Babs' head feels like it's spinning as she collapses back onto the stool in her corner. The bell, once a marker of her triumph, had become her savior from the colt opposite the ring from her who she is now facing. She hears a ringing in her ears as her entire body aches. The room is blurry as her now blackened eye starts to swell up. Blood sticks her mane to her scalp as bruises cover her face and chest.
Her opponent smiles back with his bucktooth grin. Featherweight is anything but. Some ponies could move around a boxing ring, but this colt could dance. He has a nasty habit of somehow appearing when and where you least expect, usually when you're completely vulnerable. His father is by him in the corner, a smile on his face as he gives his son an encouraging shout of “YEEEAH!” With precise and devastating jabs along with his speed and ability to come from any angle, Babs just can't get in any decent shots.
The crowd is no help either. So many watch with glee as the terrible tough girl that roamed the schoolyard gets knocked down a couple pegs. Those who used to rule the halls with intimidation see this as a chance for a return to order, back to the days where they were top of the food chain without Babs and her bullshit justice telling them what to do. They whipped their schoolmates up into a frenzy, wildly cheering for the opposition alongside throwing insults at the orange earth pony in the safety of being just one of a thousand voices.
She coughs as she tries to breathe, something clotting in her nose. The last of her will is draining as she struggles to stay upright where she sits, let alone trying to go another round. And those shouts, those mocking shouts... Her parents were out on vacation and she has no idea where Button is. He usually loved to see her fight, but if he couldn't even be bothered to be here for her now, then what hope did she have? She usually doesn't care what others think, but now she's all alone. She can't win.
Her eyes close as she reaches for the towel next to her, ready to throw it in.
“-ABS!”
Wait... was that...?
“BABS! YOU CAN DO IT!”
Button!?
Her eyes immediately go to the source of the noise. Sure enough, she immediately recognizes the backwards cap covering the dark brown mane. He's running through the crowd, shoving ponies aside as two others seem to be chasing him. They grab at his collar and try to pull him back. He forces himself forward out of their grasp and continues towards the ring.
Babs feels a mixture of emotions. Happiness that Button is here. Confusion about where he's been. Rage at those trying to stop him. But at the moment, there's nothing she could do. Only hope that Button could reach her and give her some words of encouragement before the bells rings again. They make another grab for Button's arm and turn him around. Then, he does something that Babs has never seen him do before.
His arm in a pulled back position already, he turns his body against his aggressor to force his hoof forward with as much force as possible into their chin. A solid blow that causes the colt to reel back before falling over. Even Babs is impressed with how that punch looked. She can't see his face, but it causes the other pony following him to stop and just check on his friend who's now out cold. After that, Button continues toward Babs without any other trouble.
“Babs!” Button calls out, running to Babs' corner, out of breath. “Thought you might need this...” He carries a bottle of water in his hoof which he gives to her. It feels cool and the seal of the cap cracks as she turns it. It must be fresh from one of the vending machines.
“Where were you?” she asks, her spirits lifting instantly.
“Those guys locked me inside one of the lockers. They didn't want me here to cheer you on,” he explains.
“Not much here to cheer for,” she says, her shoulders slumping as she shakes her head. She couldn't even get mad at those guys for laying a hoof on Button. “I'm gettin' my flank kicked.”
“You can beat this guy, Babs. Trust me,” Button reassures. “I watched a little of the fight before getting up here.”
“Oh?” Babs asks, feeling a little ashamed that Button saw even a moment of her currently poor performance. “It doesn't matter. He's too quick for me...”
“Remember when we play games at my house?” Button asks.
“Yeah. Why?”
“Remember when you'd fight against a really fast opponent in Super Smash Colts or Marevel VS Clopcom?”
“Those are different, Button. Those are just games!”
“But what did you have to do to beat them?”
“I had to... anticipate their movement.”
“By?”
“Looking for patterns. But he doesn't have any! He just punches where I'm open, no matter what!”
“He puts his head down,” Button states in a whisper for only Babs to hear.
“Wha-?”
“He puts his head down before he moves in. After that, if he steps back, he's going for a jab. He crosses his hindhooves, he'll go for a hook.”
The information takes a moment to register in Babs' mind. When it does, it bursts into a light of realization. Potential counters and strategies being pouring themselves out in front of her making victory seem plausible. Until a thought occurs.
“What if he tries changing it up?” she asks.
“I've heard it's mostly subconscious,” Button explains. “He's not even aware he's doing it. But in case he does try something, I'll keep a watch on him and let you know.” He smacks his hoof into the wrist of the other. “You just worry about laying out his sorry flank on the mat!”
Babs smiles and nods. With Button in her corner, she now has everything she needs to win. Just one pony to believe in her.
She usually doesn't care about what others thinks, but now she has Button. She can't lose.
She puts her gloves up and presses one nostril of her nose closed. Blowing hard out the other, she forces the blockage of snot and dried blood out in a spray.
Taking the water, she doesn't drink it, but rather pours the cold liquid over her head to wash away the bangs the clung to her face and obscured her vision. She shivers slightly as it runs down her neck, back, and chest, the edge of the chill waking her up and putting her back in the moment.
Setting it down, the bell rings which make both combatants stand back up again and prepare to fight again. Babs punches her gloves together.
“Time for round two, motherfucker...”