i'll fight for you until i win (you're inked upon my very skin)
chapter one
When she had first heard of the underground cage fighting scene, Santana Lopez hadn't thought it to be a literal description. Yet here she was, beneath the streets and sidewalks of the sprawling metropolis she had now called home for six months, watching a pair of young and deadly women stalk each other with the feral grace of lithe, powerful jungle cats inside the imposing steel structure that surrounded the ring. The hustle, the bustle, the noise and constant motion of the city above them was non-existent here. Here, the crowd watched in rapt silence as the red-headed "Sweet" Sugar Motta focused her hungry gaze upon her opponent, a grim-faced African-American girl who went by the single name of Aphasia. Keen-eyed, they watched each other prowl around the ring, each trying to somehow determine the other's strengths and weaknesses just from the way she moved.
Sugar was what Santana would call a glider, all economy of motion and silent intensity; her feet barely seemed to touch the ground as her eyes followed the other girl's movements. She was small in stature, but her body was all lean, ripped muscle, tense as a coiled spring, ready to explode at any given moment. Her opponent was taller and heavier, having chosen to bulk up rather than lean down, with the obvious intent of overpowering the shorter, lighter girl. They each wore a simple cut-off tank top and skin-tight shorts, meant to be both comfortable and easy to move in. Both athletes' muscles, so exposed by the minimal clothing, rippled in the harsh overhead lights; already each girl's body was covered in a light sheen of sweat, thanks to the heat generated by the illumination and the close press of the audience, all hunched forward in their seats, eager to see which girl would make the first move.
Aphasia suddenly rushed forward, her taped fists and feet a surprisingly swift blur of movement, but Sugar easily dodged her advance, landing a punch to the other girl's face as she darted away. She smiled sweetly, as though her opponent had just offered her candy or flowers, and not just attempted to grab her in a bone-crushing hold. Then she lashed out with a kick to Aphasia's leg. The taller girl cried out in pain, going down to one knee. She kept her hands up to protect her face, leaving her midsection, which was not quite as chiseled as Sugar's ridged six-pack, exposed. Still smiling, Sugar launched a flurry of kicks at Aphasia's torso, landing several hard blows against her chest and stomach. Suddenly flat on her back, Aphasia was bewildered at how strong her smaller opponent was; then all thoughts flew out of her head as Sugar pounced upon her, gripping at and maneuvering her limbs into a complex configuration that produced the most intense pain she had ever felt in her life. Shrieking in agony as she felt her bones and muscles pushed beyond the limits of their design by Sugar's submission hold, she somehow managed to signal her corner that she had had enough, and Sugar disentangled herself to stand with her arms raised in victory as the audience roared its vociferous approval.
Santana found herself cheering right along with the rest of the crowd as Sugar helped her vanquished opponent to her feet, her corner people rushing into the ring to assist in keeping the defeated girl standing upright. It was exhilarating and exciting, and Santana couldn't take her eyes off Sugar as she pranced around the ring, blowing kisses at her adoring fans.
It was then that she knew she would not be content with merely watching this most unusual of competitions from the safety of a ringside seat. No, she realized, this was what she wanted to do with her life. Whatever it took, she was going to get in that ring herself, and she was going to become the best damned cage fighter this city had ever seen - because she was Santana freaking Lopez, and that was how she rolled, Lima Heights style.
Rachel Berry, she would have you know, was excellent at many things: singing, acting, dancing, interacting with the spirit world. She would smile and laugh heartily at your reaction to that last item on the list, then insist that it was not a joke; it was, in fact, completely true. This was why everyone who knew her in high school knew that she was, in her words, 'a little bit psychic.' In fact, there were spirits watching over her, grateful that from the time she was a little girl, she had always taken the time to speak with them, to comfort them over their separation from the world of the living, and they always let her know when a slushy attack was coming, or when her mentor, Mr. Schuester, was thinking about who should get the solo in the next Glee Club competition. Now Rachel was a young up and coming musical theater actress, auditioning for and getting the roles off-Broadway that she knew would eventually lead her to the big stages and bright lights of the true Broadway stage. In the meantime, she was paying her rent by lending her special expertise to those in need of solace and guidance in matters of the afterlife. Ironic, she thought, that she was making a living out of her unique ability to see into and influence the world of the unliving. But even she didn't have a clue as to just how powerful she really was – not until the day, six months to the date that her roommate Santana had seen her first underground cage fight, that she began to feel that something was amiss on the magical plane, to whose wavelength she was always attuned.
