1-2-1. 1-2. 1-1-2.
Kate Kane ran the punch combinations through her head as she shadowboxed in the hall outside the Hayes Gymnasium, her red gloves corkscrewing out and snapping back with precision. A dull roar from the penultimate match of the 2010 Brigade Boxing Open sounded from the gym, but she paid it no mind.
Half-circle, step back.
1-6-3-2.
Step in.
1-2-5-2.
It was an odd night to hold such an event: a Tuesday evening in February. Not a Friday night, which would at least allow for a weekend of recovery from any bruises. And not a warmer month like September or April, for more comfortable training in the weeks leading up to the bouts. Kate supposed there were reasons for this decision, but they weren't her concern right now.
All she cared about tonight was fighting to the best of her ability, for a few reasons.
1-1-2. 2-3.
The first was for her own sake. A bit selfish, perhaps, but true. Apart from basic lessons from her dad, and then plebe boxing as an elective years later (and now, years ago), Kate had never truly fought competitively, and she had jumped at the chance when the possibility had come about the previous fall. Though still over a year from graduation, tonight could very well be the most intense physical challenge of her time as a cadet, even counting Beast Barracks and all her CFTs.
She was ready. Months of training on her own time had prepared her for the main event here this evening. Never in her life had she been as strong, as fast, as powerful as she was now. She felt like a coiled spring of muscle, and it felt good.
And unlike her final graded plebe bout against Sophie, where they had inexplicably and impossibly tied after knocking each other down all over the ring, tonight there would be a winner.
1-2-3-4.
Sophie.
She was the second reason, running through her own shadowboxing routine about thirty feet down the hall, letting out a soft ish of breath with every blow. Sophie Moore, her gear almost a pallet-swap of Kate's: blue Ringside gloves, black headgear with ARMY printed across the brow in yellow, gold trunks with WEST POINT embroidered in yellow on the black waistband. Yellow shirt, RELENTLESS on the chest and LONG GRAY LINE across the upper back. Her dark hair was tied up, yet still frothed through the top of her helmet. A sheen of sweat already coated her copper skin.
Every so often Kate would glimpse her, and had to tamp down her heart swelling into her throat. Apart from being roommates and best friends, they were, in defiance of the US military, a couple. A first for both of them for that very reason. Kate had never loved anyone so much, neither in breadth, nor depth.
But tonight, she intended to beat the shit out of Sophie. It was an odd feeling, to say the least. They hadn't even sparred each other since plebe boxing, where they had been the only female cadets in their class, and now Kate was fully prepared to leave her bleeding and KO'd through the ropes.
It was what she deserved. Not the knockout, but to be met with that goal in spite of the love they shared. Not out of revenge or anything so petty as a rivalry, since neither was the case; simply as one fighter to another.
Does she feel the same? Kate wondered, but she knew the answer.
Of course she does. And she expects no less from you. Focus.
Sidestep.
2-3-2. 1-2-3.
The third and final reason on Kate's mind was not the most immediate, but was perhaps the most important. Her fight with Sophie could very well help change the athletic landscape of the Academy.
Near the start of the previous term, rumors of a women's boxing club started circulating around the Point. Kate and Sophie, newly minted in their secret relationship, had both expressed interest to cadets Nargis and JoTerrica, the firstie and fellow cow in charge of organizing the club. It seemed right, a full circle from their plebe year. A way for them to grow closer in an environment that did not encourage it.
Eventually, over 20 female cadets across all academic years had joined what they came to call the Underground. Training on their own, independently of any other clubs or instructors, putting in work that might not see fruit in their time, if at all. It had been slow progress that began with the basics, but that necessity had deepened Kate and Sophie's bond. They had seen past the fundamentals they already knew, and began to see more of each other.
Unfortunately, most of the potential fighters left the group once informed that any new club required a year of so-called "hobby status", and then that funding issues in the Department of Physical Education restricted the number of new clubs being accepted anyway. But still the Underground pressed on, paying out of pocket for their own equipment and dealing with the tired bullshit from the administration about how they'd get hurt, how they weren't trained enough to box safely, how they ran the risk of fraternizing with the apparently irresistible male boxers. Privately, Kate and Sophie had found that last one particularly laughable.
Competing in the Brigade Boxing Open became the Underground's next goal. After all, a female cadet had won the Outstanding Boxer Award there not five years before. And since the Open was, in fact, open to all cadets, why couldn't they enter some of their fighters and bring women's boxing back to the BBO? It would be the perfect stage to garner the respect they deserved after all their months of hard work.
Eight of them remained to try out, and half of them hadn't qualified, including the two who had headed up this whole venture. Gio and Ariel, who Kate didn't doubt would have put on a thrilling fight, had also been barred due to health concerns. They were all on corner duty tonight.
That left Kate, Sophie, and two plebes, Brandi-el and Sarah, as tonight's fighters. And from the dull roar Kate could hear outside the gym, the plebes had made a good impression already. Ariel and JoTerrica, currently watching through the gym doors, certainly seemed excited by what they were watching.
As the final bout of night, all Kate and Sophie had to do was continue that momentum and end strong. Send a message, and send it clear.
"Fight just ended, ladies," announced JoTerrica. "Line up." She passed Kate to prep Sophie.
