Incompatible

r a championship. Her opponent, a battle-hardened veteran of thirty-six, Pinky 'The Pain' Smith was a f

ss the time between her and the fight, the more her courage deserted her. Nicolette had tried to watch a few videos of The Pain's fights, with the hope to pick s

at he wasn't sweetly named in her phone. She had defended herself, citing that she didn't feel that he was truly hers. She'd defensively put it to him that she didn't even see herself as with

come. She'd have something to say to him, show him he didn't care about her. She wouldn't be seeing him until after the fight if he ever decided to turn up.

r coach, massagin

l the sun on her f

forgiven for being a little jittery, especially in the face of the stone-cold opponent she was up against. The Pa

his match is yours. Stay clear of getting nuked in the first two rounds. We must surviv

ed about the dressing room,

it, and capture it on his mobile phone's camera. Even as it had filled up, the organizers were still working on the stage, wiping the dust off the makeshift canvas floors. The minutes bled off slowly. There were four other matches. He wasn't too keen on them. He was he

dreadlocked girl in hippie's clothes. Her voice rang through the crowd, awakening old ghosts in them. They sang along with her, the memories brought by the song raw and painful as usual. On Summertim

t jabs and ducking, leaving the crowd impressed with her lightning-fast footwork. Strategically placed fans, however, booed her, mercilessly thro

eets of Johannesburg, with fifteen wins; all by knockouts; z

led. Her name, Summertime, had been his idea, Don's. He had reas

smiled. He had come! She felt her energy levels rise to choke her. She waved in his direction before she saw him and then their eyes met. She felt that tug again. Great, how can you hate someone and yet lov

h belts dangling from her shoulders for her tr

n by technical knockout, two draws and three losses, two-time champio

the problem before her. They looked into each other's eyes, sizing each other. Looking for that weakness, even an iota of it. None found any. Nic leaned heavily on her unbeaten run, her speed and determination to make a name for herself. I

ll wen

beautiful young Summertime lady wasn't just a chunk of gorgeous meat meant for the beaches and skimpy summer outfits. The name itself was a sham, meant to taunt her opponents, thought The Pain ruefully. Why didn't they name her something like "Destroyer" or something more ferocious

h wary of each other, refraining from engaging. The crowd was getting re

o follow, get her comfortable in following then attack like a viper. Fast and lethal. She saw that Summertime had fallen in step, waitin

ise, that is all except Summertime. She'd seen this in the previous fights with most seasoned fighters. At the very first moment, The Pain had sold herself off. She had changed her well-kno

n it came, she was prepared. She knew The Pain would jab with her right, and fire with it in succession, even four or five times fast and hard, driving her back into the ropes or the canvas if she got lucky.

e blow caught The Pain just below the ear with a force that snapped her head sideways, distorting her chiseled face. It was enough to lift The Pain a few inches off the canvas to dispose of her a few feet away, eagle-sprawled and out cold. There was n