Ver Rojo Significa Dread

“In your dreams, bitch.”

A knee would crack the Latina’s face with the speed of a lightning bolt. The goal was to get her to stumble a bit before a pair of hands would grab her by the shoulders and shove her into an adjacent alleyway. The only source of light came from a neon sign above the barroom’s locked side door and the faint luminance of a few open windows along the walls. In that faint neon red, the face of Zoey Jae Oh would emerge smirking right at her.

Zoey Jae Oh:

It was no big secret how much the taekwondo girl hated Camilia, especially after how thoroughly wrecked she got during the Mexican fighter’s debut. And why shouldn’t Zoey hate her? Her style was garbage, her personality was trash, and her hair was fucking stupid. She had taken some bad losses before. Hell, the worst of them had been right here in AFW. Even so, Camilia’s face stuck out like a sore thumb.

But there was one thing that Zoey could respect, something that she only found out after the fact: the woman knew her drinks.

See, Camilia wasn’t the only one who liked to hug a barstool when she had her thinking cap on. Tokyo must have had hundreds and hundreds of bars within Shibuya alone, but Zoey only ever frequented one. It was the only place that kept original Jameson in stock. It was just her luck that it happened to be a favorite of Camilia’s too. Maybe it was a coincidence, maybe it was divine intervention. Whatever the reason, Zoey spotted her the second she walked through the door and kept her head down. That turned out to be the smartest move she could have possibly made.

The Latina was in a drinking mood. Zoey watched her guzzle down one bottle after another with no indication that she was going to stop anytime soon. Well, the Korean-American looked at that and figured there were a couple of ways she could...expedite that process. It cost her about half of her spending money, but she managed to tip Camilia what must have been half the bartender’s stock. The venue had no shortage of male clientele to whom she could pass off the compliments either.

All that alcohol was sloshing inside of her now. Dulling her movements, nulling the senses.  Zoey stood a few feet away and watched her sway on the spot. At this time of night with so little foot traffic, she couldn’t have asked for a more perfect reunion. Regardless she took another couple of steps forward into the dark, getting the two of them as far away from the light of the main street as she could.

“Hey, Quesadilla. Been a while.” The taekwondo girl greeted her cordially as she cracked her knuckles.

The Taekwondo fighter was on Cloud 9. It was perfect. She had Camilia alone, hurting, drunk, and right where she wanted her. Even if that knee didn't quite sober her up, part of her mind was at least registering how fucked she was. Putting herself into flight or fight. And it didn’t take a professional to see what option Camilia chose. Zoey stepped forward and punched a hand into her fist. “That’s right, just you, me, and Cata-"

Ooooooookay. Maybe she bought her a few too many drinks.

Zoey must have thrown away half of her paycheck over the course of a couple of hours all to throw Camilia off of her game. She knew it would pay off, especially with the way the Latina was knocking those shots back. It reminded Zoey of her sophomore year. She just didn't expect her little tactic to be this effective.

She didn’t speak much Spanish, but she had a feeling she wouldn’t have been able to make heads or tails of what the Latina was saying regardless. For a second the thoughts of revenge had left Zoey. They were replaced by something more...concerned. She didn't expect anything to throw her off task tonight but damned if she thought it would be a rabbit of all things. It was like something out of a movie.

Oh god, what fucking ever. Didn't matter what the hell she called her at the end of the night. It had been so long since their match and the Korean girl had thought about this for longer than she was willing to admit. As long as the bull was left behind picking up her own teeth, Zoey didn't particularly care how she got there. Then again, she did want to enjoy this a little. Well, maybe more than a little…

Camilia came straight at her as expected and when those fists started flying Zoey's mind went through a short renaissance. Even in a drunken state, Zoey had to backstep a couple of feet to avoid the White Bull's calloused grasp. Her eyes had to linger on her a moment longer. Zoey curled a curious brow at the lull and sway of the Latina's body that must have just been doing wonders for all that liquor in her gut. Despite the sloppy posture, Zoey could read the power building in the palm of her closed fists and the killer focus behind her eyes. Scary lady.

