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The Swarm and the Slug - Nicky vs Celie pt.1.1

The Swarm and the Slug - Nicky vs Celie pt.1.2

The Swarm and the Slug - Nicky vs Celie pt.2

The Swarm and the Slug - Nicky vs Celie pt.3

The Swarm and the Slug - Nicky vs Celie pt.4

The Swarm and the Slug - Nicky vs Celie pt.5.1

The Swarm and the Slug - Nicky vs Celie pt.5.2 <------------------ U R HERE

The Swarm and the Slug - Nicky vs Celie pt.6

The Swarm and the Slug - Nicky vs Celie pt.7.1

The Swarm and the Slug - Nicky vs Celie pt.7.2

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Nicky doesn’t remember this knockdown.

She’s seen it, of course, on a laptop screen weeks after the fight when she was finally ready to confront this match as tape rather than a participant, but she just doesn’t remember this particular burning exchange in the sea of burning exchanges that made up her competition with Celie Amrani. She doesn’t remember bringing her guard a little too low, a little less strongly, and she doesn’t remember Celie’s gloved fist blasting right through her defenses and crunching her full power right into her chin. She doesn’t remember her head jerking backwards in a cinematic spray of sweat, and she most certainly doesn’t remember being lifted off her feet and thrown fully into the ropes like a rag doll, almost spilling out of the ring before the rebound saved her from the trip out of the ring.

For the second time in the round, her knees found the canvas and she slumped forward, eyes wide open and fluttering in shock, her face landing into Amrani’s sweat-slicked abs.

She doesn’t remember it, yes, but there it was: the single most humiliating round she had ever yet experienced, her ordeal with Shu Hui included.

Amrani, on the other hand, vividly remembers this moment. She remembers that moment of sheer fuckin’ joy a second after Nicky was down. She remembers the little runt crashing to her knees, face falling forward and nuzzling her tummy. She remembers flexing her abs into her face, a final fuck you to the girl who thought she could take her, as Nicky slid down her midsection, gliding down her wet legs, and finally resting on her shoes.

She remembers nudging Nicky’s head to the side and taking a step back even before the referee could call her back to her corner, before she all but turned on her heel and exploded to the turnbuckle directly opposite her, climbing up to the second rope and screaming her triumph to the crowd like her team (Chelsea btw) had won the world cup. Gone was the stoic warrior. Gone was the quiet restrain and controlled emotion. She beat her hand twice on her chest, then raised it to the sky with her index finger extended.

And her fans chanted her epithet as they always did when she secured the finish “ONE! ONE! ONE! ONE! ONE! ONE! ONE! ONE!” and she rolled her other gloved fist over her ear as if to say she couldn’t hear them, her grin wide enough to eat the whole stadium.

She had won. Nicky was done. Between her amateur and pro careers, she had knocked out more than several dozen girls. Several dozen victims, and she knew when an opponent was finished. She knew when an opponent broke, when they found their limit and no amount of will could power through their physical failings. She didn’t even bother waiting for the count to finish. What was the point?

“Celie!” She heard Amandine’s voice, strict and stern. Yes, she didn’t follow his game plan. There was going to be a lecture. “Celie!” Amandine came into view below her elevated view on the turnbuckle, but there was no celebration in his eyes. Instead, he gestured urgently for her to look back into the ring. That fire of victory in her flickered ever so slightly, and a cold, dead dread formed in her pit as she turned around-

And to her disbelief -and absolute fuckin’ mortification- Nicky was standing. The ref was talking to her, patting her shoulders, checking on her, and Amrani’s mortification turned into blistering, nay, infernal fuckin’ anger as she popped down from her perch and marched right to Nicky, aiming to set her back in her place.

“Celie!” came her coach's cry again, urgent and warning.

The ref turned just in time to ward her off.

“Back, Amrani! Back! Get the fuck back before I card you! Back!” and she gestured and she growled and she pushed against the ref for a bit, before she backed off to her corner, staring daggers at Nicky even as the British girl clearly was still trying to find her bearings, physical and mental.

---------------------------------

Credit to Leslie as ever. Ya know, everytime I say I probably won't have time to do shit, I end up having time to do shit. It's a frickin curse, mate, I swear.

