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Cori's arms came over the ropes and her gloves covered her aching groin. A second later, she went to her knees. As she fell, Libby landed a blow to Cori's bruised face. She hit the canvas hard and laid motionless.
The arena, now nearly full, erupted with noise. Libby threw her arms in the air. As she looked down at her defeated opponent her mouth dropped open. Cori was trying to push herself off the mat.
Michael didn't know whether to cheer or scream to stay down or throw himself in front of a speeding bus. Christ, she was something! How could anyone not be impressed with this magnificent fighter? Even in defeat, she showed more courage than Michael could remember seeing in any other fighter.
Cori got unsteadily to her knees, but Libby drove a hard right hand into the brunette's jaw that sent her sprawling. Libby shook her gloved fist at the fallen fighter and yelled for her to stay down. Again Cori began to push herself up. The crowd was on it's feet |
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screaming. Fucking bloodlust, Michael thought. Just last month they were cheering for Cori, now they wanted her head knocked off.
Libby measured her wobbly opponent and drove another hard right into Cori's chin. This one did the trick. Cori's head bounced off the canvas when it hit. There was no doubt that she wouldn't be getting up again. Around the room, fans were high-fiving and clapping. Libby went from one side of the ring to the other, pounding her glove against her chest and raising it high in the air.
The winner went back to where her beaten opponent lie. Grabbing a fist full of Cori's hair, Libby pulled the semi-conscious brunette to her knees and raised her own right hand over her head. Jacobs signaled the photographer to get a couple of good shots of the pose. He smiled as her thought how nice the playbill outside would look with this picture on it. This should just about do it for the arrogant bitch, he thought. No fucking way she was coming back from this beating. |
