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Sydney dreams of Modesty Blaise

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Offline southgate

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Sydney dreams of Modesty Blaise
« on: July 21, 2025, 11:50:52 PM »

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Sydney is elated that her Modest Blaise project now has a green light.  Late into the night, she works on final casting with her assistants.  She is mulling over a key role-- who shall play the female villain--Modesty’s nemesis? Anyway, it’s late—that’s tomorrow’s challenge. Alone finally, it’s time for bed.

The late afternoon sun bleeds orange through the high windows of Syd’s studio gym. Her trim physique has barley broken a sweat despite a rigorous heavy bag session. She looks at the full length mirror, bounces on the balls of her feet and smiles at what she sees.
She feels ready, truly ready, to bring this iconic agent to life.  Sydney has put in the hours, honing her boxing, her grappling skills,  to ensure that she will look the part and meet its physical demands.

She turns, startled. She’s not alone in the gym.  A female figure appears, silhouetted for a moment before striding purposefully into the room. Keirnan Shipka, 25 years old, a petite at 5’2”, radiates an unsettling energy. Her tight workout gear accentuates  the stark definition of her washboard abs and her toned legs--a testament to Shipka’s obvious fitness obsession.

“Sydney,” Keirnan’s voice carries an edge, “heard the good news. So your Modesty project is a go!”

Sydney offers a wary smile. She knows why Keirnan was here. The buzz around the studio was that Keirnan wants to be  considered for the villain – the terrifying, physically dominant nemesis that would push Modesty to her limits.

“Shipka. Thanks. Good to see you," Sydney offers.

Keirnan pauses a few feet away, her gaze rakes over Sydney, not with admiration, but with a cool, assessing intensity. “The script is… demanding for your Modesty role. And especially for the villain. You need someone who can genuinely convey a threat. Someone who could actually break Modesty.” Her eyes finally lock with Sydney’s. “You feel up to that challenge, Sydney? Handling a character like that? How about handling a character like…me?”

Sydney feels a prickle of annoyance. “I’ve been training. Hard. I’m confident. And you—no offense, you look great, but you’re awfully small.”

A slow smirk appears at the corner of Keirnan’s lips.

“Confidence is good. And I’m small, but the camera, the audience… they can tell the difference between play-acting and physical confrontation. I have an idea, a challenge really,” Shipka continues.

She gestures around the gym, purposefully,  “I think you need to pick me for the part. Maybe you’re worried I can’t handle the role—or more to the point, that I can’t stand up to you.”

She has Sweeney’s attention, as Syd thinks that this creepy gal is truly full of herself.

“Oh I can handle you any day of the week,” Syd growls out

“Can you? Are you sure? Here’s an idea. Right now, how about a  friendly spar. Boxing, then a little grappling—catfight style. Just to test the premises. To see if your Modesty can truly stand up to my, shall we say, ‘method acting.’”

The challenge, delivered with such casual audacity, ignites a spark of defiance within Sydney.

“You think I’m not tough enough, Keirnan? To handle you, much less the roll,” Sweeney stammers out, dumbfounded.

Keirnan wide smile displays a touch of genuine, predatory amusement in her eyes.

“Let’s just say I have very high standards for my adversaries. Do you?  So right now,  no gloves. Just bare-knuckle boxing, no face strikes but everything else, and then we see if you can stop  on the mat. You’re not afraid, are you?” Keirnan finishes.

“Unbelievable,”  Syd spit. “You magically appear in my gym, demand a lead role in my flick and imply that I’m somehow afraid of you? Fine,” Sydney said, pulling off her hand wraps. “Let’s see what you’ve got, Shipka.”

They move to the center of the mat. Sydney is still shaking her head watching as Keirnan takes a moment to stretch out. Stretching or posing?  Shipka reveals the impressive cut of her core – a six-pack of a finely carved topography. Her legs, too, are exceptionally toned for a woman of her petite stature,  all lean sinews and power in her thighs and calves.

Sydney stands in her sports bra and shorts. She is  trim and toned. Her exceptional chest a prominent feature, and in ridiculous contrast to the barely-there boobs of the young woman in front of her. Syd’s hands reflectively wander to her own belly. Her abs are terrific,  but her don’t compare to Keirnan’s almost alien perfection.

“First round, boxing,” Keirnan states, taking a low, almost coiled stance. “Point system. No face shots. Just body.. When I say stop, we stop, or if you want to concede early...”

Sydney flashes Keirnan the finger then nods, falling into her boxing stance. She moves  first, a crisp jab-cross combination aimed at Keirnan’s ribs. Shipka stands her ground. She absorbs the strike, smiling. But she immediately fires back with two quick, snapping left hooks to Sydney’s side. Sydney backs up a step. She grunts at the unexpected speed and power in Shipka’s fists.

