Hard As Diamond

by jmj

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Diamond found herself in the empty theatre room of her family’s mansion. Rich, wine-colored carpets, plush velvet seats, and expensive wall sconces made the room seem like a real theatre. She looked around and realized she was alone. She wasn’t sure why she had come to the viewing room but she took her regular seat near the middle of the 25 seat auditorium.

She wondered what was showing. Her family owned several movie theatres around Canterlot and she regularly was privileged to view new releases even before the official release date here in her family’s home. Much was made available to her for being part of the Rich family and she had to admit, seeing movies in the comfort of her home without having to visit a cinema where other, louder people could interrupt her enjoyment of a film was one she appreciated. She looked for a playbill or some other item that may explain what was about to show but couldn’t find one.

It was a special event, one just for her, but she was a little discouraged that neither her father nor her mother had come to watch with her. She was accustomed to disappointment when it came to her parents, however, and snuggled down into the comfortable seat just as the house lights dimmed and the screen flickered to life in all of its silver delight.

She wished she had some popcorn to enjoy as well but she knew better than to eat something so delicious and counter-productive to her training regimen. Despite fighting in the 115 pound division, Diamond walked around at 123 pounds and the weight cuts were harrowing enough without the extra butter and carbs.

An image of Diamond flashed onto the screen and the film jittered and popped with small imperfections as were found in older movies. She stood on the screen, looking heroically up and to the right while dressed in her typical ring garb, a black top and purple trunks with ‘Tiara’ written up the side in black. A pair of mma gloves were on her fists and her hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail instead of cornrows, but she only styled her hair in that manner for fights, not training. The title appeared in gold and floated in front of Diamond’s image: Hard as Diamond, the career of Diamond Tiara.

Diamond chuckled to herself and wondered who had made this film. She didn’t think there had ever been cameras around as she trained except for the times her fights were televised, and even then they had to get her approval to film anywhere outside of an arena.

A series of training vignettes of Diamond flickered by one after another showing a young teenage girl learning the arts of boxing, Muay Thai, and Brazilian Jiu Jitsu. The youngster started wobbly and insecure. Her strikes were feeble and barely did more than make contact. On the mat she was routinely being mangled and slapping her open hand against her opponent in a symbol tapping out. One scene, which caused Diamond to blush and happy nobody else was viewing the screening, showed her hiding in a corner of the gym crying.

Suddenly her strikes gained pop, the natural flow of her movements becoming slick and experienced. She reversed a kimura and tapped another student. Her takedowns became polished and she was hitting double and single leg attempts with an ease reserved for disciplined wrestlers. She grew several inches, her body transforming from that of a soft, pillowy child to a lean, strong young adult. Her muscles developed, the intensity in her eyes growing more and more fierce.

The training montage ended and was replaced with Diamond in her first amateur match. Neither she nor her opponent were particularly skilled in any one area yet but Diamond was landing solid body blows and working her way up in a combination to the head that snapped back her opponent’s cranium back. The girl, Diamond couldn’t see her clearly or recall her name, stiffened and fell like a statue, shattering on impact to lay very still. Diamond raised her hands and turned to the corner, Flicker Jab was giving her a thumbs up and shouting something she couldn’t hear over the crowd.

It had been a taste of victory. Sweet and addictive, Diamond had wanted more, she recalled. After years of training, testing her skills against another martial artist had been thrilling. She could still recollect the tingling of her body, that feeling of chill bumps had prickled all over her body like a thousand acupuncture needles. Even if she had started mma to spite her father, that was the moment when she had fallen in love with the sport.

Another montage of amateur matches began. Diamond caught an armbar, snapped a head kick followed by blistering body punches that wilted her opponent, a decision victory, ref after ref holding her arm up in victory over a rotating variety of opponents. Her non-professional career spanned eight victories and no losses.

Diamond watched the smile on the face of her younger self and saw what had been missing since the controversy with her father had come to light: she wasn’t having fun. Up until six months ago each fight had been another means to challenge herself, not just her skills but her character as well. Fighting had given her drive and motivation. It had given her a purpose that went beyond trying to make people forget she was Filthy Rich’s daughter. She was achieving something on her own, by her own skill, and it wasn’t something she did to try and win her father’s attention or affection. It was for her; she fought because she enjoyed it.

