Okay, hi and first thing's first: massive, massive thanks to jojoDO on this one, as he helped me with a couple of little things I was unsure of. He's a cool cat and you should read his work if you haven't already.

Anyway, let's go~

The phrase "one and done" echoed through King's mind as she made her way to the designated battleground, which had been moved from the usual spot behind the closed-down boutique now that the storefront was purchased to a spot outside a seedy bar called Mac's. She pulled on her gloves as she walked, her mind wandering back to her conversation with Mary the day before. She couldn't believe how many things she hadn't thought of in her desperate attempt to help her family (and, to a lesser extent, herself). Jean would be devastated if something happened to her, and that was the last thing she wanted. So this would absolutely be her last time fighting. After that, she could continue to make and save money the honest way, and if she craved any more hand-to-hand action she could join a gym or something…

King reached the bar and the crowd, which was much bigger than usual (probably because of the location) and tilted her head, thoughtful. More people meant more potential challengers — and more people making bets — which meant more money…! The bartender waved to the "referee," who was watching over a skirmish between a shirtless older man who was covered in tattoos and a non-descript guy who looked like every protagonist in Jean's first-person shooter video games. She immediately became bored of watching the brawl, zoning out as she stood near the edge of the area. Her thoughts flitted between dozens of subjects, from which drinks she would practice making to Jean's latest flare-up, which, thankfully, hadn't been as bad as some of the others but was still more than enough to keep her motivated.

At that moment, the FPS protagonist was rocked by a hard left hook. One more shot — a devastating right uppercut — took him down.

"Which of you bastards wants a piece?!" The tattooed man yelled. Confident that she could beat him, King stepped forward and grinned.

"Bonsoir," she sang.
"Oh, you," Tattoos said, his tone less than enthused. "I don't hit women."

With a frown, King watched the man pick up his shirt — and earnings — and walk away without another word.

"Alright," the Frenchwoman said. "Who's willing to try to hit a woman?!"
"I'll take you on," a burly man who probably would have intimidated anyone else in the entire zip code said while stepping out of the crowd.

Although she got hit by a pretty solid shot to the body, a single kick from King eventually knocked the challenger flat.

"Next," she called with a yawn.

A man who looked like what would happen if one of those scene kids King would periodically see on television or the internet and a bodybuilder had a baby emerged, his carefully spiked-up hair and eyeliner bordering on outright silly. Nevertheless, he was no match for her: she sidestepped his sad attempt at a left hook and popped him dead in the face with a knee strike that knocked him down and out of the fight.

"C'est ça?" King wondered out loud as she quirked a brow, a little disappointed. It was her last night fighting, and though she had already won twice and somehow still had energy to spare, she wouldn't make much of anything if there was no one to take her on. Lips pressed in a thin line, she placed a hand on her hip while waiting for someone to challenge her. The guys in the crowd murmured among themselves, but no one came forward. With a sigh, the bartender started toward the pile of money but stopped when, finally, a mousey fellow in a basketball jersey emerged — only to be abruptly shoved out of the way by a huge man with a mullet haircut who was chewing gum. Uncomfortable familiarity made a pit form in King's stomach as the challenger moved slowly, his dark, beady eyes fixed on her and a smug, shit-eating grin on his face — an expression the young woman had often dreamt of kicking into orbit. She unconsciously let out a low growl and narrowed her eyes at the unwelcome man who had been nothing but the proverbial thorn in her side when she worked for Big. The leader of the Black Cats had even been a plague on her entire life, and now here he was after almost a year, stalking toward her and blowing large, pink bubbles as he approached.

"Long time no see, hon'," Jack Turner greeted when he reached King, that goddamned grin still on his face.

The Frenchwoman glared at her former associate but said nothing — just balled her hands into tight fists as he looked her up and down.

"I see the secret's out," he commented. "Must be freeing, not having to hide your tits anymore."

King set her jaw, already irritated beyond belief. She hated this man and everything he stood for. Everything he had done to her in the past: the beating before she ever became King, and then the blackmail when he found out who she really was after the two coincidentally ended up working together in the Syndicate. The relentless teasing as he repeatedly tried to get her to slip up in front of Big and the others. It was taking everything in her power to keep her shit together, as she wanted desperately to start swinging on the vile son of a bitch and never stop.

"What's the matter?" Jack asked when King stayed quiet. "Cat got your tongue?"
"Shut up."
"Aw, don't be like that, hon'. I'm just tryin' to be friendly."
"Fuck you."

