Live And Die By The Sword

For a moment, Femi would have agreed with what Saif was thinking.

Both were close to getting what they wanted, and the crowd was baying for action after such a long time. It wasn’t as if it will be an actual contest, considering the size difference that the Nigerian-Irishman had on the…Asian? Arabian? This was confusing in that regard, but Femi didn’t question that. What mattered was the fight, getting his share and then bounce. The cage going down…suspicious but he imagined that this was to stop her from running away of having someone interrupt. That wouldn’t do them any favours. Still, that was far from a deal-breaker for Femi.

Grant, however, wasn’t on the same wavelength.

Soon as he realised, Femi was taken out of the ring, not by his own accord. His entourage trusted the word of the trainer, and they could pick up when something might be up. All that mattered was the fighter’s safety, especially for the championship match in the United States. As if it was a case of playing chicken, seeing who would cave in, it would be the trainer that pulls out. “Come on! I said I have this under control! Hey! Get off me!” To be denied like that wasn’t great and of course, he acted on impulse, taking his anger on Grant as if he had thrown the towel when he can still fight.

A second later had his anger turned to another person soon after.

“Why the bloody hell isn’t this stopping!?” Grant would yell at the announcers and ringside staff. Despite his protest to shut this whole thing down and pull out. It kept on going, showing no signs of slowing down or grinding to an abrupt halt. At least Femi was out, that was all that mattered. “I said to-GAAAAARRHHH!!!”

A loud yell would be heard all around the Yokohama arena, the crowd letting out a gasp of shock and disapproval. It wasn’t as clear as it could be due to the arm that is wrapped around his neck, but the hand that had a death grip around his groin still had the instrument playing quite the note there. “Grant!!” Femi yelled out from the cage as the rest of the entourage looked at their trainer, his knees buckling, crippled by the debilitating pain emitting from his balls. One hand clutched the forearm pressing Grant’s neck like a blade, then another tried to pry the claw away from his groin.

“Get…off…me-aarrrrggghhhhh!!” The entourage immediately let go of Femi as they scrambled to find a way to raise the cage up so they could get in, Femi’s gloved fist punching at the metal wall. “Oi! You!! Get off him!”

Saif kept her grip tight as her prey squirmed in her grip, a contented smile gracing her lips as she rode down his struggles. Men could be so simple to face, even if her earliest days as a fighter, and she could not lie - there was some satisfaction in revisiting her roots with this man. She’d almost forgotten the feel between her fingers, the crushing, the squeezing, the squealing...such a pathetic man.

She chucked to herself, a low rumbling noise, as his shrieks nearly made her ears ring. This would be infinitely amusing. Both he and Femi were insistent that she let him go however, and she decided she would acquiesce to their demands. In her own way.

”It was you who stepped into this ring. You have only yourself to blame for the situation you find yourself in.” She spoke with some remorse, knowing the pain she was about to inflict on the man and pitying him in a small way. Not enough pity to stop her from doing what she was about to do, but a modicum. ”I need to set an example until the cage comes back up. Do try to stay conscious.”

After whispering those words into her shaking ears, Saif gave him what he wanted and pushed Grant away. She gave him little time to recoup, however, before she went on the attack. Moving towards, she threw her body into a whirl and shot her leg out, swinging it around it a long arc to him in the back of his head - or face, if he turned soon enough - with a spinning heel kick.

The sheer speed and alacrity would’ve been enough to bring most male wrestlers down to the floor. On a man like this...

No matter how tough one can be, how skilled a fighter is, there was nothing to help when your junk is targeted, let alone being crushed. Just with that, Saif had Grant in the palm of her hand. It wasn't considered an honourable thing, but the Mancunian didn't think that this woman was operating with the best of intentions. Shady from the first time he laid eyes on her and the crotch grab was proof that he did the right thing to take Femi out of this. "Nrrrahhh!! It called…protecting your fighte-AAH!" It was hard to speak when sheer pain like this was all he is feeling at the moment. He couldn't do anything, just one slight movement and she probably tried to crush his balls. He'd glass the bitch if he'd heard her calling him pathetic. Luckily for her, she didn't say that. But she did say something that did rub him the wrong way.

