anotherwvba

[anotherwvba]

Finding Your Place, pt. 7

It was late Thursday afternoon and the WVBA Infirmary was alive with activity. The final step in orientation and first day registration for this group of Academy hopefuls was their physicals. For the would-be WVBA boxers, it was what made this real, their official stamp of approval to move on. For the medical staff, it was all hands on deck.

The rookies sat in rows of folding chairs brought in from the Omni earlier in the morning. Most were fresh-faced and green. Some sported battle scars from past experiences. But, they all held clipboards full of paperwork in various stages of completion.

Nurses and doctors moved this way and that, calling back the next person in line, and all while handling the normal business of the day.

From one of the examination rooms stepped a massive man, easily six-and-a-half feet tall, but lean for his height, around 240 by visual reckoning. He was bald with a thick mustache and holding his stomach with a pained expression.

“Spasibo, Nurse Bona,” the tall man said with a thick Russian accent. “It will be quite difficult to give up my favorite drink, da? But, I will follow Doctor Wakada’s orders.”

The nurse that followed him out of the room was physically impressive herself. Close to six feet tall with a muscular build not completely hidden by her teal scrubs, her complexion and features were distinctly Mediterranean. She reviewed her clipboard briefly before placing a reassuring hand on the big man’s shoulder.

“Good, Mister Popinski,” Nurse Bona said warmly, a hint of an Italian accent coloring otherwise perfect English. “Perhaps you could switch to clear sodas, like Sprite or 7-Up?”

“Maybe,” Popinski relented, “but, it is not the same.”

“Still,” the nurse replied, “it’s better than gallstones, yes?”

“Da!” the big Russian answered emphatically. “Thank you, Nurse Bona. I will come back if there are any flare ups.”

As Nurse Bona wrapped up with her patient, Rian Rossi and Narcis Prince sat along the wall next to one another, chatting casually, a quick friendship forming since they first met that morning. Rian was checking an email on his phone and nodding while Narcis surveyed the waiting room and its many occupants.

“Looks like our flat is on the fifth floor,” Rian said with his faint Irish lilt. “Ah, floor plan, let’s see… that’s a tiny kitchen. Well, as long as the icebox keeps the beer cold.”

“May I?” Narcis asked, gesturing to Rian’s phone.

Rian handed his phone over and Narcis surveyed the floor plan.

“Small, yes, but not unmanageable,” the posh Brit said.

“You cook?” Rian asked with a slight surprise. “I would’ve thought you had people for that.”

“Mother insisted I be capable,” Narcis smirked. “I��m no Gordon Ramsay, but I daresay I can assemble a fair plate. Saved me from a few years of pot noodles and takeaways.”

“I rather like a good pot noodle,” Rian grinned. “Still, I’ll handle the pasta and pizzas and you can handle whatever fancy green you posh types favor.”

Narcis’s mouth twitched, “Kale has a dreadfully undeserved reputation, I’ll have you know.” He smoothed his tie before changing the subject. “Still, it is a wonder we’ve been paired as flatmates. Do you think they paired us up regionally or simply drew lots?”

Their conversation was briefly interrupted by Nurse Bona calling for the next physical. “Roxanne Delgado?”

“Right here, chica!” A wiry Latina sprang to her feet. She was a couple of rows over, wired earbuds dangling around her neck and throwing her duffel bag over her shoulder. The chatter dipped for a heartbeat as she sashayed after the nurse, hips swaying to a beat that only she could hear.

“Energetic one, isn’t she?” Rian chuckled before shaking his head and trying to regain his thoughts. “You asked about how we got put together, right? Don’t really know, but I look at the bright side. You’re not Aran Ryan. You speak in full sentences and seem civilized.”

“High praise indeed,” Narcis leaned back, eyes scanning the room. “First day nearly done. How’s it feel?”

“Tired, but that’s good,” Rian said with a shrug. “I’m just ready to start some proper training once they’ve checked all the boxes for us. You?”

“Same,” Narcis replied, “but curious, mostly. I’ve found most athletics come naturally to me. A gift, I suppose. But, I want to test myself, see how far that natural aptitude can take me when paired with structured discipline.”

Rian nodded his approval, “Aye, no resting on the laurels. Same here, mate. Uncle Gio was a top contender in the early days of the league. I want to honor that, but I’ll not ride his name. The family says it’s stubborn, but I’ll have nobody saying the only reason I’m here is I’m Pete Zapasta’s nephew.”

“Well said, Rossi,” Narcis smiled softly. “Commendable. Legacy can be quite the double-edged sword…”

Before Narcis could finish, a resounding thud followed by a dramatic sigh came from beside him. A young blonde woman had plopped into the chair next to him. She dropped her paperwork and purse into her lap and looked at Narcis and Rian almost expectantly.

“Miss… um,” Rian struggled to recall.

“Lords, wasn’t it?” Narcis chimed in. “Tiffany Lords, I believe.”

She moaned as she rolled her eyes toward them. “Ugh! I can’t believe this. Can you believe this?”

“Believe what exactly,” Narcis asked, Rian shooting him a piercing look as he did.

“So first, they deny my request for a single room,” Tiffany said indignantly. “But then, they stick me with her for roommate.”

“Who, pray tell?” Narcis again asked, smirking with some satisfaction at Rian’s annoyance.

“Her!” Tiffany jerked her thumb toward the examination room Roxanne had entered. “They stuck Rox-anne. She’s been trying to cozy up to me ever since they told us, too. I mean, she hums off-key, she never stops moving, and she walks with this silly wiggle like she’s always on stage.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll…” Rian said, trying to end the conversation.

“Oooooh, and then,” Tiffany ignored him. “Then, when I told her I boxed in high school, she said it was ‘cute.’ I was the boxing and cheer captain at Pacific. I’ve been knockin’ chicks out since I was 14 and now I’ve got to deal with this step-class spice girl that thinks she can box.”

Narcis, sensing his new friend’s dwindling patience, tried to interrupt, “Well, Miss Lords, might I recommend…”

“I can already feel the vibe, y’know?” Tiffany continued obviously. “Like, she probably thinks dance choreography is footwork. As if. I swear, the first time she interrupts my beauty sleep with her dancing or whatever… POW! Groovy Knuckle, on the spot, no questions asked.”

Tiffany slouched in her chair, crossed her arms in a huff, and thrust her lower lip out in a pout. 

Narcis and Rian shared a look of half-amusement, half not-quite sympathy. Rian shrugged and started to reply when the infirmary door banged open.

All eyes darted toward the door as in walked the tall, lean frame of The Sandman. He was wearing simple training sweats, but his swagger was that of a king waiting for his crown.

