Post by Lookout! Boxing on Dec 30, 2022 22:14:45 GMT -6
Natalie Portman vs. Joey King
Hawkeye International vs. Global Boxing Syndicate
Natalie: 41 yo, 5’3” 96-56-2 with 60 KOs vs Joey: 22 yo, 5’3”, 10-9 with 10 KOs
Results: Lookout. Story: Hawkeye
NATALIE PORTMAN
JOEY KING
BEFORE: A fast start to 2022 for the well-travelled Joey’s gone awry and the fresh start with Global didn’t click in a disheartening KO4 at the fists of veteran hand Lucy Hale. Few doubt King’s potential but there likely has to be some type of ensuing payoff for GBS to push her toward elite status. Tonight’s an opportunity against a Hall of Famer that can’t be squandered and Joey seems to understand.
“Natalie’s past her prime, but she’s still a heck of a measuring stick. I think she’s more dangerous than Mishy at this point because she thinks more than Williams. With her big Harvard brain that means plenty. I can get people talking about me with the right performance tonight. It worked for Becky G and Millie Bobbie. They had their turn. Now it’s mine.”
Nat not in the mood for patronizing from the youngster. Her year has also seen a downturn after a promising beginning, getting Latina KOd by Becky and becoming the next member of the MBBrown victim parade has her in a surly mood.
“I’ve got nothing against the kid and she’s right about something. I’m better than Michelle, though I’ve always been that. She’s also right about having a chance to gets tongues wagging. Where things go off-course is her believing I’m going to be relegated, which is exactly what would happen with a third straight loss to a relative newbie. A hundred FCBA wins is close and Joey’s going to be just another along the way.”
Joey will be committing her violence in a forest green bikini top and boy-cut spandex. Her gloves and boots are white, dirty blonde hair gathered in two pigtails.
Natalie sporting the Consortium’s iconic black and gold, the flyweight icon sporting a tight goldenrod yellow tanktop and black boy-cut trunks. Pads and gloves in the dark shade as well.
R1: Anyone thinking Joey might be intimidated by the opportunity presented is quickly disabused as King bolts out to engage the Ivy leaguer. And while Joey throws some jabs to keep Natalie honest, she’s not interested in saving heavier hands for later. The breach of protocol has Portman stymied early, Nat on her back foot as King lays into her with gut shots that are pinching the face of the Oscar winner in pain. This isn’t a ‘lure Joey in’ retreat for Nat. She’s taken aback by the aggressiveness, particularly when the blonde starts to take jugg. Natalie’s keeping distance in moments with poking lefts, but the precocious Joey’s bursting through. Wither her foe working up the ladder, a cornered Portman raises her mitts to defend against some headhunting and Joey uses the higher defenses to bruise tummy and bosom over and over. What’s more. King’s efficient. She not swinging wildly. Her throws are hitting a lot of Nat. And there’s no acting from Portman at the bell when Natalie trudges back to her corner in obvious pain and frustration. The Harvard grad’s been schooled through a wide win for a youngster surely emboldened by a near-perfect opening.
R2: There’s no reason for adjustment from a friskier Joey, her corner giving her one word of advice. “MORE!” King’s off her stool early to provide just that, engaging with the chastened Portman. Joey’s on her HOFer out of the second round gate, getting big on Nat again, leaving Portman with no maneuvering room as she belts Natalie with a heavy barrage of rights that have Portman’s body humming. But there’s a hint in the lowering percentage of solid connections, Nat using her seemingly ageless legs to slip the worst until she drives a grave left to King’s ribs, the counter catching King mid-right overhand. A follow-up right to the jaw from the veteran’s bag of tricks, spins King’s cranium and Joey’s real test has begun. With King flat-footed, Natalie’s beachhead is secured center stage, pounding to the body, the body, the body. Nat’s circling, not pressing. She wants Joey to deal with being picked apart in the wide open spaces and King’s not doing well with it. She’s flailing on D, not committing to bundling up and paying for it as Portman gets out her scalpel and dissects Joey, bruising the kid’s cheeks and chest with wicked precision that delivers the round wide to the brunette and evens things up, perhaps a portend of a back-n-forth affair.
