Match of the Millennium

Djamila walks around the training facility. She takes in everywhere she can go inside. She takes her time. She's getting familiar with the place. When she is done, she moves toward one of the guards. "You're a guard?" A simple nod. "You must be good at fighting." Another nod. "Well, I want you to try to hit me. Try to hurt me. The guard looks confused and finally speaks. "But you are blind." Djamila smiles. "So I should be an easy target, yes? Just hit me with all you got. Don't be a guard who's afraid of a blind girl." The guard shrugs his shoulder. He was asked to keep an eye on the recruit. They said nothing about fighting or not fighting. "It's your funerals," Djamila answers. "We agree." The guard gets in position, and so does Djamila. She does not move toward the ring because not every fight happens there. You can be surprised sometimes. So here is perfect. The guard tries to hit her, but Djamila uses her staff to dance around him in her unique style. Sometimes she blocks now, as Mint has helped her learn. But she realizes the guard is not giving his all. So on her last spin, she moves behind him and pushes a foot on his ass. "You are not trying to hit me. You pretend to try to hit me. This, is very insulting. You shall give me your best, or I shall hit you with my staff until you get a concussion." The guard looks at her. She is getting annoying. He's only trying to spare her. "Fine then, I will give you my all." He will teach her a lesson. This time the fight is real. Djamila dances around him and blocks things. She also gets hit by some blows. he resists as much as she can because she needs to learn, but at one point, she falls on the ground. The guard looks at her. "Lesson of the day. That's why blind girls don't fight." Djamila makes a face, gathers her energy, and then smashes her staff against his jewels. "Lesson of the day. Protect your genitals." She slowly gets up as the guard crumbles to the ground. "I would spit on you, but it would be a waste. Thank you for the training." She moves slowly to leave. The hardest blow would have been his words if she didn't know her potential. "One more thing mister Guard. I may be blind, but I see better than you will ever." With that, she goes away, feeling the soreness in her body.

Djamila can be seen on a phone. She dials a number and the phone rings. Someone picks up. "Hey, Jasmine. Yeah, it's me. Put me on speaker. I want to talk to all of you." "Hey, how could I forget any of you? You're all my family. I knew that before, but someone made me realize it even more. I miss you all so much." She listens as the girls speak. "Oh yeah, I am having a lot of fun. Most people are awesome." She listens more. "Yeah, I was on fire at one point, and I continued to fight. I still lost though. I was happy with a 4th place." She giggles before she answers this time. "Yeah, the team who recruited me is Team Metal. There's this Marine. She's awesome. She helped me get tougher and learn how to block more. I mean, I still use my pole skills to get away, but I also use my staff to block things. After a few moments. "Oh really, you would do that? Oh god, that would be so great if you could. I just had a match against Chevy. She's a sweetie. She uses a pole too, in some way, but not like I do. I am not sure when my next match will be, but I will let you know, ok? Anyway, I hear someone coming, so I will talk to your girls later. I love you all! Mwuah, Mwuah." She hangs up the phone and turns around. "What the hell are you doing here? I want nothing to do with you." She brings her staff up. "Get away. You were never there. There's a reason why I had to take care of myself as soon as I was so young. Just wish I had left earlier. Now go, and don't ever try to see me again! GO!" She is shaking with anger at this point. The person in front of her can be heard walking away. "I don't need you. I never did!" She takes a deep breath to calm herself.