“Yo! Where’s Doc Wakada?” The Sandman boomed as he looked around the crowded room dismissively. “Gotta pre-fight to knock out ‘fore I do the same to Donnie Flamenco this weekend.”

A young nurse at the reception desk, Kara according to her name tag, looked up at The Sandman, her voice soft and a little meek. “Um, Mister Sands, your appointment is tomorrow morn…”

The Sandman’s gaze fell like a guillotine on the shy nurse, “Do I look like I need an appointment? Let me holla at the Doc an’ get this over with.”

As the reception nurse and The Sandman continued, Rian and Narcis exchanged glances.

“Quite the piece of work,” Narcis whispered with a cocked eyebrow. “Wouldn’t you say?”

“I’d say ‘rude piece of shite’,” Rian responded, “but, aye, we’re on the same page.”

Narcis smirked, “Very well, then. Would you like the honors or shall I?”

Tiffany leaned over, having heard the exchange, “Wait a minute. Are you two serious? You know that’s Andre Sands, right? Son of Mister Sandman. Number two in the Major Circuit. Undefeated in the WVBA.”

“That doesn’t excuse such crass behavior,” Narcis replied with a glance to Rian.

“Aye,” Rian agreed. “I’ll take this one. Would be a shame to wrinkle your suit.”

“Much obliged, mate.” Narcis said, settling back in his seat as Rian stood and removed his denim jacket.

Tiffany’s eyes darted between Rian, Narcis, and The Sandman in disbelief. “Like, is he really… are you really gonna… what the f…”

“Language, Miss Lords,” Narcis chided with a smirk. “Truthfully, I doubt it will come to blows. But if it does, smart money always bets Irish.”

Rian approached the reception desk amidst murmurs and whispers while The Sandman continued his demands with increasing frustration.

“Look, sweetheart,” The Sandman smiled, resting his hands on the desk and leaning forward to tower over the young woman, “I’m The Sandman. I don’t need no appointments. When I show up and ask to see somebody, then that’s when I gots an appointment.”

He stood up straight and gestured widely to the room, “Now you bump all these future tomato cans to the back of the line and let the doc know I’m here before I lose patience and start makin’ you some.”

Kara shrank back in her chair, stammering. “I-I-I’m s-sorry, b-but I-I-I…”

The Sandman’s hand slammed into the desk, hard. “I don’t care if you…”

“Ahem.” 

The quiet sound of a throat clearing made The Sandman stop, piquing his interest.

“Fair play, big man,” Rian said with an almost friendly tone. “You’re a contender. You got a big fight this week. You’re busy. So’s the lady. How’s about you be a gent an’ let the lady do her job, yeah?”

The Sandman spun on his heels, now face-to-face with the scruffy Italian-Irishman. Rian was just a hair shorter, but he made up for it in mass, maybe a good ten pounds. That didn’t stop The Sandman from looking down on Rian, trying to overshadow and intimidate.

Rian, for his part, stood firm. There was no hint of fear or retreat in those green eyes. There was only a steadiness of a man that had seen his fair share of bar fights across at least two countries and was looking to add a third.

“He’s gonna die,” Tiffany’s manicured hand went to her mouth. “Cause of death, terminal stupidity.”

Narcis, on the other hand, looked completely unconcerned. “Your concern is sweet, but misplaced, Miss Lords. I suspect our new acquaintance is quite capable. And besides, in the realm of donnybrooks, one learns to always bet on green.”

“You lost, little man?” The Sandman asked while giving Rian a mocking appraisal. “Grown-folk are handlin’ business here.”

He glared down at Rian, though the latter was unimpressed. Neither Andre Sands’s bravado nor the two inch height difference bothered Rian at all.

“Maybe.” Rian replied, standing his ground. “But last I checked, grown-folk still waited their turn. Cuttin’ the queue sends a bad message, makes the rest of us look small. Can’t be havin’ that.”

The chuckle that came from The Sandman was a low, threatening sound. “You got guts, Braveheart. Tell you what, why don’t I sign you an autograph and you take a seat?”

“Uh huh,” Rian said, shaking his head. “First off, I’m half Irish. Braveheart is Scottish, but I’ll let that slide. Meantime, how’s about you sit your arse down an’ wait your turn like everybody else?”

A nervous buzz went through the room. Tiffany looked beside herself at Narcis who, for his part, was studying Andre “The Sandman” Sands and his every move.

“You got any idea who I am?” The Sandman’s gaze narrowed as he took a step back, giving himself room.

Rian’s smile turned mischievous. “Any idea if I care?”

The Sandman’s eyes went wide with anger, “Boy, you should. I’m main-event money, a nightmare none of you bunch of punkass rookies wanna meet in the ring!”

His voice rose as many in the room shrank back in their chairs. Many, but not all. Not Rian Rossi.

“If I wanna jump the line,” The Sandman continued, “then I jump. Now, get outta my face and let me get back to my business. Last warning.”

“Or what?” Rian folded his arms. “You’ll swing on me two days before a title eliminator? I’m sure that’ll go over well. Aye, I can see the headlines now: Contender belts rookie in doctor’s office; Forfeits bout due to suspension.”

The Sandman was practically vibrating with anger, but Rian pressed on.

“Still, if you wanna go,” Rian began rolling up his sleeves. The rest didn’t need to be said.

“Let’s see you back up all that shit you talkin’.” The Sandman’s fists flexed as he moved toward Rian. But then, he suddenly stopped.

Narcis stood, the message clear. The Sandman saw him out of the corner of his eye as the young Brit slid off his suit jacket with effortless grace.

“I beg your pardon,” he said, his posh accent now cold and calm. “Should you feel compelled to lash out at my flatmate, I would at least suggest Marquis of Queensbury rules and a proper ring. Hallway scuffles are dreadfully passé.”  

The Sandman’s gaze shot from Rian, to Narcis, and back again. But before things could further escalate, a woman’s voice cut through with authority.

“Basta!”

Nurse Bona came out of the examination room, clipboard in hand. Her eyes blazed with the fury of a woman that had seen enough foolishness for one day.

“Signor Sands,” she said to The Sandman, her tone brooking no argument, “you will sit down. Now. You will received your physical when your name is called and not a moment before.”

“Woman,” The Sandman started, “do you…”

“I did not stutter, Signor Sands.” Cura’s stare was unflinching. “The doctor will not be rushed and my nurses will not be harassed. Sit or leave. I don’t care which.”

Tension hung in the air for a moment. Then, The Sandman walked past Rian to an empty chair. As he passed the Irish-Italian, he whispered low, “Your punk ass is mine.”

Rian simply smiled. Nurse Bona shot him a quick nod and went back to work while Rian moved back to his own seat.