A few months ago, Zoey would have thought she'd just kicked the hornet's nest and stood shivering in her high-laced boots for the world of hurt headed her way. Tonight, all the Korean girl did was smile in the face of a raging bull. In the dark of night beneath the violet-red glow, she raised her fists and brought one leg forward, sliding effortlessly into her familiar stance.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this." Zoey bounced back and forth on the heels of her boots. A cruel, arrogant smile hidden within the red darkness flashed at Camilla. "Come on, puta. Make my day."

The white blur escapes her grasp. Even in her drunken state she imagined she had caught something, but her catch this time was only the air. Her palm opened then closed again just to reassure her stupor mind that she was correct in assuming she had nothing in her clutches. The alcohol was really throwing off her game, there wasn’t much to sober her up either, that kick on the other hand got the gears turning. Her anger began to rattle the weak bars holding it back, the chained creaked as pressure for its explosion began to build. Camilia was vaguely aware of how beligierent she could be when drunk, that meant a harsh mood swing and sometimes property damage. The Latina never knew of her own escapades until she was forwarded the bill or barred from being let in.

She felt frustrated for missing, for letting them get away to keep getting in shots while she was left at their mercy. She swayed back and forth, her fists raised into an unusual stance for her. She hasn’t boxed in what felt like forever, the Latinas body instinctively took on the stance however, this wasn’t a match nor was it training. Even while stupid her body registered a street fight when it felt one and this was definitely it. Her fists tighten, her pools focused as much as she could as the Latina struggled to keep her stance steady. Camilo was zero to one, a count she was far from willing to let go. This Catarina sit-in was going to find out fast that even while in a drunken stupor she wasn’t the type to roll over and let hits slide. She was going to beat this bunny theif good, keep to her guns while she did it too.

She attempted to settle into her buzzard stance, her feet vision swayed back and forth, her body following the odd flow of her vision. Her feet immediately step out to follow through, catching herself from falling over herself.

A spark in the back of her mind commanded her to focus, like that was going to happen when she was over stricken like this. Any commands wouldn’t go exactly her way. Another rattle from her angers cage shook her to the core, her gut was on fire, she could feel the heat boiling up…u-uh oh. Camilia didn’t have a second to waste as she stepped back and leaned against the wall. The Latina felt the urge to hurl, she held out her hand for a second. ”W-wait a second Catarina… I think I’m gonna…gonna be sick.” She warned. Great, this was surely the perfect time to feel sick when she was probably going to get her butt kicked, her glazed Ruby pools looked over, the white blur and the flashing neon lights made it worse. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to take all those shots, who even bought them anyway? She could’ve swore she didn’t spend that much money anyhow. These thoughts would come later, now was the time to focus on not puking up her weeks worth of lunch.

All that time off had left Zoey with some time to think about what was about to happen here today. About what it would take to beat Camilia down here and now. Play defensive? Try to outwit her? So many ideas went through the back of Zoey's mind as she trained with Sin, and yet after all that she hadn't decided on her plan of attack until two minutes ago.

That was when she decided that it didn’t matter if Camilia couldn’t remember her name. As long as she was pissed at Zoey, then the hard part was already finished. An angry opponent was a sloppy opponent and if there was one thing that Zoey learned to do with surgical efficiency, it was how to punish stupid mistakes. Espinosa was the bull and Zoey was waving the cape.

Zoey danced on the spot and kept that cocky smirk on her face. She saw the killer intent gleaming in those pure white eyes. She felt the attack coming any second and she was so ready for it. One punch. One and it would all be over just like-

Annnnnnnnd she was puking.

Camila was so fucking stupid it was unbelievable.

Zoey had to just look in utter fascination at it all. She was seriously puking. Had to admit, it was quite the sight. This was the woman who left her bloody and broken on the ringside until the medics came and scraped her off the ring floor. To see her so vulnerable…It wasn’t exactly the most glamorous way that Zoey had in mind for conducting this predetermined beatdown. But hell, she wasn't going to pick and choose her moments. There was no telling when an opportunity like this would come again now that she'd exposed her intent. Camilia was right in front of her and the night was still young.