Keirnan dances, light on her feet, circling Sydney with unnerving agility. Sydney’s punches, while fast, seem to land on air or be deflected by Keirnan’s guard. Keirnan, meanwhile, finds her mark repeatedly. Her fists  target  Sydney’s midsection with relentless precision. A sharp right to the stomach, then a left.  Repeat. Repeat again. Fourth time, Sydney gasps, doubling over slightly, the wind knocked out of her. Keirnan crowds in, fists like pistons firing. A rapid succession of blows beat into Sydney’s  midriff. Sydney’s abs, usually able to withstand any opponent’s best shots, are failing from the constant beating. Each successive impact sends a jolt through her, and she realizes, to her horror, that she would lose any belly punching contest with Shipka. Keirnan may not be able to hit with Syd’s power, but the sheer volume and accuracy are overwhelming.

Sydney seeks to counter, launching a wicked uppercut, but Keirnan ducks low, her compact frame skips behind Sydney, driving a hard elbow to Sydney’s lower back and follows with a brutal kidney punch. The impact jars Sydney to her knees. Shipka backs away and beckons Syd to get back up. She does. Shipka resumes the attack. Keirnan’s speed is blinding, her movements economic and vicious. Sydney finds herself constantly on the defensive, covering up, trying to weather the storm. Keirnan’s stamina is unchallenged; she keeps pushing, moving, attacking without any sign of fatigue. Shipka steps forward, wraps her left arm around Syd’s waist and buries her right fist low in her gut. Sweeney drops to her knees.

“Alright, Sydney,” Keirnan’s voice cuts through the air, barely winded. “That’s enough boxing. Let’s see your grappling.”

Sydney, breathing heavily, her midsection throbbing, nods as she looks up at her foe. Syd reflects quickly that Keirnan fights with an downright theatrical intensity, a controlled savagery that is utterly captivating, terrifying and overwhelming.

Sydney is slow to her feet. She walks around the mat, shaking off the beating she has received, looking at the brutal small woman across from her. As they close the distance, Keirnan shoots in low, her surprisingly strong legs driving her forward. Sydney, trained in MMA, instinctively sprawled, trying to deny the takedown. But Keirnan is just too f**king quick, too strong. She shifts her weight, locks her arms around Sydney’s waist, and with a powerful lift and twist, brings Sydney crashing to the mat with a resounding thud.

Sydney lands on her back, the air momentarily driven from her lungs. Keirnan is on her instantly, securing a controlling Syd's sidel. Shipka's weight, though seemingly light, feels immense, pinning Sydney down. Shipka’s knees pump alternately into Syd’s side.  Sydney bucks, twists trying to bridge and escape, but Keirnan is unshakeable. She moves with fluidity, anticipates Sydney’s every move, thumps her mercilessly.

Keirnan transitions to a mount, perching over Sydney, her washboard abs flexing with every subtle shift of her body. Sydney squirms, heart pounding, trying to push Keirnan off, but Keirnan’s compact, dense strength is formidable. Keirnan’s eyes, intense and unblinking, bore into Sydney’s. There was no malice, just a cold, calculating determination to dominate as she proves her point.

Sydney feels a surge of adrenaline, pushes with all her might. She gets one arm free, tries to wrap it around Keirnan’s neck for a desperate choke attempt, but Keirnan handles it. With a swift, almost reptilian movement, Keirnan shifts her weight to secure an arm-triangle choke, her forearm pressing into Sydney’s carotid artery.

Sydney taps the mat once, then twice, a sharp, urgent motion.

Keirnan releases the pressure immediately, rolling off Sydney and rising swiftly to her feet, her breathing barely discernible. Sydney remains on the mat for a moment, chest heaving, gulping air. Her throat tight, her abdomen aching, and she knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she has been thoroughly, completely dominated.
Slowly, Sydney pushed herself up, meeting Keirnan’s gaze. Keirnan extends a hand. Sydney takes it, pulling herself to her feet.

“See?” Keirnan says, her voice still soft, but with a new, quiet authority. “That’s the kind of nemesis Modesty needs to face. Someone who doesn’t just pretend… but is.”
She pats Sydney’s shoulder gently. “You’re good, Sydney. Very good. High fitness, solid skills. But the character I’m auditioning for… she’s not just skilled. She’s relentless. She’s vicious. And she knows how to finish.”

Sydney nods, as a humbling realization sinks in. She has underestimated Keirnan. Not just her physical prowess, but the sheer, unyielding will behind it. Keirnan Shipka isn’t just an actress auditioning for a role; she is the villain she aims to play, a coiled spring of brutal efficiency.

“You proved your point, Keirnan,” Sydney admits, a weary smile forming despite the ache in her core. She got her assed kicked today, badly, by a fit but physically lighter woman.. She has lost the physical contest, but perhaps she has gained an invaluable insight. The Modesty Blaise she will now need to  portray  will  be harder, more cunning, because she now truly understands the kind of raw, undeniable force she will be up against.

Keirnan simply nods, a flicker of satisfaction in her eyes. The late afternoon sun dips below the horizon, plunging the gym into shadows.  Syd blinks as she looks across the room.   Shipka has disappeared a stealthy as she had arrived.

And then Sydney wakes up. Wait, what was real?  She smiles,  knowing that her Modesty Blaise cast has found its perfect villain.

« Last Edit: July 21, 2025, 11:54:25 PM by southgate »
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