The Tiger King (Chaelisa)

32| Fight

"Lisa what the hell's going on? Pull yourself together!" Jennie hissed as Lisa hobbled to her corner for her sister to sponge her face amidst loud hollering from the crowd after Lisa was sent flying into the opposite side of the ring by a powerful punch to the face.

Lisa looked in bad shape, already sporting a swollen jaw and wincing as she clutched her side. Her ponytail was matted with sweat and a trickle of blood had dried into a crusty trail just underneath her nose.

"I dunno..." Lisa slurred.

Jennie grabbed her from her front and tapped (more like slapped) her cheek. "Wake up! Wake up! What are you playing around at? I know you can be better! You were doing fine in the first five minutes!"

"She still beat me like a rug," Lisa croaked as Jennie released her. Her eyes slowly slid open, glancing furtively at the Undertaker in her corner before she tugged Jennie closer from her shirt.

"Jen, did you see anything different?" Lisa whispered urgently. Her eyes had lost their dazed glaze, reverting to their usual sharp glint whenever she was assessing her opponents.

"You're acting," Jennie said in realisation. Her sister often duped her opponents by pretending to be more injured than she actually was, tricking her rivals into complacency and then striking out when they least expected it.

"Yes and no," Lisa grimaced, "she really gave me a good ol' knock back there, I think it bruised my liver... but  it's not because I've been going easy on her. I've been trying to figure it out but she's not giving me a chance...." Lisa trailed off, lips pursed. "Unnie, something's different about Undertaker. Something's...off. I don't know how to explain it but I can tell. She's fighting...different. Dirtier."

Jennie glanced over her shoulder at the thickset woman who was chugging back a bottle of water, scrunching up the plastic in her fist as her trainer pressed on her sore shoulder muscle. 

The few times Jennie heard her speak with her trainer, Lisa's opponent had never been the most eloquent talker, always stingy with words and her comments amounting to no more than short, barked answers. Her only striking feature would have to be a mole just beneath her left eye along her prominent cheekbone. She had big hands, thick bulky muscle wrapped around her body (even Jennie who wasn't very fussy about female bodybuilders thought it was a little too excessive) and was duck-footed.

And tonight in merely the first round, the Undertaker had rushed out like a veritable stampeding rhino, gnashing her teeth, her eyes spitting fire.

The referee made the signal for the second round to start. Jennie frowned and patted Lisa as the latter stood up.

"Go get her okay?"

She didn't like the furrowed look on her sister's face and guessed what she was going to ask before Lisa opened her mouth.

"Unnie..." Lisa said slowly, "if worst comes to worst...do you want me to..." she trailed off, her eyes finishing the question for her. But Jennie's response was final.

"No," she said, gritting her teeth, "this isn't important enough. Nothing ever warrants you losing control. You are more important, Lisa. Hwangssabu was clear."

Jennie licked her lips and tried not to think of pending bills or their almost non-existent food supplies, or her debt to Irene (she still intended to pay it in full).

"Just...do your best."

Lisa nodded. "Keep an eye out on Undertaker when she moves in on me. Tell me what you see."

Jennie ducked down back under the ropes and stood with arms folded as the bell clanged and the two fighters rushed upon each other immediately.

PFB matches were exciting because the fights always varied in fighting dynamics and styles.