text: TW: Themes of mental health, physical violence, and death Adina Rialto was bored. Twelve months ago, she had been the winningest fighter to come out of the Bruised Knuckles club. Now, no one would fight her. Her phone only rang when her agent had a new brand sponsorship that wanted to use her success for themselves. She’d been competitive from the moment her parents had signed her up for her first sports camp at five. They had been trying to find an outlet for her endless energy. It had kept her busy, but had also cultivated a ruthless need to win at everything in her life. Adina conquered the soccer field then took on the football field - making every boy who laughed at her on the line eat her dust as she scored again and again. She still holds the record for most points scored by a running back at Yamara High School. Her teammates may have hated her since she demanded plays revolve around her, but Adina Rialto couldn’t have cared less. She was the best, no matter what challenged her. That attitude had come with her to the octagon. There was no one who doubted that she was good, but there were those who felt she was too ruthless. If Adina saw an opening, she took it. Those openings had caused several career ending injuries. Her last opponent was still in a coma, effectively shadow-banning Adina from future fights. A year without the roar of a crowd screaming around her. A year without hundreds of eyes on her while she pounded her superiority into her opponents. A year without the adrenaline high of winning. She’d do just about anything to get another hit of that natural drug in her veins. Adina had half-heartedly tried other sports. Triathlons didn’t give her the same feeling of glory when there were hundreds of other competitors and crowds only saw the finish line. Two to three hours of effort with spectators only watching the last sprint? Not what she was looking for. The adult leagues for games like soccer and flag football didn’t appreciate Adina’s drive, either. Most of those players were looking for casual games to enjoy after work and some friends to drink with. They wanted the type of “fun” that included participation trophies. -- When her phone rang this morning, Adina ignored it. She focused instead on the bag in front of her. Left, right, jab. Right, left, kick. Sweat ran in rivers off of her arms, coating the concrete floor of her personal gym. She may not be competing, but Adina maintained peak conditioning. If she was asked to be in a fight tomorrow night, she’d be ready to be its champion. Her phone’s ringtone again interrupted the pounding base rattling through her headphones. Adina sighed and stepped back from the punching bag. It was probably her agent. Norman had stopped leaving messages lately and taken to calling repeatedly until she picked up. He knew it was annoying and the only way he’d get her to answer. Adina grabbed a towel to wipe the sweat away from her body and accepted the call. “Norman, if this is another offer from Nike to be a brand ambassador, I will hang up.” “Well, hello to you, too.” After a moment of charged silence, Norman stopped waiting for pleasantries. To her agent’s credit, he tried to instill some sort of manners into her. She just wasn’t interested in caring about other people. “To answer your question, no, this is not about Nike. That deal is off the table. Honestly, Adina, you make it difficult for me to do my job when you refuse any of the offers I work so hard to get for you.” Another beat of silence. Adina wasn’t interested in having this conversation with Norman, again. So, she wouldn’t. “I hear how apologetic you are in your breathing.” The joviality in Norman’s voice had gone down a level or two. He might finally get to the point so Adina could get back to her workout. “Anyway, I have a new client who would like to work with you. She’s the latest star rising in the MMA arena and she wants you to be her coach. She’s already won the national belt and wants you-” Adina threw the headset off into the gym mirror. A large crack formed on the reflective surface. Her broken image stared back at her, shoulders and chest heaving in anger. A coach? Adina hadn’t fallen that far. In fact, she was entering her prime years. The athletes most remembered by history usually found they only got better as they aged. She was only a few years away from thirty, which was the decade she always dreamed of achieving the status of a legend. Coaching was not in her future. Her body had not come even close to washing out yet. Besides, what was it they always said? “Those who can’t do, teach.” Adina was no coach. Muffled words were still coming from the headphones on the floor, but Adina picked up her phone and ended the call. She really needed to get out tonight and let loose. It was rare that she ever drank, but Adina would risk one night to clear her head. Tomorrow, she would start planning for her comeback. -- Adina sat tucked away in the shadows of one of the bar's few tables and sipped on whatever whiskey she had been given, feeling the base of the music rattling through her bones. Her attention never left her phone’s screen, where she watched dozens of highlights from Nadia Cruz’s fights. It hadn’t been hard to figure out Norman’s new client was this slip of a girl. In Adina’s absence, Nadia had entered her rookie season and promptly stepped over dozens of experienced fighters to take Adina’s throne. She’s just keeping it warm for me . Adina didn’t want to admit it, but there was a small piece of her that felt threatened by the youth. Nadia was good . Real good. Her form was no less than perfect. Each punch showed her indomitable strength. Nadia was an outstanding athlete in her own right. But Adina was still better. An idea came to Adina, then. She should wait until tomorrow, after the alcohol had left her system and she had gone through all the risks, but an excited heat raced through Adina’s veins. Swiping to her text messages, Adina opened her chat with Norman and typed. “Tell Nadia Cruz I will train her if she can beat me in a show match.” Before any more doubt could hold her back, Adina hit send. -- It was a great idea. Though Norman had been hesitant to put his two star clients into the same match and risk permanent injury, he hadn’t been able to deny the money opportunity. Adina Rialto coming back to reclaim her throne from the newcomer, Nadia Cruz. Sales for access to stream the fight were record-breaking. And for the most loyal fans, ringside seats had brought in an additional small fortune of profits. It was the show match of the decade. Nadia herself had responded with a signed contract in less than twelve hours. It added to Adina’s