Diamond had turned professional at 19 years old and fought at various organizations until the Canterlot Fighting Championship had made her an offer on a three fight contract. The fights leading up to her CFC debut flashed on screen. Tougher competition than before but Diamond had still performed at a higher caliber than those on the smaller regional circuits. Her boxing was nearly unstoppable in the lower promotions and she had battled her way to the belt twice in those other, tournament-style promotions. Six of her wins had come from them and she had only gone to decision once.

Then the CFC called and made fighting an occupation. She had been fighting for the CFC for three years. Eight fights. Once again there had been a rise in competition and, once more, Diamond’s skills had improved enough to fight to the top.

The theatre played highlights of each fight in the CFC. The bout with Haymaker had been her debut and the large woman cut a massive amount of weight to make 115 pounds. She walked around at 135, a full two divisions higher than strawweight so when fight night came, she was slinging an extra 20 pounds of weight behind her sizable fists.

Haymaker was primarily a boxer with a brawling style, Diamond was certain the titan of a woman didn’t know what a straight punch was, opting to swing wide, arcing death at full power with each horrifying strike. Diamond winced as she watched herself get caught with three consecutive heavy punches. She remembered the moment her nose had shattered like a wine glass and the fountain of burgundy blood that had flowed from her nostrils. A smile crossed her features.

She had never had her nose broken but it wasn’t as bad as she had thought it would be. Her nose still ran at a slight angle from that fight. It hurt, for sure, but Diamond had toughed it out and punished the big woman for her lack of technique. Diamond’s technical striking had been on point; sharp, stiff, and straight, each punch she had thrown beat the dangerous, looping punches of the larger woman to their mark. Haymaker had fallen in round two to a venomous right cross and Diamond had mounted her quickly, raining hammer fists down into the hurt brawler’s face until the ref had stopped the fight.

Even with a nose full of blood, gasping in air through her mouth, Diamond managed to smile as her glove was held high. Sitting in the theatre, Diamond’s smile grew until it could hardly be contained by her cheeks. She was proud of her accomplishments, proud of herself.

Each new fight flared across the screen, every one was a challenge in their own way. BJJ specialists, wrestlers, boxers, kickboxers, well rounded fighters who were dangerous anywhere in the cage, Diamond had faced them all and still held a perfect record. Four wins by knockout or technical knockout, one by submission, and three by decision.

The decisions were bitter to Diamond and she watched them closely. Had Filthy Rich, her father, bribed the judges for all of her fights? She may never know the truth, but as she watched herself on the screen, she could see the fire that burned within her heart, the desire to push herself and become a better athlete.

No. Even if Daddy had paid off the judges, she had earned her decision victories. All but one. The last one, the fight she had become champion.

She didn’t earn that one. She could barely watch as Farnese Hera blasted her with kicks, took her to the ground, and made her look bad. Diamond frowned and stared at the carpeted floor of the mansion’s theatre room. The crimson carpeting reminded her of the blood that had flowed from her injured, wrecked body at the end of that fight.

The confusion of hearing her name called as the victor, the embarrassment of the rumored cheating, and, worst of all, the embarrassment in herself for holding a belt she knew deep down she had not deserved still cut her deeply. She was not proud of herself after that fight.

She looked up to the screen and saw herself holding her hands victoriously above her head, a shocked look on her face, and wearing the title strap round her waist. Her heart fluttered in her chest and the film ended abruptly.

“You could never have won without me, Diamond,” her father’s voice called out over the speaker system of the theatre. She turned and looked to the projection booth, a darkened glass blocking all but the opening for the projector. A man-sized silhouette stood behind the glass, arms crossed. She could feel the scowl though she couldn’t see it.

“You are a loser, Diamond. A loser by birth. A loser by being a woman. You’ll never amount to anything more than some man’s trophy wife. Stop this foolishness already, no man wants a scarred up woman as their own.” Filthy had said those words to her when he attended, by accident, one of her fights.

She had caught a solid knee squarely in the face and her forehead had unzipped like a designer purse. She had seen her skull below the seared, ripped flesh. It had taken nine stitches to close the two inch wound after the fight and if she had not knocked out her opponent in that round, the doctors would have stopped the fight.

“The only gash a husband wants to see on his wife is the natural one. You’ll never make me proud, Diamond, but you could at least do what I tell you to do.”

