FLEMING

5

"Anyone who creates a monster must sooner or later destroy it,

or the monster distroys him."

Donovan Frye, also known in the underworld by his fearsome pseudonym Devil, was the prestigious fighter I was scheduled to fight with that night. His name echoed like a dark echo, feeding the legends that claimed anyone who dared to fight him would be sent straight to hell. It was as if he was my male counterpart. Many claimed he had never tasted defeat, but this did not worry me, as I, like him, remained undefeated and had no intention of ruining my winning streak tonight.

The physical disparity was evident. Frye was a mountain of muscles, twice my size, which meant that my agility would be my best ally in facing him. If I wanted to emerge victorious, I had to study his tactics meticulously and seize any opportunity to counterattack.

The murmur of the crowd grew as the fight approached. Curious and expectant eyes were fixed on me, mixed with a hint of disbelief at the audacity of facing the feared Devil.

After taking the last sip of whiskey I had ordered at the bar just a few minutes before, I headed to the ring. There he was, my adversary, looking at me with an air of self-satisfaction as he strutted among the spectators. The atmosphere was more charged than ever, with a crowd eager to witness the showdown between two of the best underground fighters in the United States.

Once inside the squared circle, it took only a minute for the despicable individual standing before me to try to instill fear in me.

"What's the matter, pretty girl? Are you scared?" Donovan inquired with a note of arrogance in his voice.

Arching an eyebrow, I stared at him intently, wondering if this guy really knew who he was talking to. A laugh escaped from my lips, leaving the man who thought he was invincible dumbfounded. The disdain in my response was reflected in my eyes as I challenged him without saying a word.

"Do you really think someone like you could generate even a hint of fear in me?" I replied indifferently. He seemed slightly enraged, but he backed off a bit, awaiting the referee who, a few minutes later, signaled for us to begin.

Donovan was an experienced and skillful fighter. His punches were fast and powerful, capable of throwing me off balance more than once. However, after the first round, I managed to discover a flaw in his technique. By employing so much speed, he sacrificed his agility, leaving himself vulnerable on more than one occasion. The faster he threw his punches, the more careless he became, and that gave me the perfect opportunity to land a precise and accurate blow.

That's how, in the second round, I managed to knock him out with a single direct hit to his chin. The strength I had accumulated and Donovan's lack of finesse during the fight resulted in him falling defeated onto the canvas.

The explosion of jubilation in the atmosphere was deafening. The applause and cheers of the spectators resonated in my ears, enveloping me in a symphony of victory. I stepped down from the ring, feeling triumphant and exhilarated for securing the number one spot.

The crowd surrounded me, elegant patrons approached to congratulate me and express their admiration. I felt like a queen, the center of attention, as I gracefully accepted the praises and compliments. The latent pride within me expanded, fueled by the applause and flattering words that filled the air.

I headed back to the bar once more, following the scent of whiskey. Diners parted ways as I passed, clearing the path to my victory. Nolan, the bartender, greeted me with a knowing smile and served me my well-deserved whiskey on the rocks. The golden liquid reflected my triumph in its gleam, and I downed it in one gulp, letting the warmth spread through my body.