Mikaela Vs. World

Mikaela's Perspective.

(The Present...)

"...He's the one Mikaela. From three years ago? He's the one. What do you want me to do?"

There was a knock at the door.

"Let her in," I motioned to James, keeping the phone pressed to my ear with my left hand.

"Find out whatever else you can for me Roach. I'll touch base with you tomorrow." I concluded the call, watching Brooke pace around the room, attempting to conceal her nerves.

"How are you feeling, Champ?" she inquired.

I stretched on the floor, initially paying no attention to her. With rhythmic hops, I practiced my jab and hook combo.

"Up! Up!" Tim's voice broke the silence as I drove into his chest, sending him back and delivering a perfect straight right to the pads, knocking them off his hand.

The room remained quiet, interrupted only by the cadence of my steps and the occasional snap of my jabs. Tim advanced with the pads, throwing rapid combinations. I grasped the objective, swaying and pivoting at the waist, stepping on his foot and landing my right glove on the chest protector. He emitted a slight grunt.

Another knock echoed through the door, followed by an announcement, "You're up next!"

Turning, I settled on a stool and extended my hand for the wrapping and gloving process. I turned around to meet Brooke's studious gaze, nodding in acknowledgement of her presence.

"Nice job, Tim," she commented, a sly grin playing on her lips. "I might have to consider getting a personal trainer too, you know."

He ignored her. Tim and I were both fully immersed in our zone; there was no one else in the room as far as we were concerned.

"Alright, Mikaela!" he declared, taking my left hand and reaching for the wrapping tape. "We've been through this scenario several times before, nothing new. You saw her in the lobby yesterday; she's a bit heavier than the last time you fought, meaning she's not expecting a different outcome. She's coming for the knockout. What's my expectation from you?"

"Movement," I replied.

"Good movement, Mikaela. Solid footwork. That's what we've been honing," he emphasized. "She can't sustain all that extra weight for long; she'll tire from chasing you around the ring, and that's when your conditioning will shine. For the initial rounds, just touch and move. Don't load up, just land scoring punches—use your jabs, feint, and counterpunch. Nothing too flashy."

I nodded in understanding as I observed the droplets of sweat hitting the floor.

"How's that? Too tight?" Tim inquired.

"Perfect," I replied without lifting my gaze.

Brooke stepped forward, taking hold of my left hand as Tim switched to wrapping the right. She lightly tapped her palm on my knuckles. "How's the padding?" she asked.

Tim broke the ensuing silence after Brooke's question. "Nobody enjoys body shots, and neither does she. But she'll be ready for them. So, feint to the body, touch the head and move. Repeat that a couple of times, then step in and deliver the right hook to the chin—break her jaw!" He released my right hand, and Brooke emitted a sigh before sinking into a chair, pinching her forehead in discomfort. She sat in an awkward position as Tim resumed speaking, now standing.

"As we've discussed before, she's put on some weight, so it's crucial to keep her at a distance. Stay out of the pocket, avoid exchanging blows. Stick to the sweet science: hit without getting hit. Make the most of your reach advantage. Though she may be taller, your arms are longer. Extend and snap that jab toward her nose. Break her nose!"

I rose to my feet, shaking out my arms and accidentally bumping into James on his way out, playfully tapping the back of his head. "Good luck, Mikaela. Take care of yourself," he announced.

"See you soon..." I replied.

Turning to Brooke, I mirrored the smile I had given James. "Eddie? Did he win?"

Brooke nodded. "Mikaela, she's a tough opponent – a seasoned Nigerian fighter. She's been around the block a few times, so be wary of rabbit punching. I've faced her in the ring, and she was without a doubt my toughest opponent, and you know I'm the best so that says a lot."

I smiled and settled back into my seat as Tim approached with the boxing gloves.

"She has a decent jab, so be prepared for it. Don't give her an opening," Brooke continued."

You got this, Mikaela," Tim assured, securing the final glove. "She'll try to catch you off guard, but keep moving. When she comes at you, make a clean counter."He patted me on the shoulders, and I turned and met Brooke's gaze.

"We've got a good one, don't we?" I inquired.

"One of the best," Brooke responded.

There was another knock at the door.

"Alright Mikaela, see you ringside," Tim announced as he made his exit.

