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Born Fighter
🕑 Added 2025-11-20 22:06:53 +0000 UTCContent Warning: Ryona (fighting, violence)
Every breath laboured hard and put more pressure on what was almost definitely a cracked rib. Purple bruising bloomed across the skin that was stretched over core muscles that had been beaten repeatedly. To flex the tenderised meat hurt even more than being struck, but was still essential for protection. The formerly white gi was full of red stains and tears, hanging from the powerhouse of a body it no longer covered. It let the cool air relieve the sweat covered body underneath - only somewhat, through the punishment it had taken.
Abby didn't love fighting so much as she was maniacally obsessed with it. Stubborn beyond fault. Overconfident, as described by every martial arts teacher she ever trained under - until she managed to beat them.
Other men and women were scared to spar with her. She seldom held back. Something about feeling her fists, feet, elbows, anything sink deep through the defenses of an opoonent satisfied her more than anything else. The surprise on a larger opponents face - and they were always larger - as she struck them with a devastating hit. Beating people was fun. Destroying, humiliating people... that was ecstasy.
Naturally, she was generally banned from every dojo she attended before long. Then, by circumstance, she found another outlet.
One night she took a back alley shortcut on a dark evening, headed home after her latest expulsion. An opportunist caught sight of the young looking woman and followed her. He barely had time to pull his knife on her before Abby broke his jaw.
The method of satiating her hunger for violence came quick after that. She prowled the rough areas of town, and in the distance and darkness could even pass for a kid on the way home from class. Some nights were unproductive, but on some nights, her favourite nights, the attackers came in groups.
Disarming came first. She couldn't take a knife to the guy - not yet, at least - but she could break a wrist and throw the weapon away in moments. Then she could start to play with her food. These amateurs wouldn't test her in a fair fight, so she upped the ante.
Abby dropped her guard, let a particularly well placed hit strike her solar plexus. But she didn't buckle, she didn't guard herself. She only threw her hands out with a yell of "Harder!" Laughing through the second strike, the third came to her face. She spat out a tooth. Her heart was racing. "That's more like it..."
She wondered if these guys would fight to the last man, or if she'd need to chase them down...
