Pictured (clockwise from L): Marcy Carter, Evangeline Elliott and Carly Sweeting
November 19, 2022
00:02 local time,
Corsair Memorial Arena,
Mogadishu Capitol District, Sultanate of Mogadishu
Most of the arena was dark now, echoing faintly with crew chatter and the clatter of packing crates. Inside the women’s locker room, the lights hummed low, casting long shadows over the benches.
Evangeline Elliott sat alone in the corner, still in half her gear, hugging her knees lightly. Her eyes were red — not swollen, not sobbing, just… hollow. The way people look after saying goodbye to something they didn’t want to let go of.
Her phone lay beside her, screen dark, because she couldn’t bring herself to open the last message from the Banger Britches group chat.
The door clicked softly.
Carly Sweeting stepped in, not bursting with her usual energy — just a gentle, cautious entrance like she already sensed what Evangeline was carrying.
“Hey, sugar cube,” Carly said softly. “Can I sit?”
Evangeline nodded, quickly wiping under her eyes.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to cry. I’m okay. It’s just—”
“You had a hell of a night,” Carly said, lowering herself onto the bench. “A debut and a breakup wrapped into one.”
Evangeline’s breath hitched. That was all it took.
“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this,” she said. “Banger Britches was my home. We trained together, we traveled together… they were my sisters. I thought we had another year. Maybe more.”
Carly’s expression softened into something tender and protective.
“I watched you three tearing it up at The Academy,” she said. “You were lightning. No wonder Triple X was high on you and Vince couldn't ignore you. Doesn’t make it hurt less, though.”
Evangeline swallowed hard.
“I didn’t even get to say goodbye properly. They just—cut the angle. Tonight. Out of nowhere. I had to go smile on camera while my whole… whole world just—”
She couldn’t finish.
Carly leaned closer, bumping her shoulder gently.
“Hey. Listen. Leaving a good stable hurts worse than any bump in that ring. You’re allowed to feel it.”
Evangeline nodded, eyes wet again.
Before Carly could say more, the locker room door swung open.
Marcy Carter strode in like someone who powered the entire building by sheer discipline. Boots still on, gear still tight, posture cold and sharp.
“There you two are,” she said briskly. “Where’s Leah?”
Carly answered without missing a beat.
“Went back to her hotel room.”
Marcy clicked her tongue.
“Of course she did...we’ll talk about that later. I’ll be in the gym at four.”
Evangeline blinked. “Four… AM?”
“Yes,” Marcy said as though four AM were a universal standard. “We’re a group now. We train together.”
Evangeline tensed, the fresh wound of leaving her old stable throbbing under her ribs.
“I— I can’t,” she said quietly. “Not at four. I barely slept last night. And tonight was—”
“A test?” Marcy finished for her. “Everything is a test. Your old team isn’t here anymore. We are. Are you committed or not?”
Evangeline flinched like she’d been slapped.
Carly rose instantly, stepping between them.
“Okay, no,” Carly said firmly. “You don’t get to talk to her like that.”
Marcy raised an eyebrow. “I’m asking for commitment.”
“And she’s grieving,” Carly snapped. “She lost her stable three hours ago, Marcy. She doesn’t need a drill sergeant at dawn. She needs sleep.”
Evangeline’s voice cracked softly.
“I just… I just need time.”
Marcy crossed her arms, unimpressed.
“We don’t always get time in this business.”
Carly fired back, “And pushing her until she breaks won’t make her loyal to us. Respect goes further than cardio.”
Marcy hesitated — only a second, but enough to show the words hit.
Finally she grabbed her duffel bag.
“Fine,” she said. “Do what you want.”
At the door, she paused and looked back at Evangeline — not with compassion, but with a flicker of understanding.
“Loss makes you soft,” she said. “Training makes you hard again. Think about which one you want.”
Then she walked out.
The silence afterward was heavy, but not suffocating — because Carly stayed.
Evangeline rubbed at her face. “She hates me.”
“She doesn’t,” Carly said gently. “She’s just intense. And a little emotionally constipated.”
That earned a weak laugh from Evangeline.
Carly sat beside her again.
“We’ll figure this out. All four of us. But right now?”
She bumped Evangeline’s shoulder again.
“You go call your girls. Say what you didn’t get to say tonight.”
Evangeline nodded, tears gathering again — but this time, they didn’t feel like collapse.
They felt like release.
“Thanks, Carly,” she whispered.
“Anytime,” Carly said. “Welcome to the circus.”
Pictured: Carly Sweeting (L) and Leah van Dahl (R)
November 19, 2022,
00:42 local time,
The International Hotel,
Mogadishu Capitol District, Sultanate of Mogadishu
The hallway of the hotel was soft-lit and silent, the kind of silence that only came after a show — when adrenaline had drained out of everyone and the only thing left was fatigue.