Djamila sits on a wooden bench in Sunshine City, with her back straight and her legs crossed, holding a book with blank pages and a box of color pencils beside her. She's lost in her own world, drawing a woman on one of the pages with an ethereal look, almost ghost-like, but she stands strong as if she's the queen of her own world. The passersby on the street give her strange looks, but she pays them no attention, focusing on her drawing. After a while, Djamila finishes the drawing, and she admires it for a moment, feeling proud of herself. "It may not be perfect, but it's mine," she whispers to herself as she packs up her pencils. Suddenly, she hears a familiar voice behind her. "I saw you lose your match. You shouldn't be here. It's dangerous." Djamila sighs and recognizes the voice immediately. "I told you to leave me alone. It's with you that I am in danger. Why can't you leave me alone?" She takes a deep breath, trying to remain calm. "If you ever loved me a little bit, forget I exist. Consider you killed me when you shot me." The man follows her as she starts walking, and he keeps talking. "You know the fact you can do all of this? It makes you a monster." She shakes her head. "Yes, I am a monster. The fact I don't need you in my life. The fact I can do almost anything by myself. I am a monster." She continues walking, trying to stay calm but feeling her patience wearing thin. "I love how your tune changed as soon as I said to forget I exist." She makes her way toward an alley, hoping to get away from the man. "For all I know, you're the reason your mom died," the man says, trying to provoke her. Djamila stops walking and squeezes her staff tightly. "Yes, little 8-year-old me managed to do a missile strike. I thought it would be fun to kill my mom and almost killed myself as well as lose my eyesight. Are you out of your mind?" she says, her voice rising with anger as she turns to face him. Djamila feels a sharp pain in her head, and everything goes black for a moment. When she opens her eyes, she's lying on the ground, and the man is standing over her with a makeshift weapon in his hand. "The world doesn't need a monster like you," he says, and keeps hitting her with the weapon. Djamila tries to stand back up, but the man keeps hitting her, and she feels weaker and weaker. "Someone can be better than me. Like my last match, when my friend kicked my ass in the end. But nobody is going to keep me down. Certainly not you," she says, trying to fight back. Then she screams as loud as she can, hoping that someone will come to her rescue. The man hits her again, but finally, some people come to check on her, and the man runs away. Djamila tries to stand up, but she feels dizzy and weak. "I am fine," she says, trying to convince herself more than anyone else. The people around her pick up her things and hand them to her, and she thanks them with a bow. Her head is bleeding, but her hijab is absorbing most of it, and she just wants to get away for now. People ask her if she needs more help, but she declines, feeling strong and determined to overcome this. She's her own woman, and no one can bring her down. But deep down, she's terrified of what just happened. She tries to hide it, thinking that no one else has to know, but the fear is still there, gnawing at her from the inside. Another thing is gnawing at her. Has her father that time, been trying to kill her all along. She doesn't know what she did to deserve that... She's her own woman, no one can bring her down... Yeah. If she could cry right now, she probably would.

As promised, Djamila goes to meet her guards. She thinks to herself. 'You have to remember they are not your friends.' Before going to them, she took the time to remove her helmet. She introduces herself and tells them she won't try to give them the slip. "Ok, now I am going outside to train something. You come with me, but you give me some space, or I don't promise I won't hurt you." With that said, she walks outside, and they follow her. Once outside, Djamila walks away from the Fort, not wanting to do any damage to it. She finds an old barrel she can hit with her staff along the way. Some metallic sounds can be heard as she does so. Then, she warms herself up again. She has to after her bout with Mint. She feel sore. She knows some bruises are there, and that's with Mint not trying to destroy her. When she feels ready, she says, "Here goes nothing." She slowly let out the anger she feels inside. She starts hitting the barrel harder. She thinks back at the things that happened to her. She fuels her anger. Suddenly, she can feel the wind starting to pick up around her and the barrel. She can feel the anger in her. Soon, she lets out a piercing scream. The wind gets stronger until it becomes a small but still nasty tornado. Both the barrel and herself go up in the air (Along with some trash around.). Once in the air, Djamila is pretty stable, except for her hair. That was going to be a problem. The barrel though, is roughened up by the Tornado. Djamila starts hitting the Barrel. "Bang, bang, bang, bang." The hits almost make some weird music. After several hits later, the tornado and Djamila calm down, but the latter gives one last hit to the barrel, sending it crashing down to the ground. Soon after. Djamila slowly glides down, breathing deeply, and the tornado completely dissipate. When she lands down, she continues to breathe deeply. "Wow, that was fucking intense. The hell?" She felt so many different feelings about that. "Oh my god, this is a productive way to use anger." She touches her hair. "You are going to be a problem. You are a problem for so many things." She looks at her guards. "I am going to the hairdresser." They nod. They show no emotions about what happened, but who knows what they feel inside? She leaves with them going to the hairdresser. There it takes a while, but when she comes out, the guards can see Djamila's hairstyle is completely different. She's now sporting a half-hawk. Her right side is completely shaved off. The left side falls to the top of her cheek. She tells herself. "Goodbye Mom. I will be fine now. I am sorry I can't remember you anymore, but I will always love you.". After she is done, she looks at her guards. "Let's go home. I have to get ready for my match." With that, they all walk back to the fort.

Djamila uses her special cell to call someone. The voice of an older woman is on the other line, "Hello?". "Hi" Djamila says. "How are you doing?" The woman on the other line, "Djamila!" Then she coughs. "Yeah it's me. I just wanted to see how you are doing. I don't want to bother you too long." The woman pfft, "Nonsense, talk to me Djamila. What is bothering you?". Djamila hesitates. "Some people in the tournament makes me angry. "You know, if someone makes you angry, it's becauses you allow them to. They are not in control of you. You are in control Djamila. You decide if you let anyone get to you or not." Djamila ponders. "I didn't see it that way. Control?" Her brain tilts. "Yeah control. You know what. You're awesome. That's perfect. Control. I need to be in control in my life. Doesn't mean I can't be free." The woman smiles at the other end. "Exactly Djamila. Control your life. Keep the control. Let no one else take it away from you. Freedom is keeping your life on track as you wish it to be. You control what you can control, and you go with the flow with everything. I remember you've been good with the latter. Just remember the former." "You gave me a great idea. I will start working on it right now. I will also visit you before things start again. I have something I promised to be there for, but I will have time after. I miss you." Djamila says a mix of excitement and tenderness. "Ok, I will look forward to it. Just remember. We are all proud of you. All the girls are behind you." Djamila sighs happily. "Thank you. Get some rest please. I will see you soon. Bye hun" "Bye Djamila. Happy to help." She hangs up. Djamila hangs up soon after. A bit later, she can be seen entering a gym.