“You’re nuts,” Tiffany scolded, “you know that right? You know what he coulda done to you?”

“Sure,” Rian chuckled as he picked up his denim jacket and put it back on. “Luckily, I tend to pick fight near hospitals. Makes the clean-up a sight easier.”

Tiffany shook her head in disbelief, then turned her attention to Narcis, “And you. What was that little speech all about? You think rules matter outside the ring?”

The faintest of smiles played on Narcis’s face, “Not at all, but that wasn’t the point. The brute needed to understand that anything untoward, should they come to blows, would be dealt with.”

“Meaning?” Tiffany asked.

“Meaning,” Rian spoke up, “Saville Row over here had my back.”

“Quite.” Narcis responded.

A nurse called the next patient, “Aaron Rian Rossi?”

“That’s me.” Rian called out as he stood. Then with a quick nod to his acquaintances, “If you’ll pardon me.”

Narcis nodded as Rian made his way to the examination room. Meanwhile, Tiffany finally relaxed and leaned back in her chair.

“Okay, you two might be pretty cool,” she said, shaking her head. “But, you’re definitely both crazy.”

“Nice of you to say so, my dear,” Narcis replied with a smirk. “Though, bear in mind, one that chooses to be punched soundly about the face and torso as a profession can be called entirely sane, now can they?”

Cura Bona is an OC belonging to @m4y4fun and is used with permission.

[anotherwvba]

Artfight 2025 has begun! Go Team Crystals!!!

[anotherwvba]

Finding Your Place, pt. 6

Trays clicked and clacked like machine gun fire. Laughter and shouts echoed. The occasional plate breaking on the floor like a grenade scattering shrapnel. To say the WVBA Cafeteria during the peak lunchtime rush was akin to a battlefield would not be an understatement.

This Thursday was no exception. It was just a little past noon and there was scarcely an empty seat to be found. Support staff were in scattered pockets, either catching up or conducting business at working lunches. Boxers and coaches alike were scarfing down meals to keep their energy up for their afternoon workouts.

Amidst all of this chaos was Razor Sharp. Still dressed in her workout gear, an orange sports bra and green shorts, she surveyed the room, looking for an empty seat. Any empty seat.

As she weaved her way through the tables and patrons, she picked up bits and pieces of the scenes unfolding around her.

Von Kaiser was sitting at a corner table, soup on the table, looking over a bunch of paperwork with Niki Binary and Luna Doll. Razor made a quick mental note.

Studying with Von Kaiser, huh? This could be more fun than I thought.

Glass Joe and King Hippo were engaged in some conversation that had them both quite excited. Joe was quite animated as Hippo was in the process of demolishing a literal mountain of grilled chicken.

Skye Ivy and Star Mika seemed to be watching some cartoon on a tablet as they ate their lunches. Mika was pointing out something on screen as Skye nodded studiously.

The loudest table saw Aran Ryan holding court with a crew of rookies. While most of the newbies were joining in with Aran as he laughed a little too loud at his own jokes, two men, a young blonde that clearly had money and a blue-collar looking guy with reddish-brown hair were carrying on their own conversation, occasionally side-eyeing Aran and shaking their heads.

Jazzy Jamboree, the WVBA’s lead announcer, was sitting with Mr. Sandman. They both had laptops on the table, Razor catching a glimpse of voice over copy on her dad’s screen. He caught a glimpse of his baby girl, smiled, and shot her a quick wink.

Her legendary father would be ringside for her WVBA debut a week from Saturday, calling the action. It was a fact, and a pressure, that wasn’t lost on her.

After wading through tables and chairs, seemingly all of them full to capacity, Razor spotted an empty seat. Sitting alone at a table near the center of the cafeteria, decked out in a Kamen Rider Ryuki t-shirt and simple black leggings was Cutie Hondo. 

She was studying a tablet on a stand in front of her on the table, scribbling notes with one hand and picking through her bento box with the other. Razor could see on the tablet King Hippo’s latest match. It had been an exhibition against the RBC’s Tank Thrasher. Thrasher, a former crocodile wrestler, gave it his all, easily faster than the sluggish Minor Circuit Champ, but he’d underestimated Hippo. It was a mistake that led to Thrasher on the canvas before long.

Cutie paused the video, her eyes narrowing. “He likes to load up a hook when he ducks. Leaves him open on one side. I bet nii-san can bait that and then…” Quickly, she started scribbling notes in Japanese on her pad.

“Yo, you mind if I sit here?” Razor’s voice was confident, but kind, as she drew Cutie’s attention. “Ain’t a single empty seat in here don’t smell like barbeque sauce and bruised egos.”

A quick laugh nearly made Cutie do a spit take. She smiled and gestured to the chair across from her. “You’re Razor Sharp? Right? Please, sit! It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Appreciate that, but do me a favor?” Razor slid her tray down and pull out the chair, “Unless we set the throw hands soon, it’s Sahara.”

“Hai, Sahara it is.” Cutie giggled and took a sip of her tea. “Niki’s the same way. If she’s got her lanyard on, it’s Nicole. And she’s serious about it, too. She threatened to throw a cinnamon bun at me the last time I called her ‘Binary’ outside of the ring or the gym.”

Razor, or Sahara, stabbing her fork into her grilled chicken and chuckled. “Aight, seriously girl, how does anybody keep names straight ‘round here? Most of us got names that makes us sound like a toy commercial.”

“Right?” Cutie smiled in agreement, “I mean, I get merchandising and stuff, Cutie Hondo is a more marketable name than Kyoko Kobayashi, but man. It took me a month to remember everyone’s real name and ring name.”

Sahara took a few bites as Cutie continued on with her studies before Sahara’s curiosity got the better of her. “I saw you’re watchin’ King Hippo fights. Don’t really see whatcha gon’ learn from him that’s gonna help you. You two ain’t exactly the same style, ya’ know?”

“Oh, no. This isn’t for me,” Cutie rubbed her eyes for a moment. “I’m scouting to help my brother Koji. He’s got a title shot next week and I wanted to help. So, Coach ‘Cane asked me to look for holes in Hippo’s game.”

“Koji is Piston, right?” Sahara leaned forward, eyes focusing on the fight playing out on Cutie’s tablet.

Cutie nodded as she paused the video and scribbled another note, “Yep. Coach ‘Cane passed the name down to him. Nii-san puts a lot on himself, carrying Piston Hurricane’s name into the ring. But, he knows what it means and tries to live up to it.”

Sahara was silent for a moment as Cutie continued writing. “Hippo always looks so slow, but he’s not. He tries to catch you with a real sudden shot, short and strong, to stun you. Then, he can just lay in with power punches. Nii-san’s got to be careful. If he gets carried away…”

“He’ll get carried out,” Sahara nodded, finishing the thought, then her voice softened. “Really cool of you. Doing recon for your bro.”

