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Dara Camacho survived like she had all throughout college. She wouldn't let herself quit, couldn't bring herself to take the easy way out. She might be dog tired, but dammit she had pride, even as Breanna straddled her hips and pushed her chest against the mat. The #2 ranked bantamweight took her time and picked her shots, transitioning from striking to submission attempts as the opportunity arose. But the finish eluded her even a minute later. "Come on, do your job ref." She grunted, clubbing Dara with a forearm across the jaw.

"Do yours. She's still fighting back." The ref chided, motioning for the women to continue their struggle.

Dara appreciated the vote of confidence, but that didn't make things any less awful. She still needed to dislodge this 135 lb octopus and actually land some meaningful offense before the round ended. She could feel Breanna posturing up, pulling away from her back, rearing up to gain the leverage need to throw the kind of punches that might force a referee stoppage.

A deep breathe ensued, entreating her burning lungs for one more movement. Dara bucked and turned, capsizing like a sinking ship as she fell to her side and dislodged Breanna. They collapsed in a heap and Dara turned away to face her tormentor. Frustration and shock clouded the southern athlete's face, and Dara felt relief well up inside her even if all she had to show for it was her freedom, and that wouldn't show up on any judge's scorecards.

Breanna pushed up to her knees, and then stood, eyes locked on her target. she could hear her corner yelling for her to push for the knockout, yelling that Dara was tired and ready to go, but she knew better. This woman had survived her best efforts time and again and Breanna had never been the type to rush things. Instead she stood and motioned for the exhausted UCLA student to stand. They'd settle things on their feet.

Dara accepted the invitation, hands low, chest heaving. Fighting had long stopped being fun. But lots of things were difficult and worth it. Why should fighting for a championship be any different?

The two women approached, and the bell interrupted their final collision. Whatever happened next was out of their hands.

Dara Camacho resisted the urge to fall to her knees immediately, standing up just long enough to lean on Breanna as she came in to offer a hug.

"Fucking A" Dara huffed.

"I know right?" Breanna shot back. "You're too tough, girl. I thought I had you two or three times and you just wouldn't go away."

"Back at you. I thought you were out in the first..."

"You fought like it." She laughed. "You know these are three round fights, right?"

Dara was glad her complexion hid her sudden flush of embarrassment....

Description

Previous: www.deviantart.com/cfmech/art/…

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Dara Camacho survived like she had all throughout college. She wouldn't let herself quit, couldn't bring herself to take the easy way out. She might be dog tired, but dammit she had pride, even as Breanna straddled her hips and pushed her chest against the mat. The #2 ranked bantamweight took her time and picked her shots, transitioning from striking to submission attempts as the opportunity arose. But the finish eluded her even a minute later. "Come on, do your job ref." She grunted, clubbing Dara with a forearm across the jaw.

"Do yours. She's still fighting back." The ref chided, motioning for the women to continue their struggle.

Dara appreciated the vote of confidence, but that didn't make things any less awful. She still needed to dislodge this 135 lb octopus and actually land some meaningful offense before the round ended. She could feel Breanna posturing up, pulling away from her back, rearing up to gain the leverage need to throw the kind of punches that might force a referee stoppage.

A deep breathe ensued, entreating her burning lungs for one more movement. Dara bucked and turned, capsizing like a sinking ship as she fell to her side and dislodged Breanna. They collapsed in a heap and Dara turned away to face her tormentor. Frustration and shock clouded the southern athlete's face, and Dara felt relief well up inside her even if all she had to show for it was her freedom, and that wouldn't show up on any judge's scorecards.

Breanna pushed up to her knees, and then stood, eyes locked on her target. she could hear her corner yelling for her to push for the knockout, yelling that Dara was tired and ready to go, but she knew better. This woman had survived her best efforts time and again and Breanna had never been the type to rush things. Instead she stood and motioned for the exhausted UCLA student to stand. They'd settle things on their feet.

Dara accepted the invitation, hands low, chest heaving. Fighting had long stopped being fun. But lots of things were difficult and worth it. Why should fighting for a championship be any different?

The two women approached, and the bell interrupted their final collision. Whatever happened next was out of their hands.

Dara Camacho resisted the urge to fall to her knees immediately, standing up just long enough to lean on Breanna as she came in to offer a hug.

"Fucking A" Dara huffed.

"I know right?" Breanna shot back. "You're too tough, girl. I thought I had you two or three times and you just wouldn't go away."

"Back at you. I thought you were out in the first..."

"You fought like it." She laughed. "You know these are three round fights, right?"

Dara was glad her complexion hid her sudden flush of embarrassment....