"Get this fucking cage up, your daft pricks!"

"Are you skunked!? What do you mean you can't control it!?

"Fam, come out of this cage! Pussyhole! Chatting bare verbal! Pattern up!"

Femi kept banging against the cage, the entourage scrambling, trying to demand anyone involved to lift the cage up. Even though he had felt slighted earlier, this was his trainer. Femi and Grant have gone way back, and he had been with him throughout his journey to the top. From his first amateur fight to winning the IBF title. Then the WBO title. There were still many peaks for him to get to and he wanted to bring this man to see it too. His anger boiled over again, even more so on Saif. If looks could kill…

The Mancunian finally felt relief as he was let go, the man clutching his aching balls as he knelt before Saif, who is much taller than he is at this moment. Femi was still seething, never going to find it in his heart to forgive Saif. But what she was about to do next would set him off even more.

Almost like she was executing a prisoner, Saif spun about, the black skirt fluttering in the air yet unable to mask the muscular leg that flexed towards the man. Grant couldn't know what was about to happen, but Femi did. As if that was directed at him, the woman was making him watch something so harsh and cruel. Grant saw the shock on Femi's face turning round to see a blur of flesh and black for a millisecond. A white flash filled his vision as her heel clocked Grant in the face. The blow was enough to make him spin round before falling onto his back, completely splayed out before Saif.

“GRANT!” Femi yelled. If he didn't have those gloves on, he would have been gripping on the steel mesh. He would have been holding it and make it bend by its will in order to make a way for his trainer. Saif's grip must have been painful. Femi's however… "I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU, CUNT!!"

Saif had been so focused on her work that she had nearly forgotten who this example was aimed at. A failing of her previous life that had, sadly, not wholly vanished, where she could lose track of the importance things in the middle of her ecstasy.

Thankfully, her opponent - her true opponent - was there to remind her of where her responsibilities lied. She looked up as Femi spoke to her, using colorful language that would have offended her before, talking to her with venom in his eyes and threats on his lips. A vulgar display, undoubtedly, but it did little more than bring out a pleased sigh in response. He was watching her. Good. She needed this man to see what awaited him.

She stepped forward towards Grant, moving over him, or seeming like she was about to. Instead of taking care where she placed her feet, she proceeded to let them fall over him prone body, trampling over his manhood, pressing her feet down on his stomach, before letting her full weight come to a rest on his chest, her skirt gliding along his body as she went. There she stayed for a moment, gazing down at his prone body, enjoying the sight of him writhing beneath her. So helpless. So weak.

She was productive, too, and took the time to ponder her next move. It wasn’t long before she decided on a fitting course of action, either.

Taking one more step, she placed her feet on body side of Grant’s neck, lifting up her heels just enough so that they would come to rest on his neck. Choking him. Cutting off his air. All while she stood above him and watched, looking down at him like he was a fly with his wings ripped off.

After a moment of that, she bent her legs and crouched, letting her skirt flow over Grant’s face, so he could suffer in darkness. Her eyes now found Femi once again, looking on intently, keen to see his reaction.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Femi knew that Grant would be chastising him for losing his temper. The one thing he needed to get under control was something the continued to plague him, even outside of the boxing ring. Rough upbringing didn’t help matters when he was young. The old man also wondered how he would be when he does retire. Such anger wasn’t healthy, and if he doesn’t have something as an outlet, things could go very wrong. But that is far into the future, which the Nigerian-Irishman wasn’t thinking of. All he was thinking was destroying this bimbo inside the ring.

