Sabrina Anderson vs. Yvonne Gulski

Sabrina could barely see Yvonne, much less anyone else farther than two feet away. The lights were still shining down on her back and her body was practically aching with exertion. Whilst Yvonne’s blows weren’t the hardest or strongest, she probably had the best counter game she had even seen from someone. It was a rare style, not something she saw in the Underground, and that was why she didn’t wanna lose…

She tried, one last time, even knowing the count was clear as day to her ears as she SLAMMED her gloves into the ground and tried pushing herself up. She could see a silhouette of the referee counting, not even slowing down, yet she tried regardless and pushed herself off a few inches.

And then her muscles gave out and her body decided to finally refuse her commands and Sabrina’s body collapsed to the canvas one last time. She couldn’t believe this was how she was going to lose a match, but she also couldn’t care anymore. Her body was wracked with pain and exertion and all she wanted to do was rest away and sleep…

“10! Both fighters couldn’t get up by the count. This is a technical draw!” The referee crossed her arms and gave her final judgement as the crowd roared and shouted, some in anger, others in the end result, but the match had come to an end…

What was Yvonne feeling at the moment? A multitude of things, really.

Embarrassment. She hadn't just lost, but lost against a topless beast of a woman. If she had been defeated in a duel of pure skill, she could almost accept that. But Sabrina came at her with the sort of thoughtless savagry that she was supposed to be an expert at dealing with, using tactics she had prepared for and refined for ages. She should’ve won this match handedly, no question.

Confusion. How did it come to this? Where had she gone wrong? She kept replaying the match in her head, and maybe it was just the concussion talking, but she was having a genuinely hard time coming to the conclusion. She had been meticulous, done so many things right on paper, but somewhere along the line she made the little mistakes that led her to this.

Anger. Not even at Sabrina, but at herself. For failing, for falling, for losing, for-

A technical draw?

Even through the haze, Yvonne heard that last part, as the announcer called the match. It was the last thing she heard, too, as the lights began to fade, one final punch to the gut as she went on her way to total unconsciousness.