Behind one of the doors, Leah van Dahl was fighting with a zipper.
“Shannon, sweetheart, hold still,” she whispered, trying to get her daughter into pajamas. Shannon giggled and bounced away, her tiny curls springing with each hop across the bed.
Leah sighed — tired, still half in her gear, makeup smudged, hair pulled back in a messy tie. She’d come straight to her room after the show, wanting nothing except sleep and a few minutes to herself.
A knock. Sharp. Too awake.
Leah startled. Shannon froze.
“Mommy? Who’s that?”
“Nobody important,” Leah murmured, scooping up the little girl and setting her on the bed.
“Stay right there. No moving.”
Shannon nodded solemnly — then immediately grabbed her plush rabbit and began humming to it.
Leah grabbed the first dress she saw on the chair — soft blue, wrinkled — and tugged it over her head. She checked her reflection in the darkened TV screen, saw the fatigue in her eyes, and decided it was good enough.
She opened the door halfway.
Carly Sweeting stood there in a cocktail dress — pink, fitted, bright, a stark contrast to Leah’s wilted exhaustion. She looked like she belonged in a music video, not a hallway at 12:43 AM.
“Hey,” Carly said, almost apologetic. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”
Leah blinked at her. “Not yet.”
Carly smiled nervously. “Right. Uh… I’m heading down to the hotel bar. Gonna unwind. Thought I’d see if you — y’know. Wanted to join me.”
Leah stared at her.
Long, suspicious, unblinking.
“…You want to grab drinks. With me.”
Carly shrugged lightly. “I figured we could catch up. Talk. Be… normal.”
Leah’s voice flattened.
“Now you want to be friends?”
Carly’s smile faded a little. “Leah—”
“You never came to my room after shows before. Never checked on me.” Leah’s tone sharpened. “But now that we’re in a faction together, now suddenly you’re showing up at my door? In a dress?”
Carly opened her mouth. “That’s not—”
“And let me guess,” Leah continued, “if we don’t get along, the group falls apart, management loses interest, and your place in Combat Arts gets shaky. That it?”
Carly’s face fell.
“That’s not fair. I’m not here because of—”
“Yes you are,” Leah said simply. “You’re here because now my relevance affects your relevance. And you can’t afford another flop.”
Carly’s brows knitted in hurt. “Leah, I came because I care. Because you seemed off tonight. Because—”
“Because of the faction,” Leah said. “Everything is because of the faction.”
Carly’s mouth tightened.
“That’s not true.”
Leah folded her arms, leaning against the doorframe like she was holding the whole world at bay.
“You don’t get to vanish for years,” she said quietly, “and then knock on my door like nothing happened. I don’t need… whatever this is, Carly. Not tonight.”
Carly’s posture sagged — the first crack in her confident façade.
“Leah… it wasn’t like that. I didn’t just vanish.”
“You didn’t stay either,” Leah replied softly. “And I can’t do this right now.”
From inside the room, Shannon called out,
“Mommy? Who’s there?”
Leah glanced back briefly, then turned to Carly again.
“I need sleep. And my daughter needs me.”
Her voice softened, but her guard never dropped.
“Goodnight, Carly.”
She started to close the door.
Carly’s voice slipped through the narrowing gap, small and wounded.
“…I just wanted to help.”
The door clicked shut.
Leah leaned her forehead against it for a moment — breathing out slowly, steadying herself.
Carly stood in the hallway, alone in her cocktail dress, staring at the closed door like it was a punch she didn’t see coming.
After a moment, she turned and walked toward the elevator.
The hallway swallowed the sound of her heels.
Pictured: Carly Sweeting (L), Evangeline Elliott (R)
November 19, 2022,
01:12 local time,
The Continental,
Mogadishu Capitol District, Sultanate of Mogadishu
Evangeline Elliott had changed into a tank top and shorts, hair tied into a loose bun, curled up on the end of the bed with her knees pulled close. The TV glowed faintly in front of her — she’d scrolled through streaming platforms for twenty minutes without committing to anything.
A sudden knock made her jump.
She hesitated, then opened the door.
Carly Sweeting stood there in her pink cocktail dress, makeup smudged from the night, heels dangling from two fingers. She looked tired — not in a defeated way, but in a been-hit-by-emotions-all-day way.
Carly lifted the shoe-dangling hand in a half-wave.
“Hey, sugar cube. I know it’s late. I was gonna ask if you wanted to come down to the bar with me.”
Evangeline shook her head immediately.
“Oh — uh, no, I’m not… a bar person. And after tonight I just want to curl up somewhere safe.”
Carly nodded, not offended.
