AC Syndicate: Isolated Files [OS]

The Fighter - Part. 2

🔞 This part contains a sexual scene. If you are too young for this, or are not comfortable with the subject  — despite the non-vulgarity — I invite you to skip to the end of the OS. 🔞 [Chapter image by myself]

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After her convalescence, the brunette had returned to fighting in order to survive the misery. Besides that, thanks to some of her contacts, she could learn to fight properly, without getting tired over time. She was determined to be a better opponent. Jacob had seen a few fights in the evening with his Rooks — more respectful towards her. The punches and holds weren't perfect, but he had seen a good improvement. On several occasions, he smiled. But some of his smiles, giving him a seductive air, were not always due to the satisfaction of seeing her progress. The curves of the young woman, highlighted by the blows she was giving, did not leave him indifferent. It was like the first time he had seen her.

One of the members of his crew snapped him out of his reverie. Indeed, one of the Rooks suggested that he should face her in the ring. After all, there hadn't really been a winner the night they first met. An idea that did not bother the Assassin. He agreed and stood up to inform Topping that he wanted to rematch. The man in the exaggeratedly large top hat did not object, on the contrary. He suggested that he wait until the final round. Jacob nodded and went to change, he didn't have much time, the penultimate round was about to end.

"I hope you're not planning a surprise round after the last one," the brunette huffed as Robert held up his hand to declare her the winner.

"Don't worry Vicky, you'll just have a god of pugilism for the last round."

""Do not call me 'Vicky'," she growled as he let go of her hand.

He left the ring and signalled to his friend that he could go. With a smile on his face, Jacob stepped under the ropes and stood up. A feeling of déjà vu for the brunette, who could not help but smile. So, Jacob wanted his victory... or rather, his defeat. But that smile also reflected something else. The bare chest, tattooed with a peregrine falcon on his left pectoral, the pattern of his muscles and tattoos intimidated her in a pleasant way — enough to make her bite her lower lip. It almost pained her to have to punch that body. But it was necessary to play the game, to entertain the spectators, to disappoint or delight the bettors. The two brown heads stood on guard, brown eyes staring at the hazel ones, and vice versa. Their smiles did not fade, on the contrary, they grew wider.

Jacob let her strike and break her guard. He dodged another fist and attacked immediately. The brunette caught her phalanges violently in the jaw. She wavered but quickly regained her senses. This was the beginning of the confrontation between the two. The young woman fought and defended herself much better since her first fight against Topping's favourite champion. She was getting less tired in this umpteenth violent choreography. He was happy to see that she was not sparing herself. He was proud of her, as if he had taught her to fight. And to see her go mad to defeat him amused him greatly. He did not hesitate to provoke her a little. This made the brunette smile, but it also reinforced her desire to beat him as she could, perhaps, have done on the evening of their first meeting.

Occasionally, they took the time to turn around in the ring, under the passionate cries of the spectators and the betters, both bourgeois and working class. Their bodies bore witness to the punches and their violence, as well as to the falls in the ring. Some of them had been pleasurable, because they had been made and placed at the right time, others were more painful to take, but the adrenalin had mitigated the unpleasant sensation.

"Go on, destroy her," shouted a man before others cheered the same thing.

It was Jacob who broke the invisible circle he was drawing with his opponent, a lock of his hair falling forward after a dodge. This highlighted his black and determined look. It gave her a certain charm. She then attacked, after having looked at him briefly to know where to strike. Beyond the beauty of the body movement and that of the body, the confrontation was close. It was difficult to determine who would win the final round. Somewhat embarrassed by the situation, with a smile that tried to hide his embarrassment, Topping wryly reminded both opponents to continue fighting. The fight was a game indeed, but this one was not allowed, far from serving the coffers of the former circus worker.