Jack threw his head back and laughed, an awful noise that made King want to rip her own ears off, before settling on her again.

"Nice to see you haven't changed! Means I'll just have to smack you around harder than I did last time!"
"I'm not the same person you beat up in the past," King replied tersely.

At that, the large man scoffed.

"You keep tellin' yourself that. You're still just an arrogant little bitch, and now that Big isn't around to protect you, I'm gonna swat you like the little fly that you are."

King scowled but promptly assumed her fighting stance.

"Are we doing this?" She asked, ignoring the insults. She wasn't about to let this disgusting asshole get under her skin, though the use of the word "arrogant" did give her pause, as it wasn't the first time she heard it… Nevertheless, she couldn't be distracted by thoughts about her possible personality flaws. She needed to focus, damn it!

Meanwhile, Jack spit out his gum, then rolled his neck a few times and cracked his knuckles.

"I'm gonna enjoy this," he growled.

Jack, who was fast for his size, suddenly shoved King as hard as he could; she stumbled backward, lost her footing, and hit the ground with considerable force. She got up quickly — just in time to sidestep the large man as he attempted to spear her. He soared past, allowing the bartender to pivot so she was behind him. Jack turned as he brought himself upright but King immediately struck him with a kick to his hip, and another to his shoulder before she used a push kick to knock him over while he was off-balance. However, before she could do anything else, Jack propped himself up and issued a fierce hit directly to her kneecap, eliciting a pained cry as she abruptly went down. She sucked air in through her teeth as she backed up slightly; the bastard knew about her Muay Thai, which meant he knew to target her legs right away. Shaking her head at her lack of awareness, she hurriedly climbed to her feet, her knee feeling like it was on fire. Unfortunately, she couldn't move fast enough to avoid Jack as he snatched her by the collar of her t-shirt and roughly threw her aside before charging her with a burly shoulder at full speed. Unsurprisingly, she fell to the ground again, landing on her back this time. She rolled out of Jack's way as he came down with an elbow that would have hit her square in the chest had she been even a second slower. The large man let out an agonized howl as his appendage hit the cool concrete with full force. There was no way that thing wasn't fractured or outright broken…!

Swiftly, King climbed to her feet and hopped backward, the pain in her knee bordering on severe. If she wanted to win this fight and get her revenge on Jack for everything he had done, she would have to change her strategy — and fast, as her kicks were her proverbial bread and butter. Of course, she could still throw them, but it would be risky; she would have to be fast and pinpoint accurate, as there was no way her single leg would be able to hold her up for too long or withstand much force if she were to use it. Thankfully she still had her fists and elbows, which would have to do most of the work. With that in mind, King carefully watched as Jack rose to his feet, cradling his elbow in his hand, his face contorted in pain and hate.

"You look like you have something you want to say," the bartender commented while raising her fists. Jack responded with a growl as he lunged toward her; she moved out of the way, which was much more challenging than she would have liked, but she was able to go on the offensive anyway. Out of habit, she struck with a hard knee, which made her other knee — the one supporting her weight — explode with pain, but then followed up with an elbow that connected with Jack's solar plexus. Momentarily stunned, he reached out to grab her but was unsuccessful, as King sidestepped the attempt and punched him dead in the face, busting his mouth. She made to follow up with another punch, but Jack batted her fist away before reaching out with his good arm, grabbing her by her neck, and choke slamming her onto the hood of a parked car, which was met by various sounds from the crowd.

"Merde," King gasped as she struggled to escape Jack's grasp. He lifted her up and slammed her onto the car once more before slightly loosening his grip, his breathing slightly ragged. He paused to catch his breath, which made King realize that the large man's cardio must have been garbage. After all, he was big and out of shape; he could hit hard, but physicality-wise, there was no way he would be able to keep up with her, even with her injured leg. With that in mind, she dug her nails into her opponent's wrist and then dragged her fingers downward, creating several nasty scratches on Jack's skin. He instantly let go and drew back, allowing the bartender to prop herself up on her elbows and use her good leg to throw a kick that connected with Jack's gut. From there, she hopped off of the car as fast as she could and hit the gang leader with a forceful elbow to his face.

Jack covered his nose, which was leaking blood, and swore loudly.

"You're gonna pay for that," he growled between breaths, his voice strangled and nasally.
"Oh, fuck off!" King retorted through gritted teeth, as the pain in her knee had graduated into an awful feeling that was spreading through her entire leg.

