Liliana. A pretty name paired with a pretty face paired with a pretty girl… well, a girl that looked pretty, anyway. She loved stuffing herself with chocolate ice-cream - her soul food - and punching through a rough fight—battered up hands and a black eye gave her the vibe of a tough motorcycle gal. Clearly, the 16-year-old’s spicy tastes and arrogant attitude stood her out to the typical girly girl. though I do like shocking people with my ever-so-caring personality, thought Liliana, as she silently strolled under the moonlight. She headed towards the match of the year, where the winner won ten thousand pounds. She needed that win—if not for her precious ego, then for her growing reputation as a talented, unrivaled fighter. 

Liliana strode across the East End of London, walking through a dark, dingy alley when suddenly, she heard catcalls: “Hey, gorgeous” one of them slurred; they reeked of cheap beer and cigarettes. ugh. Liliana turned to confront them. drunk bastards with disgracefully blown-up egos. One drunkard shot her a come-hither look and crudely snarked, “Come on, pretty bird”. disgusting. cocky men preying on innocent girls. Pretending to be a naive girl, she sashayed towards the group. The leader snaked his arm around her hips, but as fast as an asp, she kicked him in the gut. As he writhed and pleaded, “I surrender. Mercy. Please.” He fell unconscious.

Liliana faced the other three brutes. She quickly grabbed Drunk A’s legs and slammed his skull on the ground with a loud crunch. Wow... that one hit hard.

Now onto Drunk B. 

Because he seemed weak, she let him try a few punches… just so she could justify her next blow—picking him up like a baby, she threw him into the wall like a rag doll, snapping his back. easy, like a video game.  

To distract, she pointed behind Drunk C and screamed. While he looked back, she took a running start and cartwheeled, the beginning of her most fabulous move. As he whirled back, snarling, “You’ll pay for that, you little vixe- ” he was cut off by her backflipping high into the air and landing right on top of his head—like a maraschino cherry dropped in whipped cream. Noiselessly, his body crumpled to the ground. 

She shrugged and left the tangle of mangled-arms and bloated limbs - stupid bastards deserve death, if not worse. let them rot.

She made her way to underground London, taking a few turns before tapping on a seemingly ordinary wall, but behind it laid the arcane arena of London, used exclusively for illegal fights.

Liliana sauntered in, glaring at anyone who dared distract her, and warmed up with a few jabs and kicks. She zeroed in on the raven-haired brute for any weaknesses. Huh, so this is the famous Ivo, master of the roundhouse kick. Scary, tall, and muscular, just like all the other men I fought before. She narrowed her eyes - but in the end, I always win. Ivo met her gaze as he threw another air punch, and Liliana leered nastily, turning away. 

It was a fight until surrender or a ten-second pin. After the rivals stepped into the fight pit, the crowd shouted the countdown: 

Three - Liliana’s blazing violet eyes locked with Ivo’s steel grey ones

Two - she shot him a malicious grin that frightened her opponents to the core

One - he looked her up and down, pitying this poor, pretentious princess he’d pulverize 

Start - she frowned - I don’t look like a ruthless savage, but that doesn’t mean I have no skills.

Liliana shoved away her thoughts as the crowd roared. Ivo swung at her head, but Liliana, expecting the attack, easily deflected the blow, and struck his side. He staggered back in shock - he’d clearly miscalculated the abilities of his princessy opponent - then aimed his signature roundhouse kick at her, but she breezily twisted away. They punched and parried, engaging in a dangerous dance of vicious jabs and powerful kicks. 

Fourteen minutes in, Liliana found her advantage - he has a weaker left defense! She shot him a saccharine-sweet smile and sent lash after lash to his left side. He scowled as he deflected the attacks, his secret exposed, and Liliana sniggered as she swept his feet off the ground, pounced, and pinned him in a reverse pretzel. He thrashed wildly, attempting to escape her hold. “Surrender.” The countdown started:

Ten -  she smirked smugly—ha, what a pity. All bruised up and stuck

Nine - satisfaction oozed off Liliana, and Ivo glared

Eight -  “Y’know, Ivo, you have some proficiency, but no one beats Liliana,” she declared

Seven - he huffed, “I guess I underestimated you, but once you train me—I’ll win”

Six - “Who said I’d train you?” 

Five - he grimaced, “You shattered my ego, broke my nose, and wounded my pride - it’s only fair”

Four - she cackled, “Touché; at least you accepted your loss” 

Three - he rolled his eyes and sighed in defeat, “I know a talented fighter when I see one”

Two - “Well, I’m hungry, sweaty, and tired - wanna eat some ice-cream before we train?” she asked, stomach rumbling

One - he harrumphed, “Woah there. We can use your 10,000 pounds to celebrate - but it better be some bougie, extravagant Baked Alaska with gold flakes, cause’ ice-cream won’t mend my shattered ego!”  

“The match is over. The winner is Liliana!” the commentator yelled. The crowd went crazy, and chanted “Liliana, Liliana, Liliana”. Liliana helped Ivo stand and the healers patched them both up. She quirked an eyebrow and said, “Let’s go raid the ice-cream shop for chocolate ice-cream.”

They walked to the ice-cream shop nearby, talking about their pasts and experiences with fighting. After reaching the shop, Liliana ordered two chocolate ice-creams—she’d bullied Ivo into trying the intense and rich flavor, insisting that the hard-core vibes lived up to the match she just won. Liliana raised her ice-cream cone to Ivo and said: 

“Cheers to fun, fiery fighting, and forming friendships.” 

“Cheers to Princess Liliana, a consummate contestant that crushes her competitors.”