A Test On The Mat
Her combat boots dug into the red training mat as two massive arms clamped tight across her shoulder blades.
The towering soldier leaned his entire weight forward, driving his forehead near her collarbone to force her backward.
Surrounding them, a wall of uniformed troops leaned in, their boots aligned against the gray concrete perimeter beneath a hanging American flag.
She dropped her hips three inches, widening her stance to absorb the shock of his forward drive.
Her jaw locked as she pressed her forearms inside his collar, wedging space between his chest and hers.
With a short, explosive pivot of her right heel, she twisted out of the bear hug, breaking his grip and snapping her hands back into a defensive guard.
Resetting The Distance
The larger soldier rolled his shoulders, exhaling a short burst of air through his teeth as he tracked her movements.
He stepped in with a lunging clinch, wrapping both forearms around her waist and driving her hard against the mat.
The impact kicked up a dull thud against the padded floorboards.
She rolled onto her knees before his hands could pin her wrists, scrambling back to her feet in a single fluid push.
He stood up on one knee, brushed the dust from his palms, and leveled his chin.
“That your best?” he asked, squaring his stance.
She brought both taped fists to her cheekbones and shook her head once. “Not even close.”
Trading Blows Under The Lights
He closed the gap behind a sharp jab, testing the perimeter of her reach with heavy, forward-moving steps.
She slipped beneath his lead forearm, ducking low to let the air of his strike graze her braided hair.
Her right hand fired into his ribs, followed immediately by a quick left palm strike that knocked his balance off center.
He swung an overhand hook, but her forearms met the blow halfway, deflecting the power across her upper arms.
She closed the distance immediately, refusing to let him reset his footing.
As he reached out to secure another neck clinch, she dipped beneath his extended elbow and caught the sleeve of his green undershirt.
Her hip slammed into the front of his thigh, acting as an unyielding fulcrum.
She pulled his forward arm across her chest while driving her hips back and upward.
The Final Throw
His boots left the canvas entirely, his legs rotating overhead through the open space of the hanger.
His back slammed flat across the red mat with a heavy crack that reverberated through the metal rafters.
She landed balanced on the balls of her feet, fists clamped tight, looking down at his chest as he lay flat.
The surrounding formation erupted into motion, with soldiers pumping their fists and raising small flags into the air.
The male soldier remained flat on his back, eyes fixed on the ceiling rafters, while she stood above him in the center of the mat.
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