Santana had been working and training diligently at Holliday's Gym, the place where all the best and brightest fighters worked to hone their skills, since shortly after that fateful night when she had seen Sugar Motta defeat the singularly named Aphasia. She had come home to the apartment she shared with Rachel raving about how 'awesome' and 'amazing' and 'incredible' the evening had been, how much she wanted to become a fighter, how she would do just about anything to get in the ring and dominate opponents the way 'that Sugar chick' had. Rachel hadn't really understood the appeal, but Santana was her best friend, and as such she was bound to support and encourage her in whatever she wanted to do. She fretted about the danger, the risk of injury and so on and so forth, but it had done wonders for the girl's attitude - and for her body as well, she had to admit. Not that Rachel would ever mention that last part to her girlfriend, the city's most talented young sorceress, Tina Cohen-Chang.
Rachel had met Tina at a gathering of the city's best and brightest magical practitioners under the age of 25, sitting next to each other during an incredibly dull presentation by the insufferably vain and boring Dustin Goolsby, a man whose lack of arcane skill was apparently made up for by his wealthy family's generosity in contributing to the city's many secret magical foundations. This, of course, qualified him to expound for hours on end about what was good for the magically gifted population of the nation's largest and grandest city.
They'd shared "are you kidding me?" looks several times during Goolsby's long-winded talk, which then turned into smiles and laughs and quickly became an obvious, but shyly approached attraction. When Rachel mouthed, "Let's get out of here," Tina was only too happy to mouth back, "Oh, god yes." They had gotten up and exited quietly, stifling their laughter with hands over their mouths, finally letting go when they were out of the room and safely away, standing together in the spacious lobby area.
"That man is completely ridiculous," Rachel said when their laughter had finally subsided to weak chuckles and gasps. "His magical abilities just barely rise above the level of card tricks and retrieving coins from behind children's ears, and he's lecturing us on what's good and proper in the use of – as he calls it – 'the Art?' Oh, please."
"I know, right? All bluster and no brain, that's our Goolsby." Tina's bright smile faded to a small frown. "My parents have been trying to get the Inner Council to dismiss him for years, but his family is so rich and has so many members of the Council in their pocket, they can never get enough votes to give him the boot in the ass he deserves. Every time they think they've got him, someone who said they were going to vote against him suddenly changes his or her vote at the last second, and somehow, he survives like the proverbial cockroach after the nuclear war."
Rachel felt a strong urge to comfort the other girl just then, but instead of hugging her, as she wanted to do, she offered her hand for Tina to shake. "You know, we haven't been formally introduced yet. I'm Rachel. Rachel Berry, medium and future Broadway star."
Tina's eyebrows rose at that; she was impressed by the absolute confidence in Rachel's melodious voice. Taking Rachel's small, warm hand in hers, she asked, "'Future Broadway star?' Are you a clairvoyant in addition to being a medium?"
"No, but I don't have to be a clairvoyant to know that one day I'm going to be a star of both stage and screen. I just have to believe in my talent and not let anyone or anything stand between me and my dreams."
Tina chuckled, completely taken with Rachel's unapologetic self-assuredness. The girl didn't come off as brash or conceited; she merely spoke as if what she was saying was a fait accompli, a fact that simply hadn't yet occurred. Tina found it to be both charming and highly attractive.