“Yeah. That makes sense.”
A pause.
Then Evangeline stepped back, opening the door wider.
“…But you can come in.”
Carly blinked. “You sure?”
Evangeline nodded. “I don’t want to be alone right now. And you look like you don’t either.”
Carly let out a breath — the kind that carried relief in it — and stepped inside.
Evangeline climbed back onto the bed; Carly kicked off her heels, set them by the wall, and sat beside her cross-legged. The two of them scrolled through streaming options, snickering at ridiculous titles and overdramatic thumbnails.
They eventually settled on a comfort movie — something with sparkles and bad choreography — and let it play.
A half-hour passed before Evangeline spoke softly.
“Can I ask something?”
Carly clicked pause. “Shoot.”
“What happened between you and Leah?”
Carly’s posture stiffened. She stared at the TV for a long moment, like she was reading her memories off the reflection in the screen.
“…It’s a long story,” she said.
“I don’t mind long,” Evangeline replied. “We’re not going anywhere.”
Carly exhaled.
Then quietly, she began.
“Leah and I met at Gotham University,” Carly said. “My freshman year, Leah's senior year. I was this tiny little thing from Galveston who didn't know what Gotham would be like and Leah was this super-confident Gothamite who talked like she was afraid someone would judge her vibes.”
Evangeline smiled. “That sounds like her.”
Carly stared at the paused movie for a long moment, her expression tightening the way someone’s does when an old wound reopens.
Evangeline turned fully toward her.
Carly drew a slow breath.
“Leah and I met at a college party. Not during classes. Not over coffee. A party.”
A humorless smile. “A loud, sweaty, bodies-everywhere Gotham party.”
Evangeline nodded, listening quietly.
“That night…” Carly hesitated. “Leah danced with this guy. Cute, older guy, already graduated, big smile, the type who made girls feel safe even when they shouldn’t.”
Evangeline’s brows furrowed.
“They were both drunk,” Carly said. “Really drunk. They grinded together...Leah says he exploded so much, she felt it on her dress. So Leah escalated...they disappeared into the club bathroom together. I didn’t know that part until much later.”
Carly swallowed.
“It wasn’t planned. Wasn’t romantic. Just… two drunk kids making a mistake. And the second they were done, he left. No number. No check-in. He didn’t even look back.”
Evangeline’s mouth softened in sadness.
“And Leah…” Carly continued, her voice lowering, “…she didn’t think anything happened. Neither of them did. She was tipsy, dizzy, confused — and she thought it was nothing.”
Carly’s eyes glazed over with old guilt.
“I found her outside the building maybe an hour after. Sitting alone on the curb, shaking, mascara everywhere, her phone dead. She didn’t even know how she got outside.”
A beat.
“So I took her home. I cleaned her up. I put her to bed. She was this scared, vulnerable girl I’d just met, and something in me knew she needed someone.”
Evangeline gently touched her hand.
Carly continued:
“Weeks later… she told me she was late. Then she told me she was pregnant. She didn’t know when or who. We put the pieces together later — the dancing, the bathroom, the guy leaving before she even got her balance back.”
Her voice cracked.
“She was terrified. And I was terrified for her. But I stayed. I bought the tests. I went to the clinic. I helped her tell her mom. I helped her stay together.”
A shaky breath.
“And then… life happened. Volleyball took over. Travel took over. And she was in Gotham raising Trevor alone while I was chasing my career. We drifted. Not because I wanted to — but because I didn’t know how to stretch myself across two worlds.”
Evangeline’s voice was soft:
“You did what you could.”
Carly wiped at her face.
“I don’t know. Leah thinks I abandoned her. And maybe she’s allowed to think that. But that night — the night Trevor was conceived — I was the one who made sure she got home. I was the one who held her while she cried. And I can’t shake the feeling that leaving Gotham… meant leaving her to deal with everything alone.”
Evangeline squeezed Carly’s hand.
“She still needs you,” she whispered.
Carly nodded, tears gathering again.
“And I need her,” she said quietly. “More than she’ll ever know.”
Evangeline placed a hand over Carly’s.
“You were kids,” she said softly. “And the world kept moving. That doesn’t mean you didn’t love her.”
Carly nodded, eyes shining.
“I just… I want her to know that I’m here now. That I’m not running. That I want us to be friends again.”
Evangeline squeezed her hand.
“Then start small,” she said gently. “Not with a bar invite at midnight. With real apologies. Real conversations. Real time.”
Carly laughed wetly.
“Rookies have wisdom, huh?”
Evangeline blushed. “Sometimes.”
The movie resumed, the two of them sitting a little closer now.
And for the first time that night — maybe the first time in weeks — Carly Sweeting felt like she wasn’t alone.
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