scrp- fights are fum (Victoria VS Tyrannus)

I don't bother with wrapping my knuckles. They're bloody, raw and bruised but it's sort of wonderful. Every time I make a fist it stings. My mouth is full of the taste of iron, my body slick with sweat, my heart beating a mile a minute. I can barely catch my breath before I am tossed into another fight. Breath comes in and out, in and out and this is what I live for, why I am breathing. I can taste salt on my tongue from the sweat that runs off my forehead. Long hairs hang in my eyes, oily and threatening to seriously dampen my vision.

In fact, it does.

I don't see the tiny fist aimed for my right arm before it hits. My arm goes a little numb from the punch, and I shake out my arm thoughtfully, trying to get blood circulating again. It's a bit of a dull, thumping pain. Nothing bad. I've already fought Tiger tonight, there's not many people who can do more damage than that literal human bulldozer. Still, this girl is serious. I can tell by the gleeful expression on her face when she sees that her hit has landed.

It's sort of cute, I wonder what she's doing later.

Still, if the idea is to incapacitate me, she's going to have to do a bit better than that. The feeling is already returning to my arm by the time I screw up my left hand to sock her back. I'm a career after all, despite the fact that I'm not a very dedicated one. I learned most of my fighting style in the ring and on the streets, where the rules are made up as you go and you've gotta think big to be big, darling.

I aim for her right cheek and my knuckle grazes the bone.