Ecce Vicit Agonista

The chain was starting to slacken.  Escape was in sight - and just then, right as Abattoir was ready to burst upright and start swinging, it was snatched from her grasp again.

There was a blinding flash of white in her head as they crashed into the crates, and then the world darkened and all was pain.  Despite the urgent danger of her situation, Abattoir had to respect the hockey fight techniques, given that her jacket was over her head and the chain was pounding her in the spine.  She dropped, catching herself painfully on her forearms, and then the followup kick to the ribs hit so hard it actually lifted her off her hands and knees and sent her skidding across the floor.

Her head was swimming, and spikes of hot pain ran from the base of her spine all the way up to the back of her skull.  It was like being underwater; normally she'd be rallying and trying to take it to her hooded assailant right about now, but she simply hadn't had any chance to get going. It'd been a blitzkrieg, calculated to render her completely ineffective with a surprise barrage of offense, and frankly, at the moment, it seemed like the mysterious girl had her number.

A heavy boot clamped down under her mask, keeping the dazed nak muay pinned to the floor.  Abattoir blinked once, twice, and then at last, as the world came back into focus and she locked eyes with the attacker under the hood, her struggles slowed to a gradual halt.  This was it.  She was 'got', so to speak, and she knew it.

Her voice was even hoarser than usual, given the vice grip on her throat.

"You better make this count."

The girl pointed two fingers at her eyes and burned Abattoir with her glare. She paused there for a brief moment, as if she had her teeth on her prey's throat and was waiting for it to expire, and then she was gone.

Hands back in her pockets, head down, she strode away as if nothing had happened and disappeared into the backstage clutter before Abattoir had a chance to get her bearings.

The whole thing took only seconds, and it was so sudden, so violent, and so quickly over that it seemed surreal, like a bad dream.

Madison had been frozen in shock long enough for things to go down. She remained until her cameraman sprinted off towards where Abattoir was dragged off. Madison soon followed and watched the quick and brutal shakedown with shock and horror and before she could even breath, it was over. She stood agap as she watched the assailant disappear and then shook her head.

She turned on her heels and called out. "Hello!? Can I get some help here!? Call the medics!" She said quickly and knelt next to Abattoir.

"Are you alright!?" She said, honestly concerned. However, her instincts still kicked in. "W-Who was that?" She asked and glanced down the dimly lit hallway.

To an uninformed outsider, that had probably looked like mercy - like she'd been spared in a gesture of kindness.  But Abattoir knew better.  What had seemed like an unexpected reprieve was actually the worst kind of insult there was, the kind she recognized because she was on the giving end of it more often than not: Look what I could have done to you.

It was a bitter pill to swallow, one that had her blood absolutely boiling, and as Madison rushed over in horror, the nak muay was already pushing herself upright on an elbow, trying to get up to chase after her attacker.  "I'm fine," she rasped, pulling back as the girl drew near, "I'm fine, get out of the--"

She was not fine.  

Halfway up to her feet, Abattoir collapsed back against the wall dizzily, her blood pounding in her ringing ears.  A hacking cough escaped her abused throat, followed by an annoyed hiss of equal parts pain (for obvious reasons) and frustration (for having been blatantly wrecked in front of everybody like that).  That, in turn, set off a sharp, fiery twinge in her ribcage, right where she'd been kicked.  Her fists were white-knuckled under the gloves from how tightly they were clenching.

"I don't know," she admitted.  "Like, I'm not..."  A wince, and the nak muay clutched the back of her head.  "....I'm not just saying that, I have literally no idea who that was."

She had to respect, if grudgingly, the absolute Pearl Harbor job that'd just been done on her.  Fuck, everything seemed so loud.

"I know what that was, though."  Her eyes were cold, the pupils slowly starting to constrict back to normal, under the mask.  "That was a message."

Madison reached out as Abattoir stood up and flopped against the wall. She hesitated to put a hand on Abattoir's shoulder and reeled it in when she barked she was fine.

She shuffled backwards and looked down the hallway again before turning back to Abattoir. "I see..." She practically whispered and then gave the cameraman a cut signal.

When the camera was off, Madison looked at Abattoir. "Next time we'll set up an appointment..." She said, trying to add some levity to the situation. "Are you sure you're ok?"

Everything hurt - how could it not, given what'd just happened - but Abattoir's pride was the biggest casualty of the encounter.  That was some old-school shit she'd just taken, the full-on go on living, knowing you're not even worth the effort it would've taken to finish you off treatment.  

It sucked.  For somebody as big on warrior spirit as she was, it really sucked.  Even more than the high-pitched, tinny ringing in her ears from the vicious blows the girl had given her.

"....Yeah.  Fine."  Tempted though she was to snap at Madison, it wouldn't do any good - it'd (rightfully) look like she was just trying to get some leverage back after getting murked unceremoniously.  No way to look good coming out of something like this, that was for goddamned sure.  The whole thing had basically been a car crash.  Over faster than she knew it was happening, and just as debilitating.

As she stared down the hallway, clutching at her wrenched shoulder, Abattoir's mind lingered on the whole new host of potential threats that were evidently lurking where she hadn't expected them.

Dangerous times, these.

end