Cutie looked down with a bashful smile. “He’s my brother… and I like helping. I can’t be in his corner during his fights anymore, being on the roster myself and all, but I still want to be there for him, you know?”

“I…” Sahara leaned back, fiddling with her fork. Her eyes searched the room absently, focused on nothing in particular. “I wish I did.”

An awkward moment passed, Sahara taking a deep, steadying breath as Cutie tried to read her expression.

Sahara exhaled and looked at Cutie with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Must be nice. Having your brother’s back. Knowing he’s got yours.”

Cutie blinked in confusion, Sahara’s change in tone obvious. “Sahara? Is there…”

“Don’t sweat it,” Sahara half-laughed. It was a humorless, sad sound. “Just some family drama. Nevermind it.”

“Sahara, um,” Cutie set down her pen, meeting Sahara’s eyes with a warm look. “If you need to talk, I’ve got some experience with brother problems?”

That caught Sahara off guard, “What the hell makes you think…”

A calm, friendly smile formed on Cutie’s face as she shrugged. “Lucky guess? Look. We’re the only two little sisters in the league. No judgement, but I know that vibe.”

Exhaling a deep breath, Sahara nodded slowly. “Aight, that checks out. But, girl, I don’t know you like that. This ain’t the kinda talk you have with a chick you just met.”

“Fair enough,” Cutie chuckled. “But, we’ve both got big brothers in the WVBA. Maybe we could form some sort of… I don’t know… support group? Book club? Biker gang?”

Sahara’s eyes narrowed. “How do you go from book club to…”

“I don’t know, but you get the idea,” Cutie waved dismissively.

Their table went quiet for another moment.

Sahara’s muttering broke the silence, “Yeah, I guess I do.”

The silence stretched for a few moments, both girls eating bits of their lunches. Eventually, Sahara glanced up, “You and, uh, Koji ever get into it?” Her tone was casual, the question was a probing one.

Cutie’s genuine laughter startled a few neighboring tables. “Gomen! Gomen!” She quickly apologized and nodded in the direction of those she’d disturbed before looking back to Sahara. “God, yes. All siblings do! We’ve yelled and argued and fought. One time, he hid my Kamen Rider Black CD and I didn’t talk to him for a month! But… but, we always pull it back, talk it out, and that’s that.”

Sahara’s gaze went distant. She looked like a weight had settled on her shoulders as she slumped in her chair ever so slightly.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Cutie’s eyes brightened, a mischievous smirk slowly forming.

“I’m listening,” Sahara leaned forward, interest piqued.

“Alright,” Cutie nodded, “I’ll tell you about the biggest, dumbest fight I ever had with Piston if you tell me what’s going on with you and Sand…”

Sahara’s hand slammed into the table with a resounding bang. Cutie’s tablet fell flat, plates and silverware rattled, and every eye in the cafeteria turned their way.

“That ain’t his name!” Sahara’s body was drawn tighter than a kite string in a hurricane.Her eyes flashed, sharp and raw. And everyone that looked toward them slowly looked away.

Cutie’s eyes went wide at the sudden shift, but Sahara held up an apologetic hand, “Yo, we’re good. That ain’t on you. I just… Andre ain’t earned that name. Sandman is our dad.”

“I understand,” Cutie nodded, her voice quiet, “Andre it is. I’m sorry I…”

“Nothin’ to apologize for,” Sahara straightened her now disheveled tray. “But… that deal… still stand?”

“Of course, it does.” Cutie smiled warmly.

It took a moment. A long moment. “Ya know,” Sahara finally allowed the slightest of smiles, “I might be down with talkin’ to another little sister ‘round here.”

Star Mike is an OC belonging to @cyrah-is-cool101 and is used with permission.

Jazzy Jamboree is an OC belonging to @sukipershipper and is used with permission.

[anotherwvba]

I haven't finished this one yet. I still need to add a background. But, I just had to share this. Here's my latest art of Cutie Hondo!

[anotherwvba]

Finding Your Place, pt. 5

Really? This is my first day solo. What the hell did I do to make Madeline mad at me?

Joy Pesca, the fresh faced new receptionist at the front desk, looked over the sea of humanity… okay, more like twenty-five, maybe thirty people… that occupied the lobby of the WVBA Offices. It was orientation and check-in day for a new group of hopefuls and recruits and Joy was all by her lonesome.

The scents of fresh-brewed coffee and ambition mingled in the air as the young men and women gathered in various places throughout the room. Some nervously checked and rechecked the contents of their duffel bags while others carried on small conversations with their fellows. There were those that looked as nervous as a cat in a room of rocking chairs and those that carried an air of confidence as though they were destined to be champions.

“Lords?” Joy called the next name on her list. “Tiffany Lords?”

A bubbly young blonde, a patriotic one if her attire was any indication, jumped out of a chair, arm raised, “That’s me!”

“If you’ll please come up to the desk Miss Lords? I’ve got some paperwork to go over with you.” Joy tapped away at her keyboard as Tiffany approached with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Tiffany leaned over the desk, waving Joy over as if she were wanting to share a state secret, “Psst. Can I ask a question?”

“Sure.” Joy looked slightly confused. “Why are we whispering?”

Completely ignoring Joy’s question, Tiffany held a hand to the side of her mouth as if to shield it from lip readers that may be watching. “Um, I know I’ve got a lot of registration stuff to do, but I haven’t been in a good fight since I graduated and I was wondering… when do I actually get to, like, punch people in the face?”

“Excuse me?!” Joy’s shocked voice drew plenty of eyes as Tiffany tried to hurriedly quiet her down. But, it didn’t draw everyone’s attention.

Off to one side were two young men. Both were striking, but each in their own way.

A rugged man with a slightly olive complexion, maybe in his early 20s, stood watching bouts on one of the lobby’s many monitors. His auburn hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail and he looked like he was about four days overdue for shave. A faded green polo shirt and black denim jeans, along with a well worn and patch adorned denim jacket, gave him the distinct appearance of a man long accustomed to grit and hard work.

Seated nearby on a small couch was a clean shaven blonde man, late teens by the looks of him, and he was the very picture of refinement. He wore a tailored three-piece suit, navy with faint gold pinstripes, and a crisp white dress shirt, all neatly pressed. This was complemented with a navy necktie done up with the sharpest Windsor knot these offices had ever seen, a cream pocket square, a small but ornate purple lapel pin, and black dress shoes shined to a mirror like finish. Everything about this man screamed luxury and class.

The blond man scanned the room with keen interest until his eyes fell on a particular patch on the rugged man’s denim jacket. A faint smile, perhaps a bit hopeful, played on the blonde’s face.

