Two women are working out in the same gym as they prepare for their upcoming FCBA boxing match. Joey King wipes her forehead with the back of her blue MMA glove, leaving a dark smear on the fabric. Her knuckles ache. She’d been sparing with her sister Haley, then drilling combinations on the heavy bag for an hour straight. Thud-thud-thud. The rhythm steadiesF her thoughts.
Far across the gym, Sydney Sweeney shadowboxes in front of a floor-length mirror. Her movements are sharp, economical. Every jab snaps out like a whip. She pays no attention to the sisters King. Doesn’t need to. Both know what’s coming. The FCBA website has their fight records pinned like specimens. Joey’s wins were far fewer than Sydney’s. Syd's wins show compelling victories, marked brutal efficiency in every clip. But Joey had insisted on this matchup, figuring that, win-or-lose, the publicity will be terrific.
Joey steps away from the bag, breathing hard. Her trainer sister Haley tossesher a water bottle. Cold liquid spilled down her chin as she gulped.
"Footwork," Haley instructs. "Don’t let her corner you."
Joey nods, eyes mind cycling through the Sweeney fights the sisters have watched together. Sydney fights with absolute focus and intensity. No tells. No fear. Joey shrugs and shakes out her arms.
Outside, rain taps against the high windows. The sound mixes with the slap of Sydney’s gloves as she step up to the heavy bag that Joey has just abandoned. Joey watches her opponent’s shoulders roll with each punch. Smooth. Controlled. Ready. Joey flexes her hands inside the gloves.
Joey steps closer to her sister, eyes still on Sweeney. There will be no room for mistakes when she fights this broad.
Haley takes her sister’s shoulder, speaking in a low voice, "She’ll come at you fast. Syd doesn’t waste time, so you be fast on the attack."
Joey nods, remembering the highlight reels—Sydney cutting angles, trapping opponents against the ropes within seconds.
Sydney finally stops punching the bag
“You do know I can hear you two, don’t you, Sydney mocks. “Hey, why spar with your second-rate sister. We can get it on right now—good practice for you,” she continues.
Sydney walks up to the gym ring and quickly pulls herself up and in.
Joey’s stomach tightens She and Haley have seen the predictions for the booked match. Round one would be a storm. Sydney pressing, Joey circling, both testing range. Joey’s speed might steal the round if she stayed loose. Round two? That’s when Sydney’s body shots would start landing. Digging deep.
But the fourth round. That’s where it would end. Sydney’s footwork cutting off the ring, driving her foe backward until the ropes bit into her shoulders. Four oz. gloves do little to cushion the blows. Just fists really. Relentless. To the body. To the head. Again and again-- until the ref steps in.
Joey looks at her sister, who shakes her head an emphatic ‘NO,’ then back towards Sydney. Oh, hell yes, Joey shouts, throwing caution to the wind.
Joey climbs up to the ring, a bit terrified, a bit elated. Joey bounces on her toes, the canvas rough under her bare feet. Across the ring, Sydney stands statue-still, her fingers flex in her red MMA gloves. She locks her eyes on Joey’s face, then down to Joey’s chest. Sydney smirks.
Haley sets the round timer, then stands up on the apron. The instant it rings, Sydney surges forward, a piston jab cracking Joey’s cheekbone before she can blink. Joey dances left, firing a hook that grazes Sydney’s temple. Too slow. Sydney’s right fist thuds into Joey’s ribs. Air hisses between Joey’s teeth. Round one is a blur of motion—Sydney pressing, Joey weaving, both landing but neither buckling.
Round two settles into a grim rhythm. Sydney’s body shots are sledgehammers. Low lefts to the liver. Uppercuts to the solar plexus. Joey is quickly puffy and bruised. Her blocks grow sluggish. She catches Sydney with a quick overhand right that snaps her head back. Haley shouts out, ‘YES.’ A flicker of surprise in Sydney’s eyes. Joey presses, landing three quick hooks to the body. For a heartbeat, Sydney retreats. Then smiles. Unhurt, she curls her lips as she walks through Joey’s next flurry, blocking effectively as Joey nearly punches herself out. Syd buries a right hook under Joey’s heart. Joey stumbles The bell saves her.
Haley’s voice cut through the fog as she rubs Joey’s shoulders. "Move! Stop trading!"
Round three turns int a game of survival. Joey’s legs burn as she circles, dodging Sydney’s jabs at first. But Sydney adjusts, shifting angles, cutting the ring smaller with every step. Joey’s counterpunches glance off Sydney’s shoulders. Sydney’s left hand flattens Joey’s left boob, knocking it out or her sports bra. Joey steps back, blinking, gasping and unnerved as fear sets in. The ring timer bell chimes. Can she last one more round?
Haley asks Joey if she wants to quit. Joey foolishly says no.
The bell sounds for round four. Sydney explodes forward, driving Joey back with a barrage of hooks. Joey’s back hits the ropes. Panic flares. She tries to pivot. Too late. Sydney’s forearm pinned her throat against the top rope. Joey’s arms feel like lead. She can’t raise them. Sydney’s fist crashes into her exposed ribs—once, twice. Joey gasps, folding forward. Sydney steps back. Just for a second. Long enough for Joey to see the pitiless focus in her eyes. Then the fists came again. No mercy. Just impact. Fist on boob, fist on belly, repeat.
