A caged lion and a caged bird

La-di-fucking-da. This felt like something sorely overdue.

So many confrontations. So many dumb fights and taunts. Hell, even a proclaimed war against their entire class - something she still wanted to sock Alex in the face for. All of that was what it took, to get them here. Center stage in a god-forsaken military compound. Two teenagers, staring at each other with intent to kill. And while she mirrored the sentiment that Darren was giving her, looking like a stone-cold murderer ready to unleash utter hell of shrapnel hail on his opponent like a gunnery sergeant behind the trigger of a mounted M249, internally the lioness was grinning. Her blood was boiling as she had begun clenching her fists without realizing it.

She wouldn't admit it for the life of her, but this fight was one she had been anticipating. Jasmine had always been the competitive type - finding new ways to test herself, to push herself to her limit. Finding an opponent who could give her a proper fight wasn't an easy endeavor, and while she knew a lot of people would consider her cocky or even a bitch for saying something like that, all of them knew that was true. Not many could offer a decent challenge to the blonde lioness who came to Yuuei kicking asses and not giving a fuck about a single name. But Darren? Darren was that one exception? Yeah, he lost both the encounters the two of them had, but neither of those had been... real.

This time, though? Both of them knew luck was on Darren's side as quirks had been banned from this particular match-up. Regardless of that fact the blonde ace of 1A couldn't help but find excitement in the prospect of this fight. She was painfully aware that Darren was no pushover in hand-to-hand combat. Frankly she considered that he had quite the distance in terms of technique on her, and that only further served to fuel her excitement.

Clad in nothing but a sports bra and calf-high sweatpants, the blonde was ready for a fight, some sweat having already built up from her previous warm-up routine. The fact that she had actually taken the precaution of warming up before a fight was enough to tell anyone who knew her how seriously she was taking this. Inhale. Exhale. Deep breaths to calm herself. Overexcitement was her biggest enemy in this situation. If she wasn't careful and let it get to her head, she'd be floored in an instant. She punched her gloves against one another after Darren's taunt, smirking lowly as she felt her knuckles sting a little from the force of the hit even through the gloves.

"Gladly."

The second the fight was announced, Jasmine advanced. Not at all recklessly, though. From her previous encounter with the other blond student she knew he couldn't quite handle consistent pressure well. Thus, hands raised, palms pointed towards Darren as if she was getting ready to grapple, she walked closed the distance between them in an attempt to smother him. She wasn't about to attack first, but should he do so, she would be able to counter or, at the very least, block. Should he try to poke her recklessly, a quick jab to his face was what waited for him.

Jaz was taking no prisoners, and that was made apparent by the bloodthirsty aura surrounding her alone.

Jasmine wasn't at all a grappler. To be painfully honest she actually sucked at it. The amount of technique that went into a proper grappled to make an enemy submit, then changing positions if the opponent managed to get out of the grapple, yadda yadda yadda... all of it took so much focus and knowledge. Knowledge she knew she needed to work on. Pressure points, ways to utterly lock an opponent to the ground and disable them. She was okay at them, yet not at all on a level that she was satisfied with. Thus, when she approached Darren, the hands that were up in front of her face were nothing but a ruse. Or rather, it was something to get Darren to attack.

Much like he himself, Jasmine was a striker. The punch first ask questions later type. And when Darren decided to advance in the same way that she preferred to, she couldn't help the small smile that surfaced on her face.

The Jasmine of now was much different from the Jasmine that Darren had previously fought. Before the blonde lioness had no idea what Darren was doing. It was kind of like an amateur watching a boxing match - they didn't know what the fuck was going on but everything seemed amazing in one way or another. Now, though, after having gone through a wide range of training herself, the wild female was able to recognize the movements her male counterpart was attempting. Quick yet methodical, Darren was sticking to the conventional rules of boxing. Fair enough. She could respect that. But, at the same time, she knew how to counter it.

As the jab came flying towards her, Jasmine's crimson eyes narrowed, her focus turning superlative as it always did whenever she was in a fight she was taking seriously. Time seemingly slowed in her peripheral vision as she attempted her next maneuver. As soon as the male's fist was close enough, her hand outstretched. Her palm pushed against his incoming hand, roughly swatting aside the appendage via slapping his wrist away more to the left, forcing an opening. Then, her own left hand, which had still been raised, balled into a fist. Clenching her shoulder and thus squeezing her arm closely to herself lest a counter-attack came, Jasmine offered a very quick jab of her own, straight to Darren's nose. It didn't have it's usual oompf behind it. Rather it was to test the waters but remain on the defensive. A quick attack with a quick draw back into defense. Regardless if the blow would connect or not, Jasmine would immediately go back to holding her hands in front of her face, ready to counter anything the other blond was going to dish at her.