“Shamrock Rovers?” The auburn haired man turned to the smartly dressed blonde with the posh London accent, “I say, I wasn’t expecting someone to advertise their poor taste in football clubs this far from home.”

There wasn’t an immediate answer, but instead the more rugged man let out a low chuckle as he rubbed his stubble thoughtfully, his voice carrying a faint Irish accent. “Aye. Well, at least we know what a proper team looks like. You lot need half the country’s payroll to put together a team that can’t score.”

The blonde rose from his seat. “Ah, a sharp tongue to match the rough exterior. Excellent.” That quick witted response earned a genuine smile and an extended hand. “Narcis. Narcis Prince”

“Rian Rossi,” the Irishman took the offered hand with a firm, but friendly, grip and a small nod.

“Rian,” Narcis repeated, tilting his head slightly, as if studying the man. “I see a bit of the Mediterranean and hear a bit of Dublin.”

“Whitehall, actually,” Rian stuffed his left hand into his jacket pocket. “Born and raised. My family still has a place near Ballymun. And you?”

Narcis smoothed about his suit coat from where he had been sitting. “Mayfair. A bit posh, I know.”

“Ya do have that air about ya,” Rian smirked.

“Well practiced, I assure you,” Narcis nodded with a hint of self-satisfaction.

“What do you mean roommate?!” All eyes turned toward the loud voice at the front desk, only to see Tiffany turn to the room, flush with embarrassment, “Sorry…”

As the buzz in the lobby resumed, Rian leaned against the wall to resume his conversation. “Gotta say, didn’t expect to see a posh London boy here. How’d that come about?”

“I think it’s in the blood,” Narcis conceded. “According to my mum, my father was a boxer and a might rough around the edges. I suppose that’s why I took a bit more a liking to fisticuffs and society dinners.” With a glance Rian’s way, Narcis noted his relaxed but ready posture, “And you? Must say, you have the look of a man that’s seen a good row before.”

Rian shrugged. “Me uncle taught me. Giovanni Rossi. Used to fight under the name Pete Zapasta back in the day.”

“I’ve heard of him. Tough man,” Narcis nodded.

“He wanted me to learn to take care o’ meself. So did the ‘rents, so they sent me to Napoli for summers with him when I was a wee lad.” Rossi’s voice warmed with happy memories, “Helped me learn about me Italian side, too. But, I decided to make it with me own name. Never been the kind to take a free ride.”

“Ah.” There was a hint of intrigue in Narcis’s tone. “A man of principles. I respect that.”

“Aaron Rian Rossi?” Joy’s voice rang through the lobby as Tiffany walked toward the infirmary for the next part of her check-in.

“That’s me.” Rian extended his hand to Narcis, “I look forward to seein’ ya around. Even if yer a rubbish Chelsea fan.”

Narcis couldn’t hide his mild surprise as he shook Rian’s hand, “Never mentioned a favored Chelsea.”

Rian smirked as he moved to the desk, “Nah, but yer clothes did.”

Narcis took his seat and shook his head in amusement as Rian made his way to the lobby desk. Just before he got there, a boisterous voice, thick with Irish attitude, called out from the direction of the cafeteria.

“Oi! Who the hell’s shoutin’ me name this e’rly in the feckin’ morn?” Aran Ryan, dressed in a tank top proudly proclaiming himself ‘Yer Mum’s Fav Irish Psycho’, walked briskly toward the desk, wiping the sleep from his eyes, “Joy! What is it? Ohh! Fresh meat day! Wantin’ me ta give some wise words ta the newest crop o’ victims?”

Rian stood at the desk in front of Joy, seemingly the only person that fully expected this. “And this,” he gestured to Aran, “is why I prefer Rian.”

“I said Aaron Rian Rossi,” Joy looked at Aaron with obvious frustration. “And they don’t need any words from you. Wise or otherwise.”

Though it took a second, Aran finally realized the confusion. He slapped Rian hard on the shoulder and smiled mischievously, “Oh laddie, yer feckin’ luck havin’ the same name as me. This could be fun!”

Rian and Joy stared at Aran as he headed back toward the cafeteria, cackling as he did. After a long moment of silence, Joy turned back to Rian. “My condolences.”

“Thank you, miss.”

[anotherwvba]

Two characters have passed their first testing phase for my dice game!

[anotherwvba]

[anotherwvba]

So... I might be working on a thing...

[anotherwvba]

Ah yes, the most hated woman in my Punch-Out fic! Awesome stuff and I'm working hard on my half.

Art trade with @anotherwvba. Here’s Reina!

[anotherwvba]

Got a couple more pieces done, one gift and one trade!

The fight scene is Ember Blaze dropping Harley Ironhorse with her signature punch The Burnout. I was looking for OC help and shared my basic idea with @urlocaldemonthatlikeslemons. She came up with the look for Ember and I came up with Harley. While I wrote Ember's back story, it was such a collaborative effort that I consider her more @urlocaldemonthatlikeslemons's than mine :) And I'll post more about both of them later.

The second is from an art trade with @luc1ano03. This is my take on their OC Riot Roxy. They did a really awesome piece for me i return. I'll see about sharing it later.

[anotherwvba]

hi all...I'm in need of a little help. as the sheet says, I've had 300 usd stolen by people who used my wide-eyed naiveté and ignorance to hurt me. never, ever use cheapflightsfares.com or nextcar. always book your flights directly through the airline. even if all you can do is reblog, i really appreciate it.

[anotherwvba]

'Tis the Season! I drew a few gifts for those that have inspired and encouraged me on my artistic journey. So, here are my versions of some OCs from a few PO friends:

- Charming Charlotte for @lukasdoodles

- Determined Delilah for @maks-punchout-hyperfixtion

- Butch Diamond for @ohshy

- Sheriff Dusty for @sukipershipper

I hope everyone likes them. Now, back to my drawing board :)

[anotherwvba]

Really cool! I've been playing with the idea of this OC for a while and this is SO close to what I had been thinking! Awesome work, @urlocaldemonthatlikeslemons!

HEYYY,

I’m so sorry I’ve been absent for a while. School keeps me way too busy, so I’m glad I finally have time to post

And please go show: AnotherWVBA some credit for allowing me to draw this awesome piece

[anotherwvba]

Looks like the results are in! Time for me to work on figuring Tiffany Lords into my fic :)

I've been thinking of adding boxers from other game franchises to my fic as recurring characters as the Women's Circuit in the WVBA grows. As part of my planning, I've drawn what they would look like in my fic. From left to right, we've got...

