Liv looks in the mirror, her teeth bared as she scrubs liberally. Her eyes are lidded, half open as the lights of her bathroom shine into her sclera. Despite her disheveled exhaustion, she felt quite a bit better than she did the other day. She had passed out as soon as she got home, sleep passing over her like a specter, taking quite a bit of her misery with it.

  A hum escapes her open mouth. She had slept a hundred times more than she used to when she was back in South America. Was that unhealthy? Getting knocked out everyday couldn't be good for her health, that was for sure. She really hopes today won’t be another K.O on her, especially with how her last fight went. She wondered how Charlotte was doing with her fights. Was she winning? Nevermind that, she should be more worried about her own fight. If Faraji could easily beat Kara, and Kara could easily beat her, it would stand to reason that Faraji would decimate her. She had to think of something, but how would she-.

  THUNK THUNK THUNK.

  “Aye kid, you up?” The voice of George cuts through her torrent of thought, his rhythmic knocks reverberating off the walls. She quickly spits out the wad of toothpaste in her mouth tinged red from the leftover blood on her teeth. She rinses her mouth, cleaning the remainder of the bloody residue before running to the door, swinging the door open.

  Liv recoils as his knuckle suddenly impacts into her forehead, a yelp of pain escaping her mouth. George blinks, pulling his hand back as Liv grips her forehead, a small, raspy chuckle escaping his mouth. “Sorry! Gotta start knocking higher. Forgot how short you are!”

  Liv turns an annoyed eye up to George, rubbing the rapidly reddening spot on her forehead.

  “Ain’t short.” She grunts, her arms falling to cross over her chest. "Yer tall."

  “Semantics, kid. Pure semantics.” George shrugs while smirking, looking at Liv’s attire. His smile grows larger as he gestures to her hands. “Where are your gauntlets? We gotta go.”

  Liv gives a glance down to her hands, flexing her bare hands. “Took ‘em off ‘fore I slept. Didn’t wanna deal with ‘em.”

  George looks at her with an imperceptible concern, a small “Mhm” escaping his lips as he nods. He takes a step back, his hand finding the knob.

  “Well, I’ll be waiting by the stairs. You go ahead and hurry up, you have a test to catch.” He shouts, the door closing midway through his sentence.

  Liv sighs, turning to get her gauntlets. She slips them on with a practiced ease, their presence akin to a second skin. The mental connection remains silent, her questioning remarks either ignored or unrecieved. Either way, this would be a fight for her and her alone: no healing to cushion her fall.

  A few steps later, and Liv is walking through the door. George waits just outside the stairwell, leaning with his head hung. It rises with the soft clunk of her door, a smile reclaiming his scarred face.

  “There you are.” He remarks, pushing himself to a full stand. “Took you a second!”

  “It ain’t been more than a minute.” Liv remarks dryly.

  “Minutes matter, you know.” George snipes, his hands falling to hips as he leans down to her eyes level. “I ain't getting any younger, and time isn't exactly on my side."

  “Yer the one who's all slow on the stairs," she says, "make up yer mind."

  George gives her a sideways look, his jovial tone dropping as they descend the stairs. His hands fall back to his pockets, those weathered eyes observing her like a hawk. It was like he was looking past her to something else, something distant.

  “You good, kiddo?” He asks. “You still mad about yesterday?”

  It's Liv's turn to give him a sideways look, her brows furrowing. "I'm fine."

  “Alright,” George says, nodding his head in understanding as he looks away. “Gonna sound a bit hypocritical given what I've said... But I really am rooting for you, kiddo."

  Liv doesn’t stop walking, doesn’t externally acknowledge George’s words. Internally, however, something inside her softens– her posture visibly relaxing.

  The two walk in complete silence after that, the sound of their feet thumping against the floor punctuating the void of conversation between the pair.

  After many, many steps, they eventually arrive, the familiar appearance of the combat room’s door filling Liv’s vision. Creaking it open, she could still see the blood stains on the walls– blood she had bled, the craters from her fight still present.

  She gulps, insidious worry tying her stomach into knots. The thought of losing again… It made her queasy to the stomach.

  Liv stifles forward as George’s old hand claps her on the shoulders, a jolt of pain thundering up her body. She turns her annoyed gaze to George, a smile returning to his weathered face. He doesn't say anything, but the sheer belief shining in his aged eyes is enough to soothe her frayed nerves. With a deep breath, she pushes the door open, ready to face her opponent.

  On the other side of the room, standing like a resolute statue, stands Faraji, his arms crossed over his chest as his metal carapace shines in the light. He looks calm, an obelisk in a storm, unchanged by the tides of sea or wind. A chill runs down Liv’s spine as he looks to her, his gaze sharpening. Here, facing him in combat, he was far more intimidating than she had remembered from their limited interactions. The knot in her stomach tightens further, her vision blurring as she steps into the room fully, closing the door behind her.