Determined not to let her injury stymie her efforts, King bounded toward Jack to attack him again, but he caught her fist, twisted it, and struck with a fierce headbutt. Momentarily stunned, the Frenchwoman blinked several times (were those stars…?) right before she was hit in the face; the blow instantly split the side of her lower lip wide open. Quickly, she ran her tongue over her teeth to make sure nothing was knocked loose by the blow (luckily, everything was firmly in place) and hastily dodged what probably would have been a knockout punch.

There was a brief pause as Jack drew in a deep breath. King smiled; the large man was getting tired, which meant she could finally take him down! All she had to do was power through her pain, as she was really beginning to feel all of those slams. Worse, she felt that her adrenaline was dulling the terrible sensations, which meant she would be in for a hell of a time when all was said and done. Nevertheless, she dodged several sloppy attacks, countering with various elbows and punches whenever possible.

"Stay… still!" Jack panted, clearly frustrated, as he tried to hit King with a slow jab that missed by a mile. He tried to follow up with a clothesline, but the bartender quickly ducked, allowing her to throw a one-two body shot; the fat in his belly absorbed most of the force behind the blows, but she ended the combo with an uppercut to Jack's chin that sent him reeling.

Despite her body's protests, King then snatched Jack by the back of his head and pulled him into a Muay Thai clinch, letting out a pained hiss as she put weight on her leg before striking with several forceful knees to her opponent's face and belly, with the last one finally knocking the wind out of him. The bartender then let him go and executed a fierce roundhouse kick that she probably shouldn't have thrown, as it made her leg feel like it was about to snap off entirely, but the risky maneuver sent Jack crashing to the ground.

"It's over!" King yelled as she swiftly kicked Jack's face. Immediately, she hit him again — in the liver this time — before her leg gave out completely. She cried out as her tailbone hit the dirty concrete, and gritted her teeth. She then turned her attention back to Jack, who was bloody and struggling to get up, the sight extremely satisfying. However, despite how beat up she was, she wanted to hit him more — to make sure he understood that she wasn't some weak woman. She legitimately wanted to hurt the man — just like she had hurt all those other bastards in the past — but her better judgment told her to back off. She gingerly climbed back to her feet and limped toward Jack, who had pulled himself into a sitting position. He lunged forward in an attempt to grab King's leg, but she was ready: she kicked him in the jaw so hard that his head snapped backward, but he caught himself before he could fall back. Dazed, he glared at the bartender, his face bruised and bloody. He looked like he wanted to say something, but the Frenchwoman spoke first:

"I may be a stupid, arrogant bitch —" she wiped the blood from her lip on the back of her hand — "but I'm a stupid, arrogant bitch who just kicked your ass! Stay down, you stubborn asshole!"
"You're gonna… you're gonna pay for this," Jack said through laboured breaths. "I don't know when… but you'll get what you deserve… you fucking —"
"Bla bla bla," King interrupted. "Ask me if I give a shit."

Jack scowled.

"I really… really… hate you," he remarked.
"Aww. That cut deep," the Frenchwoman sarcastically retorted. She turned on her heel, not even caring about the cheering from the crowd or the money anymore, exhausted and in a world of hurt. She carefully limped away, and though she was over the moon about the brutal payback she had just unleashed on Jack, she wanted nothing more than to get home, take a quick shower, and down as much ibuprofen as possible.

Alright, alright! Time for a couple of notes:

* Jack defeated King sometime prior to the events of the first Art of Fighting. In the Japanese version of AOF2, their pre-fight dialogues with each other make it clear that there's bad blood between them, and it is explicitly stated that Jack beat her in the past. (A little bit of that dialogue is actually peppered into their pre-fight words here.) The circumstances behind the skirmish are unknown, but I headcanon'd the shit out of it to make it make sense, etc. etc. That's in A Profound Impact, which is a couple of clicks to the left (but I think I already mentioned that because of Dimples? Idk man).
* C'est ça? = That's it?
* Merde = shit
* Bla bla bla = French blah blah blah
* King and Jack's dialogue at the end of the skirmish actually includes a couple of callbacks to things he told her in the past, particularly in Uncomfortable Liar. "Ask me if I give a shit," and "that cut deep," specifically.

Welp, that's all on this chapter! Thank you to everyone who's taken the time to stick with this, and extra thanks to those who have taken the time to actually review! Don't be afraid to let me know your thoughts and feels, and, hopefully, we'll see you next time!

Cheers~!