A rounded reason; {Career Arena Plot}

[Jack Lexington]

My words seem to hit home because she stops her stride away from me and gives me one heck of an evil glance, which makes me smirk. I've yanked her chain, hooray!
Next thing I know she comes back much faster than she walked away. I almost expect her to haul off to punch me but she doesn't. Instead she uses her mouth to sting.

"So, mind telling me what your problem is? Why you're being such a jerk? Damn. I didn't up for the trick session. What was with the cheap shot?"
I let her finish with a mischievous grin on my face, that must be making her mad. Then I give her another moment to wind down a little before I ask. "Are you done?"
Looking into her pretty, angry face I know she's like to bite or kick me right now but I explain myself.
"Well, first of all you asked to be taught some close up combat. This will be waiting for you when you go into the pregames or the arena...actually that's nothing compared to the arena. If this hurts your feelings you might as well give up right away.
Second ...you're a girl. All you girls think you can fight just as well..."
I don't complete my sentence because she knows the rest. I really don't give a damn what she thinks about me. So I shrug and cross my arms over my chest.
"I really don't give a shit if you like me or not. But if you want to toughen up you found the right guy. Mr. Barhns has asked me to do this so I will...if you can get over your 'fair play'."
I give her a nod and a smile that's more genuine than before and exyend my hand. "I'm Matthew."

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[atrb=background,http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y510/LaSaundra_Kiser/postingtable_zps30a9790a.jpg] Back in the game I stare at him with the most horrid of looks. My eyes probably evoking a look pure anger, but he has no clue what I go up against everyday in training. One on one combat isn't my thing, which is why I'm trying to figure out the ropes to it, but this guy in front of me, whose grinning out of pleasure, doesn't seem to get the gist of 'train'. That is what I wanted right? I didn't sign up for just a pregames initiation. I want to learn. I want to be shown how to fight the way the big boys do. Then, when my mouth holds close, waiting on his responce, he does it again. Are you done? Yes. I am done. Done with your tricks. Done with your attitude. Done trying to make myself like you. But I'm not done sparring. I want another go, but I dare not ask for it after my display only moments ago. He probably thinks I'm some spoiled little kid, but as a career, he should know the weight on my shoulders. If only he'd back off a bit. Chill. I fold my arms up into my body and let him explain. The longer I listen to his explaination, I want to speak up because it seems as though he'd defining me as just a gender related situation. That I won't be able to be as good as one of the boys. If I remember correctly, my first weapons spar, I beat the boy who shattered my hand. Pain is no problem for me. It's cheap tricks that pisses me off and that's exactly what that kid did to me. That's exactly what happened just now. Perhaps, that's why this jerk has suddenly gotten on my bad side. I never can get away from his types. "Toughen up. Okay. I can play your little game. Let's see what else you can 'teach' me?" I say, then see as he extends his hand and then gives me a grin. I am not falling for it again, so I return the the grin, with one of equal status but refuse to let my hand touch his. I already know one trick he's good at and the last time I took his hand, he sent a shockwave through my shoulder. "Kyanite. It's almost a pleasure Matthew. Shall we get started again?" I say to him and unfold my arms from in front of my body. Now that I've gotten my first few hits out of the way, whatever comes next won't be that much of a surprise since I know more about him already. I wonder though, what he thinks about not taking his hand. What do I care? I'm not about to be pulled under into his facade again. "I took the initiative last time. Your up first." I say.

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[Jack Lexington]

The way she's looking at me tells me a lot. She's angry, pissed even and if she's joined the program at a young age she's probably dangerous by now. I'm not afraid though, just careful after my last run in with a girl.
"Toughen up. Okay. I can play your little game. Let's see what else you can 'teach' me?" Her words are cold but at least she's not giving up even though I don't like her mocking tone.

This time I didn't plan anything bad when I offered her my hand but seeing that she doesn't take it actually pleases me and makes me chuckle. "You've already learned something, Kyanite." I repeat her name and muse for a moment. "Sounds like dynamite. Are you dynamite? Then show me."
I drop my hand and nod at her.
"Tell you what. If you do well you can choose whatever discipline you'd like to show me up." If she's really as good at long range weapons as she says I"d like to see it.

In agreement I raise my hands to eye level and ball them into fists.
"Block! Left righ left." This time I let her know beforehand what I'm going to do in oder to give her a better fighting chance.
Once her arms are lifted I deliver a few light punches, which she should be able to block.
Two she blocks, one actually gets her in the jaw, so I wait to see whether she's okay.