"Well, if you believe it that much, then I guess I have no choice but to believe it too, Ms. Berry. After all, who am I to argue with as yet uncrowned musical theater royalty?"
Just as Rachel was about to ask Tina for her name, a nervous-looking young member of the event staff carrying a tray filled with glasses of champagne shuffled up to them, clearing his throat to announce his presence. They had been so wrapped up in each other that they hadn't noticed his approach.
He kept his eyes upon his precariously balanced tray, clearly afraid it would tip over and spill the drinks everywhere. "Excuse me, Ms. Cohen-Chang. Would you and your...friend like some champagne?"
Tina smiled sweetly at the burdened young man as she and Rachel each took a glass of the sparkling beverage; she didn't miss the wide-eyed expression of surprise on the shorter girl's face at the mention of her family name.
"Thank you...Jerry," she said, peering at the name tag pinned to the black vest he wore over his white shirt, the black bow tie at his neck slightly askew. She flicked her fingers, and Rachel felt a tingle in her spine that she somehow knew meant that magic had just been used.
The young man gasped in shock as he realized what Tina had just done. The heavy tray now felt perfectly balanced, and light as a feather. He knew he would have no further trouble carrying it, or anything else, this evening, thanks to the subtle charm that Tina had just cast.
"You're welcome, Ms. Cohen-Chang," he replied brightly. Rachel handed him a couple of bills, and his sincere smile grew wider. "And you, Ms. Berry. You ladies have yourselves a wonderful evening, and please find me if you require anything else."
Tina nodded and Rachel returned a smile at the young man as he left them, walking away with a spring in his step.
Taking a sip of the bubbly drink, Tina murmured, "Mmm. The champagne is excellent. Compliments of Russell Fabray, I assume." She made a face, as though the mention of the name had soured the contents of the glass. "The man has his faults, but he does know his fine adult beverages."
"So you're Tina Cohen-Chang, daughter of Stephen Cohen and Naomi Chang, authors of the New Magicians' Guide to Zen Jewish Mysticism, and one of the city's most lauded young practitioners of the New Arcane," Rachel exclaimed. "I should have known. I thought I recognized you, but I wasn't quite sure. Honestly, that stunning photo on the cover of last month's New Arcane Digest didn't do you justice."
"Guilty as charged. I owe it all to clean living, great genetics, and excellent lighting," Tina replied, laughing. "And actually, I've heard a bit about you too, Ms. Berry - "
With a wave of the hand not holding the glass of champagne, Rachel cut her off. "It's Rachel. Please. Only fans and my lawyers call me Ms. Berry."
"All right, then. Rachel it is. And you can call me Tina. No need to be formal, despite these ridiculous gowns they insist on making us wear to these functions," Tina responded, gesturing to her cream-colored dress and Rachel's burgundy outfit. "As I was saying, I've heard a bit about you as well, Rachel. Your skills as a medium have stirred more than a little interest among the paranormally inclined. I happen to think there's even more to you than that, though. With the right focus and attention, you could become something very special, magically speaking."
Rachel blushed, pleased to receive this high praise from a such a well-regarded – and beautiful – peer in the magical community.
"And may I also say," she continued, gazing intently at Rachel over the rim of her champagne glass as she took another sip, "In all seriousness, that you look absolutely amazing in that gown. It highlights your skin tone and your dark hair and eyes really, really well."
It had been some time since Rachel had received glowing compliments like this, especially from someone as attractive as the woman standing across from her. She hadn't dated anyone seriously in a while, what with graduating from NYADA, auditioning for roles, and establishing her business as an accredited, licensed medium; there simply never seemed to be enough time for a personal life. But now, as she stared into Tina's eyes over her own glass of golden beverage, she began to feel that something special was happening between them, and if nothing else, Rachel Berry knew how to seize the moment.
"Um," she began, smiling the smile she used (infrequently) to cover her nerves, "I don't know if this is too forward, but I...I would really like to continue this conversation over dinner – if - if you don't have any other plans, of course."
