the final mission

03

Ziva punched harder.

The bag swung further and further as she released her pent up anger from the previous week. She had not received a single call back from any of her job interviews. Ziva knew it was her parents' doing.

She never asked to be born into one of the wealthiest families in Spain. Ziva tried her hardest to break free of her family name and start a life for her own, but to no avail. Ziva de la Cavallería would always be her name.

"Ziva, Elcanto! Demasiado duro - you'll hurt yourself before the big match tonight!" Mr. Franco came from behind her, an easy going smile on his face. He had own the gym for over thirty years and had yet to see someone train as hard as Ziva.

"Papá Franco, y'know I won't do that." If Ziva hurt herself badly, she would have to be hospitalized. Her parents would have skinned her alive if they found out she illegally fought on the streets. Ziva found that ironic considering the shady way in which her family had gotten rich in the first place.

Ziva's phone rang and she smiled when she saw her little brother Eliseo's name pop up. She had many little brothers, five to be exact, and they were the pride and joys of her life.

"Eli! What's up little dude?" Ziva stopped for a water
break as she heard little breathing over the phone. Her lips tilted upwards as her eyes crinkled with unheard laughter when she assumed Eliseo had accidentally called her.

"Zee! Zee!" Eliseo had a speech impediment which caused him to talk slower than other kids his age, but it made Ziva love him all the more. "Mami wants you home for lunch."

"Sure thing, Monada. Let her know I'll be -" Ziva was interrupted as screaming overtook the serenity in the house. She vaguely heard yelling in the background as Eliseo's breathing intensified.

"Eli? Eli?" Ziva worried for her younger brother, who had a lethal mix of anxiety and asthma. "What's going on? ¿Dónde están Mami y Papi?" The phone dropped and sweat rolled down Ziva's forehead.

"Eli? I'm coming. ¿Sí?" Chaos ensued in the background as the screams continued. Ziva heard her mother's wails and this motivated her to speed to her car and dash down the road.

Halfway in between the car ride, the phone went dead silent. Ziva glanced at the phone in her hand and noticed that someone has hung up on her. Her hands became clammy as she pressed the gas harder and surpassed everyone on the road.

When Ziva arrived at her home, she realized the police had beaten her there. She recognized the look on their faces, even from afar. It was the same look the cops had given her family the day they found out her Tío Raul had been killed by a group of drug dealers.

Ziva stared at her house rigidly. She stared until all the police left and she stared until the stars came in the sky. She stared until her eye blurred and she stared until she was taken over by numbness.

Ziva stared.

...

Ziva prepped for her fight.

It was two weeks later and she was in the training
room, striking the punching bag with more than just rage. She hit it with confusion and with power. She hit it harder with longing. Ziva had an immense longing for her family in that moment. She would do anything to get smacked by Mami, even one last time.

"Ziva, te quiero. You can't fight now; you're not in the right state of mind." She barely glanced up at Mr. Franco as she rigorously hit the bag. It was as if his words went in one ear and out the other.

"¡La Bestia! ¡La Bestia!" Ziva's fighting name came over the loud speakers and she knew it was time. Ziva looked in the mirror before heading out. She studied her long dark curly hair, courtesy from her African mother. She needed a hair cut, but it would have to wait. Her hazel eyes, the ones that her Hispanic father had graciously given her, were full of mischief and amusement. It was in that moment that she knew she would fight this match for her parents.

Ziva walked through the hall, her long purple robe attracting the attention of many. She was well known in the fighting community and many craved for her attention, even if only for a mere second.

She carried herself to the ring, where thousands of seats faced the spot where her opponent would receive their impending doom. Ziva shrugged off her robe and tossed it at Hugo. He was Mr. Franco's son and her longtime cornerman and water boy all in one.

"Ziva, don't wear yourself out too thin, all right?" Ziva rolled her eyes at Hugo. He was a year older than her, but acted as a father and a boyfriend. Mr. Franco once told her of Hugo's little crush on her, but Ziva did not have time for men. Her future would always come first.

A few seconds later, a woman in a black robe rolled out. Her black ponytail came to her waist and her blue eyes were dominating, radiating a sort of power that intimidated even Ziva. The woman removed the robe and threw it to her cornermen, who were not men at all. A tiny brunette and a weary blonde guarded her corner. Neither of them were even paying attention to the ring.

Ziva almost felt bad for how easily she would beat this woman up. However, when she remembered who she was fighting for, the remorse vanished into thin air.

"Tres!" Ziva got into her fighting stance. She glared at the opponent in front of her. The idea of mercy disappeared to Ziva every time she stepped foot
in the ring.

"Dos!" Ziva scaled her opponent, who was not even paying attention. The raven haired women talked her two amigos as Ziva huffed. Ziva knew this would be one of her easier matches. She mentally reminded herself to ask Mr. Franco to find fights with men to put her in. The women were not doing it lately.

"Uno!" The raven haired woman finally turned around, as if realizing she was about to fight one of the most vicious women in Spain.

"Comienza!" Ziva decided to play offense so she could end the joke quicker. The woman did not move until the very last moment. The opponent knocked Ziva's leg from under her and immediately got to work. Ziva attempted moving from under her, but the woman had thighs of steel.

Ziva could not even get a hit in as the woman pummeled her face until blood flowed like a river. Ziva's could taste the metallic liquid through the mouth guard and leave from her head.

The raven haired woman continued at her attack, fatigue not seeming to be a word in her dictionary. The stranger relentlessly punched Ziva until her face was unrecognizable. Ziva had two black eyes and bruises littered throughout her body, but she was numb.

The referee tapped Ziva out when he realized she was not moving anymore. Her breaths began to slow as she slowly lost consciousness. The stranger offered the crowd a feral smile. The crowd was bewildered at the stranger who had come out of nowhere and ruined their bets.

"Hm, I could teach you a thing or two, ¿sí?" Ziva could not even lift her head as she heard the foreign voice from above her. "I'm Roddy; nice to meet ya."

Roddy offered a hand to Ziva, who could barely lift her own. After much effort, Ziva grasped the stranger's hand and shook it with her own.

"Let's go get you cleaned up." Roddy instructed her brunette and blonde friends to gently lift Ziva and carry her into one of the changing rooms in the back, where they could peacefully tend to Ziva's wounds.

And the three amigos became four.