"Kick left." With my left leg I kick towards her midsection at half speed. By now my heart rate is at about 140 , where it should be while I'm training.

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[atrb=background,http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y510/LaSaundra_Kiser/postingtable_zps30a9790a.jpg] Falling at my feet My tone comes out from somewhere deep within me. When I'm in the zone of fighting or sparring, I tend to get a bit of an attitude. I can't help that it is who I am. If you don't like me as the fighter I can become, then don't spar with me. If you can't handle my mouth, too bad. I am only the person I'm mean to be. I get a little too 'into' the zone in these kinds of situations and for some reason, Matthew has really set me deep within that area. I am focused. Ready to go again. Then he muses with my name. I had never thought about that, but I couldn't agree more with him. "That's cute. Dynamite. You're such a poet." I say, teasing him heartily this time. No anger in my words at his latest comeback. I quite like the idea of Dynamite Kyanite. Dk. I may use that for the pregames as my fight stage name. I see as he drops his hand after I refuse to have that contact with him and he nods at me. I wonder if he thinks that was a good idea? If he got my jist? I place a hand on my hip and bear my weight on my right side for a moment as I listen to him tell me that I will have pick over the next discilpline. I don't see how that will help me. With long ranged weapons, I won't be aiming at him. It'll be at targets, but sure. I'll challenge him, just as soon as I show him my true colors. "Alright. Sounds like a challenge. I accept that... now, let's get back to business." I say. He immediately raises his fists and balls them up. I don't take that lightly, but I don't seem to think that balling them up will help. Instead, I loosely curl my fingers up and take a stance against his. He tells me what he's going to do this time, and I know where to block. I see his hands coming fast. I block the first two punches with ease, but the third one catches me in my jaw, but I only erupt a grin. Pain levels are numbed right now, so that hurt me about as much as a little tap. The next move comes at me without that much speed, so I use both hands to grab at the covered foot, and jerk upwards fast. With that movement, I see him stumble but unsure if he'll fall. He's a pretty big guy compared to me. Even if he don't fall, I know that my next move will either be to stomp him or wait for him to get back up. If this was the real thing, I would stomp him quicker than lightning. "The bigger they are, the harder their suppose to fall," I say to him.

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[Jack Lexington]

MATTHEW DUNHAM

Judging by her words and slightly softer tone I see that she's not as aggrovated anymore. I don't know why she was in the first place because she asked me to spar. What did she expect? A nice pat onm the back? This is a fight? This is war...at least if you go into the arena.

Maybe it's also due to me announcing beforehand what I'll do. I figured being a little more supportive couldn't hurt...at least for a minute or two, so the girlie doesn't run away.

As she grabs my right foot I have a hard time not falling, which results in my hopping like a bunny. Even though she pulls my foot up to her shoulder she can't get me to fall.
So I dish out a piece of advice. "Don't spare me. If you got one foot, you need to kick the second one out and as soon as I'm on the ground it's you chance to beat the crap out of me."

I know that even if she does I'll be able to block most of it, simply roll away or kick her own feet out from underneath her as well.
While I still hop I grab hold of the top of her shirt.
"Your opponent will try take you down with him....what are you going to do about that?"
Anxiously I wait for her next move, but she's too slow for my tasted and to edge her on a little I add a loud and angry. "C'mon!"

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[atrb=background,http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y510/LaSaundra_Kiser/postingtable_zps30a9790a.jpg] The gloves are off I hesitate. That is my downfall. I don't see him as a threat, is that it? Maybe there is something about the way this is only a spar that keeps me from belting out everytihng I've got. I deem myself unworthy to fully give it my all, but as he's coaching me, I realize that last time, when we first started, it felt real. Now, it was coaching lessons like when I was younger and training. I"m sixteen. I"ve been training for years. Why, all of a sudden, am I allowing myself to be given direction like a child. I growl internally to myself. Even as I hold on to his foot, wanting him to fall, I lack the ability to make him feel the pain that he let me feel with the shoulder and my face. I have to do this. For me. For my dad. My mom wouldn't want to see me fail at this of all things, bless her soul. I fight for her. If I am to be matched up against MAtthew in the pregames, I know he isn't going to take it easy on me, so this is my once chance to show him that I'm nothing to mess with. The gloves are off. Don't spare me. He tells me. I ponder his words. He wants to see me get rough. He wants to see me fight with everything I've got. I give a subtle nod. In a blink of an eye, he grabs the top of my shirt. Stretching it out. Using his fingers to pull at the seams of the cloth. That is when it starts to get personal. That's when I know he ain't playing anymore. Then his voice yells out to me. I go full on into career mode now. My first move after his words of 'encouragement', I suddenly jerk his foot in the wrong direction, then my hands fly up to his. They go inbetween his hands, and I grab onto his wrist tightly and twist with all my might. It is in a matter of seconds, that I duck under the hold I have on his wrists, causing his arms to twist into a knot and bend them backwards. I kick hard into his left knee. I know I feel the contact, but I wait to see what kind of reaction I have on him now. What his next move is.