R3: Ground rules laid, Joey’s ‘MORE’ is less at the onset of the third stanza. King remains determined to keep the pressure on a woman nearly twenty years her senior, but there’s more chess in her start than the previous dodgeball. King’s applying her jab as the duo waltz around the ring and it’s working. Girl’s got accuracy and amount, pekking away with a piston-like left. Nat has to adjust and she does by the second minute, responding in kind, flicking leather toward King’s chin, keeping Joey’s vision filled with enough glove for the blonde to long consider any more fateful calling cards. It’s a fencing duel and, though there are precious few ‘ooooh’s from the crowd, they’re buzzing with appreciation. Each woman is repulsed when they get any idea of imposing will by a pop to the beak and the following ‘start again’ scrunch of said nose. The younger woman is the busier, particularly down the stretch, the constant movement of each pugilist perhaps draining the woman above 40 more and Joey takes the round in a close one.
R4: The small arms fire continues into the next battle, the women joined mid-ring. King’s baby blues are flashing impatience as Natalie’s combining work to her foe’s torso with the left pokes to chin and nose. Portman thumps multiple rights into the youngster’s side, bashing ribs, chest and an occasional shoulder when King gets her defense in place. Joey’s returns are missing consistently now, Natalie reading the dirty blonde more consistently, ducking and defending more easily, setting Joey up for the perfect moment. BOOM! Natalie’s right cross is parried and Joey snaps Portman’s head back in whiplash fashion with a sizzling uppercut. Nat backpedals drunkenly to the ropes and with back pressed against them, she’s clouted by a right cross from the surging Joey. Portman meet fencepost holes. The best laid plans of Harvard grads are strewn about the canvas and Natalie nearly is as well with King chasing down her fleeing Hall of Famer and lighting up the brunette like a Christmas tree. Portman wobbles her way to a corner and uses the right angle to steady, then grabs the rampaging youngster, pulling her adversary into a clinch. King chugs stubby rights and lefts to Nat’s navel and Portman’s foggy brown eyes are joined by flaring nostrils and huffing breaths as she’s ransacked in tight, Joey forcing enough room to batter belly and breasts until the bell, King building on her lead with a wide round in her favor.
R5: King’s aggressive from the jump again. She meets Natalie a couple steps out of the Consortium corner. And Joey’s laying the leather. No jabs allowed. Rights and lefts are flowing furiously. King’s ready to take what’s left of the Hall member, pounding away to the body in three-punch spurts before headhunting. A right fist crashes against Portman’s temple and she’s slung to the side, trying to keep her feet beneath her. King steps close to set herself for the follow when Nat digs a left deep into the youngster’s solar plexus. Joey’s onslaught is delayed for a split-second and it’s all the time Natalie needs to throw a surgical straight right-straight left-right cross combo that partially unhinges Joey’s legs, King sent stumbling. The back-n-forth bombs have the crowd on their feet and it’s the fortysomething able to use crowd to boost her adrenaline. Natalie’s chasing. Joey a deer in the headlights, trying to get defenses up. But Portman’s clinical. She’s using placement and pop, her leather bruising rack and cheekbones alike, Joey caught in a storm with meager protection. The Global gang shouts at their girl to keep her defenses engaged and, as Joey becomes more overwhelmed, for her to simply grab Natalie and halt the hurricane with a clinch. Down the stretch, Natalie’s determined to finish with Joey in no condition to stop her, King backed into a corner and absorbing punishment in mass quantities. But the bell becomes a savior just as the ref seems ready to call it. Instead, he guides Joey to her corner as a rejuvenated Portman wearily raises a mitt as she moves to home base, having claimed this round by a wide margin.