  “I’ve been waiting.” Faraji’s voice booms through the room, his voice muddled by a fuzzy static. Though his face is obscured by a helmet, those eyes are still visible.

  “Didn’t mean to keep ya waitin’.” Liv calls, trying to sound as tough as she could manage, her chest puffing out.

  “No matter.” He says, allowing his arms to fall from their crossed position. “It’s not my place to argue your punctuality. Let the best warrior win.” He speaks, more a command than a statement, a demand for a good bout.

  Liv steadies herself, taking deep breaths in and out to steady her already frayed nerves. She tenses as Faraji’s arm raises in front of him, though her simple tension soon turns to abject horror as thrusters erupt from his back, flames already spewing forth, causing his heavy metal body to launch forward at inhuman speeds. Liv gawks, barely stepping out of the way of his charge.

  He slams into the wall, cracks webbing from the floor to the ceiling, sand and concrete dust pluming like smoke. This, however, doesn’t give him pause as he pushes off instantly, his chase renewed.

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  Liv tries to sidestep him once more, but freezes as his gaze lands on her. An overwhelming sense of fear washes over her, every muscle in her body tensing at once. Her legs lock up completely, sweat pouring down the ridge of her nose. For a single moment, Liv can't move an inch. A moment is all Faraji needs.

  His hands slam into her shoulders, binding her close to him in a vice like grip. That surge of fear in Liv rapidly shifts to panic, her legs instinctively slamming into the floor. The soles of her boots scrape against the shifting sands, her hands digging into his plated forearms, her knuckles turning white with the effort. It's impossible to gain any purchase on the floor with these sands, her herculean efforts rewarding her a few precious seconds.

  Throwing planning out the window, Liv reels back one of her fists, sending a fist careening toward the metal chest of her opponent. The punch plunks off his metal chest, a metallic gong sound escaping Faraji's body. Liv winces, earning a shot of pain that crawled up her arm, settling into her forearm. His entire body was reinforced, and those thrusters were still firing at full throttle somehow.

  Her eyes lock on the thrusters, the wisps of an idea forming in her mind. Injuring the large man seemed out of the question for now, but she didn't need to harm him for now.

  She pulls her fist back once more, throwing two full powered jabs into his side. They, of course, do nothing to him as expected, and his blank expression exacerbates that point. She grunts as she tightens her fist once more, the fault lines of her gauntlet glowing a bright orange, humming with the power stored inside.

  THUNK

  BOOM

  An explosion erupts from Liv’s gauntlet, kicking up a cloud of dust and sand. Faraji buckles sideways, his jets working against him as Liv kicks off, skittering back as much as the room would allow. She gasps for air, greedily gulping up any oxygen she could get, clear red marks visible on her bronze skin where his large hands had been. Her arm, hardened by years of mining, still functions; though, that didn't remove any of the pain incurred.

  Faraji, for his part, didn't seem too effected by the explosion, the only evidence of her attack being a small scuff on his metal shell. His thrusters glow bright orange with heat, steam swelling from their depths. He quickly wipes the stray dust from his body, observing the small scuff with genuine surprise on his face. Slowly, he nods, his head turning to Liv.

  “Impressive,” Faraji compliments, a genuine hint of admiration in his voice, “I didn’t know you had the power to displace me like that. You, and your weapon, have my compliments.”

  “Tryin’ my best.” Liv replies, her arms shaking with a mixture of nervousness, pain, and a healthy dose of irrational fear. her entire body hums to a song she cannot hear, her stomach tied into thousands upon thousands of knot. Every movement of his caused her to flinch involuntarily, her arms raised defensively instead of their usual offensive position.

  “Your best is something to admire.” He comments idly, his admiring expression holding form for a brief moment before being overtaken by a hostile glare, his voice taking on an authoritarian tone. “This will be your last chance to forfeit. You will not be asked another time.”

  Liv shakes at the words, her legs nearly buckling under the strain. Her soul screams at her, yelling for her to just take the damn olive branch, to get away from this crazy man. A piece of her yelled the opposite, however. It raged against the thought of being defeated, of losing when she hadn't given it all she had. She wouldn't fail, couldn't fail: not when she had so much riding on this. Sure, her pugilistic fighting style was directly countered by his rush down grappling... But something told her she could get past that, even if she couldn't see it at that moment.

  “Sorry,” Liv says definitively, unable to hide the nervous warble in her voice, “But I ain’t backin’ down.”