Pressure. That's what she was intending to apply to the blond. She was well aware of the difference in fighting ability. But if she managed to play to his weaknesses, there was yet away for Jasmine to win this one.

The hit had connected, just as the blonde had anticipated. But what she did expect was Darren turning the pressure onto her. He had changed - that much was apparent. Last time she was able to deter him by simply consistently advancing, noticing how the male had lost his sense of control over the fight as soon as the tables were turned on him. Then again, their previous fight was with some very egregious rules. This time, though, he could afford to take a hit and continue advancing, basically employing the same style of fighting Jasmine herself was known to use. Take a hit to be able to dish out one or five that were several times stronger than the one received. Clever, especially considering Jasmine's last attack had been nothing more than a test jab.

Her defense had already been up the second her attack made contact. Lowering her arms just a tad to cover her mid-section, Jasmine was able to block the knee aiming at her liver. What that left her exposed to, however, was the plum clinch that Darren was very quit to snake his arms into. Going up and under her guard, Darren had attained a reasonable amount of control over her. The position his hands took around her neck immediately made her feel incredibly uncomfortable. Had this been a social situation and somebody decided to grab her neck, her PTSD would've flared up instantaneously, resulting in a chain reaction of explosive proportions. But Jasmine functioned differently from your usual PTSD victims. Fighting enabled her to stay grounded; to remain sane when shit felt like it was falling apart. Thus, in the middle of this fight, she was able to hold her ground and keep her mental state stable, albeit her bloodthirst skyrocketed by several degrees.

Her forehead against the Aussie's, Jasmine grunted as a knee impacted her liver painfully. She grunted again, then again and again as Darren's attacks kept connecting, and while it was painful, all it did was piss her the fuck off. She had to dig into her bag of tricks - there was one technique she had learned from watching one Kru Rong - a muay thay fighter so vicious he had to retire because people simple didn't want to fight him due to his violent track record in the octagon. She remembered one particular counter, and immediately her mind begun racing trying to use just that.

The second Darren's fourth kick would lift-off, Jasmine would move in transition. Using the temporary lapse in stability in Darren's footing, Jasmine would use this chance to hook her arm out of Darren's hold and flung it around his neck, her hand grasping the back of it and pulling his face into her shoulder in order to avoid a possible rising elbow to her chin. Then she'd use that momentum to fling his entire arm over the same shoulder, her other arm going around his opposite side to grasp at his torso with the technique she had mastered down pat. And, eventually, she would join her arms together and grip Darren tightly to herself before flinging his entire body sideways using her superior strength, growling as she did so.

After the prep was done, she would begin her dance. Darren's side was left open because of the position she was in, and thus she would launch a knee straight into his torso, keeping her grip on him tight as steel. If the hit would connect, she would repeat - flinging him sideways to fuck up his balance, then kicking with her knee again. Rinse and repeat.

She had also learned some pretty wild techniques, and Darren was about to be her test dummy.

Gritting her teeth, Jasmine kept trying to repeat the same motion over and over again, a sense of accomplishment overtaking her when she realized the hits were connecting. She slammed her knee into his torso, grinning at the pained grunt that left the Aussie's mouth. Quickly acting, she flung him and tried again, yet the second knee was blocked. She cursed lowly under her breath; it was very painfully clear that Darren had spent more time on technique than she had, rather focusing on strength and quirk training. While, normally, that would definitely provide her with a very stable edge, in this situation the American found herself at somewhat of a disadvantage. 

Remember your judo.

Shit.

Before she knew it Darren had begun dancing to the rhythm of the pace she had established for the both of them, allowing himself a more fluid type of movement which, ironically enough, ended up giving him enough of a leeway to counter her. She found her head being gripped by one of the Australian's arms while the other firmly grasped her tricep, locking her movements down despite her superior strength. She growled much like a wild beast as she attempted to break free, and had Darren not acted fast she might've stood a chance. Yet, before she could even try anything of the sort, she felt the ground disappearing from below her.