What exactly was her deal there? He could kind of get that she wanted him to be watching her, someone like Saif wouldn’t be doing all of this without eyes on her. Was she trying to intimidate him? Make him scared? Because that wasn’t working as intended if that was the end goal. What was she trying to gain from this? Goading the bull is all fun and games until you get the horns. And without the guidance of Grant, he was a bull unchained. Not something you’d want to be in the ring with, let alone a cage.

The entourage was stuck outside without their trainer, all sorts of pandemonium were going on, and Femi kept staring as if he could force her head to explode with just his eyes. He loved his trainer and to see him taken out in such a manner…even the people from Yokohama shared their vociferous disapproval. Perhaps to goad the bull even further, Saif walked all over Grant as if he was a doormat, getting more colourful words from Femi, which at this point is censored from recordings. Punching the steel cage wall wasn’t going to get him anywhere, but he would crush them to get to his trainer. Grant let out a pained groan, his head was still thumping from the spinning heel kick, but that didn’t distract him from Saif’s foot trampling on his manhood. Haphazardly strolling over the man without a care in the world and disrespecting Femi’s trainer. That was a death sentence for the champion boxer. One of the entourages tried looking underneath to see if there was something they could use since the ringside staff are absolutely useless at their jobs. “Ngghh…damn crazy…” Grant, while retired from the sport of sweet science, could have pushed Saif off his chest, the woman could probably feel his heartbeat from under her soles. But his mind and body weren’t in agreement with each other, and that didn’t bode well when it comes to a woman that can do anything she wants.

And what she wants was to slowly choke him out. A peculiar one, but Grant was forced to look up at Saif once her heels were placed on his throat. Both pressed down, shutting off any access between oxygen and his body. “Grrk! Nrrrghhkk!” The Mancunian was making all sorts of noises that Femi could hear from ringside, seeing a steel pipe from when his mate pulled out of. Grabbing it, he tried to slam the tube onto the wall, just doing something, anything to help his trainer. “I SAID LET HIM FUCKING GO!!! I SWEAR, YOU’LL FUCKING PAY!!!” Grant heard it, but he couldn’t say anything at all, his hands gripping on the ankles of Saif, trying to alleviate the pressure. But all of that would be much difficult once she bent down and crouched. He barely saw anything at all, the scent of a woman was all he could smell as his hands panickily tapped on Saif’s calf. His own legs kicked on the canvas, gaining no purchase as they flail about. Grant’s efforts were futile, at least that was what the voice in the back of his mind was saying. He didn’t want to believe it, but his struggles were getting weaker and weaker with every second passing. His movements were slowing gradually, an inevitable ending he couldn’t run away from. And it would not be long until he would see real darkness.

Where not even Femi’s voice couldn’t reach him.

Saif was not simply doing this to grant for her own amusement. There was a strategic element as well, a purpose that would serve her when she fought Femi - and if his enraged, furied barking was any indication, that was going to happen. She wanted to see what this man cared for, where the chinks in his armor laid, and he was giving her a clear image. The man was positively apoplectic about the stress his manager was in, showing a clear relationship. She could scarcely imagine the bonds they had made, the trust they had fostered. Such faith, so poorly placed.

She was so enraptured by the sight of Femi’s fire that she nearly forgot about the man beneath her heels. He had been kicking about, a frantic and frenzied, but his struggles grew weaker over time. The kicks slowed. The spasms turned to twitches. Absent minded, barely caring, she lifted up her skirt to watch the light fade from his eyes. His eyes fluttered. His lips sputtered, fighting for every wisp of air she could scrap. Going, going…

Gone.

She waited a moment longer, simply to make sure and fill Femi with extra worry. When the moment passed, she stood up and stepped forward, allowing his lungs to draw air once more. The man was out now, and would be for some time. The only obstacle she had removed.

Satisfied with her handiwork, Saif stepped away from the sleeping man and prowled across the ring, her bare feet taking lights steps along the perimeter of the ring. She walked in front of Femi, only a couple of meters away from him. She didn’t say a word, still quiet and calm, looking down at him as she paced left and right. He was so eager to get his hands on her. Could barely wait.

