Abbie. Carys. War

[Youngbritishbitch]

**Part 1 - Abbie (Weigh-In)**

You hear the announcer before anything else--his voice filling the room, stretching the moment out like it matters.

"Ladies and gentlemen... this is the one we have all been waiting for. Tomorrow night--your featured strawweight contest!"

A ripple moves through the crowd. I keep my head down, rolling my shoulders, but I'm listening. Of course I am.

"For the fourth time these two rising stars have been scheduled to meet. The first--postponed due to illness. The second--cancelled due to injury. And the third... stopped at the very last moment by a venue evacuation."

A few laughs. A few groans.

"But tomorrow night--there are no more obstacles."

I smirk slightly.

Yeah. No more.

"And now--both just 18 years old... making their official debuts in the adult ranks... and finally settling this rivalry where it belongs!"

That lands differently.

Because that's exactly what this is.

"Introducing first... fighting out of Cardiff! Undefeated in junior mixed martial arts with a perfect record of six wins and zero defeats... a Muay Thai specialist turned complete mixed martial artist... Abbie Morgan!"

That gets a reaction.

I step forward, calm, controlled. I already know I'm on weight. That's not the point.

The hoodie comes off.

Slow enough to be noticed. Casual enough to pretend it isn't.

Let her see.

I don't look straight at her--but I feel it. Her eyes. Everyone's eyes.

I step onto the scale.

"52.2 kilograms!"

No surprise.

I step off, nod once. Professional.

But inside, it's building.

Because now it's her turn.

---

**Part 2 - Carys (Weigh-In)**

He builds it exactly how it should be built.

Like this isn't just another fight.

"And her opponent... fighting out of Swansea! Undefeated in junior mixed martial arts with a record of five wins and zero defeats... a highly decorated grappler with a dominant jiu-jitsu base..."

I watch her out of the corner of my eye. Hoodie off. Muscles on show. Message sent.

Good.

"...and ladies and gentlemen, every time one of these names is mentioned in Welsh MMA circles--the other is never far behind..."

That part lands. Because it's true.

"...two 18-year-old prospects stepping into the adult division for the very first time... to finally determine who is the best..."

That's the part that matters.

"...please welcome Carys Evans!"

I step forward. No theatrics. No extra movement.

This isn't about showing anything.

It's about proving it.

I step onto the scale.

"52.1 kilograms!"

Exactly where I need to be.

I step off, and before I can even settle--

"Face-off!"

Of course.

We step in.

Closer than necessary. Like always.

I take my stance naturally. She mirrors it. No posing--this is just instinct now.

I lift my fist slowly... and place it gently against her cheek.

Not a strike.

A marker.

She answers immediately--her fist under my chin.

We're breathing the same air.

"You're not ready for this," I tell her quietly.

Her eyes don't move. "I've been ready longer than you've been ducking me."

I step forward.

She steps too.

Chest to chest.

The push comes--measured, deliberate.

She pushes back harder.

Hands grab us, voices cut in--but it's too late.

This is real now.

---

**Part 3 - Abbie (Fight Morning)**

I wake up before the alarm.

Straight away--I know what day it is.

Fight day.

Finally.

I sit up, stretch out, feel light. Sharp. No bad cut. No sickness. No chaos.

Fourth time lucky.

Adult debut.

And it had to be her.

I run it through in my head. First exchange. Pressure early. Don't let her settle. Don't let her drag me into her world.

She'll want the ground.

Everyone does when they fight me now.

Let her try.

I've spent too long making sure I'm not just a striker anymore.

Still... I respect it.

She's unbeaten for a reason.

But so am I.

And tonight--only one of those stays true.

---

**Part 4 - Carys (Fight Morning)**

Sleep doesn't matter today.

Clarity does.

And I have that.

I sit quietly, wrapping my hands--not because I need to yet, but because it centers me.

Routine.

Control.

Adult debut.

Against her.

It couldn't be anyone else.

I picture her again.

Forward pressure. Strikes in combinations. Confidence.

She believes this is her fight.

But she hasn't felt what I do to people yet. The control. The way everything slows down when it hits the ground.

Still...

She's dangerous.

That's obvious.

And that's why this matters.

I stand, exhale slowly.

Tonight, it finally gets settled.

---

**Part 5 - Abbie (Dressing Room)**

The room feels smaller than it is.

Two other fighters sit across from us, older, relaxed. Wrapping hands. Talking quietly.

But me and her?

We don't speak.

Not at first.

We just exist in the same space. Aware. Focused.

Something drops.

A bottle hits the floor.

I don't even think.

"I'll drop you like that tonight."

The words just come out.

She looks up immediately.

Then stands.

So do I.

We meet in the middle again. Same distance. Same tension.

Bodies almost touching.

"You can try," she says.

I step forward.

She meets it.

Neither of us backing off. Shoulders pressing, heads close, eyes locked.

We both know this isn't the place.

But neither of us is giving ground.

Hands pull us apart--one of the older fighters stepping in.

"Save it."

I take a step back, but my eyes stay on her.

Soon.

---

**Part 6 - Carys (Dressing Room)**

The bottle hits the floor.

Her voice follows instantly.

"I'll drop you like that tonight."

I look up.

Of course she said it.

Good.

I stand up slowly. No rush.

We come together like it's automatic now.

Same distance as yesterday. Same pressure.

"You can try," I reply.

She steps forward.

I meet it.

No hesitation.

We press into each other--shoulders, chest, presence. Neither of us giving anything away.

It's not about starting something here.

It's about not losing anything.

Hands pull us apart--the older fighter between us.

"Save it."

I step back.

But I don't break eye contact.

Not yet.

---

**Part 7 - Fight Night**

The cage door shuts.

No more interruptions.

No more delays.

Abbie Morgan. 6-0.

Carys Evans. 5-0.

Both 18.

Both making their adult debuts.

Fourth attempt.

First time it actually happens.

The referee calls them in.

They step forward.

Closer than needed.

Always.

Instructions are given--but neither of them really hears it. They've already said everything that needs saying.

The referee steps back.

The fight begins.

Abbie strikes first--fast, sharp. A low kick cracks into Carys' lead leg.

Immediate.

Carys absorbs it, steps forward, fires a straight right--testing range.

Abbie answers instantly. Jab, cross, left hook.

The hook lands clean enough to snap Carys' head slightly.

The crowd reacts.

Carys doesn't.

She closes distance immediately--level change, shooting in for the takedown.

Abbie sprawls hard.

They slam into the cage.

Pressure builds instantly--Carys driving, pushing, working for control. Abbie framing, landing short, tight strikes.

Elbows. Body shots. Resistance.

They separate for a split second--

--and both surge forward at the same time.

No pause.

No respect for distance.

Just impact.

Strikes landing. Hands fighting for position. Neither willing to give an inch.

It's fast.

It's violent.

It's relentless.

Two undefeated fighters, finally in the same cage, trying to erase each other in real time.

And already--halfway through the first round--

--it feels like something special.

[tommyfighter]

Wow. Love the format.

[tommyfighter]