The air was knocked out of her as she landed onto the ground, slamming into it with her shoulder. A low groan escaped her, but recovery was thankfully quick as Darren, much to her own luck, didn't attempt to take the fight to the ground. In her dazed state, he might have had a chance to get into a position that even her strength wouldn't have been of much help. Now, though, she was quick on the uptake, and as the Aussie had willingly chosen to take the fight into free-form, she was able to hastily rebound.

Gathering her senses, Jasmine almost immediately sprung up into action. Darren's fighting style was still very much ingrained into her memory after their first real spar. Technique, quick movement, dodging, countering, and just an overall mishmash of deceptive techniques aimed to use her strength against her. Her answer to this was, again, a very simple one. Don't give him time to think. Don't give him wiggle room. And don't give him any room to breathe. Sure, she may take a blow or two in transition, but it was well worth the sacrifice. If she let Darren get comfortable, the consequences would've probably been much, much worse than what she may eat now.

As soon as she was on her feet, Jaz darted forwards towards the Aussie, launching herself at him with reckless abandon. Her hands were raised to her face, shoulders pulled together to form a defensive barrier of sorts as she chased him down. Carelessly close, she wasn't going to allow Darren a proper wind-up for a strike, nor was she about to let him dodge easily or give him any room of movement to properly trip her without having her fall right on top of him and pull him down with her own weight and strength. As soon as she was close, only a few inches from his form, she opened up with a side swipe from her elbow right to his temple, continuously charging forward to attempt to slam into his chest. Pressure. Force him to either go on the defensive or take it to the ground, all to get him out of his comfort zone and force him to make a mistake. To pressure an opening.

The hit connected. Not as she had wanted it to, but she still felt her elbow smash against the delinquent male's head rather violently. She grinned; it had definitely gotten the point across. Jasmine, despite being outclassed in terms of technique, wasn't someone to fuck with. Her strength and instincts alone were enough to bridge the gap between the two fighters rather viciously, and she was willing to pull this fight into the nitty and gritty if it meant that's what she had to do to secure the W.

Darren had rebounded fairly quickly, much to her surprise, dismay, and apparent excitement. Very quickly did the Ace of 1C prove himself to be more than just a capable fighter, but an intelligent one as well. Despite the pressure Jasmine was consistently applying, he managed to find wiggle room to fight back on his own terms - something which the lioness could definitely respect and see how it was one of Darren's redeeming qualities... in between all the shit that was the opposite of that, truth be told. The thought it self was rather amusing.

Growling like a wild animal, Jasmine advanced. If even a small part of her considered Darren simple prey, that thought very quickly went out the window. Despite all the training she had done, the Aussie made it obvious that he himself hadn't been slacking either, much alike a good part of the rest of Yuuei's student body. He wasn't the head honcho of the Martial Arts Club for nothing, it seemed, and as he threw down with body shots, Jasmine had to suppress a pained groan. One hit. Two. Three. She was forced to cough out blood. Fuck. Something had popped. She could feel it. A rib was either bent out of shape or broken altogether. Luckily it hadn't pierced anything vital - she could identify the pain if that had happened even through the massive amounts of adrenaline coursing through her veins, pushing her forward.

Thinking fast to get herself out of what seemed to be turning into a dire situation, Jasmine forewent high defense and lowered her arms, managing to block several of Darren's body shots. She was getting sick of them beyond measure and that was apparent in her body language: strained, aggressive, and above all ready to fight back. She planted her own feet, strengthening her center of gravity as she spread them on the ground. Anticipating Darren's next swipe at her torso, she did her best to grab his hands by their wrists. The last attacks had connected, making her groan and growl, but the impact had been much lesser as opposed to what she had felt if they hit square in her body. Holding a firm grip on him, Jasmine acted.

Her next move was quick, and honestly more so instinctual than pre-planned. But she went with it anyway, rearing her head back. Before Darren would have the chance to figure out what the fuck was going on, she'd slam her forehead right into his nose with as much strength as she could, using her entire body weight to try and smash through him, hopping forward as she did so. If the hit would connect it would likely leave the Aussie dazed and open, at which point she would open up with her own series of hits. Reckless, seemingly desperate, but at the same time planned and thought through. She would shed defense altogether - there was no point in defending against an opponent superior in technique; she'd eventually get overwhelmed anyway. Instead, she would bank on her durability and outlandish strength. Sure, she would probably take as much of a beating as she'd dish out, but the only way she could think of winning considering the circumstances was to try and outlast the delinquent. With any luck he'd buckle and kiss the pavement before she did... and, at the very least, they'd knock each other out. Despite being a bitter pill to swallow, she could live with that.

