The official sighed with exasperation. Clearly, he was just as sick of Bengal’s terrible puns as the rest of the audience, but he had to do his duty nevertheless. As he began to count, he slapped his palm down especially close to Nix’s ear, perhaps secretly hoping that the noise would rouse her, and wipe that infuriating smile off the Tiger’s face.
No such luck. The count went off without a hitch, while Nix remained silent and unmoving, her face as blank as an unused diary. “ONE! TWO! THREE! That’s it…she’d done,” the referee proclaimed, unable to keep disappointment from creeping into his voice, as he signaled toward the announcer’s table. The victory bell rang out, echoing through the arena rafters - yet still not loud enough to awaken the vanquished fighter. This truly was the end.
The end of the match, at least. But Bengal wasn’t done with her torment quite yet. This contest had been far too close for comfort, and she knew that she had to send a message, before the rookie got any funny ideas about a rematch. It wasn’t enough to knock Nix out; she had to break her spirit too. First, however, she would have to wait for her target to regain consciousness…