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[Jack Lexington]

Once my hands are on the cotton of her white shirt she stiffens. I can sse something in her posture and expression changing as I yell at her overly loud. She doesn't flinch though.
I can practically see the wheels inside her head spinning. Is she trying to process what I said or planning her move?
A second later I find out that she doesn't do the move I told her. My second foot doesn't get kicked out but she twists the one that is in her hand until my ligaments can't bend any further so I have to give in. Right then she does what I thought she would. Get rid of my knuckles on her garment. With a surprisingly strong grip she holds my wrists and twists them in a whicked way that's actually new to my. I can't slip out in time and find myself with my arms behind my back.
Having her behind me can't be good. I turn away as far as I can and try to yank my hands free but only one slips out of her grip. The other one is used as leverage to deliver a hard kick into my left knee, which gives way with an ugly crack.
Against all odds I fall to the ground because whatever she;s done to my knee caused a serious jolt of pain to explode in every direction. The groan that escapes me should be a great reward for her.
I'm not about to give in because of one well placed kick. On the contrary, it gives me back the anger I need to play hardball with this chick.
Gritting my teeth I use both of my legs to wrap around her feet, roll over and use the momentum to send her to the ground as well.
As I untangle myself from her I actually struggle for a moment because the pain in my knee is taking its toll. Angrily I throw myself on top of her and reach for her wrists, which are pinned above her head a moment later.
Both of us are breathing hard and sweating by now. There are a few beads of sweat glistening on her forehead giving away that the exercise isn't effortless.

"Brace yourself." I command before letting go of one of her hands, balling my hand into a fist and hauling off. I really hope she's faster than my fist. Otherwise she might have a broken rib.

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[atrb=background,http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y510/LaSaundra_Kiser/postingtable_zps30a9790a.jpg] Well places timing... The kick that I send to his knee is perfectly timed. Unplanned. Welcomed. I know my weight isn't able to take him down much, but the power behind my legs and hands are enough that catches him off guard. So off guard. He falls so ungracefully after I hear the crack, but I can't stop now. He wanted me to fight. He took cheap shots at me. I wasn't going to give in now because of one moment and I sure wasn't going to get all comfortable with the way he has fallen. Keep your head in the game. Don't give up. Don't take your eyes off of him. WAtch him closely. If this was the games I was in, I woudln't wait for him to get back up. I would keep fighting. Though, I saw him fall and hear the groan, I furrow my brow harshly, my breathing heavy and fast. I watch him as he suddenly takes a new way around his position, both of his feet wrap around my legs before I can figure out how to get out and I fall. The momentum making me crash to the mats and landing on my side and in a matter of moments, I feel Matthew on top of me, holding my wrists above my hand. I struggle once again under his weight. This is the second time. I need to find a better way to quit getting in this predicament, but I take a deep breath the moment, I hear him. Brace yourself... For what? I ask myself and feel him release one of my hands and his balled up fist aims at my torso. It happens too fast. I see his speed. My hand moving at the exact same moment. I twist my body as I bring my hand up to block his, but his hand still hits the side of my chest. It is'nt as bad as I know it could have been if I hadn't of moved when I did, or blocked his hand with my own, but it still will leave a bruise. I twist out of his grip a second later. My body heaving upward to throw him off and I take my leave from this close proximity with him. I crouch a few feet away from him, holding onto the side of my chest where his fist met with my skin. "Good moves... Fast... but not as fast as you could be." I tell him. I wipe away at the sweat on my forehead, then I'm on my feet again. I rush after him, bring my fist backwards and let it fly in his direction.

