Targets (bwwm) *Completed*

Thirty Eight

Sweat oozed from every pore on Omisha's body as she pushed herself to her breaking point. Groans with hints of a scream left her mouth as she did her last set of deadlifts- the immense weight on each end of the bar weighing down her body. Despite her muscles screaming for a break, she set the bar down and made her way to the squat rack.

She's been back to her intense training routine for the last two weeks since her back had mostly healed, her body protesting the torture. Thankfully, Thorn had a state of the art gym in his warehouse so she trained while he worked- the arrangement keeping them close at all times.

"Hey! Want to spar?" One of his men asked as he extended a pair of gloves to her. Although she trained alone, it didn't stop the men from joining her circuit to see if they could keep up.

"Against who?" She called back breathlessly as she placed her hands on her hips. The black t-shirt clung to her sweaty skin, her leggings following their example.

"Anyone. Me and Joey are looking for a go, but I'm sure anyone will be up for a quick match." He slightly nodded as he spoke. Omisha eyed Joey, his body type similar to Jeremiah's.

"Tell Joey I want a match." Placing on the gloves, Omisha also took the mouth guard from the man- his exact words being "no one gets a match without proper gear" when she eyed it in disgust. Lastly, a pad helmet was placed over her ponytail before she entered the ring. Joey, in the same gear, jumped into the ring before quickly assessing her.

"Alright, this match will be 5 minutes or until someone taps. Clean hits only, no biting, scratching, all that pussy shit ain't welcomed. When you hear that bell ring, you better separate. Keep it in good spirits. Ready?" A large man spoke from the side as he watched them both. Omisha and Joey shared a handshake before backing away.

By now men stopped their workouts to eye the spectacle before them. Omisha was almost 5 inches shorter, probably a hundred pounds lighter, and definitely not as agile. The match made her feel like she had a second chance. It had been a while since she'd gotten her ass kicked and the fight with Jeremiah haunted her dreams. She needed to make it right.

"Go!" Immediately Joey began circling her, a sudden focus in his previously playful eyes. Omisha took a deep breath, willing her muscles to remember what they'd been raised to do all her life. Rowdy shouts filled the space and clouded her focus.

"You sure about this?" Joey called as he eyed her closely. His eyes searched her body for a weak spot and Omisha took the chance to switch her stance- a signal that she had no primary leg.

"Absolutely positive." As soon as the words left her mouth, he threw a flurry of combos her way- the heavy fists just barely missing her body. Omisha gave an internal scream as he connected with her ribs- the hit sending her off balance. Noticing her shift in weight, Joey attacked, sending a hefty uppercut straight into her chin. Omisha's body was lifted by his hit before crumbling to the ground.

A string of groans sounded in the audience as they watched her struggle to her feet. Frustration bubbled up like lava at her body's inability to fight back. Getting back into her stance, Omisha shook her head to focus on Joey's next attack. There was clear hesitation in his attack now, the pity fueling her anger with the situation.

Her frustration skyrocketed as each of her attacks were easily dodged by the man and countered with a hit to her midsection. As her jab fell short of his chin, Joey quickly shifted on his feet before the large tree trunk limb crashed into her head- the blow sending her sliding across the ring. Tears threatened to fall, not from the pain that rushed over her body, but at the realization that she was losing again. Joey's face became Jeremiah's taunting her as a weakling.