R6: Now it’s Natalie sensing blood in the water. The Ivy Leaguer leaves her academic approach by the wayside, allowing King as little time to breathe as possible. Portman’s on Joey from jump. The youngster’s defenses hold through the initial assault but quickly turn roughshod under the sustained intense fire. A left slips through the cage of forearms to collide with Joey’s chin. The snap of King’s noggin leaves Joey glassy-eyed and a CRASHING RIGHT to an open jaw turns King’s legs rubbery. Joey cedes ground in an effort to redeploy her ramparts. However, her arms hang loose and Portman unleashes, ripping into a vicious connecting combination that swings Joey’s head to one side then the other. KING PINWHEELS TO THE DECK, ending in a gelatinous pool at Nat’s feet. Portman hovers imperiously for a moment before the official escorts her to neutral ground. He returns to a ‘FOUR’ and, as the man continues, the desperate Joey reaches a seated position at ‘SEVEN’. She tries to push to her feet but ends splayed on her back as her limbs loosen, Joey staring blankly at the lights above through the remainder of the count, NATALIE PORTMAN WITH A KO6 VICTORY.
AFTER: Every win’s a big win when you’re as close to a milestone as Portman and Joey puts Nat three wins short of triple digits. There’s little doubt the Ivy Leaguer’s in a mood to celebrate at the youngster’s expense and she barely waits for Global to get King back to vertical before claiming her prize.
“Let me help you,” Natalie insists, guiding Joey to her corner then turning the vanquished so the dirty blonde is face to face. Nat presses her flawless fortysomething frame in close, tummying up on a whimpering Joey.
“Please,” King implores. She barely gets a fruitless “don’t” from between her lips before Portman mounts the middle ropes and stuffs her glistening abs into Joey’s face. Natalie expertly brackets King’s head with her arms, forcing Joey to drink the humidity of slick ivory abdomen against her trembling lips, breathing reduced to tugs of half-oxygen, half-suckling on Nat’s midriff.
King’s legs shudder and she slowly slides down Natalie’s body before puddling on her haunches beneath the delighted Oscar winner.
Nat pantomimes eating Joey up with a spoon and drops to the canvas, placing a boot sole on the cleft of King’s heaving bosom.
“Not yet, kid. I’ve still got plenty to accomplish.”
Hawkeye International vs. Global Boxing Syndicate
Natalie: 41 yo, 5’3” 96-56-2 with 60 KOs vs Joey: 22 yo, 5’3”, 10-9 with 10 KOs
Results: Lookout. Story: Hawkeye
NATALIE PORTMAN
JOEY KING
BEFORE: A fast start to 2022 for the well-travelled Joey’s gone awry and the fresh start with Global didn’t click in a disheartening KO4 at the fists of veteran hand Lucy Hale. Few doubt King’s potential but there likely has to be some type of ensuing payoff for GBS to push her toward elite status. Tonight’s an opportunity against a Hall of Famer that can’t be squandered and Joey seems to understand.
“Natalie’s past her prime, but she’s still a heck of a measuring stick. I think she’s more dangerous than Mishy at this point because she thinks more than Williams. With her big Harvard brain that means plenty. I can get people talking about me with the right performance tonight. It worked for Becky G and Millie Bobbie. They had their turn. Now it’s mine.”
Nat not in the mood for patronizing from the youngster. Her year has also seen a downturn after a promising beginning, getting Latina KOd by Becky and becoming the next member of the MBBrown victim parade has her in a surly mood.
“I’ve got nothing against the kid and she’s right about something. I’m better than Michelle, though I’ve always been that. She’s also right about having a chance to gets tongues wagging. Where things go off-course is her believing I’m going to be relegated, which is exactly what would happen with a third straight loss to a relative newbie. A hundred FCBA wins is close and Joey’s going to be just another along the way.”
Joey will be committing her violence in a forest green bikini top and boy-cut spandex. Her gloves and boots are white, dirty blonde hair gathered in two pigtails.
Natalie sporting the Consortium’s iconic black and gold, the flyweight icon sporting a tight goldenrod yellow tanktop and black boy-cut trunks. Pads and gloves in the dark shade as well.