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[Jack Lexington]

She's tough. I give her that. Because I had warned her she was able to partly deflect my punch but my knuckles still connected with her rib cage hard. It know that for a fact. There's not cry of pain though. Instead she wiggles and arches her way out from underneath me. This time she's more successful than before because she's faster and uses her full power.

Apparently she needs a moment to process my punch by holding her ribs and crouching. I grant her the moment and get back on my own feet rubbing my fist. This is just starting to be fun.
Now she's becoming a little more daring than I appreciate by lecturing me. "Good moves... Fast... but not as fast as you could be."
A little irritated I show her the cold shoulder just to find out first hand what she means with fast. Out of the corner of my eye I catch her bring her fist backwards to punch me.
At the very last moment I manage to bring my left arm up to block it, which almost gets hit in my face instead. She's actually quite strong, once she puts her head into it.

I turn to face her again my eyes sparkling with mischief. This is my game. I love it. I've been boxing and tackling other kids since I was in Kindergarten. If you want to mess with me, you'd better be quick and fierce.
Hands raised in front of my head I give her a smile and a nod. "Bring it."
Instead of waiting for her to 'bring it' I fake on the left, just to punch her on the right, dance back to bring my defense up and attack again. Boom. An upper cut.
My feet lightly touch the gym mat as I circle her, except for the left one that still doesn't cooperate as it should. Maybe I should 'thank' her for that....with a combination.
"Here we go." I warn her before I let my fists rain down on her at half force.

OOC: I'll leave it up to you whether he gets her or not.

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[atrb=background,http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y510/LaSaundra_Kiser/postingtable_zps30a9790a.jpg] Well places timing... I crouch away from him, my hand on my ribs. I know I will have this awesome bruise by the end of the night thanks to Matthew. I glare at him and use my words toward him. He wasn't as fast as he should have been. He made a point to tell me to watch out, which made me able to deflect most of the hit. He doesn't seem to like when I use my mouth. Each time, it seems to make him angry. A weakness? Or a strength for him? Once I'm on my feet, I try to aim a punch to him, but he deflects it. Lucky jerk... He actually blocks where I was going to aim for his face. I hate that he deflects my punches, and it sends an angered look on my face but it's short lived when I see this look in his eyes. He's enjoying this so much. He's totally into this spar and I cna't help but think that he thinks this is a really fun game. I can't say that I"m winning, but I'm definately holding my own. I am actually enjoying this as well. I can't say that I'm totally hating it, except for the throbbing bruise I incurred from his knuckles. Bring it. He calls out to me and without waiting, even just a moment for me to even comprehend it, I act faster than I hear him. I block almost all of his attacks. All of his punches. They seem strong. They graze my skin a few times on my face, but I don't make a face. I have learned not to. High tolerance to pain, but only to certain injuries. He then begins his dance. Circling around me like a predator does to prey about to attack. I keep my hands up, following him as he keeps going around me. Yet again, he warns me, letting me know his intentions to the attack. I block him, left and right. His brage of hits are a little intimidating and I miss just once, and get a a fist right into my cheek. Already, my cheek burns with pain and I bring up a hand to my cheek and I can feel the blood in my mouth. I grin, but hold my mouth closed. I nod to him. I let him know I'm not done with this spar just yet. I also notice that he is limping a bit on his leg that I kicked. I can use that. I know my next move. I suddenly take off after him and pretend that I'm going to punch him, only to suddenly ground down and sweep my foot against the leg he was favoring moments ago.

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[Jack Lexington]

Anybody else would have way different ideas when laying on top of a gorgeous girl, feeling the full length of her body underneath, than beating the crap out of her. Not me, though. I'm focussed on training and no pretty chick is going to mess with my mind even though I feel her female curves under my own body. For a second it distracts me, not enough to give me a disadvantage though as I quickly focus back on her actions.

We're back on our feet and she does incredibly well now that I warned her and am not going full speed. She blocks almost every one of my punches. Only one gets through but she doesn't even flinch. The only thing she does is touch the sore spot. So would I.
I actually get the impression that she's starting to get something out of our match.

"You're tough." I give her that. "At least when it comes to small stuff." Of course I had to add that. Can't be too nice to the other sex. That would only go to her head.
Her nod confirms that she wants to keep going even though a red mark is forming where my knuckles connected with her skin.

