?” A hard thump from bashing his gloves as he looked down at the smaller woman. “Hrrrmm…Alright then. If that’s what you want.” He threw his hands up in the air, stepping away from the two. “Though something isn’t right about all of this…”

With Grant out of the way, Femi quickly stomped towards the small woman, filling up space between them, getting closer to this Saif person whilst towering over her, dismissive of her confidence that she can rise to the challenge. Confidence or foolishness, she was walking on thin ice and his patience is already been tested way too much to the point where he wondered if he could take any more of this nonsense. But he might as well humour this weirdo. If anything, this Saif person isn't going away. “So, how exactly are you going to show me that you are worthy? Because I don’t see you bringing gloves to this. Not that I care anyway, you’ll still gonna get destroyed regardless.”

Saif wasn’t the least bit bothered by the rudeness on display here - after all, she could understand where it was coming from. This was clearly a surprise to all involved, and that was by design. She was looking to make a name, to spread the word, and if there was one thing that her time in wrestling had taught her, it was that few made any true impact by being complacent. If you wanted to catch eyes, you had to be eye catching, and this - making an appearance outside of her usual bounds to fight an opponent from the mainstream - was a striking way to do just that.

For a moment she was worried that Femi and his entourage might forcibly eject her from the ring and ruin her plans, choosing to cancel this outing altogether rather than work with the hand given to them, but that, thankfully, turned out not to be the case. The show must go on.

In all of the confusion, though, she didn’t want to lose sight of her original purpose. Best to keep things clear.

She watched the rest of his men begin to filter out, preparing to leave the two of them alone to their business, when Femi’s words registered with her. She had a small laugh at that and brushed some other hairs aside as she shook her head. ”Worthy?” She had a small laugh after she repeated his word. ”I am not worthy. That is the whole point. But if you are asking how I intend to defeat and claim you, then I will likely kick you quite a few times, break you with submission holds, and use your manhood to emasculate and embarrass you. I will be honest, I have not considered all the details yet.”

Saif looked up as the cage began to descend on them, the hulking monstrosity slowly creaking its way down. ”We will see where things take us. I hope this can be an enlightening time for both of us, and I look forward to knowing you on a more personal level after you come under my care.”

Her smile twitched. Just a little.

As much as Femi wanted to take the reins of this whole situation, his patience is razor-thin, anything that is considered dumb or not worthy of his time would set him off. Which is basically why he has his security and his trainer with him at all times so that they could help rein him in, should he start going ballistic. Although the consensus is that you lose the tough guy persona once you bring security into things, they were there to protect others from him. Irish temper isn’t something one should play with.

The multi-champion stood towering over the petite woman, standing as if he was judging if she was indeed worthy of being that replacement. Of course, she had to give a good pitch if she wanted his attention. Considering she was close to getting ejected by force, this was her chance to make a good case for herself. An eyebrow raised as he gave a questioned look at Saif, admitting that she isn’t worthy, but it was her plan that Femi’s look turned into something more quizzical. Needless to say, Femi brushed off Saif’s intentions. Kick him quite a few times was the first one, something that Femi would say that she would need a lot more than just a few. Break him with submission holds …okay, she might be more versatile, but good luck trying to get him in any of those when she’s getting punched. Using his manhood to emasculate and embarrass him…huh, Femi did though she might be the type to perform sexual favours, especially since this whole Arabian dancer get up didn’t scream “fighter”. At the very least, Saif was honest to say that she pretty much came up with all of this on the spot, not having a fully-fledged gameplan. That would get an amused scoff from the Nigerian-Irishman. Such things were absurd, but at the very least, she had managed to make him feel something different other than enraged.

Grant didn’t really share Femi’s feelings as he looked on while the two have their meeting. The Englishman couldn’t help but think that there was something wrong with all of this. Too many questions were on his mind that he couldn’t start with just one. He didn’t get an answer about the actual opponent’s whereabouts, the fact that this woman showed up instead was suspicious. Speaking of which, what was with her name? Grant prided himself of being knowledgeable of many cultures, having been all over the world, bringing his fighters into many bouts from one side of the world to the other and seeing many things and met a lot of people. Where the confusion comes is that this woman looked to be somewhere from Asia, a clash towards an Arabic name. Is Saif actually her name? The world of wrestling does have aliases, that much Grant knows in his little investigation with AFW, but this is a bit much.

Femi might not consider her to be a massive threat, but as they talk, Grant got to take a look at her. A good look at her. Having trained a lot of people, he knows a good body when he sees one. Small, but each slight movement of her body showed much of a powerful and lithe form hidden underneath. Sleek, strong, durable, not too muscular like Femi but it shows. Could actually do well in boxing, if she had the training for it. Even if she wasn’t dressed for it; the fact that she would fight with a long skirt also was surprising, Grant was getting sceptical at the minute.

The only thing that would confirm all of those red flags was when suddenly a monstrous cage would begin to lower itself down above the three in the ring. Femi looked up confused, Grant would do the same. Grant knew the cage was used in a caged kickboxing bout before the main event. A ceiling that meant there wasn’t a way out of here or a way in. But why was it lowering down now? This wasn’t in the plan. Amidst all of this, Grant would look at Saif as she calmly talked to his prizefighter. That smile. Disturbing. And alarm bells began to ring. Only one word was screaming in his mind.

Trap.

“Look, Saif, sweetie, I’m glad that you’re honest that you don’t have all the details or even a clue on how to beat me. I wouldn’t have a plan either, but it’s pretty amusing with what you said. So I’ll let you in on this, little miss jester. Only thing I need to defeat you is just a punch. And that is exactly-“

“Nah! Nahnahnahnahnah!” Grant would get between them and push Femi away. “I have heard enough of this!”

“Grant, what are you-?”

“We’re leaving.”

“What? Why? I had this under contro-”

“No, you don’t. Get him out of this ring.” His security came in to drag Femi away as the steel monstrosity came down, much to his chagrin. They managed to get the champion out from the other side of the ropes. Femi’s safety is paramount, that much Grant knew. “Alright! Enough of this! Stop this foolishness!! Shut this whole thing, now!!!” He called out, waving his arms out to call it off and stop the cage.

And everything was going so well, too. She and Femi had come to terms, the match was set to happen, and she was all too eager to begin her demonstration. Saif could feel the thrill running through her, the same one she’d experienced in her last match. The anticipation of things to come, of what she was about to do. Yes, it was righteous work she was doing, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t take pleasure from it. Her service was one of love.

But then this man had to come along and make a mess of things.

Saif had been standing, waiting, passive, while the cage lowered, when Femi’s manager suddenly chose to abort the entire affair. A rather abrupt choice, and one that brought a frown to her previously pleasant face. It seemed that Femi was not the only one in need of instruction. So be it.

She kept her position, saying nothing, until the cage was almost all the way down, when Femi was out but Grant was still in. Then, with soft, silent strides, she came along behind him and reached out. One arms made its way around his neck, pulling him against her in a tight chokehold, while the other made its way to his groin and gripped his body’s weakest point, clutching it tight to keep him under control. She pressed against him from behind like a close lover, her bare chest sliding against his back, and whispered into his ear. Soft words, a stark contrast to the iron grip she trapped him with.

”Let us palaver.”