Diamond rotated in her seat, standing quickly. She had heard enough of this psychological warfare from her father in her life. She was over it. The house lights lifted and she growled at the shadow of her father looming high above her. She threw an upturned middle finger to him. “I don’t need you in my life, Dad! Not if this is how you are going to treat me! FUCK YOU!”

She was unconscious… this was a dream. She had never been able to stand up to her father like that in the real world. The dream of her telling her father off was recurring. She had it twice a week but she still couldn’t enact it in the waking world. She couldn’t let that continue. He wouldn’t rule her life and make her feel like a failure anymore. Not another moment would she tolerate his spiteful, old-world views.

The booth went dark, the projector dimmed and only Diamond stood alone in her mind’s theatre. She had earned her title shot, Daddy couldn’t take that away from her. Whether he had paid off the judges or not before she fought Farnese Hera the first time, she had earned her victories. Her performances were a credit to her training.

That only left the one fight. Diamond looked to her calloused hands and gripped them hard enough the nails bit into the flesh of her palms, little rivers of blood began to drip to the crimson floor, camouflaging themselves in the high carpet. A tear rolled down her cheek and she gritted her teeth, hating her father for hurting her in this new, cruel way. Making her second guess herself and the years she had dedicated to the sport she loved.

But… this was a rematch. Even if the roles of challenger and champion were reversed, wasn’t it a chance to right the previous wrong?

It was, Diamond answered herself. She could prove tonight that she IS a champion, that she had earned the belt.

And her father was ruining it! She was hating him, hating herself, and hating herself for hating a man who couldn’t care less about her so much that it was distracting her from the one thing that she wanted more than anything: a chance to win the strawweight belt for real.

Diamond’s hands unclenched and she stared at the gold plated belt that suddenly appeared. She was missing her chance. She needed to focus on herself and her dreams, not the dramas outside of fighting, if she wanted to win. There would be time enough to deal with Daddy later. Now she needed to do what she was meant to.

Her body began to jitter as if she were caught in an earthquake. She could feel the trembling, jarring pulses feeding up her legs and into her core. Her chest thumped hard and a rush of cleansing energy filled her, pouring up from her heart. It was her hate, her embarrassment, it was being forced out of her. It came rushing like hounds from hell and she steadied herself against the force. She would let it out all at once in one big eruption.

“NO!” Diamond shouted! “You won’t ruin this for me, Dad! I’M NOT A LOSER! I’M MORE THAN YOU THINK I AM! I’M A CHAMPION, DAD! I’M A CHAMPION AND I DON’T NEED YOU!”

Diamond’s eyes popped open hazily. She was crouched against the cage and the left side of her face was agony just below her eye across the cut she had previously suffered. Her mind was fuzzy but she remembered bracing herself for the head kick. It must have landed flush.

Her fingers were locked in the fencing of the cage and her legs were wobbling but she hadn’t fallen to the canvas. She had been unconscious, Diamond was certain. The head kick had knocked her out on her feet and sent her careening to the cage.

But she still remained on her feet.

“Diamond! Are you okay?” Stone Soufflé asked forcefully. The tone of his voice sounded as if he had already asked her once. Was the fight still on? She hoped it was.

“Yeah…,” she squeaked out but could hear the weakness in the words. Her vision blurred like an unfocused camera and the crowd outside of the cage was booing. She could see the unhappy faces on all of the fight fans. Were they booing her? She couldn’t tell.

“Diamond Tiara, are you alright? Answer me,” Stone reiterated and kneeled before her, his face blurring and clearing rhythmically to the beat of her heart. The world spun behind the ref and Diamond struggled to center the spinning double images. She needed to answer him.

“Yes!” she forced the words from her lips and turned her head, looking him dead in the eye despite her swirling vision.

“Take your time, I’m getting the doctor to look at you,” the ref said. “Doctor! Come into the octagon!”

Why was the doctor coming in? Was she hurt? Why did she need to take her time? If the fight was over she had all the time she needed to be seen by the doc. It must still be on. This was serious. Diamond needed to get herself together before the doctor could see her condition and end the fight.