I can see her eyes watch every move I make closely. Briefly they dart down to my left leg. Oh no, not again. I need to make sure that she's not kicking it again because that might lead to some serious injury, which I'm going to avoid at all costs. After all I want to take part in the pregames.

Once again she surprises me by not kicking at the troubled leg but coming in for a punch. I duck just to notice too late how she grounds down and goes for my other foot, that I've put my weight on. Needless to say that, once my good leg looses traction and my weight gets shifted to the sore one. It stings and makes me loose balance as I try to get off it but she won't let go of the other one. Stumbling to the side I have to support myself on the mat with my left hand. That must look quite awkward. I pull my right leg out of her hands with a hard jerk.
For a moment I don't see what she's doing so I quickly turn out of reach and then spin to deliver another kick into her chest. Considering that I have to stand on my good leg and kick her with the sore one the kick is about as hard as a popsicle in the sun.

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[atrb=background,http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y510/LaSaundra_Kiser/postingtable_zps30a9790a.jpg] Is he down for the count? You're tough... At least when it comes to small stuff. Those words edge me forward. I can't stand to be considered 'weaker' than what I'm giving. Even though, at the start of this sparr, I told him that I was weaker at the one on one fighting. I still feel the blood in my mouth from where he punched me in the cheek. My teeth must have punctured the skin or something as I can tell my teeth are not loose when I run my tongue over them. Instead, I feel the stinging pain of a gash as I run my tongue over the inside of my cheek. Great... that'll swell tonight. I give him a nodd and I take action. My eyes spotting my target. His good leg. I act. I act as though I'm going to hit him, punch him in the face, but he ducks just like I expected, so he's not all to keen on my next move. Instead of punching, I use every ouch of weight in my body to slide my foot into his good one and the moment, that his foot is up, I grab it and he stumbles. I can't help but feel this overwhelming sense of acheivement for my move that I feel elated. I hold on to his leg for dear life, still into a crouching position. "How'm I doing, teach?" I mumble out, swallowing a bit of the blood that is in my mouth. My stomach churning as I did from the taste. There's no way of stopping now, though. I can't just give a time out, rinse my mouth out and return to the position he's in. No. All I have is now. I have to stomach it. Until this match is over between us, I won't stop until one of us can't go on anymore. This spar means so much more to me for some reason. It's as if my dad is standing on the edge of the mats. His stern face glaring at me and his arms forced over his chest in mock form of being angry. Forcing me not to stop. His beady eyes keeping this hold over me. The last thing I need to do is disappoint him. He's put so much work into my training that Im afraid to let him down. This is my mindset. Matthew seems to be doing okay for the moment, keeping his balance with his hand keeping him up. I want to take a picture. To remember this exact moment because the next thing I know, he jerks hard, pulling his leg from my grip. I land on my arse from the force I wasn't expected but get up quicker than lighting and await the next moment I see him spin and see his leg aiming right at my chest. I immediately put my hands up to block, but the force of the kick is still alot and only proves to have me move back two steps. Did he even try... that was so weak. Or was that his bad leg I kicked a few minutes ago? I bet it was. Let's see what else I can do for him? I smile a devilish smile and my stance goes normal for a moment, my hands at my sides as I advance on him in a slow walk. "So... any chances your ready to give up, Matthew? I can tell your leg is bothering you. Both of us are almost spent, right? I know, I am." I lie. I take a deep breath. My voice comes across tired. I wipe at my mouth, seeing just a small blotch of blood from my bitten cheek. I wipe it on my pants and bend over, resting my hands on my knees. "Your a good fighter... but," I stop and lunge at him, taking two quick punches to his arms, both of which have a fair amount of strength behind him, then I follow with an attack he just used on me, but I aim a bit lower. I spin, thrusting my leg outward and kicking right for his midsection and I hear him fall to the ground. This is my chance. Go! Kyanite! Show him! Get him down for the count. I scream to myself and I pounce onto his back, stradling him, and pull one of his arms backwards and jerk it upwards as he lays on the ground. "Even I can tell your not giving it your all like the first few minutes. What happened?" I say, pushing his arm up harder against the way it should be.

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[Jack Lexington]

This girl talks too much, clearly.
"How'm I doing, teach?" and "So... any chances your ready to give up, Matthew?
Those kind of words have no place in a fight, if you ask me. Words are either used to aggrovate the other fighter or to make some time. In her case I think i's the latter. She seems to have bitten her cheek but keeps on a brave face. Apparently she needs a moment, which I'm not willing to give her.