There it is. She knows who she is going up against. A new recruit from round two. Junko. She never fought in NFG, so Djamila can't watch some videos of her. It's fine. Going in blind is her speciality, after all. She did it for all her matches. She chuckles to herself. She starts her training, which, at the moment, involves a mix of meditation and trance. The body is ready. The mind needs to be, too. It's going well until her phone rings. She sighs and picks it up. "Why are you calling?" She asks. "How could you do this to your own daughter anyway? I made peace. So think about what you did, and maybe, if you can't offer support, you can at least leave me alone. Hear me loud and clear! It will never happen." She hangs up the phone a bit angrily, and she goes back to make the mind ready. She lets out the anger. She's Djamila 2.0, and no one is going to get in the way. Not even a father who is toxic to his own daughter.

When her Lifeband, a high-tech device worn on her wrist, notifies her about her upcoming match, a surge of excitement courses through her veins. Determined to prepare herself fully, Djamila swiftly makes her way back to the headquarters of Team Metal. As she enters the familiar training facility, she is ready. Ready to work her body. Equipped with her Lifeband, she activates the ARIA app, the cutting-edge AI that gives her so many functions at her fingertips. With a tap on her Lifeband's interface, she immerses herself in the sounds of Genie's matches, by listening to the exhilarating audio commentary accompanying the playback. This ingenious setup enables her to train inside the ring while absorbing valuable insights from what her opponent did. Engrossed in her training, she meticulously focuses on perfecting each move, pushing herself to explore various techniques and execute them with precision. Despite the recent whirlwind of interactions with people outside the ring, she finds solace in the simplicity of returning to the fundamentals. Accompanied only by her staff and the wind surrounding her, she dedicates herself wholeheartedly to her training. As some of Genie's signature moves are mentioned by the announcers in the recordings, her instincts kick in, making her contemplate the most effective counters and strategies to employ against them. With unwavering determination, she mentally visualizes herself in the heat of battle. The rigorous training session continues for an extended period as she tirelessly conditions her body for the impending fight. Sweat cascades down her face, mingling with the fierce determination etched across her features. But eventually, she knows she has reached a crucial juncture. Pausing her training regimen, she recognizes the need to rejuvenate herself physically and mentally. With a sense of purpose, she heads towards the shower area, relishing the anticipation of the refreshing water washing away the fatigue and grime accumulated during her intense workout. Stepping into the shower, she allows the soothing sound of water droplets cascading down to engulf her senses, creating a serene ambiance that offers respite from the outside world. This private moment, hidden from prying eyes, is only for her to enjoy.