Raising an arm to press into her temple, Diamond opened and shut her eyes repeatedly, trying to flush the blurriness from her vision. Her ears rang and she felt a swelling under her eye where pain flared like a bursting firework from the touch of her gloved hand. It felt like a golf ball was wedged beneath her eyelid.

She labored to stand, the ring spun as she gained altitude and she had to use the cage for support.

“Easy, Diamond. Let the doc look at you. If you can’t continue, I’m stopping the fight. You got hit late, so if you can’t continue you will win by disqualification. Do you understand me?” the ref asked and Diamond knew he wanted her to make a clear judgment of her abilities. Shots after the bell were illegal and she didn’t have to fight if she were too badly compromised from the strike.

Diamond pressed her palm deeper into the side of her head and closed her eyes. Her body felt as if it were floating in the ocean and stinging jellyfish were carrying her out to sea. Her ribs were cracked on her right side, her left leg was welted and swollen to the point that it was probably compromising her agility, and something was assuredly wrong with her left cheek. Her skin felt like an overfilled water balloon jiggling and stretched to the breaking point.

“Move your hand, please,” a strict voice demanded. Opening her eyes once more and finding them focused on the ringside doctor, she removed her hand.

The doctor was an older woman with grayed hair tied back in a tight bun. She adjusted the glasses on her nose and tilted her head back to look through them.

Diamond saw blood covering the inside of her glove as she pulled the hand away. The cut was flowing again. The doctor grimaced, not a good sign. Diamond turned her eyes to her opponent, the dizziness fading, and found Farnese crouched in a neutral corner. Her shoulders were slumped, head down, and forearms supported by her knees. She was shaking her red mohawked head. The fight was over and Hera knew she was about to be disqualified, Diamond surmised.

But Diamond didn’t want the fight to end.

“I’m okay, doc. Let me fight. I can continue. Don’t stop it, please,” she pleaded with the doctor whose eyes widened questioningly back.

“This cut is pretty bad,” she said and pressed her thumbs into the screaming place beside the cut, feeling the bones. She shook her head with displeasure. “This bone is probably broken.”

“I can fight, doc,” Diamond wanted to shriek from the pain but only winced. She didn’t want to betray her willingness to continue with weakness.

The doctor’s brows furrowed with concern and she tilted her head back once more, squinting to get one more good look at the cut. “What’s your name?”

“Diamond Tiara.”

“Where are we?”

“Canterlot Sporting Arena.”

“Who were you fighting?”

“The Queen of the Gods.”

The doctor paused, “Who?”

Diamond’s mind was clear now, the fog lifted. “Farnese Hera. I’m good, doctor. Let me continue.”

The old woman righted her head and the glasses fell to her chest, suspended by a silvery chain. She turned to Stone Soufflé and nodded. “She can continue.”

The crowd cheered at once and the sound shook the arena. The doctor exited the cage and the ref came before Diamond.

“You’ve got five minutes to recover, Diamond, if you want to continue. Take the time, let me know if you want to keep fighting.”

Diamond already knew the answer but she needed a moment to get her legs under her once more. Her head was almost back online but cobwebs still clung in the corners.

“Diamond!” Flicker called and she looked to him, her legs still weak beneath her body. She was doubled over, sucking in cool air and trying to recover. “You’re hurt bad. Don’t continue.”

“No coaching!” the ref warned sternly before turning back to Diamond. “Five minutes, Diamond. Tell me what you want to do then.

The crowd went silent again, waiting on Diamond's decision. She already knew the answer; this was her chance to recover her pride. She was going to continue whether or not she should but she was going to take the full five minutes to allow her body to recover from the late head kick. Little by little the cobwebs deteriorated and she tested her motions, feeling as though she had never been in her body before.

Her leg was a concern; it could bear weight but it was slower to move than she would like. Her ribs hurt but she’d had cracked ribs before and they would only be a nuisance during the fight. Of course the next four to six weeks were going to be painful even when she breathed, but that was a problem for the future. The orbital bone was worrisome as well. Her left eye was swelling from below. She didn’t think it would close fully but she wondered how much more damage it would be able to take and if there would be anything permanently wrong afterward. Her cheek was lumpy and the cut was drooling blood. Her black top looked like a murder scene and much of her torso’s pink flesh was stained crimson.