And then Sydney backed away, smiling.
Haley shuts off the round timer. “She’s had enough, practice time’s over, Haley offers.
"Nope,” Sydney responds. Take a minute, Joey. You look like you could use a break," Sydney teases.
Within seconds, Sweeney stops her showboating and resumes her attack.
Her knuckles slam into Joey’s ribs again—crack. Joey hears it this time. Feels the sickening give beneath her skin. She doubles over, retching. Sydney doesn’t pause. A right hook cracks against Joey’s chest and a left hook buries deep into her belly. White stars explode behind Joey’s tearing eyelids. Sweeney presses a forearm against her foe’s boobs. The ropes dig into Joey’s back.
Haley is beside herself, shouting for Sweeney to stop.
Joey’s arms hang useless at her sides. Every breath is shallow and painful. She tries to lift her guard. Sydney bats it away. Sydney’s left hand whips out—she backhands Joey’s face. The sound of the loud ‘smack’ lights up Sweeney’s face. Pulling Joey’s top down, Sydney slaps Joey’s defenseless breasts repeatedly.
Sydney steps in close. Her breath is hot against Joey’s ear. "Look at you," she hisses. No pity. Just cold observation. Her fist sinks deep into Joey’s gut. Joey folds, gasping. Sydney grabs her hair, yanking her upright. Forces her to meet those ice-blue eyes.
“I’m not your stepping-stone for free publicity. Your not in my league and never will be,” Sydney hisses.
Another hook. Joey’s knees buckle. She slides down the ropes, vision tunneling.
Haley has entered the ring, grabs Sydney from behind. Sweeney spins. Throws and uppercut that nails Haley in the chin. Sweeney grabs Haley’s hair and throws her out of the ring.
“I’m not done yet. Wait your turn,” Sweeney jeers.
Sydney turns back to Joey. Joey is splayed out on the ropes, trembling. Sydney is in no rush. She admires her handiwork. Joey digs deep trying to regroup. She works to push herself up. Her arms shake. The attempt fails.
Sydney smiles. Walks forward. Deliberate. Final. Her right hand coils back. Loaded. Aimed at Joey’s gut.
Haley screams from the floor. "Cover up! Joey, move! She's mocking you."
Too late. The punch detonates.
Backing away, Sydney shoots a glance at Haley, "You are next big sister, This hasn't been much of a workout," Syd teases.
Joey sucks it up, braces herself and comes off the rope, setting her guard to protect her belly.
Syd steps forward fast, slips behind Joey to grab her from behind. Sweeney shoves one hand between King's legs and wraps her other arm around Joey's waist. Bracing herself, Syd lifts Joey off her feet and throws her to the mat.
"You dirty bytch," Haley shouts, now standing up on the ring apron.
"F*ck off," Sydney retorts, "I'm just helping her move!"
Sweeney dances near where Haley stands. Big sister is red-faced and angry. Haley leans in, attempting to slap Sweeney's face, but Syd catches her wrist mid-flight, and quickly counters with a left hook that slams into Haley's ear, knocking her down off the apron.
Joey is now on her feet, having witnessed her sister's fate. She runs quickly, slamming her shoulder into Sydney's back and knocking her half over the top rope. Haley is quickly on her feet. She leaps up to grab Syd's hair, holding her bent on the ropes in a compromised position.
"Kidney's" Haley shouts, "fists and knees. Be quick."
Joey takes instruction well. Pushing down on Syd's back with her left hand, she buries her right fist in Sydney's back. She strikes twice more, then jams her knee into the same spot. All the while, Haley is hanging and tugging on Syd's long hair.
Sydney grabs the ropes to shift her weight back. Haley's grip slips, allowing Sweeney to yank her head free as she falls to her butt. Joey takes a wind-up step and kicks her foe in the back. Sweeney, outraged and bruised, quickly spins around on her butt. She catches Joey's intended kick and trips her down to the mat.
Sweeney is quickly on her feet Joey scrambles away. Both women look scuffed up. But Sydney is beyond fired-up. Joey has used up nearly all of her reserve. Sydney moves in to finish what she started. Joey is pummeled back to the ropes. Sweeney pounds her belly, destroying her abs, then pummels her boobs. Joey sags, arms across the top rope, defenseless.
"Stop. Enough--you win!" Haley screams from the opposite side of the ring.
Sydney does stop. She takes a step back and glares at Haley. With that, she grabs Joey by her hair and yanks her upright. She drags her dazed and Gumby-legged opponent to the center of the ring, facing Haley.
Demonstrating her considerable strength, Sydney scopes Joey up, hoisting her to shoulder height and then slams her to the mat. Syd glares at Haley as she slips out of her sports bra, then bends forward to clutch Joey by the hair. She presses the beaten woman's face deep into her cleavage. Joey can offer little resistance.
Haley can take no more. She bounds up to the ring apron and vaults the top rope.
Sydney releases the jugged-out Joey-- her eyes locking onto Haley.
