The Mouse and The Monarch

3

~MOUSE~

The dimly lit training area echoed with the rhythmic thuds of gloves meeting pads and the shuffling of quick footwork.

Ophelia, clad in her sleek black workout gear that clung to her like a second skin, danced around a small makeshift boxing ring in the centre of the room.

Zero stood in front of her, arms up as he waited for her next attack.

His muscles strained against the fabric of his training gear.

His eyes were wide as he watched her bounce on her feet.

Ophelia's eyes, sharp and focused, never left Zero's movements as she anticipated his every movement.

Zero, with a broad grin that revealed a hint of pride, lunged forward, his massive frame propelling him with deceptive speed.

Ophelia danced away effortlessly, a shadow in the dimly lit space.

The quicksilver grace with which she avoided his blows spoke of countless hours of dedication and training.

Her breath barely came in pants and she pushed air from her lungs.

"You got better," Zero remarked, a note of admiration in his voice as he paused to catch his breath.

Ophelia, her breaths measured and controlled, chuckled in response.

"Got sick of being hit," she retorted, her voice carrying a mix of determination and amusement.

It was true.

She had been thrown around, bled and broken so many times by her own teammates and on the field that she had broken herself down and built back up again.

With some help of course.

Her old LT would be so proud.

She was a mouse.

Small, fast and nearly impossible to get rid of.

She feinted left, then darted to the right, a blur of ebony.

Beads of sweat traced a path down her brow, glistening like diamonds on her tan skin.

Zero relied on sheer strength, each punch and kick a testament to his raw might.

Ophelia, on the other hand, was a master of finesse, her movements a symphony of speed and precision.

"If you can't match them in strength, use speed." His voice rang in her head as she danced around Zero's attacks.

As they continued to spar, the atmosphere in the training area seemed to thicken with energy as multiple eyes turned their way.

Her teammates were watching, assessing her every move. She could feel it.

They wanted to know if she was capable. If she could have their back in the field.

No one needed a weak link in the line of fire.

With a sudden burst of energy, Zero unleashed a powerful combination of strikes, hoping to overwhelm her with sheer force.

Yet, like a phantom, she slipped through the onslaught, her lithe form evading each blow with a dancer's grace.

A triumphant smile played on her lips as she seized the opportunity to counter, landing a series of rapid strikes that showcased her expert precision.

Zero winced, his hand instinctively moving to the side where Ophelia's well-placed strike had landed.