Who’s Your Daddy?

Two more years had passed. It was nearing Valkyrie’s second year as a pro boxer—a total of five years spent on the sport itself.

The fights were somewhat more difficult than the amateur leagues, but for the most part, her opponents were just a bit bigger and slightly more cybernetically enhanced. Nobody could overcome her all-seeing eyes; nobody really itched her yearning for that rush of adrenaline she’d felt during that first encounter with those mercs.

But then, Coach got an offer from a boxing manager. They wanted a fight with Valkyrie in one month’s time. They even insisted on paying for their traveling fees.

It wouldn’t have been much of a big deal if it wasn’t for their strong insistence on making it all happen. Rather, this was one of the best offers they’d ever gotten. But that was only until Coach soon realized that it wasn’t just from any boxing manager. It was from Adrian Spider. The manager of the boxer, Daddy Long Arms—

Current Undisputed Cybernetic Boxing World Champion.

The champion had an undefeated professional record of 99-0, and there was a reason he hadn’t lost yet. Just like Valkyrie, he rarely got hit. Just like her, he was nimble and fast. Hard-hitting when necessary. He would meticulously overwhelm his prey with onslaughts of attacks that couldn’t be dodged. The opponent was bound to be hit no matter the situation.

But this overwhelming presence wasn’t because he had amazing eye implants. No, it was because his entire body was a cybernetic monstrosity. His arms and legs were segmented into so many mechanical parts and pieces that they looked more like flailing, iron tentacles than fleshy limbs. And his flexibility was absolute insanity. There was no avoiding his punches. And there was no landing any either. He wasn’t some ordinary boxer that could be fought without any sort of preparation. Quite literally, he was a monster. A predator known to many as…

The Bloodstained Huntsman.

She had seen several videos of his fights, so she knew of this. Coach had already known this as well, so he hounded her to reconsider the offer, mentioning that she was still a bit too inexperienced to fight against the champ.

But she didn’t think so. She was confident she could win. This was her big moment to make money, gain popularity, and feel that rush of excitement that she had been chasing all this time. And she had won every single bout since her debut. What more did she need to prove that she was ready?

She only had one goal—to win. For herself, for Coach. For everyone that supported her and her aspirations. She’d show the world she wasn’t just some lowly thief that leeched off of others. She’d make her dreams come true once and for all. So with that in mind, for the next few weeks, she trained herself through blood, sweat, and tears…

“One, two, three, roll, three, two.” Coach called out the combo. He held up his mitts attached to two long, wooden sticks. That was the only way he could close the height difference.

Valkyrie roughly followed through with the combo. She noticed the two sticks Coach was using were severely worn out from overuse. It pained her to see the gym equipment in such disrepair.

Coach had tried his best to provide her with better equipment, but because he was now her personal boxing instructor, their only source of income was from her matches. And since the boxing community was over-saturated with fighters, her earnings just weren’t cutting it. The funds were barely enough to feed the both of them and pay their rent for their small, city gym.

Still, this was enough. Money wasn’t important to her after she had quit being a thief. She’d seen how much Coach had given up his entire life for her boxing career, so all she wanted to do now was prove him right. Show him the fruits of his teachings. Maybe someday, they could afford better sticks…

“Relax, Val,” Coach emphasized. “Don’t tense up so much. Those are beginner problems, lass.”

“I am relaxed.”

He smacked her in the head with his mitts.

“Ow, what was that for?!”

“You would’ve dodged if you were focused.”

She groaned. “I am focused.”

“Don’t rely so much on your eyes. It’s gotta be instinctual.”

“I know. You told me that a million times already.”

He swung the mitts at her again. She quickly rolled and dashed in for a counter, stopping her glove just inches away from his face.

“See?” she proudly exclaimed.

“It’s not bad, lass. But you’re not facing an old fart like me. You’re facing the champion.”

“I know that too.” She grinned. “But I haven’t lost yet.”

“You’re too overconfident. Too much ego.” He raised his mitts again. “Slip, three, two, back, two.”

She executed the combo several more times.

“Keep your legs moving. Watch the gears turn.”

Val pivoted with each punch. She started to loosen up again. Her feet shifted across the gym floor in swift, elegant strides.

It wasn’t necessarily smooth, but there was a crisp flow to her footwork that couldn’t be found in other boxers. Simple combos looked refined when she was performing them. Graceful and stylish. It was almost like she was dancing—enjoying the movements of the sport itself.

And truly, she loved every second of it.

…

A week before the fight, they had a press conference. Valkyrie and Coach arrived early, so they sat down and waited in silence. And after a few more minutes, Daddy Long Arms and his crew entered the stage from the left.

The champ’s arms dragged across the floor, occasionally sparking from all the friction. His fingers caught onto all the garbage that had littered the ground, but the first thing he did wasn’t clean his hands. Instead, he shamefully called her out—

“What do we have here? You’re just a toothpick!” He gave a wicked grin as his team roared out in laughter. “Just skin and bones!”

Valkyrie leaned back and rested her legs on top of the table. She wasn’t having any of it.

“And looky there! A wee manbaby!” He sneered, pointing at Coach. There were a few snickers coming from the press.

The distasteful insult to Coach made her snap. “Shut it, calamari. You’re the manbaby.”

“Cala-what?” He turned to his manager. “What’s she on about?” The manager whispered into his ears. His face burned beet red. “Oh, so you think you’re so smart? I ain’t no fuckin’ octopus! I’m—”

“It’s squid, dumbass.”

A few chuckles escaped from the crowd.

“Shut up!” He jumped to his feet. “All of you!” He faced her dead in the eyes. “You’re just some nobody who got lucky. Don’t get cocky, bitch.”

All she did was smile. She casually waved the comment aside. All that trash talking? It was beneath her. No amount of insults to herself would rile her up. She knew it was partly for performance and ticket sales, but it felt disingenuous and unsportsmanlike. If there were real emotions involved, she’d always beat it out of her opponents during the actual fight. 

Throughout the rest of the conference, Long Arms created more ruckus. He berated Coach for lack of actual fighting experience, and he tried to swing at her when she wasn’t looking. But even still, she didn’t find it necessary to retaliate. Not yet. Just a little longer…

Just until the fight.