King from "The King of Fighters"

Tiffany Lords from "Rival Schools"

Lulu Valentine from "Ready 2 Rumble"

My problem is, I don't know who to introduce first. So... I'm leaving it to you fine folks :)

[anotherwvba]

Finding Your Place, pt. 4

Early Wednesday evening in the WVBA Academy Gym was a time for classes and training. Most of the WVBA roster preferred the morning or afternoon if they trained on campus, but the majority of hopefuls worked first shift jobs in Atlanta and then trained in the evening. Of course, that didn’t mean the gym wasn’t devoid of WVBA fighters.

“Oi, Frenchie!” Aran Ryan shouted from one end of the row of treadmills to the other where Glass Joe was moving at a leisurely pace. “Ya plan to break a sweat or not? Ya movin’ slower than my sainted nan, an’ she’s been dead for 7 years! Hahahaha!”

Joe just shook his head, “You silly brute. Have you never heard of a warm-up?” Aran’s trash talk continued as Joe continued his calm jog, now putting a pair of wireless earbuds in to drown out the rude Irishman.

Elsewhere, the Hondo siblings were sparring in one of the rings under the watchful eye of their coach Piston Hurricane. Cutie was uncharacteristically slow in her movements, but a careful eye could see that she was mimicking King Hippo’s rather ironclad defense, one that her brother was having trouble penetrating.

“Patience, mi hijo,” Hurricane’s voice was firm and calm. “Pop the jab into her guard, but eyes open, claro? Hippo’s guard is strong, not impenetrable.”

“Hai, Hurricane-sensei.” Piston Hondo’s upper body movement was solid as he studied Cutie’s defenses. A sharp jab found a gap and Cutie’s cheek, snapping her head back.

Cutie smiled as she tightened her guard and started with some subtle head movements, “Way to go, onii-san! Keep it up… not that I’m going to make it easy.”

On the mats in a corner of the gym, near the doors, was a circle of local senior citizens, all gloved up with faces flush and smiles wide. Disco Kid, himself drenched in sweat, clapped his gloves together. “Alright, Senior Sluggers, good job! Let’s stretch it out and cool it down. Don’t want those muscles getting tight.”

The seniors followed along, laughter and chit chat bubbling amongst them as they stretched. Disco loved this. Watching others sharing in joy and fun, it fueled him. Especially through rough times. He’d lost a heartbreaker of a match against Piston Hondo last Saturday for a shot at the Minor Circuit Title. Now, he’d have to watch and hope he’d be able to fight the loser of that match sooner rather than later. But, Disco was able to lose himself in his Senior Sluggers class. He loved these guys and gals.

“Now, remember our motto and say it with me,” Disco held his gloved fists up in the air like he’d just won a hard fought bout and the seniors followed along. Then, together in one voice…

“Age is just a number when you’re livin’ in the groove!”

Yeah, I love this. Disco said bye to his various students as the class dispersed, filled with renewed energy. They got arthritis, sciatica, you name it, and none of that stops them from turning out every week. Man, I got no excuses. Just gotta…

“DAMN! STUPID! ANALOG! PIECE OF…”

The sudden shouts turned every head in the gym toward the speed bag stations. There, Allison Treape, Allie to her friends, was struggling with one of the bags. She stopped the bag with her hands and held it, her dropping to a whisper, “Do you not know who I am? My fiance is the World Champion. I’ve built machines that can rip off a man’s arm. If you think I’m going to let a silly shaped bag of air get the better of me, so help me…”

“How’s it hanging, Allie?” Disco’s voice startled Allie. She was so focused on her new nemesis that she didn’t notice Disco’s approach. His tone was light and there was an easy smile on his face, “Looks like the ol’ speed bag ain’t dancin’ to your beat today.”

In frustration, Allie slammed her wrapped fist into the bag, “You could say that.”

“I gotcha, girl,” Disco stepped to the side and folded his arms. “Show me whatcha’ doin’.”

“Okay.” Allie took a deep breath, stepped back, wiped her brow with the back of her hand, then went to work on the bag. She was hitting it hard, keeping a steady rhythm early. Then, the bag would wobble and, finally, spin erratically, completely ruining Allie’s flow and making her stop. With a low growl of frustration, she looked at Disco and motioned to the bag, “See?! This thing’s got it in for me.”

As the bag swayed, seemingly just to mock Allie, Disco chuckled a little, “Speed bags are tricky as all hell. It’s all about the sweet spot. The bag’s and yours. Watch. I’ll show you.”

Disco had pulled his gloves off and steadied the bag. Allie watched attentively as he started tapping the bag with steady, easy rhythm and energy. “Find the beat and keep the punches light. It’s a dance, not a fight. You want your fists kissing the bag, not trying to flatten it.”

“Equal and opposite reaction,” Allie nodded. “Why didn’t I realize that? Hit it too hard, it moves too fast. The less control I have, the less control it has.”

“Exactly, nerd,” Disco laughed lightly and Allie punched his arm with a grin. “Aight, little sis, what’s wrong?” Disco stopped the bag and Allie tossed him a towel. “You ain’t usually like this.”

Allie took a deep breath and leaned against the cool cinder block wall of the gym. “Mac and Doc left for England this morning and I’m just… I didn’t think I’d miss Mac like this so fast.”

“England?” Disco looked puzzled for a minute. “Why’d Mac and Doc go to England? And why couldn’t you go?”

“According to Mac, they are on a scouting trip with Gabby Jay.” Allie pushed herself off the wall and moved over to the speed bag, taking hold of it in her hands, “Don’t know why, but they said it was WVBA business and they wouldn’t have much down time.”

Slowly, Allie started tapping the bag as Disco watched, “That’s it, girl. Light and easy. Now, you know my boy ain’t stupid enough to mess around.”

“Oh God, no!” Allie laughed, nearly messing up her rhythm with the bag. She recovered quickly and started moving around the bag as her fists flew, “Paulie MacKenzie is a lot of things, but a ladies man isn’t one of them. No, I just… Since we got engaged, we’ve been inseparable, you know? I’ve traveled with him for every training camp, every fight. This is the longest we’ll be apart since he proposed.”

The bag now moved with ease and a steady beat. Allie duplicated Disco’s rapid flourish from the end of his little demonstration and slammed her right into the bag, a satisfied look on her face. “That’s my girl!” Disco smiled, hugging Allie’s shoulder tightly. “And I get it. But, you know Mac wouldn’t have gone without you if there was another choice.”

“I know,” Allie smiled and returned Disco’s hug. “Thanks, Luke.”

“I got you, sis,” Disco smiled.

Suddenly, the doors to the gym burst open. All eyes darted to see two large men from Facilities wheel in a massive wooden crate on a dolly. Letters stenciled on the side of the crate read “R.E.S.E. Mk. IV”.