"Holy fuck, you're gonna be easy." Zoey casually strode forward towards the recovering Latina still bent over against the wall. Her hands were lazy at her sides and her posture looked unassuming. An outside observer might even think, for a brief moment, that the Korean-American was concerned about her condition. Wouldn't that have been a delightful thought?

Zoey, ever the experienced sorority girl, had her methods or two of how to sober up a fellow damsel in distress. The taekwondo fighter reeled her leg back and threw a huge punt upward, going to pierce Camilia's tummy with the pointed tip of her boot.

Camilia held herself up the best she could, if there was one part of drinking she hated it had to be this. All the poison her system endured finally hitting its limit and giving in, although in the grand scheme of things, this was only a minor setback to what could be her sloppiest comeback yet. The door to her angers cage was open, reeling it in now felt impossible to the vulnerable Latina. Her focus was attempting to mark Catarina, wherever she might be.

A hard burning pain erupted from her stomach, her right arm swung in to hold what she essentially thought was her stomach as she kept herself propped against the wall, gasping out as she dry heaved. Her blurry vision began to clear but god did she feel awful. Her fingertips grip tightly to clothing…this wasn’t hers? She fixated her vision on something blue? Definitely not hers. She followed the blue until she met white. Did she catch Catarina? What did she have? Her pain receptors kicked in again as she finally realized there was a boot digging into her gut. Her right hand would squeeze just to check and make sure she wasn’t wrong again. She had her didn’t she?

Her Ruby pools lit up with a new sense of conviction. She staggered back from her position against the wall, tightly gripping to their boot and jeans. Her anger personified was fuming, now she had a target to vent on. She’d sink her fingers in, reaffirming her grip, attempting to yank the object of her hate close, to exact her vengeance. I told you to wait.” She says, venom erupting from her drunken lips. Camilia had only one thing in her mind: ponies and beating the breaks off Catarina….wait that’s two.

Her left clenches tightly, she was angry and belligerent, she didn’t care how much she missed as long as she got her lick in, she wouldn’t care. Camilia grunts as she shifts her weight, her mind knows exactly what to do but her body seems to move so slow, it takes all her might just to keep her grip on her captive. Her center is aching and she feels herself getting sick again from the punt. “Bear it” her anger commands, taking control with Zoey’s less then pleasant wake up call. Her teeth begin to grind, her vision barely locked onto her target. ”I’m going to kill you.”

The words seemed to just slip out, her own mind void of strategy or even reason for that matter anymore. Camilia was now the person she wanted to get away from, the thing she kept in her closet. La Tora Blanca reared her tightly clenched fist, throwing it wildly to hit the blue of white she could barely make out, fully intent on reducing Catarina(Zoey) to nothing but a discarded heap on the cold, hard ground.

How hard could it be to beat up a drunk Latina in the middle of the night? A question Zoey had pondered for hours longer than she'd expected to while preparing for this fateful evening. The Latina carried herself with a casual authority like a dime-a-dozen street tough on her days off. The kind of person you wouldn’t approach with a ten-foot pole. However, Camilia had this way of carrying herself like a half-pint pile of shit whenever she got lost in her bottle. It was a trend that Zoey had the chance to notice once a week after long months of (totally shameless) tactical surveillance.

Tonight was the night to seize that chance. It was the last day of her training and, coincidentally, payday. That meant she was able to flood Camilia with triple the alcohol she was probably used to. She was defenseless, absolutely sloshed. The Kick Chick wanted to make sure that she was out, but still lucid enough to feel the pain she rightfully deserved. Her kick was perfect, aimed dead center for her target. So, naturally….

Camilia grabbed her foot.

How she even managed to do that without a full head of oxygen was beyond Zoey, but that wasn't what she was concerned about at the moment. What had her eyes narrowed was the clenched fist inches away from her face. "Shit."

Zoey's jaw clacked as she was sent skidding across the floor. The back of her head smacked against the opposite wall. The sweltering burn on her cheek wasn't helping her thought process at all. The imprints left behind by Camilla's knuckles pierced a stabbing pain in the side of her face when she so much as tried to lower her jaw. Her head got that floating feeling and God damn, Zoey forgot how bad this bitch could punch.

