Of Strength and Serendipity- Match 3 [MaKayla]

[Scott Hutchinson]

In one corner of the courtyard a small boy fidgeted restlessly. He had the vague recollection of signing his name on something a few weeks ago, not really paying attention as the attendant explained what it was for and how he’d have to fight his fellow students in some big competition. Scott was not opposed to fighting. In fact, he’d been practising with Smith for weeks and some part of him registered a sense of excitement at being able to put what he’d learned into action. But a moment later the sensation was whisked away as the shadow of a bird crossed the courtyard and the boy’s head snapped around to watch it pass.

Scott was small for his age, had never been on the winning side of a fight before in his life, and possessed the attention span of a goldfish on crack. But the boy was lucky. Or, at least, he thought he was despite all evidence to the contrary. He wore a simple white t-shirt and gym shorts that revealed his matchstick legs. His duct-taped sneakers seemed to be begging for mercy on his feet, but there was no way the boy was going to compete without his lucky shoes.

Scott’s eyes darted around the courtyard seemingly in search of something to latch onto, but found nothing until the gates creaked open to reveal his opponent. He’d be fighting a girl? The boy let out a snicker at the idea. Of course, he’d been beaten up by numerous girls before, but he seemed to forget that particular detail in the heat of the moment as he faced MaKayla, arms hanging loosely at his sides. “Come on, come on, come on,” Scott chanted, bouncing on his toes. He was ready to get this fight started.

[MaKayla MyKa]

"I'll be fine." She told everyone with a smile, herself included in this. The girl may have been strong but she was largely unknown to the school. Her list of friends was down to a Kia and her boyfriend, Issac, who didn't seem to talk much at all. This school was rather depressing to her. An island where half the people wanted her dead and the other half wouldn't care if she was found dead. The Tourney was her ticket out. Through death or through the promise of a return home.

Training with Issac was something of a ritual now. She spent her time outlasting him and simply being stronger than him in a spar. But without any form of manipulation she was far behind any others in being lethal. MaKayla was ready, the only things that she would bring with her would be her Ashfordian gym uniform and the thought of home.

When she entered the ring she had expected a fight that would keep her guessing and that's what she got (but not in the traditional sense). This boy was two inches shorter than her, his sneakers looked like they were simply begging to be put down and truthfully the boy looked like he'd never trained a day in his life.

"Are you ready?" she asked as if in warning, stepping into the center of the arena. She bounced on the balls of her feet, raising her fists in a defensive manner. She felt ready for anything.

[Scott Hutchinson]

“Yes!” MaKayla barely had the opportunity to finish her question before the boy answered. Without hesitation Scott threw himself across the courtyard at her. After weeks of training with Smith it took the boy approximately five seconds to forget everything. He charged MaKayla head on, intending to punch out at her with a bony fist. The boy’s enthusiasm was almost as admirable as it was pathetic. With unwavering gusto, Scott closed the distance between himself and MaKayla as fast as he could in his unraveling shoes. His super-computer brain registered the fact that the move might not be in his best interest, but it was too late to stop now. The boy was committed to the action and the only thing that could stop him was the point of impact.

In an alternate universe the boy might have played it smarter. He may have waited for his opponent to move first and discovered that her powers involved strength and athleticism. He may have adjusted his strategy for such a scenario, but unfortunately for Scott his present universe did not allow for such planning. Despite his alleged intelligence and weeks of preparation with Smith, Scott still lacked the critical capacity for self-control. And so, as he sped towards his target he left himself wide open, once again reminding everyone who had ever known him that he was pretty damn stupid for a genius.

[MaKayla MyKa]

MaKayla was ready, Issac's advice would ring true in this instance. The advice to never be the first to attack. She quickly stepped back and to the side as fist shot sloppily past her. It was then that she made her move. Her arm extended outward and quick in a simple jab. She didn't nearly need to put as much force into it as others. In fact swinging her arm into a hook would be too slow.

The fist reached out towards her opponent. though she really didn't know what to expect. She wasn't yet sure of her own abilities outside the spar. Her confrontation with Ash made every day she wore a prefect badge a day she could very well die. Perhaps this added importance to the match, but it also instilled a lack of confidence within herself. If any kid down the hall could send her to the nurse's what could stop the boy in front of him causing a knock out blow.

She had no idea who he was despite the amount of time she'd spent doing paperwork and looking through student files. She had nothing on him. Not even a name. Such a thought worried her, she couldn't help but worry. This was all very important and she had no clue about what she was up against. It was only natural and habitual for her to worry.

[Scott Hutchinson]

Scott’s punch missed clean the to right, landing on an imaginary opponent somewhere beyond MaKayla’s ear. The boy blinked once in surprise. Of all the possible conclusions his mind had calculated, this was not the one he'd expected. Before he could react MaKayla swung a fist straight for his chin and it landed with a crack. The boy's head snapped back and his knees gave out. The punch had floored him and he crumpled into a small, ramen-noodle scented heap in the middle of the courtyard. Already out cold, the boy hadn’t put up much of a fight. It was a one-hit KO scored in the first round, but more importantly, MaKayla had just discovered the one way to shut Scott up instantly. It was a revolutionary moment.

On the ground, the blond-haired boy did not stir. He would have no recollection of the blow and he would spend the next few days nursing a mild concussion. MaKayla, meanwhile, would move on to round two having suffered very little in the way of physical damage. Maybe Scott was unlucky to lose in such a way, or maybe it was for the best. After all, luck is oftentimes nothing more than a matter of perspective.

[MaKayla MyKa]

Makayla was shocked by the result, the boy hurled towards the ground. But the idea that he was already on the ground, passed out put a pit in her stomach. She paused for a moment, bringing her hands to her mouth, "are you oka-"

"Move!" It was then that she turned to find a whole medical crew barreling past her to aid the injured boy. His face had a rather large cut on it, not to mention how his features began to swell up on the side where the knock out blow landed. They quickly pushed MaKayla from the courtyard to allow them to work on Scott, as if he were in critical condition.

The fact that she'd inflict such an injury upon someone was tough as it was. Even if she was fighting for her freedom. Seeing someone crumble to the ground like that was just tough on her. She wandered off to the empty cafeteria, where the very few winning participants rested and ate. It was a rather quiet moment. Not one of peace or of calm.

Some may consider MaKayla lucky. Some thought such a landslide victory would be a moment of celebration. But it didn't feel empowering, or great, or any type of successful. What kind of freedom was she fighting for at this point? She pondered upon the question, poking at a tray of green beans and a fish fillet.

[Scott Hutchinson]

It didn’t take the glass-chined boy long to come to. In total, he only spent about 30 seconds on the ground before the medics swarmed him and he blinked up in bleary confusion. Scott felt like a deer in the headlights (pardon the cliche) as the pack of white-clad medics waved lights in his face and fired questions at him in urgent voices. He felt frozen and nervous as he was prodded for further injuries and he couldn’t seem to bring himself to answer their questions. Over their shoulders he picked out MaKayla’s face as she peered at him with concern. Her presence was comforting and the boy relaxed and began to cooperate, answering questions and beginning to enjoy the attention. It was declared that he would be fine after a few days of rest and the medics slapped a bandage on his bleeding chin before hauling him to his feet. Grinning, Scott looked around for the girl but she was already gone. The boy’s expression flattened. Smiling hurt, anyway.