She needed to protect her cheek and eye. If the swelling closed her eye or if the cut opened too much, the doctor would stop the fight and she would lose. Continuing would be stupid considering the amount of damage she had taken and the likelihood of more in the following rounds, but Diamond had something to prove. She also owed Farnese a chance to recover the belt and a loss by dq would end her opportunity for at least a year. Diamond couldn’t do that to her.

Her senses righted themselves and her mind cleared over the next few minutes. She didn’t feel good but her body was responsive and she could organize her thoughts. The ref watched her and checked the time.

“Diamond, time’s up. Do you want to continue?” Stone Soufflé asked. The crowd had been silent for five full minutes as Diamond weighed her options.

Diamond watched Farnese who still crouched defeatedly. Farnese was a clean fighter of principle and respect. The strike was late but she wouldn’t have thrown it intentionally after the bell. Diamond smiled to herself and nodded to the ref. “Yes, I want to continue.”

The crowd exploded like an atomic bomb. The foundation of the building rattled from the raucous noise.

“Fighters, take your corners. Round three will begin after one minute,” the ref stated and Farnese popped her head up in surprise. The Muay Thai expert cast her doubting eyes to Diamond Tiara who nodded back. Hera’s corner entered and she gave a quick thumbs up to Diamond before making her way to the corner.

Flicker Jab placed the stool down and Diamond sat quickly. He looked deeply into her eyes. “Diamond, I know you feel like you owe this to Hera but you have to think of your health. You’ve had two poor rounds and that late kick knocked you out, didn’t it? I know you didn’t hit the mat but your arms went limp and your legs barely held you up.”

Diamond accepted the water offered to her by Dempsey Roll and hissed painfully as the icy enswell pressed into the broken orbital bone. The vaseline swab was being swept into the cut again. She swallowed two small sips and looked to Dempsey who could only grimace. She must look a wreck.

“Diamond, answer me,” Flick said.

Diamond turned her attention back to him and sighed, “Yeah, Flick. I was out. I went out in the first round as well.”

“You shouldn’t have continued, Sweetie. You’re hurt too bad and you're fighting like you don’t want to win. Why are you doing this? I know you are better than this.” The coach pulled her to him, their foreheads touching. “You’re the closest thing to a kid I’ve ever had. I’m not going to let you ruin your career because you think Farnese deserves the belt back.”

Diamond closed her eyes and reached her hand out around the back of Flicker Jab’s neck. “I didn’t win, Flick. Dad bought two of the judges. I didn’t know, you believe me don’t you?”

“That snake,” Flick said under his breath. He paused and spit to the canvas. “Of course I believe you, Diamond. You’re the best, most honest fighter I’ve ever taught. You respect the sport too much to cheat. You’re not that lousy father of yours.”

Diamond smiled to herself and nodded. “Then trust me on this. I’m ready now. The last fight is in the past, this one’s not. Hera’s kick woke me up, knocked some sense into me. I can win this fight, really earn the belt.”

Flick looked deep into Diamond’s blue eyes and nodded. “Prove to me you are in this, Diamond. If you have another round like one or two and I’m going to throw the towel in. I’m not going to watch you get brain damaged because you are too tough for your own good.”

“Thanks, Flick. I’ve got this,” Diamond answered as the ref called for the end of the minute.

“Then you take it to her, like we practiced. Show her who the Queen of this division is. It ain’t her, Diamond! Make her respect you!” Flick stood and motioned Dempsey Roll to take the ice and stool out of the octagon. The cutman patted Diamond’s shoulder as he left and Flick followed last. He hurried outside and looked up at his fighter through the cage. “Protect that cheek. If you have trouble breathing through your nose, don’t blow it. Your eye will swell shut from the air pressure.

Diamond nodded and began bouncing on her toes in preparation for the beginning of the third round.

Comments

[Starlight Nova]

Why isn't there a violence tag?

[jmj]

10681288
Good question. So while it is a fight, it is also a sport. It's not a gunfight or a horror story where someone's head may get sliced off like a roll of bologna. I wouldn't put a violence tag on football, hockey, or rugby and they are more dangerous than MMA. In other words, there's a difference between an mma event and two people trying to kill each other.

[Dainn]

Another chapter down.
Keep it up J!

[jmj]

10682113
Thanks, sir.
I meant to write round 3 in it as well but so much happened that I didn't want to overload the word count in a single chapter.