R1: Anyone thinking Joey might be intimidated by the opportunity presented is quickly disabused as King bolts out to engage the Ivy leaguer. And while Joey throws some jabs to keep Natalie honest, she’s not interested in saving heavier hands for later. The breach of protocol has Portman stymied early, Nat on her back foot as King lays into her with gut shots that are pinching the face of the Oscar winner in pain. This isn’t a ‘lure Joey in’ retreat for Nat. She’s taken aback by the aggressiveness, particularly when the blonde starts to take jugg. Natalie’s keeping distance in moments with poking lefts, but the precocious Joey’s bursting through. Wither her foe working up the ladder, a cornered Portman raises her mitts to defend against some headhunting and Joey uses the higher defenses to bruise tummy and bosom over and over. What’s more. King’s efficient. She not swinging wildly. Her throws are hitting a lot of Nat. And there’s no acting from Portman at the bell when Natalie trudges back to her corner in obvious pain and frustration. The Harvard grad’s been schooled through a wide win for a youngster surely emboldened by a near-perfect opening.
R2: There’s no reason for adjustment from a friskier Joey, her corner giving her one word of advice. “MORE!” King’s off her stool early to provide just that, engaging with the chastened Portman. Joey’s on her HOFer out of the second round gate, getting big on Nat again, leaving Portman with no maneuvering room as she belts Natalie with a heavy barrage of rights that have Portman’s body humming. But there’s a hint in the lowering percentage of solid connections, Nat using her seemingly ageless legs to slip the worst until she drives a grave left to King’s ribs, the counter catching King mid-right overhand. A follow-up right to the jaw from the veteran’s bag of tricks, spins King’s cranium and Joey’s real test has begun. With King flat-footed, Natalie’s beachhead is secured center stage, pounding to the body, the body, the body. Nat’s circling, not pressing. She wants Joey to deal with being picked apart in the wide open spaces and King’s not doing well with it. She’s flailing on D, not committing to bundling up and paying for it as Portman gets out her scalpel and dissects Joey, bruising the kid’s cheeks and chest with wicked precision that delivers the round wide to the brunette and evens things up, perhaps a portend of a back-n-forth affair.
R3: Ground rules laid, Joey’s ‘MORE’ is less at the onset of the third stanza. King remains determined to keep the pressure on a woman nearly twenty years her senior, but there’s more chess in her start than the previous dodgeball. King’s applying her jab as the duo waltz around the ring and it’s working. Girl’s got accuracy and amount, pekking away with a piston-like left. Nat has to adjust and she does by the second minute, responding in kind, flicking leather toward King’s chin, keeping Joey’s vision filled with enough glove for the blonde to long consider any more fateful calling cards. It’s a fencing duel and, though there are precious few ‘ooooh’s from the crowd, they’re buzzing with appreciation. Each woman is repulsed when they get any idea of imposing will by a pop to the beak and the following ‘start again’ scrunch of said nose. The younger woman is the busier, particularly down the stretch, the constant movement of each pugilist perhaps draining the woman above 40 more and Joey takes the round in a close one.
R4: The small arms fire continues into the next battle, the women joined mid-ring. King’s baby blues are flashing impatience as Natalie’s combining work to her foe’s torso with the left pokes to chin and nose. Portman thumps multiple rights into the youngster’s side, bashing ribs, chest and an occasional shoulder when King gets her defense in place. Joey’s returns are missing consistently now, Natalie reading the dirty blonde more consistently, ducking and defending more easily, setting Joey up for the perfect moment. BOOM! Natalie’s right cross is parried and Joey snaps Portman’s head back in whiplash fashion with a sizzling uppercut. Nat backpedals drunkenly to the ropes and with back pressed against them, she’s clouted by a right cross from the surging Joey. Portman meet fencepost holes. The best laid plans of Harvard grads are strewn about the canvas and Natalie nearly is as well with King chasing down her fleeing Hall of Famer and lighting up the brunette like a Christmas tree. Portman wobbles her way to a corner and uses the right angle to steady, then grabs the rampaging youngster, pulling her adversary into a clinch. King chugs stubby rights and lefts to Nat’s navel and Portman’s foggy brown eyes are joined by flaring nostrils and huffing breaths as she’s ransacked in tight, Joey forcing enough room to batter belly and breasts until the bell, King building on her lead with a wide round in her favor.