The Korean-American quickly sat up from the concrete, but her body wasn’t in any hurry to stand up. Fucking hell. Zoey threw a spiteful glare from across the alleyway despite her knees wobbling underneath her. She used her hands to push herself off the wall and break into a sprint straight at the Latina, jumping into a flying knee aimed at caving in the boxer’s chest.

A sigh leaves her lips, the heat from her breath makes it’s self visible from the cool air. Camilia felt she made contact with her hated nemesis and it felt great, her anger had taken a smug huff with pride. She threw a fair bit of power into her hook sending the Korean-American slidding across the floor and sending her into the alleyway wall. La Tora Blanca grunts stumbling back towards the wall. Her core sustained a bit of damage from their punt, even after catching it she only managed to do so after taking the brunt of it. Did Catarina always hit like this? No, she couldn’t recall anytime during their brawls that she did. There was one she could vaguely think of that would though, a foe she had a rough run in not to long ago: Zoey Jae Oh.

Her vision came and went, she couldn’t exactly focus on what exactly she was supposed to see. The blur was further away but she was able to make a shape now. It didn’t matter who it was she was fighting against, she didn’t plan on showing them any amount of mercy, that wasn’t the person drunk Camilia was. She glares unexpectedly at the Korean-American, unaware they were glaring at her as well. The hate, where did it stem from? Camilia couldn’t even really remember, not now at least, even so, she’d make good in her promise to kill her.

Pushing up off the wall, she’d close the gap between them, her steps heavy as she looked to lay down another throw of power. She was to slow, the smaller woman came towards her quickly and the next thing she knew, her chest exploded with pain. Something hard had hit her center, unbenounced to her, it was their solid knee forcing air out of her lungs as her back hit the cold hard cement. She gasps croaking as her fingertips scrap along the jagged edge of material. A pained expression ever present in her face as she felt a droplet hit her forehead. The rain she was worried about began to fall.

Little droplets hits the pavement first, only to batter the ground as the rain began to suddenly pour onto them. Camilia struggled to breath, her chest was pounding with waves of pain but her instincts warned her she was open. Her arms attempt to rise to guard her face, where was Catarina(Zoey)? Where’d she get off to? Her mind sent her into a drunken panic. The Bull didn’t dare speak as the pitted patter of the rain hammered away at the pavement, bouncing off the metal trash can, and pounding at the plastic of trash bags. Puddles were already beginning to form, for the first time in a long time, Camilia felt scared. Her guard was shabby at best, she was weak, and she wasn’t even sure of what was really going on. This was a bad dream.

‘Breath.’ She tried to tell herself, but even those directions were difficult. Air wasn’t circulating through her lungs comfortably to really meet her needs. Hyperventilating didn’t seem to help either and the burning sensation from her earlier unplessnt experience didn’t help matters.

There was a really easy way for that knee strike to have turned right back around on Zoey. Thank god this wasn’t a clean fight. Street fights were more the taekwondista’s thing than most people realized.

Camilia was drunk and, therefore, incredibly unpredictable. One deft movement could have brought herself out of the way and left Zoey to careen knee-first into a solid brick wall and ended this night on a real pleasant trip to the ER. Months ago, that might just have been the case and Camilia would have been walking back into that smelly bar for a victory round.

But the woman she met tonight wasn't the same Zoey Jae Oh as back then. She had thicker skin, bigger lungs, honed senses, a killer instinct, and most importantly, the speed to beat anyone and anything that dared to face her head-on. Her reward was the sight of the Mexican fighter crushed against her knee and falling breathlessly to the floor.

Zoey touched down gracefully at Camilia's side in time to see the pugilist sputter and scramble on the ground. The rain was starting to fall all around them although you wouldn't be able to tell from the Korean-American's gaze. She didn't regard anything but the Latina at her feet. Her opponent this evening was reeling and vulnerable in a way that was picturesque to her inner imaginations. She had one good move in mind, something that Sin had shown her when she was spending too much time on the floor for her mentor's liking.

Zoey pushed herself and used the momentum to throw herself into a forward spin. At the end of it, her foot would kick out and execute a heel drop, slamming the ball of her foot down onto Camilia's chest.