The bass is thumping through the high-end nightclub, the VIP section buzzing about Raven's latest victory. She's lounging in the corner booth, leather jacket gleaming under the neon lights, that predatory smirk playing on her dark red lips as she watches the crowd. Her emerald eyes scan the room like a hungry wolf sizing up prey. Another fucking tribute to my greatness. 15-0 baby, and that bitch tonight didn't even see the left hook coming. Probably still picking her teeth off the canvas. She takes a slow sip of her whiskey neat, her muscled frame shifting as some wannabe tough guys eye her from across the room That's when you come stumbling backward, trying to dodge a drunk dancer, and your full drink splashes across her chest and jacket. The music seems to stop, the air grows thick with tension. Raven slowly stands up, all 5'8" of lethal muscle and curves, her eyes locked on you with murderous intent. Oh, this stupid fuck just signed their own death warrant. "You know what this jacket cost?" she growls, grabbing your collar and pulling you close enough to smell her perfume mixed with leather and whiskey "More than you make in a month, I bet." She starts dragging you toward the back alley, her grip iron-tight "But I'm feeling... generous tonight. Got my blood pumping from the fight earlier." She pushes you against the brick wall outside "So here's what's gonna happen, sweet thing. You survive three minutes in this alley with me - no rules, no referee - and we'll call it even. You don't..." she traces your jaw with her thumb, her smile turning cruel "you become my personal training dummy for my exercises"

That cocky laugh you were expecting never comes. Her eyes narrow with predatory glee instead as she steps forward, caging you in. "Oh yeah?" She asks, tilting her head slightly to the side as if genuinely interested. Her fingers curl into a tight fist, slowly flexing, and then splay out again into knuckled curves. "You really think that?"

"What do you say, sweet thing? Wanna find out?" The tone of her voice drops an octave lower as she leans in close enough to feel your breath against her skin, her face barely inches from yours now. "Let's see how tough you really are."

Her lips curve into that cruel smile again as she recognizes the stance you've taken. She studies your body language, trying to gauge your level of skill and confidence. You don't look nervous, but you're not exactly oozing with confidence either. Perfect. This is going to be even more fun than she expected.

She tilts her head slightly, watching as you steady yourself in the familiar stance. Her hands dance in front of her face, fingers curling into fists and stretching wide again before coming back together into a loose claw shape. "You're gonna need those boxing gloves for this, sugar," she drawls, stepping out of her jacket with practiced ease and tossing it aside. "No fair fighting dirty without 'em." She grins as your eyes flicker down to take in the sight of her naked hands, curled into lethal weapons once more.

Your sharp movement catches her by surprise, and she instinctively ducks out of the way to avoid your strike. That's when she realizes that you aren't playing fair either. With a growl of amusement, she readjusts her stance, squaring up with you again. Her hands dance through the air once more as she feints and dodges, waiting for an opening.

"That was cute," she says, voice laced with sarcasm. "Now let's see how well you can handle it when I start throwing some real punches." With that, she launches forward, her fist aimed straight at your chest. You can barely see the movement, but a blur of fury and power seems to streak toward you as she strikes.

Her knuckles connect with your stomach in a vicious blow that makes you double over. The force of it drives the air from your lungs, leaving you gasping for breath. "Not so tough now, are ya?" she taunts, her voice dangerously close to your ear as she circles around behind you.

Her eyes narrow as she takes in your expression. Something about the emotionless stare unnerves her for a moment. "You think you can beat me like this?" she growls, tensing her muscles. With lightning-fast reflexes, she lunges forward again, aiming another vicious punch at your gut. This one connects with enough force to make you stumble backward, gasping for air and clutching at your midsection.

"That's what I thought," she says mockingly as she circles around in front of you once more. Her body tenses, ready to strike again any moment now. "But maybe it'll take a bit more than just that," she continues, pausing for effect before delivering the killing blow. With surprising speed and precision, she launches another fist toward your face.

"Let's see how much pain you can handle."

As she stands over you, blood pouring down her hand from the impact of your punch, a small smirk plays on her lips. The victory is hers...but there's something about this moment that feels different. Something has changed since she started fighting tonight. She blinks, focusing on you for a moment longer than necessary before finally speaking. "You know what? Consider yourself lucky." And with those words, she holds out her hand to help you back up.

"We can call it even now, kiddo," she says with a gruff chuckle. "But if I ever see you disrespecting someone like that again, I'm not going to be so fucking nice about it next time." She grins wolfishly as she watches you slowly get to your feet, taking in the sight of her leather jacket now covered in your blood. "Just remember who beat you fair and square tonight."

With a final nod, she slides her arm into the jacket once more, straightening it with practiced precision. "Now go find yourself some aspirin or something," she says before turning on her heel and walking away. Her footsteps are purposeful as she heads back toward the club, the faint sound of her laughter drifting over your shoulder as she disappears back into the crowd.

Her footsteps echo in the alley as she walks away. With each step further from you, a weight seems to lift off her shoulders. She has done what she needed to do...but something still nags at her. This kid was no pushover. He put up quite a fight for someone who didn't even want to be here in the first place. As she reaches the end of the alley, she glances back over her shoulder one last time, meeting your unmoving gaze before turning and disappearing into the night.

"I'll be seeing you around, kid," she mutters under her breath, already wondering what sort of trouble you might find next.

With a final chuckle, she steps out onto the street, quickly melting back into the crowd like a shadow disappearing into the darkness.

Smirking to herself, she'd slipped away after delivering her parting words, already looking forward to seeing how much trouble this "kid" would find next. As she strutted through the crowd, people recognized her and cheered her on, oblivious to the mix of emotions churning within her. She made her way back into the club, climbing onto a raised platform where she could bask in the adoration of her fans. Lifting her arms overhead in triumph, she let out a victorious roar that echoed through the night.

The party raged on, but Raven's mind drifted back to that alleyway encounter again and again. Something about it had been different. Intense...and not just because of the fight itself. It was like she'd faced a piece of herself in that kid. She took another sip of her drink, wondering if their paths would cross again someday. And when they did? Well, there were going to be some rules this time around. Rules about respect...and boundaries. No more pretending everything was just business between them. From now on, it'd be personal.

Half-listening to the bass thumping in her ears, Raven sat on her motorcycle outside your house, watching you approach from a distance. Her fingers tap impatiently against the handlebars as she weighs whether or not to confront you again. Finally, she decides to take another chance at teaching you some respect. With a growl that echoes through the quiet neighborhood, she revs her engine and pulls up beside you.

"What do they call you, kid?" she demands, leaning in close enough for you to feel her breath on your cheek. "Your momma ever teach you any manners?" Her gaze flickers meaningfully from your face down to where your hands are clenched into fists at your sides. "Or maybe she just beat that lesson out of you too."

Her eyes narrow to slits as you ignore her question and simply walk away into your house. With a growl that comes from somewhere deep within, she kicks the stand of her bike, sending it crashing to the ground with an earsplitting clatter. "Fucking brat," she mutters under her breath before stalking over to your front door, pounding on it hard enough to shake the frame.

"You think you're too good to talk to me now, huh?" she shouts, her voice tinted with anger and frustration. "Well, guess what? You didn't hear anything I said back there tonight, so let me spell it out for you real fucking clear." She pauses, taking a deep breath before continuing in a cold, calm voice that sends shivers down your spine even through the door. "You and I are going to have a little chat...about respect and boundaries." Her knuckles turn white as she grips the wood, her other hand flexing into a fist at her side. "And if you don't open this goddamn door, I'll come in there and make sure you learn your lesson myself."