"Finally," Sydney snorts, “maybe now a descent opponent.”
Haley plants her feet, gloves raised high. Her stance is textbook—shoulders squared, chin tucked, elbows tight. She’s always been a smart fighter. She is determined to keep Syd at a distance. She circles left, her jab maintaining distance. Sydney stalks her, cutting off the ring with terrifying efficiency. Haley snaps a jab that connects with Syd’s unharnessed left boob. Sydney crowds in ignoring the jabs to her right boob.
Haley throws two uppercuts at Syd’s chest. Syd is stunned by Haley’s considerable strength. Haley surges forward, fists flying. Syd ducks under a wild hook, but a stiff jab slams into her chest. Haley follows with a knee to Syd’s belly. Syd staggers back into the ropes. Haley presses her advantage, raining hammering blows to Syd's torso. The relentless pounding takes its toll. Haley drives the air from Syd's lungs and leaves her flagging on the ropes. Haley spins Syd around by her hair and jams her knee into Sweeney’s bruised lower back. She spins Sweeney around again. A vicious forearm slams across Syd's chest, shaking her whole body. Haley grins, raises her elbow for another strike.
Resilient, with superb conditioning, Syd sees an opening. As Haley winds up, Syd lunges inside the taller woman's reach, wrapping her arms tight around Haley's waist. Haley grunts, trying to shove Syd off, throwing short punches onto Syd's shoulders and back. Syd grits her teeth, locking her hands behind Haley's spine. She feels Haley’s muscles straining, smells the sharp tang of sweat. Syd plants her feet and twists her hips, using Haley's own momentum to spin them both off the ropes.
Haley stumbles, off-balance, her guard momentarily wide open. Syd doesn’t hesitate. She drives a vicious, sinking left hook deep into Haley's lower abdomen, just above the pelvic bone. Haley gasps, her breath exploding outwards as her body instinctively curls forward. Syd instantly follows up with a right hook to the exact same spot, low and hard. Haley's knees buckle, her face contorts in agony as a choked groan escapes her lips. Syd steps back half a pace, then slams a third blow, a piston-straight right hand that buries itself deep beneath Haley's ribs. Haley folds, crashing to her knees on the canvas, clutching her stomach, her head hanging low.
Syd stands over her kneeling opponent, chest heaving, sweat stinging her eyes. Haley’s shoulders tremble, her knuckles white as she grips her abdomen. Syd smiles at the raw pain etched into Haley’s face, the ragged shallow breathing and the tears running down her cheeks. Sweeney breaths in deep, resolved to end this. There is no mercy in Syd now. She shifts her weight, feels her own power.
Haley rises up on unsteady legs, her eyes blazing with defiance, her body ruined. She launches at herself, hellbent on taking Sydney down. Syd catches her midair, and judo tosses Haley to the mat. King lands hard but instinctively rolls up to her knees, dazed, drained and confused.
Syd pivots on her lead foot to launch a spinning high kick. Her foot connects with Haley’s temple with a sickening thwack. Haley’s eyes roll back instantly, her body goes limp as a puppet with cut strings. Haley crashes sideways onto the canvas, landing heavily on her shoulder before flopping onto her back, utterly still except for the shallow rise and fall of her chest.
“Get up!” Sydney commands, “I’m not done with you yet.”
She waits as Haley staggers to her feet, sets her guard and advances. Sydney slips the first punch Haley throws and counters with a shovel hook to the ribs. Haley grunts but holds her ground. She pivots, trying to reset. Too slow. Sydney’s fists crashes through Haley’s high guard to pancakes Haley’s left and then her right boobs. Haley staggers, her lights nearly out, all defense crumbling under Syd’s onslaught. She tries to clinch. Sydney shoves her off contemptuously and buries two uppercuts in her gut.
A brutal left hook sends Haley crashing into the ropes. Sydney follows, relentless. She digs two more vicious uppercuts into Haley’s solar plexus, doubling her over. Haley gasps, her arms dropping instinctively to protect her battered midsection. That’s all Sydney needs. A right cross detonates on Haley’s chest. Her eyes glaze over. She slides down the ropes, collapsing in a heap beside her sister. Sydney stands over them both, chest heaving, smiling.
“Finally,” Sweeney shouts out. “Haley, you are a freakin’ beast, but you can’t beat me!” she continues.
Sydney crouches, grabbing Haley by her sweat-soaked hair. She drags her limp body toward Joey, who struggles to push herself up on trembling elbows. With brutal efficiency, Sydney rolls Haley onto her back beside her sister. She plants a knee on Haley’s chest, pinning her down, and reaches for Joey’s wrist. Yanking Joey’s arm across Haley’s stomach, Sydney forces them into a twisted tableau of defeat—Joey’s hand splayed protectively over her sister’s chest, Haley’s face pressed against Joey’s shoulder. Sydney leans close, her voice a venomous whisper cutting through the sudden silence in the gym.
"Stay down," she commands, pressing Joey’s palm flat against Haley’s quivering tits. "Or this will be just the beginning of this double beat-down”
Sydney rises, leaving them intertwined in shared ruin. All in a day’s work, she considers…