My kick didn't do much damage, yet the punch before seems to have done the trick.

"I can tell your leg is bothering you. Both of us are almost spent, right? I know, I am."
She's panting, bending over, just barely tolerating the pain as it seems.
That girl is sow wrong about me though. My leg's not bothering me....not that much...nor am I even close to being spent.
"Stop talking. You give away too much." I warn her with a bitter expression.

"Your a good fighter... but," Great, more talk, she's just playing for more time.
Maybe she is not though.
Kyantie uses her chance and starts throwing punches at me instead of catching her breath and recuperating. It's a very quick combination of left and right hooks aimed at my raised arms. They aren't hard but come too fast to block them all. So I catch one with my temple, which is still sporting the stitches from where her predecessor hit me with a rock.
Did I mention how much I hate that chick? I don't mind the scar on my face but the fact that it was done by a girl. It's a very ugly, constant reminder.

When her fist connects with it she doesn't even need a lot of force to make my me cry out. This one hurt considering it's still bruised and scabbed over.
My hand flies to my face to feel whether she's reopened the cut while it's contorted in pain.
My opponent doesn't care though but spin kicks me in the midsection, which I flex at the last second to prevent her foot from digging into my intestines. My stomach and bowls that me but that kick holds enough power to send me to the yellow, plastic mat.
Hang on? How did she...
Before I'm even completely down Ky is stradling me. I can feel the cold plastic against the side of my face when she presses me down just to jerk up my right arm against the direction it bends.
I guess she's not that bad a close range fights as she led on.

"Good one." I praise her sarcastically but think to myself 'where did that come from?'

My only option out is to pull against it and hope she'll let go of my wrist but way way she might pop out my shoulder, which I'm not willing to risk.
For a moment I drop my head and relax my muscles to signal that I'm giving up, but as soon as I can feel her body weight shift a little more towards me, I know she's close enough for a mean move.
From one second to the next I flex ever muscle in my back and neck to knock my head back into her face. I feel the back of my head connect with her and roll over to the side to get the girl off my back, while she's dealing with the blow.
Her hands are still clinging to my right arm so I end up with her as well as my own arm underneath my back. Not a very comfortable position.
This is getting a little harder than it should for me.
It's actually a struggle to turn over so I'm next to her before I can use my weight to pin her across the chest with my left forearm. Now I can use my own body as leverage to squeeze out every bit of air she's got and wait until she turns bright red.
"Tap out..." I state through gritted teeth while I press her throat against the surface she's on..