He would have his chance, soon enough.

Grant shouldn’t have been involved in this. Much as he’s a hard man and isn’t afraid to put his foot down to stand for his fighter, the years have passed him by and he isn’t like when he’s at his peak. That was the kind of regret that Femi was feeling, sharing with his rage. It wasn’t enough that Saif would attack his trainer, but to do it like that? With those methods. That had further incensed Femi. And he still remained blind to her intentions, walking straight into her plan.

Grant had since then stopped moving, completely out cold underneath. Yet Saif just had to be so much of a cunt that she would remain a moment too long. Ever second was a nail in the coffin for her. Femi didn’t care about anything else, just wanted one thing in this world right now; the chance to kill that bitch.

And the gods above decided to grant that wish it seems, the cage would finally raise, even after the entourage and the crowd’s behest. Femi could only growl and stare death into her eyes as she paced left and right. Throwing the pipe at the cage, ricocheting off and onto the floor. As satisfying as it would be to smash her with a pipe, doing it with his bare hands would be much more satisfying. It had been so long since he had such murderous intent. And Grant wasn’t there to keep it in check. Femi wasn’t the type to keep a lid on such things.

One would think it would be the big Nigerian-Irishman that would jump straight in, but it would actually be a few members of his entourage that get the chance. Not with the intent to attack her, least not now, but both men intending to get Grant out of there. In case if Femi does go in and the cage lowers again, they’d rather not have the trainer be caught in the fracas. Neither could Femi think straight if Grant was there. He needed no distractions. The two guys that helped pull Grant away shared the same thought.

At least one of them did. He was staring at Saif in case if she pulls something dodgy. But as he shares the same ring with this woman, he felt the urge to deliver his own kind of justice. Femi wouldn’t know about this… but that didn’t matter if he would bring Saif’s head to him. “Tch! Man, I’mma murk that bitch!!!” He yelled, fuelled with rage as he rushed towards the woman while his attention is elsewhere, seeking to strike her from behind with a punch to the head.

Saif took a moment, however brief, to check Grant as she prowled about, moving his face about with the ball of her foot. He was alive. More or less. He would not enjoy a pleasant slumber, and she would wager his throat would be sore for days to come, but there was hardly any real concern. If anything, he came off light, paying a small price for standing between her and her quarry. Not everyone would be so lucky.

But Saif was in a forgiving mood. Still calm and cool, she continued to pace, looking on as Femi blustered and raged, throwing a pipe at the cage and nearly causing it to fly out into the audience. She tingled, a slight shiver, as she thought of all the ways their bodies could intertwine, the things she could do to a man of his calibre and stature. She had been waiting for the opportunity, so long now, and as the cage began to lift she knew it was finally upon her…

...or not.

Two men had entered to pull Grant out, coming to his rescue, clearing the way for the actual battle. She had paid them little heed, instead choosing to rush her from the side, in a foolhardy attempt to ‘murk’ her. Saif could not say she was familiar with that word, but it hardly mattered. His intentions could not have been clearer.

She could hear him from behind, coming at her strong, full of rage. A punch was thrown at her head, but it never connected, never even came close - she ducked and let it pass overhead, as she spun about to his side. Smooth as water, she whipped her and swung her leg in a wide arc, bringing it high to strike him in the face with a well-placed heel kick.

There has been an issue when it came to ones who have obtained celebrity status, those who have become famous and the idea of having security or their own bodyguards. That goes for those that do not even utilize them. That is what they pay them for. To protect and keep them from harm’s way. You can’t have it both ways, thinking that you’ll pay for them but at the same time not prioritize the safety of the client. Not only that, once you do hire security, but you also relinquish all necessity to be hard or to defend yourself. While that is partly the point of security, it is also there to protect them from their own impulses. In the case of Femi, he can be swift to anger and a lot of times, people like him will probably take things too far if they handle things themselves. That is why his entourage is there, if they are the ones that go too far, they will deal with the ramifications, not Femi.

