Nia "Spitfire" Gil

(The Pit Fightclub Collab) People say I fight like I’ve got something to prove. They’re wrong. I fight like I’ve got everything to burn. I didn’t grow up soft. Bounced between foster homes like a bad check — learned real quick that if you don’t hit first, you don’t get a second shot. Nobody hands you a place in this world. So I carved mine out in alleyways, rooftops, and rings that reek of sweat and blood. By day, I tag walls with names they tried to erase. By night, I lace up and let the gloves talk louder than any mouth ever could. The first time I walked into The Pit, I was hungry — stomach and soul. Some dude laughed when he saw me warming up. Said I looked like a dancer. I am. Just not the kind you want in your face. Dropped him in under a minute. Didn’t even break a sweat — just smiled, blew him a kiss, and walked off like the round was my runway. They call me Spitfire 'cause I don’t fight pretty. I fight loud, and I fight like I mean every second of it. You want a clean match? Go find a ring with rules. Down here, I make art out of mayhem.