There was a brief lull after Tall Johnny announced the start. No one moved- no one spoke. Instead, there was merely the hushed excitement of anticipation. It lasted a tick. Then it was gone.
It was replaced by the sound of the crowd, similar to the crashing of waves in a storm, but louder than Aladari could stand. She instantly ducked, trying to get away from the sound. And it was good that she did, because it was that instinctive flinch that caused her opponent to miss her on his first punch.
She hadn't realized he was so close, but he certainly was. The smell of alcohol was strong on his breath and in his clothes. He was already sweating, though with nerves or exertion she couldn't tell. His thick, bulky fist swung just over her head, scraping her scalp and ripping the top layer of skin off of his knuckles. Her head, too, felt as though she had concurred a sort of rash. Aladari scowled.
"You didn't even tell me we were starting!" She protested in Vani.
The man gave no sign of remorse, or indeed of understanding. He simply grunted and swung another wayward fist at the girl. This one made a solid impact with her chest, causing a sharp pain to shoot down her left arm. She gasped and took a step back, out of range, so she could recover. He was unrelenting, though. Fueled by the fire in her chest, Aladari met him this time. She took a step forward when he did, holding her arms close to guard her chest, and throwing a wild kick with her right foot.
She was not particularly good at aiming, nor was she trying, so it was stupid luck that her foot made the connection with his kneecap. The man howled like a wounded animal, his leg collapsing underneath him. He managed to stay standing, but she could see him favoring the leg when he moved towards her again. Taking this to her advantage, Aladari waited until he was close to her, and ran. She was trying to get around to his backside, where he would be unable to protect himself, but the plan backfired. Before she could even get past the man, he threw out his leg, causing her to crash to the floor, skidding a distance and giving her a good burn on her stomach.
She tried to scramble to her feet, but it wasn't enough. The man was on top of her before she could even get to her knees. For the first time since the fight had begun, the crowd was excited. A few people began to cheer, while others (presumably those on Aladari's side) booed. Above her, the man was brutal. He pressed his good knee into her back with all his weight, successfully pinning her.With his hands, he grabbed her head and smashed it into the ground. Aladari screamed involuntarily as the hard ground hit her jaw and caused her to bite into her tongue. Blood left her mouth in spurts and droplets. Seeing that she wouldn't be fighting back with her teeth anytime soon, the man moved on.
He shifted his hands down, locking them around her neck and squeezing as tightly as he could. Aladari could feel the blood stopping in her head. Luckily, he didn't know what he was doing, and squeezed from the sides rather than the front. So, instead of crushing her windpipe, this mistake gave Aladari a few minutes to fight back before she passed out.
Finally able to find a gap in his assault, Aladari began to flail about underneath him. She kicked her legs behind her, squirming fruitlessly as she did so. Her kicks, however, turned out to be beneficial, as she soon enough felt her heel connect with a soft spot behind her. The man grunted and loosened his grip on her neck. Given this chance, she gave one last push and flipped over, using both her arms and legs to throw the man off of her.
She could hardly hear the crowd stomping its feet and clapping its hands wildly as she stumbled to stand over the man laying on the ground. She was too deep in the fight, her eyes a dark, almost menacing, glowing violet.
"My Mizas?" She asked expectantly.
The man shook his head stubbornly. Aladari delivered another kick to his injured knee, which caused the man to grimace in pain before she pressed that foot into his chest. Her feet were covered only in thin boots, so the foot on his chest wasn't as effective as if she had opted for riding, or even metal-reinforced boots, but it was still threatening. The man was vulnerable, and she was in power. It was almost enough to make her smile, but the thought of enjoying the combat sickened her, and so the smile was dead before it had started.
She moved her foot up to his neck, where he grabbed at her low boots, trying his best to remove her from on top of him. On the ground, he had no leverage, and so he was only able to gasp and struggle against the pressure on his throat.
"My Mizas." She said again. It was no longer a question. It was a command.
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