AC Syndicate: Isolated Files [OS]

The Fighter - Part. 1

[Chapter image by myself]

In the evening, after an undercover and assassination mission at the Bank of England, Jacob decided to enjoy himself with the Rooks at one of Robert Topping's fight clubs, and perhaps, if he felt like it, to join in the fights.

As he and his crew entered the room, Jacob noticed that the crowd was very excited. They were excited by the spectacle of the ring. A woman of about the Assassin's age was beating her opponents, whose size was much more impressive than his. Indeed, the fighter was no taller than him, and not really cut out for this type of activity. Her muscles were barely visible under the skin of her arms. It was clear that the young woman used mainly tricks to defeat her opponents. She knew the different weak points and used her speed. The audience and the bettors were kept on their tenterhooks. They hiccupped with fear when she was hit in the face. Despite the fists reddening her skin or taking her breath away, she was still standing, even though she was stunned.

Comfortably seated at a table and with the beer ordered, the Assassin continued to watch the sly brunette beat her opponents despite the level that only amounted to that of street fighting. The Rooks beside him muttered among themselves that they didn't believe in her victory. Jacob simply looked at them and thought differently. Size or strength were not the most important things. One had to be strategic, and quickly. This was how the fighter went on to win a lot of rounds and lose a lot of bets — much to Topping's delight.

The penultimate round was exhausting for the woman, who screamed louder with every effort she made. But there was always that fire in her eyes, reflecting her determination to finish this series of seven-round fights. Her face, hidden by the bandaged fists, showed no fear as the first opponents of the final round arrived in the ring. The Rooks around Jacob continued to be sceptical about the woman, whose hair had become a blur. Hair was flying in all directions or still stuck to her face. Her lower lip was bleeding from a bad beating she had taken. Her pale skin was dotted with redness or bruises from previous fights.

With the last round thrown by Topping, the final fight could begin. The woman broke her guard to strike first in the chin of the opponent who was in front of her. The latter had underestimated her, fooled by her size and fatigue. Indeed, her slow and deep breathing, which made her shoulders and stomach move, proved that she was at the end. And why focus on the look in her eyes, which was merely a display of the unawareness of continuing to fight, until the very last opponent? As the man backed away, one hand on his face, another wanted to attack the woman from behind, but she still had the strength. She may have been tired, but she was not deaf. She had heard him coming. No time to turn around, she followed her instincts and elbowed the traitor in the nose. To face him, she turned rapidly on one foot while the other struck the abdomen. Breathless and completely stunned, the man fell backwards. The challenger did not linger on him, she returned to the first opponent who had underestimated her. He was twice her size, and she had no fear. She hit him with her almost tiny fists but he was able to get into guard, his forearms protecting his face. He waited for her to tire before lowering his fists and striking at the right moment. Jacob wondered how she would break the guard. She decided to rely on her legs.

With the last blow to the guard, seeing that her opponent was going to hit her, she stooped and took the opportunity to sweep. She got up just as soon as the opponent fell to the ground, on his side. She straddled him and held his arm to twist it before knocking in the elbow. An sinister cracking sound was heard, as well as a scream. But there was no respite from this hold. She was already being attacked. Rooks sniggered as she took yet another blow to the ribs. One of them said that she should stop before they made a nice carpet out of her skin. As for the Frye twin, he continued to watch the woman's body moving in the violence of the blows given and received. The light of the room outlined her rather masculine figure, betrayed by her hips. The Assassin swallowed and shook his head to return to the fight and observe it more seriously. He took a sip of his beer to forget the brief distraction of his mind.