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[atrb=background,http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y510/LaSaundra_Kiser/postingtable_zps30a9790a.jpg] Live to see another day With every punch that I throw at him, I'm surprised I was even able to make contact with his skin, and the moment I do, I hear him cry out. It glance at him for only a moment, seeing something dark on his forehead and his hand going to it before I spin and kick at his midsection that he left open but flexed at the last moment. The force behind my kick is enough that he actually lands on the mat and I have him in a hold within a matter of seconds. His arm being bent backwards, threatening to pop it out of place. There is so much going on in my mind right now, and I can even see a smirk on my dad's face at this predicament that I've found myself into. I know he would be proud that I took down someone larger than me. I've grown stronger. I know that my one on one sparring isn't up to par for the next few moments maybe be my last in this match. He gives way a bit on his arm and I can feel him underneath me relax. Is he done? Did I actually do it? This almost seems to easy that he would just let all of this go because I've got his arm... is he afraid that I'll hurt his arm now? I wonder, and I lean up just a little to speak, but before I can even get my mouth opened, before I can even feel the vocal chords of my voice vibrate with words he arches everything and the back of his head connects with mine in an instant wave of pain. I cry out. Groan. My nose feels like it has just been set aflame and Matthew doesn't wait on me to see if I'm already. My grip on his arm is ever tight and the way he turns over, has my arm pinned beneath his back and then I suddenly feel this crushing weight on my lungs. The air leaves me quickly, which is somethign I wasn't expecting at all. It's something that I've never felt before. I begin to panic when I can't catch my breath. I flail and try to wiggle out of the hold. My free arm trying to push him off of me. To get him off my throat so that I may breath yet again. Tap out... He tells me. I barely him hear with the silence that's starting to ring out in my ears. How? How the hell am I suppose to move when I can't breath... I scream internally. There's something about not being able to breath that throws my mind out of reasonings. The fear of dying so prevelant right now, but I know he won't kill me. He can't kill me. He's waiting for me to act, but my mind and judgements are clouded. My face starts to turn colors and I go still for a moment. My eyes fall over to the side of the mat. The exact spot my dad stood that one day when I was twelve. Don't you even think of giving up, girl. Get up. Now Kya. Now! You think they'll go easy on you in the real thing? Huh? Answer me? I hear my dad's words come to me. The exact words that he said to me in my first weapons spar again Jins. When I was on the mat, almost ready to give up with my hand shattered and bloody, my eyes wanting to expell tears. My Dad's hard and stern voice made me who I am today and I refuse to let him down. I have to fight this one last time. "...no..." I wheeze out. My body still unmoving for another moment, trying to collect myself and focus. My mind quickly trying to formulate a plan for the position I'm in, but I'm still unable to think clearly with this lack of oxygen, but my body moves instinctively. My right leg jerks upwards and I twist my body. I use my knee to jab him in the side, freeing myself from Matthew's grip. Immediately, I'm put into a serious coughing fit for air, and I keep myself in a crouched position, my hand going to my throat in mock form of someone who was choking. I take a few uneven breaths. My eye's glaring at Matthew with malice. I can't find my voice to speak, but I'm sure my eyes reflect what I would have said to him. With this new breath, I realize how incredibly weak my muscles are getting now. How much my body just went through over and over and his latest show of sparring tells me that I am still in need of more practice. I question myself. Am I done? Do I throw up the white flag? I"m not giving up, but giving in. This fight was well worth it and it seems as though I'm a little worse for wear. I can see I need to work on my reactions more, so that I'm not put in that kind of position again. Will my dad have been upset with my performance? I conclude he'd be pleased. I smile. I put one hand up, showing to Matthew that I'm done. I can't be expected to keep going with just a practice round. I feel like to leave it right here would be a good stopping point to work on. Study what he's shown me already. I stand with ease, my hand still on my chest, taking another breath. My muscles screaming from the lack of oxygen they were deprived of. I raise my hand up to my mouth again, wiping at my lips, still getting a bit of blood from where my cheek was hit. The pain was welcoming though. I'm alive. I had my workout. I've seen and felt what it could be like in the pregames that I'm training for. This small taste of what to expect has my expectations and hope up. I can't wait for the real thing. "Thank you." I say to him.

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[Jack Lexington]

Once again I witness how tough my opponent is. She's clearly in the inferior position now that she's under me and slowly running out of breath. This whole fight she's been weaker and not as fast but she keeps swallowing whatever pain she feels and is coming up with surprise moves that somehow get her out of bad holds and situations.
This time I have a feeling she will give up though.
I'm wrong. Kyanite tells me 'no' when I ask her to tap out. Instead she knees me in the side, which makes me loosen my grip on her ever so slightly. Enough for her to wiggle out.

Her coughing fit proofs how close to tapping out she actually was. yet she didn't.
My hand goes to my lowest rib to rub the sore spot while I look over at her.
Now she's really taking a moment.
In fact she declares that she's done fighting by raising her hand. That seems clever. I don't think she can handle any more. Plus I don't want to leave her sore or with broken bones. There's no need for any of us to get injured during sparing. That would be rather unfortunate considering the real games aren't that far away.

In agreement I nod and clap her on the back. "Welcome."
Then I sit down on the mat next to her to catch my breath. The girl has defiently given me a bit of a run for my money. No wonder, she's probably been training for a while and she's a career, a killing machine.

"You're pretty tough." I tell her. "Considering you call this your weak point I'm curious to find out your strong suit."
Did I really just make this chick a compliment? I should quickly make sure she knows she can't expect too much nice behavior from me.
"Lucky day?" I add with a sarcastic smile.

If so she got a few good ones in considering my knee is still throbbing and my temple as well as my ribs will probably bruise. As much as I want to I'm not going to show any pain or weakness, not in front of a girl. Let's keep it professional and tough. After all that's what we are.
"Let's grab some ice." I suggest.
There's a fridge in the team room that holds a massive amount of cool packs and bandages, that are being used a lot. After all we're training to hurt and kill. There's even a examination table in there are some medical equipment, which I'm glad I never had to use.

Without actually waiting for her I walk past her silently hoping I didn't squeeze her windpipe to tight. Maybe I should ask if she's okay?
Nah...