XOXO

Susmodaiyaban

Description
The Swarm and the Slug - Nicky vs Celie pt.1.1

The Swarm and the Slug - Nicky vs Celie pt.1.2

The Swarm and the Slug - Nicky vs Celie pt.2

The Swarm and the Slug - Nicky vs Celie pt.3

The Swarm and the Slug - Nicky vs Celie pt.4

The Swarm and the Slug - Nicky vs Celie pt.5.1

The Swarm and the Slug - Nicky vs Celie pt.5.2 <------------------ U R HERE

The Swarm and the Slug - Nicky vs Celie pt.6

The Swarm and the Slug - Nicky vs Celie pt.7.1

The Swarm and the Slug - Nicky vs Celie pt.7.2

---------------------------------

Nicky doesn’t remember this knockdown.

She’s seen it, of course, on a laptop screen weeks after the fight when she was finally ready to confront this match as tape rather than a participant, but she just doesn’t remember this particular burning exchange in the sea of burning exchanges that made up her competition with Celie Amrani. She doesn’t remember bringing her guard a little too low, a little less strongly, and she doesn’t remember Celie’s gloved fist blasting right through her defenses and crunching her full power right into her chin. She doesn’t remember her head jerking backwards in a cinematic spray of sweat, and she most certainly doesn’t remember being lifted off her feet and thrown fully into the ropes like a rag doll, almost spilling out of the ring before the rebound saved her from the trip out of the ring.

For the second time in the round, her knees found the canvas and she slumped forward, eyes wide open and fluttering in shock, her face landing into Amrani’s sweat-slicked abs.

She doesn’t remember it, yes, but there it was: the single most humiliating round she had ever yet experienced, her ordeal with Shu Hui included.

Amrani, on the other hand, vividly remembers this moment. She remembers that moment of sheer fuckin’ joy a second after Nicky was down. She remembers the little runt crashing to her knees, face falling forward and nuzzling her tummy. She remembers flexing her abs into her face, a final fuck you to the girl who thought she could take her, as Nicky slid down her midsection, gliding down her wet legs, and finally resting on her shoes.

She remembers nudging Nicky’s head to the side and taking a step back even before the referee could call her back to her corner, before she all but turned on her heel and exploded to the turnbuckle directly opposite her, climbing up to the second rope and screaming her triumph to the crowd like her team (Chelsea btw) had won the world cup. Gone was the stoic warrior. Gone was the quiet restrain and controlled emotion. She beat her hand twice on her chest, then raised it to the sky with her index finger extended.

And her fans chanted her epithet as they always did when she secured the finish “ONE! ONE! ONE! ONE! ONE! ONE! ONE! ONE!” and she rolled her other gloved fist over her ear as if to say she couldn’t hear them, her grin wide enough to eat the whole stadium.

She had won. Nicky was done. Between her amateur and pro careers, she had knocked out more than several dozen girls. Several dozen victims, and she knew when an opponent was finished. She knew when an opponent broke, when they found their limit and no amount of will could power through their physical failings. She didn’t even bother waiting for the count to finish. What was the point?

“Celie!” She heard Amandine’s voice, strict and stern. Yes, she didn’t follow his game plan. There was going to be a lecture. “Celie!” Amandine came into view below her elevated view on the turnbuckle, but there was no celebration in his eyes. Instead, he gestured urgently for her to look back into the ring. That fire of victory in her flickered ever so slightly, and a cold, dead dread formed in her pit as she turned around-

And to her disbelief -and absolute fuckin’ mortification- Nicky was standing. The ref was talking to her, patting her shoulders, checking on her, and Amrani’s mortification turned into blistering, nay, infernal fuckin’ anger as she popped down from her perch and marched right to Nicky, aiming to set her back in her place.

“Celie!” came her coach's cry again, urgent and warning.

The ref turned just in time to ward her off.

“Back, Amrani! Back! Get the fuck back before I card you! Back!” and she gestured and she growled and she pushed against the ref for a bit, before she backed off to her corner, staring daggers at Nicky even as the British girl clearly was still trying to find her bearings, physical and mental.

---------------------------------

Credit to Leslie as ever. Ya know, everytime I say I probably won't have time to do shit, I end up having time to do shit. It's a frickin curse, mate, I swear.

XOXO

Susmodaiyaban