"I guess we should get going." Brooke stood, and I nodded, she gave me a warm hug. "It's nice to have the support," I responded.

"You've got more than enough support, Mikaela," Brooke assured.

I smiled. "It's a good feeling."

She held open the door, and I made my way into the hallway, where a videographer was already waiting.

Brooke rested her forehead against mine as we stood just outside the door. "Go give her hell!" she urged.

"You're damn right," I replied, and we laughed.

The cameraman's voice interrupted our moment. "Ready to roll?"

I nodded, and he positioned his camera.

We stood there for several minutes, him and I, sweat trickling down my face as I bounced on the spot, shadowboxing and clashing my gloves together. Then, a signal came, and we commenced our walk to the ring.

With each step, the sound of the enthusiastic crowd grew louder, and my stomach churned, a lump forming in my throat. The nerves had finally taken hold.

Stepping through the curtain, the crowd erupted in cheers of excitement. My eyes scanned the arena, finding Brooke standing near the ring.

Glancing ahead, I spotted the familiar black and gold of the championship belt. "Coming home tonight." My gaze then shifted to the opponent's corner. There, I locked eyes with Damaris, clad in a pink robe with the number twenty-four adorning the waistband of her shorts. She appeared larger than I remembered.

I nodded at her and proceeded to the ring, climbing the stairs and slipping under the top rope. Inside the ring, I raised my arms above my head, turning to acknowledge the cheering crowd.

Soon after the bell rang and the referee began his announcement. "Alright I've been through this with the both of you in the dressing rooms, so here we go. This is a ten-round bout for the Panat's middleweight championship. Now, if you both want to win, you must do it by points or a knockout. No low blows or rabbit punches. If you take too much punishment I'll step in and take care of you, in that event the fight will be ruled a TKO for the opponent. Fight hard, and fight clean, ladies. Now touch gloves, and come out fighting. Let's go!"

Damaris and I both raised our fists, touching them gently against each other's. I turned and took my corner, awaiting the start of the round.

"Fight!"

The bell sounded, and we approached the center of the ring.

She threw her right jab, and I countered, touching her nose. I stepped forward, sending a few punches to her torso. She retaliated with a straight right, grazing my nose. I landed a straight left to her forehead, sending her back. She threw a few hooks, connecting with my shoulder. I landed a body shot, then moved back.

Damaris rose leisurely from her corner, sharing a laugh with her coach as he removed the stool from the ring. She appeared remarkably relaxed.

As the bell rang, Damaris approached confidently.

"Come on, let's see what you've got," she taunted, standing firm in the center of the ring with her hands at her sides. I resisted the urge to engage and instead circled her, feinting a right hook. She instinctively raised her hand in response, but neither of us threw any punches. I pondered her intentions.

"Stay patient, Mikaela!" Brooke's voice echoed from the sidelines.

As I surged forward with my head shielded by my gloves, she retreated. Suddenly, she deftly placed her right glove against my head, and in an instant, a forceful straight left followed. I felt my legs waver slightly beneath me, and an odd metallic taste filled my mouth.

"Stay bloody patient, Mikaela! Use your feet! Use your feet!" Tim yelled out.

With Damaris's tongue hanging out and her head dangerously tilted forward, I stepped in with a right hand, only to find empty air, leaving me spun halfway around the ring. As I scrambled to regain my stance, a rush of air swept into my ears, followed by a sharp stinging sensation. I staggered backwards, squeezing my face in an attempt to alleviate the pain.

Bringing my right hand up to my ear, I inadvertently left the right side of my face exposed to a thudding hook. Clenching down on my gumshield, I endured another hook to the ear that I had left vulnerable in my attempt to protect my face. Just in time, I moved back to partially deflect the sting from a jab to the stomach that landed.

"Don't let her catch you like that!" Brooke cautioned.

I retreated to my corner, where Tim was already standing.

"You need to use your footwork," he instructed. "Keep circling, and wait for the opening. Watch out for her left!"

The bell sounded, and Damaris was slow to move back to her corner, staring me down as she bit on he bottom lip. She shot a wink and then turned around.

"Nice work, Champ!" Tim congratulated, applying ice to the side of my head. "Keep your hands up."

I nodded, still breathing heavily.