A/N: All my time has gone into On The Road Back Home and now that that's done I'm bored outta my fuckin' mind so I'm thinking of starting up some other, older stories from different fandoms

This is a blurb from my first version of an Avengers fan fic I started because I had majour Avenger feels that I didn't know what to do with

The bell sounded twice, right next to her ear, waking her up to her full height of awareness. "Look alive, Ellie," the greasy man to her left grinned at her, showing all his lopsided yellow teeth.

She cringed and stood up almost against her will, ready to fight the next person who stepped inside the chains with her. Through the dust in the air and the dirty, grimy hair that hung in her eyes, Elizabeth could see that the opponent was a scrawny young man who had to be only a year or two older than her. His light hair stuck up and out everywhere it could. His orange cut off t-shirt and stained, grey sweats hung loosely on his frame, giving the impression he hadn't eaten anything decent in at least two weeks.

The bell rang once more and that's when it started. The Unknown decided on a head-on attack, making it easy for Elizabeth to sidestep and clothesline him. He went down with a crunch but popped right back up like a spring. His bony knuckles collided square-on with her jaw, sending her staggering back. Shouts from the surrounding crowd erupted, raising to a deafening level so dense the two in the ring couldn't hear themselves think.

Somehow, though, Elizabeth maintained her cool and retaliated against the Unknown with a well-aimed right hook. Sent flying at just the right time, he raised his head a little too much and the hit went straight to his temple. However, he swept out his feet as he went down. He went down and so did Elizabeth, whose head hit the uneven floor with the gut-churning crunch of bone on concrete. The young man stood up before she did, and the 'ref' began counting up to ten. Trevor was screaming at her. The crowd's screams were mixed together, some saying 'Get up!' like Trev and others saying 'Stay down, bitch!' 

Stay down? She thought, pulling back her arm to push herself a little, Stay down?! If I do that.... won't I lose my title? We can't have that, now, can we? No, we can't... Elizabeth was half-upright, now, and the ref had already gotten to seven. Time to play dirty, Ellie.

Quick as a snake, Elizabeth struck out with her hand and grabbed the Unknown around the ankles. With one harsh yank, his feet were pulled out from under him and he fell, face-first, to the floor. Elizabeth got some satisfaction when she rolled him over and saw his nose was smashed in and bleeding profusely. 

He was still conscious, though. We need to finish him off, scurried through her mind, We need to keep the title or they're going to hurt us some more. Elizabeth sat on him, legs on either side of his arms so he couldn't squirm too much. She bunched his shirt collar up in her left hand, and once he was incapacitated, she had at him.

One punch after another after another, her arm was like a spring-loaded lever, repeatedly sending her right fist, her more dominant hand, flying into the Unknown's cheekbone. After the ninth hit he went slack, and someone had to pry her off him. Even then, she was thrashing about, screaming, "Let me back at him!"

She winced and her thrashing stopped. Something out of the corner of her eye glinted like light off chrome and blinded her, hurting her eyes. By the time she turned and looked the object was unable to be seen, swallowed by the crowd or removed from the room, Elizabeth didn't know. 

Nor did she care

What she did care about, however, was where the three men that had pried her away from her target were taking her, "Where are we going?" she looked to Trevor, who was trailing idly behind them, for help, "Trev?"

He only shook his head, keeping her questions unanswered. The other three men weren't any help, either, staying quiet until they reached their destination. Said destination was, in fact, a small grubby room with a cement floor and bank-deposit-box-like walls. There were two steel tables in the center of the room. The first was cloudy, smeared with unknown substances that were covered by haphazardly placed tools; surgeon, woodwork and mechanic-work. The second table was equally as unclean as the rest of the room, but more so than the tool-table. Unlike the rest of the room, however, the table was splattered in patterns of dried blood spots. That was known for sure. 

The table grew ever-so-nearer and Elizabeth began squirming more, "Wh-what are you going to do to me?!" Again, no one talked. They only threw her onto the bloody table and strapped her in, good and tight. She screamed and thrashed, "Let me go!"

Her demands were silenced when a handsaw revved up.

A/N: Want another part? What're your thoughts on this one?