R5: King’s aggressive from the jump again. She meets Natalie a couple steps out of the Consortium corner. And Joey’s laying the leather. No jabs allowed. Rights and lefts are flowing furiously. King’s ready to take what’s left of the Hall member, pounding away to the body in three-punch spurts before headhunting. A right fist crashes against Portman’s temple and she’s slung to the side, trying to keep her feet beneath her. King steps close to set herself for the follow when Nat digs a left deep into the youngster’s solar plexus. Joey’s onslaught is delayed for a split-second and it’s all the time Natalie needs to throw a surgical straight right-straight left-right cross combo that partially unhinges Joey’s legs, King sent stumbling. The back-n-forth bombs have the crowd on their feet and it’s the fortysomething able to use crowd to boost her adrenaline. Natalie’s chasing. Joey a deer in the headlights, trying to get defenses up. But Portman’s clinical. She’s using placement and pop, her leather bruising rack and cheekbones alike, Joey caught in a storm with meager protection. The Global gang shouts at their girl to keep her defenses engaged and, as Joey becomes more overwhelmed, for her to simply grab Natalie and halt the hurricane with a clinch. Down the stretch, Natalie’s determined to finish with Joey in no condition to stop her, King backed into a corner and absorbing punishment in mass quantities. But the bell becomes a savior just as the ref seems ready to call it. Instead, he guides Joey to her corner as a rejuvenated Portman wearily raises a mitt as she moves to home base, having claimed this round by a wide margin.
R6: Now it’s Natalie sensing blood in the water. The Ivy Leaguer leaves her academic approach by the wayside, allowing King as little time to breathe as possible. Portman’s on Joey from jump. The youngster’s defenses hold through the initial assault but quickly turn roughshod under the sustained intense fire. A left slips through the cage of forearms to collide with Joey’s chin. The snap of King’s noggin leaves Joey glassy-eyed and a CRASHING RIGHT to an open jaw turns King’s legs rubbery. Joey cedes ground in an effort to redeploy her ramparts. However, her arms hang loose and Portman unleashes, ripping into a vicious connecting combination that swings Joey’s head to one side then the other. KING PINWHEELS TO THE DECK, ending in a gelatinous pool at Nat’s feet. Portman hovers imperiously for a moment before the official escorts her to neutral ground. He returns to a ‘FOUR’ and, as the man continues, the desperate Joey reaches a seated position at ‘SEVEN’. She tries to push to her feet but ends splayed on her back as her limbs loosen, Joey staring blankly at the lights above through the remainder of the count, NATALIE PORTMAN WITH A KO6 VICTORY.
AFTER: Every win’s a big win when you’re as close to a milestone as Portman and Joey puts Nat three wins short of triple digits. There’s little doubt the Ivy Leaguer’s in a mood to celebrate at the youngster’s expense and she barely waits for Global to get King back to vertical before claiming her prize.
“Let me help you,” Natalie insists, guiding Joey to her corner then turning the vanquished so the dirty blonde is face to face. Nat presses her flawless fortysomething frame in close, tummying up on a whimpering Joey.
“Please,” King implores. She barely gets a fruitless “don’t” from between her lips before Portman mounts the middle ropes and stuffs her glistening abs into Joey’s face. Natalie expertly brackets King’s head with her arms, forcing Joey to drink the humidity of slick ivory abdomen against her trembling lips, breathing reduced to tugs of half-oxygen, half-suckling on Nat’s midriff.
King’s legs shudder and she slowly slides down Natalie’s body before puddling on her haunches beneath the delighted Oscar winner.
Nat pantomimes eating Joey up with a spoon and drops to the canvas, placing a boot sole on the cleft of King’s heaving bosom.
“Not yet, kid. I’ve still got plenty to accomplish.”