Where was she?

What time was it?

She... she couldn't answer either question. It was just... a blur. Irrelevant information. And irrelevant information didn't matter. Only the opponent in front of her. People would've probably asked her what was wrong. It wasn’t anything wrong. There was just some reason she had this... feeling. She was just locked in. It was something that just happened. It's tough to explain. It's just one of those things. It hadn't even really set in for her mentally. It was now all about the W. And, as a result, it turned into something special. If she were to explain that she grasped what had happened, she would be lying.

For Jasmine, it was hard to describe. She just felt so... confident. She got her feet set and got a good luck at her opponent - it's going to connect. Even the ones that were blocked she thought were going to connect. She never thought she could have a fight like this, though. She connected the first hit and then simply thought Let me slam another. She slammed the second one, she thought: Let me try a third one. She made the third one. I've got a rhythm going.

That was what the zone was for Jasmine; any irrelevant information was blocked out. Only the opponent in front of her mattered. It was like a certain state of mind - a superlative focus which she had learned to delve into - to 'activate' whenever she took a fight seriously. But, oftentimes, it would activate on its own. Almost like a switch she was unaware of had been flicked, making her completely block out anything and everything that wasn't what she was facing right then and there. It was different from the normal zone she was able to turn on by herself. No, this was a wholly other level. She was able to see more, hear more, feel more, sense and anticipate more. Her instincts were wild, that was for sure, but they were now also controlled. They had direction, purpose, and all of it screamed I want to win! Unrivaled in her confidence, Jasmine pushed forward. Taking and receiving, taking and receiving. She didn't even know how many blows she and Darren traded, nor did it matter. The blonde lioness couldn't even register the pain or the fatigue, yet in her mind she knew exactly how much she had left in the tank. She didn't worry about it, though. No, she continued to fight, a strange sixth sense telling her that she was going to win.

After a small eternity, something she couldn't anticipate had finally happened. Her rib, likely broken, pulsed with pain that broke through her concentration. Her muscles clenched; everything suddenly begun aching. The kickback from all of her previous fights in the military compound suddenly attacked her all at once, like a freight train of a proverbial hangover slapping her across the face with all of its disgusting glory. Momentarily her entire body froze as she hissed out in pain, her eyes widening, her bones aching, sending jolts of lightning all throughout her limbs. Gritting her teeth, she fought through it, trying to open up with an attack...

...but it was too late. The damage was done.

It was instantaneous. She couldn't even register what had happened before it was too late. The impact swift and sharp, shaking her brain in her skull. Her head twisted at an angle, forcing her entire body sideways. Everything had blurred for what seemed like a moment way too long, and yet... she refused to fall. Even as her body was helplessly barreling into the ground, Jasmine had still managed to grasp at the remainder of her slipping consciousness. Through grit teeth, she growled defiantly as she planted her hand onto the ground to stop herself from falling, only one knee touching the mat below. Breathing heavily, her face bloodied, Jaz glared up at the exhausted Darren, her eyes hazy yet sharp, mirroring the color of the blood on her face.

There it was. It was that feeling. Unmistakable in its essence. And so damn familiar. It was what she felt when she was just about to be defeated. When she stared death in its ugly face. No, not in the overdramatic fashion. No, actual death. Staring at the barrel of a gun aimed right at your forehead or the edge of a knife pushing against your neck. So many times had she faced down such dangers, and every single time her answer was the exact same: defiantly, with a hubris that far overpowered any sense of fear she might have felt, Jasmine spat in its face. She wouldn't go down. Not without a fight. And she would keep fighting until she was dead on her feet.

Thus, with a groan, straining her battered and bruised form, Jasmine forced herself onto both feet again. She was barely able to move... heck, she was barely able to stay conscious. But through sheer willpower alone she stood back up. And despite being beaten to an inch of losing her consciousness, the current Jasmine likely came across as scarier than she ever had. A wild animal pushed into a corner. Not afraid, but rather confident, wild, ready to rip the head off of anything that come close.

"That..." she coughed out blood, barring her bloodied fangs, "...a-all you got, 'roo-lover?"