Kate jogged to the doors; she'd be the first called to the ring. Ariel stepped up to her, unscrewing a jar of Vaseline.
"You look calm," she said, lightly coating Kate's face. "Not so sure I'd be."
"Just focusing on the job," Kate replied. "How'd the plebes do?"
"Pretty good. Sarah got her nose all smashed up. She's okay."
"Nice. Set the bar high."
Ariel finished her application. "Okay," she said, and leaned in for a hug. Kate returned it.
"Do good. We're rooting for you both."
"No worries about that," Kate said. They broke off, and Kate pointed to the phrase in gold on Ariel's matching black shirt. "'Never Quit', right?"
"Right." Ariel popped a clear mouth guard from a case and stuck it in against Kate's upper teeth. "Good?"
Kate nodded.
Ariel gave a thumbs-up and returned to the doors to wait.
Duty, Honor, Country, Kate thought, reading the back of Ariel's shirt. Two at play tonight. Fight for your club's future. Fight beyond reproach.
Kate sensed someone behind her.
"Thish ish it, Candy," Sophie whispered, voice mushed by her mouth guard.
Kate turned. Sophie wore a wicked grin on her Vaseline-smeared face, made more disconcerting by the way her black mouth guard made her look toothless.
"In more waysh than one," Kate replied, voice equally muddled.
She stared Sophie in the eye and stepped close until they were nose-to-nose. Sophie didn't budge.
Good.
"Gonna be a real tesht here. You shtudy?" Had she been less focused, she would have laughed at this exchange, so that was a good sign.
"Yep. And I intend to pash."
Kate smirked. We'll see.
She held her gloves at waist-height, and Sophie slammed her own down onto them. Kate backed off a few paces and turned back around, nodding.
Oh, this is gonna be good.
She and Sophie hadn't exchanged that many words since tryouts the week before. After they'd both qualified and had their match confirmed, they had avoided each other as much as possible; difficult when they shared a room, many of the same classes, and most importantly, a relationship. It was not done out of genuine malice, of course, only as a way to distance themselves from their fight, to make sure they did not know the other's game plan going in. To numb their feelings enough to not hold back, not even a single ounce.
Ariel softly opened the set of double doors to the gym. Thick, sour air, humid from hours of sweat and more than a few nosebleeds, wafted out into the hall.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the announcer was booming, "your winner this evening in the women's 165-pound class… from the blue corner, Brandi—"
And the rest was lost to cheers. Kate glimpsed the plebe boxers embracing and exiting the ring.
"Showtime," she heard JoTerrica mutter behind her.
Kate shut her eyes. Focusing that small extra ounce.
You're taller than Sophie, she thought. You have the reach advantage. Use that. Hit her and keep her away. Bust her if she gets close.
"Ladies and gentlemen," said the announcer, "our final fight this evening is another women's bout, this time in the 156-pound class. Boxing out of the red corner, representing Company B-2 and the class of 2011, from Gotham City, New Jersey…"
Kate opened her eyes.
"Kaaaaaate Kaaaaane!"
She jogged out to cheers and applause through a tunnel of a dozen cadet cheerleaders, Ariel on her heels. Game face on.
The gym was packed. Every folding chair and bleacher was filled, and there were even a few dozen people lining the elevated running track. Maybe 500 total.
She climbed the ring steps, ducked through the ropes, loosened her limbs, and scanned the crowd, looking for her father.
There, to her right. Front row, midway between the two ring posts. Video camera in hand, he waved and gave a thumbs-up.
Kate returned the gesture as best she could. She spotted Catherine, her awkwardly-named future stepmother, sitting next to him, pale as paper.
Wonder how many times she's puked tonight, Kate thought. Catherine was such a prude about violence it was a wonder she was here at all—
Coach Barone, the referee, walked over to her corner.
Right. Focus, Kate.
"Smile," Barone said, checking for her mouth guard. Kate obeyed. He tested the tightness of her headgear, checked her gloves. Satisfied, he looked her in the eye.
"You know the rules, Kate. I want a clean fight."
"Yesh, sir," she nodded.
"I know a lot's riding on this. I expect you two to put on a good show here. Do your best, and be safe. And have fun."
"Fun" didn't really line up with Kate's intentions tonight, but she took his meaning.
"You got it, Coach."
He nodded and returned to center.
"Aaaaaand her opponent tonight," intoned the announcer, "in the blue corner, also from Company B-2 and the class of 2011, from Brooklyn, New York City… Soooooophieeee Mooooore!"
To more cheers, Sophie bounded through the cheerleader gauntlet up to the ring, JoTerrica close behind. She ducked through the ropes and stood stock-straight as Coach Barone did his final checks on her. After he backed away, she shuffled lightly in place.
Kate locked eyes with her across the ring. She saw a cold confidence on Sophie's face, not a twinge of nerves or good humor. Perfect. That was exactly what she wanted to fight tonight. For the next eight minutes, they were enemies, and Kate intended to treat her as such. It would make things easier.
Hope you studied like you said, ma'am.
No meeting in the center, as they already knew the rules. Coach Barone simply stepped backward with a wide clap.
The bell dinged. Round one.