  Faraji looks at her, his thrusters roaring back to life once more.

  “Your bravery is noted. Prepare to be crushed.” He states before charging once more, Liv’s body tensing as she prepares to go on the defense.

  Liv dodges, kites, and barely strafes away from Faraji's onslaught, barely escaping his grasping hands each time. He’s fast for his build, but Liv notices he has to stop every now and then to cool the thrusters in his back. In these small, brief windows, Liv manages to land small, insignificant pot shots before skirting away to avoid being grappled. Unfortunately, these pot shots hardly do anything but scuff his armor with the bonus of annoying him. She was losing gas quickly, but he wasn't. Even after his repeated attacks against the wall, craters festooning their concrete surfaces, he was just... Fine, barely effected. Worse yet? He was getting faster with every exchange, his predictions on her movements getting better every interaction. The only thing keeping her afloat was the unpredictability of her explosions. Offensively, they proved useless against Faraji, but they served as a good get away tool as well as a displacement tool.

  “Oi… OI!” Liv shouts in her mind over and over, desperately trying to rouse her boss from their slumber. She had started halfway through her dance of danger with Faraji; yet, not a peep from it. Of course they stop speaking when she needed them, exactly when she needed them!

  She grits her teeth as Faraji charges in for the umpteenth time, crouching down as she feints a left before bounding right... At least, that's what she tried to do.

  Faraji suddenly glares at her once more, a familiar chill running through her body. Her muscles tense violently, her body locking in place as fear blossoms n her chest. Once she regains her bearings, it’s too late. Faraji wraps his hand around her leg, his large fingers easily encircling her calf with a single hand as he swings her airborne, her stomach dropping to the soles of her feet. For just a moment, she has the clarity to contemplate her life before she slams into the floor, a Liv shaped crater forming on the effected area.

  Liv lets out a cry of pain, her body bouncing with the inertia of the blow: once, twice, and thrice, Liv is slammed into the floor with dizzying force, barely able to hang on to the final strings of her consciousness as she’s brutalized. Blood leaks from now open wounds all over her body, craters now gaining hues of red. Suddenly, Faraji tosses her, her back crashing into the wall. She coughs, her eyes barely open; though, they manage to widen just a bit as she sees his large form barreling toward her at top speed.

  CRASHHH

  Liv cries in pain as Faraji slams into her, her body sandwiched between the reinforced concrete of the wall and a man who weighs over a ton. She embeds further and further until, eventually, the roaring of his thrusters cease. With a step back, it's clear only one combatant stands, the victor brushing the flecks of concrete and speckles of blood off himself.

  “Good fight.” He says simply, his back turning to her.

  Liv lays in the crater, her body twitching, bloody and broken. Her mind grapples with the truth of her loss and all that came with it. Not only had she lost, but she had lost horribly, twice. Tears sting at the corner of her eyes, frustration welling deep in her body. She had known her loss was inevitable; yet, when faced with the bitter taste of defeat, it was a bitter pill to swallow. She tries her hardest to push herself out of the wall, but to no avail. No matter what she tries, her ruined body just wouldn't listen to her.

  She watched as Faraji turned away from her, signaling his victory to the camera’s jutting out of the ceiling. That small voice in Liv's mind raves against the idea of losing, especially in such embarrassing fashion. She wanted to win, she wanted it more than anything. Her mind grapples with the conceptual idea of losing, of why losing like this was so abhorrent. All she knew was that she wanted to defeat Faraji, to prove herself to herself, to show she could win. Her heart thrums, her body screaming in agonized protest as she attempts to push herself out, her broken body barely able to support itself as she regains her footing once more, her feet crunching in a puddle of blood-stained sand and rubble.

  Faraji looks at the camera still, his arms crossed, his finger tapping against his metal arm impatiently. After another moment of waiting, he turns to Liv in confusion, his confusion blooming to a mix of horror and astonishment as he watches her shattered body pull itself back up.

  “You’re still standing?” He questions, his voice more inquisitive than anything. "You shouldn't be able to stand in your condition, let alone move."

  “Ain’t gonna lose.” Liv mutters, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “You don’t know when to quit, do you? Willing to risk your life over a test.” Faraji grunts, his horror blooming to annoyance as he approaches, his fists clenched. “The fight is over, you are defeated. If you won’t stay down, I’ll have to knock you out completely.”

  Liv raises her good arm in defense as Faraji approaches, a specter of doom looming ever closer, signaling her imminent defeat. Still, she felt determination well up inside her. She wouldn’t lose, not now. Even as a warm sense of relief flooded her body, as her wounds closed up, as her bones click back into place like puzzle pieces, as her…

  As her body begins to knit itself together.