Tina was surprised, but she didn't let it show on her face. She'd been hoping that Rachel felt the same pull of attraction that she did, yet she hadn't expected that the short girl with the dazzling, stage-worthy smile, would act upon it so quickly.
Returning Rachel's smile, she responded, "I would love to go to dinner with you. I'm starved, and this conference is way too boring. Did you have a place in mind?"
Rachel sighed happily. "Actually, I did. I do. It's a wonderful little restaurant, not too far away from here. We can take a cab if you like, or we can walk. Whatever you prefer -"
Suddenly, a loud noise, like the crash of thunder, came from the room they had left a few moments earlier.
"What was that?" Rachel asked. The champagne glass she had dropped lay forgotten at her feet, the little liquid that was left quickly soaking into the carpet. The screams and cries of panic and terror that began to emanate from the room through the closed door answered her question: nothing good.
Tina grabbed Rachel's wrist, throwing her own glass to the side. "Come on. We're going in!"
The sight that greeted them when they burst through the door was something that neither of them would ever forget. It was in that moment that their mettle as magicians was first tested. It was also the moment that their bond was truly born...
Rachel opened her eyes, realizing that she'd gotten lost in her memories. As her focus returned, she realized that Santana was looking at her with that familiar blend of annoyance and concern: concern that Rachel's magical ability had brought her into contact with something less than benevolent; annoyance because she had been trying tell the girl something when she'd slipped into her trance.
"Rachel?" she was saying, frustration evident in her voice. "Hey, short stack. Are you with me? Are you all right? Come on, talk to me, damn it!"
"I'm okay, Santana. Sorry...I kind of got lost in my head for a moment there. Please forgive me," Rachel apologized sheepishly. "You were saying something about a fight?"
Santana sighed, but she couldn't find it in herself to be angry at her best friend. She was too excited by the news she was about to share. "Not just a fight, Rachel. My fight. As in, my first fight! They finally told me who I'm going to face when I get in the ring for the first time. Damn, I'm so excited! Please, please say you're happy for me."
Rachel pulled her roommate into a tight hug, grateful that she wasn't angry with her for zoning out the way she had. As they separated from the embrace, Rachel said, "Of course I'm happy for you, Santana. Despite the fact that I continue to harbor misgivings about you possibly being hurt or maimed or possibly crippled for life, you know that if this is what you want to do, as your best friend, I support you one hundred per cent. But are you absolutely sure you're ready for this?"
"Look, Rachel. I appreciate your concern, I really do, but Coach Tanaka and the training staff at Holliday's are the best in the city. They've got me in the best shape of my life, sharpened my natural skills, and given me all the strategic pointers I could possibly need. So yeah, I'm ready. I'm more than ready."
The two young women shared a smile, each knowing how much the other meant to them. They had been friends for a long time now, and the love and loyalty between them was incredibly strong. Santana had been there for Rachel through thick and thin, through insane, evil dance instructors, frenzied audition preparations, and more than a few very scary moments when Rachel's abilities had caused...things to manifest in their apartment at unexpected times. In turn, Rachel had been there for Santana through times of uncertainty and depression, from the lowest of lows - when her best friend had wondered whether or not she had done the right thing in moving to the city - to the highest of highs, when she had gotten the job at Holliday's and was accepted into their training program soon after that.
"Well, then," Rachel said, rising from the couch on which they'd been sitting together and grabbing her phone from the small table next to it. "I'll be right there in the front row to cheer you on. And I'll call Tina, Kurt and Mercedes to make sure they'll be there as well." Then she paused in mid-dial. "What's your unlucky opponent's name, anyway?"
"Cruz. Rosario Cruz." The feral smile on Santana's face told Rachel all she needed to know about what the girl thought of her soon-to-be adversary. Seeing that cold, determined smile, a shiver ran down Rachel's spine. Suddenly she felt very sorry for Miss Cruz.