So, in the case of the two that initially came to take an unconscious Grant out of the ring, Femi could somewhat understand why they are there, even if it had caused him to wait to get her hands around that dark-clothed cunt. The last thing he wants is to fight while Grant is still there. What if the cage goes down once, he’s in? Saif has proven to be quite the calculating woman so it wouldn’t be far fetched for her to use his body to her advantage. At the very least, there isn’t anyone that will get in the way of them coming to blows.

Or so he thought. What he wasn’t expecting was to see another body getting caught by that infernal woman. Granted, the guy was acting out of his own accord, it wasn’t at the behest of Femi. It was to get back at Saif for attacking Grant the way she did. Grabbing his balls and taking him down while he was defenceless. As they say, an eye for an eye. And once he glassed that bitch for taking Grant down, the rest could join in and get on what Grant had suggested they’d do before all of this madness.

That was definitely a massive mistake. One that he wouldn’t have a chance to dwell over as soon as her heel struck his face. He didn’t get the opportunity to fully extend and push through with the punch. The punch was wild, and he certainly wasn’t about subtlety either so a counter-attack would have been seen coming from a mile away. The man was out cold way before his body laid flat out, face first, on the canvas where Grant was before.  

“Ay, what the fuck, bruv!?”

"Man, that's just long fam. What is he on?

“Absolute doughnut, this guy!” Says the one guy that had dragged Grant out of the ring, letting out a frustrated huff as the medics finally came round to help the poor trainer. As for Femi, his anger just grew bigger and bigger. Throwing his hands in the air before kicking the steel steps in frustration. “FUCK!” The Nigerian-Irishman gritted his teeth, the punt hard enough that the clang was heard from the arena. But there was something else that was mixed in all of this. Those where his men that got hurt, at the hands of that woman. They were supposed to protect him, but they got hurt in his own watch. Again, more nails to her coffin. And the deeper that hole gets.

Femi reached to the ropes and pulling himself into the ring before stepping inside. He was ready to go, he didn’t need any more reason to kill Saif. And as he took a step forward towards the smaller woman, he stared with the same intense look as when she took out Grant. His fists curled so tight that his fingers could rip through the gloves itself as if they want to wrap around that small neck of hers and hold it really tight. His intense gaze bore down Saif that he didn’t notice the same guy pulling the unconscious person out of the ring. “You’ll be lucky if you’re still breathing after what I’ll do to ya. You cunt.”

One kick and it was over. Rather anticlimactic, really.

After making such a fuss and getting in the ring, daring to attack her head on after they had seen what she just did, she had expected these men to be, well...hardy. Resilient. Worthy to protect a man such as Femi. But no, she simply kicked him once and the face, and he was out, down, defeated. She sincerely hoped his services had not come at great expense, or else her would-be opponent was paying too great a price for security.

She brought her leg down, lowering it slow, as Femi’s men attended to their fallen comrades. It had been quite a bit of theatre to get through, but at least it served her to show her point better than mere words ever could - she had come for Femi, and she would not be denied. Now that they all understood each other, they could proceed, and it seemed like her prey was all in favor of that.

She turned to face Femi as he moved into the ring and stood tall, hands folded in front of her lap, unmoved by his dominating presence. The man knew how to command a ring before a single punch was thrown, there was no denying his raw aura. In another age, another life she would have tried to hide her fear of such a man, and failed miserably.

But this new path brought with it untapped confidence. Even as he towards over her, threatened her, called her the most atrocious names, she didn’t falter. She already knew how this would go, after all, and that meant there was nothing to fear.

She responded to his harsh words with a subtle bow and a slight smile, then took a step back. She swung her leg to the side, letting her toe graze along the mat, then tossed her skirt aside and exposed her lithe legs, knowing she would have need of them both soon.

[colo=#cccc00]”It will be what it will be.”[/color] Saif extended her arm and beckoned him forward. ”Come.”