Now, Djamila finds herself in the comfort of her room, a sacred space where she seeks solace and inner peace. Seated gracefully in the lotus position, her hands gently rest upon her lap, cradling her staff. As she enters a state of deep meditation, a gentle breeze caresses her face, creating a serene atmosphere that envelops her being. In this quiet haven, she experiences a profound sense of calmness and tranquility, allowing her thoughts to wander freely. Recently, Djamila has faced a pivotal moment in her life, a decision that carried profound consequences. Though the weight of that choice lingers in her mind, she harbors no regrets, for it was a necessary step for her well-being. However, there are remnants of unresolved thoughts and emotions that require her attention, like scattered fragments awaiting harmonious consolidation. In the depths of her consciousness, a vivid memory emerges, transporting her back to her childhood in Baghdad. She envisions herself as an eight-year-old, basking in the warm embrace of the sun, as she plays with her friends. She is happy with them and her mother. She needs nothing else from life. The memory takes an abrupt turn as her mother's voice echoes through time, calling her back home for dinner. But before she can answer her mother, an ominous sound reverberates through the skies, punctuated by a deafening explosion. The earth beneath her feet trembles violently, shattering her life as she knows it and plunging her into a world of chaos and darkness. Her next recollection is one of disorientation and fear. As consciousness returns, she realizes with a jolt that she can no longer see anything. Panic sets in, her arms reaching out instinctively, but one limb remains unresponsive as if disconnected from her body. Fumbling for nonexistent bandages that should cover her eyes, she grapples with the harsh reality""she has lost her sight. Desperation takes hold, her voice erupting in a frenzy of anguish, pleading for her mother's presence, for any semblance of light in this newfound abyss. The pain coursing through her body becomes secondary to the overwhelming terror of her newfound blindness. The medical team, recognizing her distress, administers a sedative to ease her frantic state and restore a semblance of calm. When consciousness returns once more, Djamila finds herself in the presence of a compassionate nurse, who patiently explains the circumstances surrounding her condition. Panic resurfaces, intertwining with the lingering pain of loss. She realizes that her mother is no longer with her, and this new loss makes it much harder to accept the conditions of her sight. Faced with no alternative, the medical experts conclude that the only way for her to heal and survive is to induce a coma""a necessary respite from the pain and turmoil that has enveloped her existence. Meanwhile, efforts are made to locate her only remaining family member, her father, residing in Metro City, America. Exhaustive paperwork and arrangements are meticulously prepared, awaiting the moment when she regains her strength, her body healed enough to embark on the journey to a new life. Eventually, the time arrives, and she is transported across oceans to meet her father""an encounter that marks the beginning of a new life. Pausing her meditation, Djamila's thoughts momentarily shift to her father, acknowledging that him taking her into his home does not mean he was a good father. Yet, the opportunity to be in America, to forge a new path... She is grateful for that part. In this moment of reflection, she addresses her departed mother, whispering, "I hope you can witness the woman I have become, wherever you may be. Though the pain of the past clings, I release it now. I understand why this memory came back up, and I am setting it free. It is time for me to let go. But in my heart, I will never forget you, Mother."

Djamila senses that there is another crucial moment from her past that demands her attention as a consequence of her recent decision. Determined to confront this memory, she delves back into her meditation, ready to face the ghosts of her past head-on. Within the depths of her consciousness, a new set of images materializes, transporting her back to that day in her life. Now fourteen years old, she finds herself cloaked in darkness, blindfolded as she has grown accustomed to living without her sight. Through relentless perseverance, she has acquired the necessary skills to navigate the world, learning Braille and undertaking home tutoring to continue her education. On this particular day, within the sanctuary of her room, the quietness is shattered by the piercing sound of her father's screams. A familiar sinking feeling settles within her as she wonders if he has succumbed to another episode, wishing he would seek the help he so desperately needs. Yet, she recognizes that she is the only one he has in this hard existence, and she resolves to face this problem once again with unwavering strength. Resolute, she emerges from her room, her voice filled with a comforting reassurance. "Dad, it's okay. You're home now." However, instead of finding peace in her presence, she is met with a venomous outburst. His words sting her, but what follows is far more horrifying""gunshots reverberate through the air, and searing pain erupts from her side. Shocked and bewildered, she grapples with the unthinkable reality that her father has shot her. Another gunshot resounds, shattering her fragile composure, and she finds herself back in the safety of her room, her breathing ragged and frantic. She can't do this anymore, she has reached her limit; enough is enough. Though pain courses through her body, adrenaline surges through her veins, empowering her to take action. Guided by the ever-present wind, a steadfast companion throughout her life, Djamila musters the strength to reach the window""her only means of escape. Amid her frantic escape, she becomes acutely aware of the bullet wound on her side, blood steadily seeping from her wound. Acting swiftly, she seizes a nearby shirt, applying pressure to stem the flow. A forceful kick against her door jolts her back to the present moment, a grim reminder of her father's deranged state. Determined to break free from this cycle of violence, she musters the courage to open the window and leaps into the unknown, clad only in her garments and a makeshift bandage. The impact of her landing is jarring, her body protesting against the strain, but she refuses to succumb to the pain. She knows she must keep moving, escaping the confines of her father's yard, which holds nothing but haunting memories. Summoning every ounce of her inner strength, she commands her tired body to carry her forward, blindly following the whispering wind as her guide. She runs, her feet pounding against the ground, until her stamina wanes, and she can no longer push herself forward. Seeking respite, she finds solace against a nearby garbage container, her body sliding down until she is seated on the ground. Overwhelmed by exhaustion and the weight of her experiences, she succumbs to unconsciousness, her body seeking a temporary break from the trials that have come over her. Returning from her meditation, Djamila emerges with a renewed sense of purpose. Though she recognizes that there is more to this story, this is the part that involves her father in this significant chapter. This is the part she needs closure upon. She whispers to herself, a mixture of resolution and farewell in her voice, "It is done or soon will be, Father. I release the hold you had on me. I am a survivor, a young woman who has forged her path. I am me. Goodbye, Father. Goodbye, Donald." Standing tall, a resolute determination fills her spirit as she prepares for the upcoming match, realizing that she has reached the top of her abilities at the moment and is as prepared as she will ever be to face whatever challenges lie ahead.