pride, knowing that the young fighter had seen the value in the opportunity. At the weigh in, Adina had watched Nadia’s every move. The way she balanced on the balls of her toes, even while waiting for the referee. Every sculpt of visible muscle was analyzed and Adina was pretty sure the rookie was slightly favoring her right shoulder. Nadia had held her arm tight to her body when passing near anyone. For a few moments, Adina had considered offering to reschedule to fight. She wanted to win, yes, but she needed it to be a win that proved she was the best. If her opponent wasn’t one hundred percent healthy, would they truly know that? But the energy that had surged through the press had already invaded Adina’s mind. Many of the journalists in the crowd were the same ones who’d followed much of her MMA career. They had yelled to be heard during her conference session and most of them asked if she was ready to be a champion again. Adina was an addict falling off the wagon after too long a time sober. Every nerve felt electric as she had fed off of the adoration. -- An hour before the fight, Norman was sprinting between both locker rooms, trying to oversee the needs of both of his stars. When he’d come to Adina with a fifth sponsorship offer for the night, Adina had pushed him out the door and locked it. She needed the quiet - to empty herself before she gorged on the cheers of the crowd. This moment was going to put Adina back on her path to becoming the legend she dreamed she could be. She knew she’d always pushed the boundaries with her brutality, though she’d never meant for Jessa Goodwin to end up a vegetable. They had given her the title belt after that fight, but she’d hidden it in her closet instead of displaying it with her many other trophies. Adina had known that she hadn’t really won - Jessa had just lost. Adina needed this win for more than the affirmation of her skill. She needed it to redeem her image. She needed other athletes to accept fights with her again. Norman hammered his fist into the door and yelled, “It’s time to go, Adina!” -- Adina’s heart beat so hard she thought it was trying to explode from her chest. The lights, the noise, the people all looking at her as the announcer called her out. It was euphoric. When she was too old to compete anymore, she hoped she could die in one last fight, so she could feel this as she went to the mat for the last time. She was getting distracted. Adina’s brain was in sensory overload, trying to process every single thing happening around her. Taking it all in was impossible, but she found herself trying. Focus. Focus on Nadia. She’s across the octagon. Let’s catch her eye and stare her down like I used to . A few deep breaths while she glared at Nadia had done little to take the edge off, but Adina was still confident her body wouldn’t have forgotten how to fight. Even if her thoughts felt a little slow. She just needed a round to shake off the dust. It would excite the crowd, anyway. They’d paid for a fight, not a one-round knockout. Adina checked the wraps on her hands and found them shaking. She’d never felt this way before starting a fight. The exhilaration was almost too much. Adina clenched her fingers a few times to crush the panic that was edging its way in. The moment was just getting to her a bit. She’d be fine once the whistle blows. Chest tight, Adina stepped up to the center of the octagon. She looked down slightly at the other woman. “Bring only your best, Nadia.” The rookie beamed back at her. -- Norman picked up the newspaper his assistant had left on his desk and opened it to the sports section. He skimmed past the headlining story - some bullshit about announcing the artist for the Super Bowl halftime show. Who cares ? He found what he was looking for in the bottom left column. INFAMOUS MMA CHAMPION, ADINA RIALTO DEAD AFTER SHOWMATCH ACCIDENT See more on page 12 Norman flipped the page again to find the article. He was now glad for the Super Bowl story. It had kept this story and his name from the front page of the sports section. The article was a brief account of the “tragedy.” There should be minimal PR risk from it. Norman had taken a gamble, allowing Adina to fight his rising star. In truth, he’d been considering dropping Adina from his talent roster. No one had wanted to fight her after the way she’d brutalized Jessa Goodwin. Adina had gone from being just a liability to a liability that didn’t make any money. The match, however, had paid for itself ten times over with the number of viewers who had tuned in. It indeed had been the event of the decade. The first three rounds had been an even match. Adina and Nadia had traded good hits, neither holding back. The crowd loved every second. Norman was a little worried since he’d seen the way Adina’s hands had shaken after being announced, but he’d written it off as excitement. All that woman did was train. He knew she was going to be fine. But, when round four began, Norman saw Adina’s eyes move between Nadia and the crowd. Every time they yelled, she lost her focus, almost turning to smile a few times. Nadia’s fist would bring Adina back just in time to be blocked. Then, a young girl sitting ringside yelled, “Go Adina! You’re my hero, Adina!” The girl couldn’t have been older than ten. She wore a t-shirt with a large print of Adina’s face covering her from neck to hips. Norman had watched with horror as Adina fully stopped and turned to the girl. Her eyes sparkled while her lips spread in the biggest smile Norman had ever seen from her. A split-second later, Adina was no longer standing and Nadia’s hands had immediately covered her own shocked face. The referee called the medical team in and they shifted Adina’s limp body to a stretcher. The arena had been silent while they ran her to the tunnels. Nadia “Knee Buster” Cruz. That’s the stupid name the fans had given her. The young athlete had been horrified after receiving the news that Adina hadn't made it. Nadia just liked MMA. She never thought there was any risk that someone would die on the mat. At least her reputation didn’t seem to suffer the way Adina’s had. Though, unlike Adina, Nadia hadn’t been on thin ice before causing massive brain damage to another fighter. Nadia was taking a short break and seeing a therapist, but she would be back and making Norman money soon. She’d already accepted a contract as a spokesperson for Nike and Norman had received positive replies when floating the idea of future fights for her. Nadia Cruz still had a career left and he would make sure she got the best opportunities. Norman was happy to let Adina’s legacy fade out of the world’s memory, along with page 12 of today’s paper.