“Looks like they got some new equipment for the gym.” Disco watched as the men struggled but, eventually, moved the crate to the floor. Movement caught Disco’s attention out of the corner of his eye. Allie was practically vibrating with giddy energy as the facilities crew went to work with a crowbar.

“I… I don’t believe it…” Allie’s voice was barely a whisper. “That can’t be…”

“Whatta we gawkin’ at?” Disco jumped at Aran’s voice suddenly to his other side. “Think they finally sprung for that stupid BowFlex machine ol’ Frenchie’s been whinin’ ‘bout.” 

Joe had joined them to Allie’s other side, “Pardon, brute. I’ve never asked the WVBA to furnish any equipment for my personal use. Much less a Bow Flex.”

“Do you see that marking?” Allie ignored the others, pointing out a logo on the crate to Disco. “That crate’s from Robox.”

“Roblox?” Aran raised an eyebrow.

“RoBOX,” Allie corrected. “Robotic Boxing Incorporated. They make cutting edge training equipment and gear for combat sports. Boxing, MMA, Muay Thai, you name it.”

“Mademoiselle Treape,” Joe looked puzzled. “What is R.E.S.E.?”

Aran nudged Disco, “I got 20 says it’s a huge peanut butter cup.”

Allie looked to Joe like Aran wasn’t even there, “It’s pronounced reese…”

“Told ya’,” Aran whispered to Disco.

“... and it means Robox Electronic Sparring Equipment,” Allie continued. “The R.E.S.E. line are sparring machines, meant to allow fighters to go all out in sparring without the risk of hurting a human sparring partner. But, the last I heard, the Mark IV was still in lab tests.”

Disco, struggling to ignore Aran, leaned toward Allie as the facilities crew started prying loose the last few nails from the crate. “So, this is like, what? A boxing robot we run drills with?”

Allie’s eyes were locked on the crate, “Not at all! If the Mark IV can do everything I’ve heard, it should be completely autonomous and have adaptive AI. Can you believe it?! It can mimic any boxing style and adjust to its sparring partner’s needs in real time! It learns your every movement, your every punch. It’s unreal! Imagine the training you could get in.”

“Bloody hell!” Aran shook his head, “They’ve brought in the bloody Terminator and gave it boxing gloves have they?”

Even Disco was starting to look apprehensive, “I hate to say, girl, but I’m with the psycho on this one. I mean, I’ve seen those movies. Skynet. Hal. Megan. Venjix. That thing comes saying ‘would you like to play a game’ and I’m hitting it with a barbell.”

A loud creaking sound came from the crate and front of the large box fell away. Inside was an odd, blocky looking robot, just shy of six feet tall and vaguely humanoid. On its “chest” was a large padded area that looked like the same canvas used on many heavy bags. Most amusingly was its “head”. It looked all the world like a speed bag with lights for eyes and a mouth.

Boisterous laughter broke Allie from her awe and startled all but its source. “Oi! It looks like shite!” Aran doubled over in laughter. “Okay, okay, that’s the Terminator if it was a Simon Pegg movie. Bloody hell, high tech, my arse!”

Aran’s laughter continued as he went toward the locker room. Meanwhile, Allie rushed over to the Facilities crew. “It’s beautiful. Really clean work. Do you know if the programming is loaded? Has it already been field-tested? What’s its power source? Is it already charged…”

“Whoa, missy,” one of the Facilities men stepped forward. “You’re Allison, Mac’s girl, right?”

Allie smiled, “I like to think he’s ‘Allie’s guy’, but yes.”

They shared a laugh as Joe and Disco cautiously looked over the machine in the crate. “Well, miss,” the man continued, “we’re just the delivery men. Truthfully, you probably know more about this sort of thing than us. Wanna give it a go?”

The man offered a sleek black control pad to Allie. The pad’s design was a stark contrast to R.E.S.E. itself… and it was powered on. The readout showed “RESE-4 Standby Mode”.

Allie took the pad and looked to Disco and Joe with a mischievous grin, “Guys, come on. We’ve gotta try this out, right? Let’s put RESE-4 through its paces and see what it can do. C’mon, guys. Please?”

Disco and Joe looked at one another for a moment. “Disco, mon ami?”

“Yeah, Joe.” Disco’s voice was uncertain.

“I do believe we are to play a game, non?”

With an excited squeal, Allie powered on RESE-4 guided him toward the ring.

[anotherwvba]

I've been thinking of adding boxers from other game franchises to my fic as recurring characters as the Women's Circuit in the WVBA grows. As part of my planning, I've drawn what they would look like in my fic. From left to right, we've got...

King from "The King of Fighters"

Tiffany Lords from "Rival Schools"

Lulu Valentine from "Ready 2 Rumble"

My problem is, I don't know who to introduce first. So... I'm leaving it to you fine folks :)

[anotherwvba]

Finding Your Place, pt. 3

The afternoon sun shone bright over the WVBA Campus, casting long shadows across the gravel paths on the Zen Garden. A peaceful tranquility was only disturbed by the occasional rustling of leaves and the delicate sounds of Japanese instrumentals drifting from an iPhone. Amidst the calm, serene atmosphere sat Niki Binary, reclining on a bench, reading a well-worn paperback of “Ready Player One” to relax now that her shift in I.T. was over.

For Niki, this was bliss. A little retreat from the endless buzz of offices, the hum of servers, and rhythmic thuds and clanks of the gym. A contented sigh escaped her lips as she adjusted her WVBA polo shirt and rested her book on her lap. She leaned back, closed her eyes, and enjoyed the moment of peace.

“Niiikkkkiii!”

So much for peace and quiet. From the entrance to the garden, obscured by the trees and decorations, came the loud, stage-whisper. It was a valiant, yet failed, attempt at subtlety. Truthfully, it had all the subtlety of a straight right hand.

“Yo, Niiikkkkkkiiiii!”

Niki recognized the voice, though, and responded at a normal volume, “Over here, Luna.”

As Luna stepped into view, a magenta hoodie now added to her workout attire from this morning, Niki smiled, “Luna, why are you whispering like that?”

“I didn’t wanna, y’know,” Luna looked a little sheepish, rubbing the back of her neck, “disturb anyone. Zen gardens are for meditating and stuff, right? Just thought I should keep it down.”

Niki chuckled slightly, “You’re good. You don’t need to whisper. They’ve got a sign to hang on the door for when people are meditating. Sort of a ‘Do Not Disturb’ thing.”

“Oh. Makes sense,” Luna’s cheeks flushed a little with a rare bit of embarrassment. “Been here a few weeks and I still don’t know my way around. This place is massive.”

“That’s too true,” Niki nodded. “Back when I started in I.T., I would get lost at least three times a week. Had to keep Bear on speed dial. But hey, if I can figure it out, you can, too.”

