Queen Bee watched with glee as blood spurt from a deep gash over Viktoria’s eye brow as Bee reigned [sic] punches down. She listened to the thud —-> thud —> thud —-> thwack as her gloved fists struck brow, nose, and mouth, in succession and then she landed a hammer punch to Viktoria’s cheek bone.

Viktoria was the world champ. Was.

The referee stepped in, stopping the punches. Round 1.

The ring smelled of sweat, the metallic tinge of blood, and struggle. It smelled like Victory.

The crowd cheered, and camera lights flashed, but The Queen didn’t hear it or see it, she was was focused on her corner.

Everyone counted the Bee out, everyone except the Queen’s corner, and Queen Bee herself. Viktoria talked a lot of smack before this fight.

Now her corner was picking Viktoria up off the mat, and watching the Belt wrap around The Queen Bee.

The Queen and Viktoria stood side by side now, Referee in the middle. He raises Queen’s hand at the wrist, high over head.

World Champ.

The announcer came. “Queen Bee, how do you feel after this hard fought win? There was a lot of tension with Viktoria “The Wolf” Volkova leading up to this fight, Viktoria said “you don’t belong in the ring with me[sic]” and a lot of people had you tagged as the underdog tonight. Now you’re the world champion, wearing the belt”.

Bee grabbed the microphone from his hand, and held it high to her face, elbows up.

She stood tall in her throne, muscles flexed, poised and regal. Her ring crew placed a crown, made of gold, over her head. The fight lights adorned her dreads, and her crown shimmered.

“They say a Queeeeen is supposed to be merciful. Naaaaah!”

Queen Bee pointed her finger to blood on the mat and flicked her wrist up and down.

“But in this world, being Queen means blood!”

Queen Bee threw the mic down, and she hopped up and down with her ring crew and her entourage.

There was a new Champ in town.