Luna grinned as the awkwardness passed, “Guess I just gotta find my groove, huh?” There was still a nervous energy about Luna as she looked around the garden, “I, uh… I didn’t interrupt anything, did I? Like, you reading up on some new techy wizardry?”

Niki laughed softly as she held up her book, “This? Nope, just re-reading a favorite of mine. So, what’s up? Don’t tell me your connection bottomed out again.”

“Hell naw,” Luna waved her hands, then grimaced at her sudden loudness. “The wi-fi’s off the chain! Seriously, no dropped frames, no lag. I’ve never had smoother streams. You’re, like, the heavyweight champ of I.T. techs!”

“Heavyweight?!” Niki chuckles, “If I’m looking like a heavyweight, I gotta stop eating lunch with Jason.”

Luna’s typical bravado came back for a moment as she cocked a hip, “Girl! You know what I mean.”

Niki sat up with a smile and makes room on the bench, “Sit down. What brings you here?”

Sitting down next to Niki, Luna’s confidence dissolved. Her carefully curated persona vanished. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. It took a minute, but Luna finally spoke up, “Look… this’ll sound… this is gonna sound weird, but…”

“Look, I know we don’t know each other that well,” Niki looked at Luna with reassurance, “but you can talk to me. It’s alright.”

Luna looked down, poking the rocks with her foot as she stuffs her hands in her hoodie pockets. She took a deep breath, held it, and exhaled. “This feels kinda stupid to say, but…”

Biting her lip, Luna’s eyes started darting around, as if looking for the words. Niki rested a hand on her shoulder, “Luna…”

“... Razor’s gonna whoop my ass,” Luna said with an oddly amused expression.

Niki’s eyes went wide for a second, “That’s an odd way to psych yourself up for a fight.”

They both laughed a little, but Luna looked up at the skylights, avoiding eye contact, “Look, I talk mad shit, especially when I’ve got an audience. This, though… this hits different.” She bit her lip for a moment as she paused. “She’s bigger, stronger, faster… way more experienced. Boxing is, like, her superpower. I mean, Mr. Sandman is her dad. Her dad! I’m a Twitch streamer that boxed on some charity shows. If I’m honest, I hope I don’t embarrass myself.”

“You feel like an imposter,” Niki says softly. “I know that vibe. I felt the same way when I fought Cutie.”

“Really?” Luna couldn’t keep the surprise from her voice. “But you went out there and showed out, girl!

Niki chuckled again, “Showed out and got knocked out!” There was a sense of pride and amusement in her voice, “But, I had the say thoughts screaming in my head. ‘She’s a legacy fighter,’ ‘She’s a prodigy in the ring,’ ‘She’s been training forever and I’m a geeky girl from Atlanta that took a boxing crash course.’”

“How… how’d you get over it?” Luna’s eyes were pleading for an answer.

“I didn’t,” Niki leaned back, smiling. “But, I remembered something Coach Kaiser told me.” Continuing with a faux German accent, “‘Zis girl is good. Talented. But remember zis, hard work beats talent when talent doesn’t work hard.’”

Luna finally looks at Niki, eye-to-eye, “Yeah, but… is that enough? Razor’s on another level. She’s, like, scary good and I’m just a gamer that loves retro stuff.”

“You’re not ‘just’ anything.” Niki sounded like a big sister scolding her sibling for a moment. “I’ve read up on you, girl. You’ve busted your butt for everything you’ve got. You work hard, you’ve got heart for days, and, for ‘just a gamer’, you’ve got a helluva shovel hook.”

“Aww yeah,” Luna smiled. “That’s my Ban Hammer. I remember dropping Usagi87 with it at Creator Fight League 2 with that one… She deserved it. Girl stream sniped me on a Fortnite stream I was hosting for two hours straight the week before our match.”

Niki nodded, “See? You’ve got the want, too. The way you smiled as told that story? Yeah, Razor’s got the talent, but you’ve got drive. You don’t strike me as someone that backs off from what she wants just because it’s hard.”

“Yeah,” Luna’s smile grew nervous. “That’s, uh, kinda why I came to see you.”

“My curiosity’s piqued.” Niki tilted her head a little, “What do you mean?”

Luna shifted her position on the bench, turning to fully face Niki, “I… I was kinda hoping, if it’s okay, that maybe… I could maybe… tag along to Germany?”

“What?” Niki’s expression went from curious to stunned blank in an instant.

And now I panic. Words now tumbled uncontrollably from Luna’s mouth like a waterfall. “I’ll pay my own way book my own flights hotels everything I swear I’m not trying to crash your trip or anything and I’ll keep out of the way I just thought I could use the extra training and it’s a huge opportunity and I just wanna learn from the best y’know and…”

The particular shade of red Luna was turning began to concern Niki. With well practiced speed and precision, Niki shot her left hand at Luna like a stabbing jab. In an instant, Niki’s hand was covering Luna’s mouth, “Breath, girl.”

Luna complied, taking deep breaths as Niki held her hand in place. There was a vulnerability to Luna right now, one that was a complete 180 from the brash and confident persona she typically carried online or in the gym. She was rattled.

“You finally realized who you’re fighting,” Niki slowly removed her hand as Luna’s color returned, “didn’t you?”

Between deep breaths, Luna nodded. “Yeah.”

Niki looked around the garden for a minute, then smiled as her eyes landed on a particular spot where an empty painting easel sat. “We’ll talk to Coach.”

“Wait,” Luna’s eyes went wide with shock. “Are… are you serious right now?”

“Coach Kaiser’s got the final call,” Niki’s gaze returned to Luna, “and he’s pretty particular about who he works with. But, I’d love the company. Let’s talk to him at dinner. Bet we can talk him into it.”

There was a moment where Luna just stared at Niki and her knowing grin. It was as if Luna herself was slowing down like a retro game with too many sprites on screen. Then, just as suddenly, Luna threw her arms around Niki with a grateful hug. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou!”

“Breath,” Niki returned the hug, “and you’re welcome.”

“Seriously, Niki,” Luna released Niki and leaned back with a sudden relief washing over her, “you have no idea what this means to me. Now…” Luna jumped to her feet and clapped her hands together. “Time to pack!”

Niki’s eyebrow shot up as she watched Luna’s contagious energy returned to her, “Luna, we still have to talk to Coach. It’s not a lock yet.”

“No worries, Niki!” Luna was already halfway to the garden exit, “We got this! See you at dinner!”

And with that, Niki was left sitting on the bench, shaking her head in amusement. Returning to her reclined position, Niki opened her book back up, then looked in the direction of the exit.

“This is gonna be one interesting trip.”