Post by caspian on Jun 9, 2024 22:55:45 GMT -6
(Results: Lookout!, Words: Caspian)
2. Hannah Ferguson vs. Kelly Rohrbach
Hannah:
(31, 5’10, 130, 98:26 FCBA, VIXENs)
Kelly:
(34, 5'9, 42:24 FCBA, Lioness Club of America)
BEFORE:
A reporter's hand shoots up, eager to fuel the flames. "Kelly, you said you're better than any Vixen. Does that include Hannah, even with her Hall of Fame status?"
And HERE WE GO with ten rounds of Lightweight action! This here’s the second match in the VIX: Queen of the Vixens tournament!
ROUND 1:
Hannah swiftly takes control of the center of the ring. Her jabs are sharp and precise, a rhythmic tattoo against Kelly's raised guard. Rohrbach, perhaps wary of the newfound aggression, circles cautiously. Her movements are more fluid, her eyes constantly scanning for an opening. She retaliates with a few well-placed jabs of her own, but Hannah's superior reach gives her a distinct advantage. A right cross lands flush on Kelly's cheekbone, drawing a gasp from the crowd. The Lioness stumbles backwards, her eyes widening in surprise. But she quickly recovers, her fighting spirit undeterred. But Hannah presses in. She unleashes a combination of hooks and uppercuts that force Kelly to cover up, their bodies a blur under the harsh lights. Despite her best efforts, Kelly struggles to keep up with Hannah's relentless pace. The Hall of Famer's punches continue to chip away at her defenses. A jarring left hook to the body sends a jolt of pain through Kelly, followed by a right cross to the head that momentarily stuns her after her guard dips from the blow. Then, the bell rings, signaling a round that showcases Hannah's dominance. Both women retreat to their corners, their bodies already bearing the marks of battle. The crowd erupts in cheers, their voices a deafening roar of approval. Hannah basks in the adulation, her smile a triumphant sneer as she glances across the ring at Kelly. The Lioness, though battered and bruised, still holds her head high. She knows she's facing an uphill battle, but she's far from defeated. The war has just begun.
ROUND 2:
Kelly emerges from her corner with a renewed vigor, her blue eyes blazing with a fire that belies her earlier hesitancy. She’s no longer cautiously circling, replaced by a more aggressive stance, her feet planted firmly on the canvas, her body language screaming defiance. Hannah raises her guard, her fists held high in a classic boxer's stance. She knows that this round will be a test of her ability to withstand the storm, to weather the onslaught that is about to come. The Lioness’ first move is a feint, a quick jab towards the face that draws Hannah’s guard up momentarily. Then, with a lightning-fast pivot on her right foot, she unleashes a powerful left hook aimed at the ribs. The punch connects with a thud, forcing Hannah to wince, her body involuntarily twisting with the blow, but her recovery is swift. The Vixen swiftly retaliates with a right cross, but Kelly slips under it, her head movement fluid and graceful. The fight transforms into a brutal dance of offense and defense. Kelly presses her attack, a mix of hooks and uppercuts aimed at overwhelming Hannah's defenses. The Vixen, however, proves her mettle. Her footwork is impeccable, her head movement calculated as she weaves and bobs, avoiding the worst of the onslaught. Her gloves, a shield of black leather, deflect blows with a practiced ease that speaks of years of experience. Yet, Kelly keeps the pressure on, her punches coming from all angles. A right hook glances off the shoulder, followed by a left uppercut that grazes the Vixen’s chin, momentarily dazing her. And in the final minute of the round, Kelly's persistence pays off. A feint to the head draws Hannah's guard up, leaving her midsection exposed. Kelly’s right fist is ready and waiting, launching forward in a devastating uppercut that connects with the soft flesh of Hannah's stomach, just below the ribs. The impact forces a grunt of pain from the Golden Girl, her body momentarily folding inwards. With seconds dwindling down, Kelly presses her advantage, her punches now aimed at ANY exposed target. A left hook to the stomach, followed by a right uppercut to the solar plexus, driven between the arms, each blow landing with a thud. Hannah, clearly winded, stumbles backwards, her arms wrapped protectively around her midsection, trying to weather until the bell rings. It’s a 180 this time that showcases Kelly's raw power and aggression, and the crowd erupts, their cheers for the underdog reaching a fever pitch. Hannah, her face a mask of pain and frustration, retreats to her corner, the realization dawning that she's facing a far tougher opponent than she anticipated.
ROUND 3:
The alpha Vixen, her composure shattered, is a picture of exhaustion and desperation. Her gloves, once held high in defiance, now hover with uncertainty in front. Her blonde hair, usually a cascade of golden waves, is now a tangled mess, strands clinging to her sweat-soaked forehead. But Kelly isn't satisfied with merely winning the round. She wants to humiliate, to break the spirit of the woman who once ruled the VIXENs with an iron fist. With a growl, she reaches out, her hands finding purchase on Hannah's trembling hips. "Look at you now, Hannah," Kelly sneers, her voice a venomous hiss. "The Queen of the VIXENs, huh? Reduced to a quivering mess." Her grip tightens, her leather gloves digging into the soft flesh of Hannah's waist. The blonde fighter winces, her breath hitching in her throat as the pain radiates through her body. She tries to twist away, but Kelly's grip is unyielding. "You have any idea why they tossed me out all those years ago?" Kelly taunts, her voice laced with a dangerous glint. Trapped in the hold, Hannah can only weakly paw at Kelly's shoulders, a futile attempt to break free. Kelly punctuates her question with a short, sharp jab to Hannah's chest, the shot to her breasts driving the breath from her lungs. A cough escapes Hannah's lips, her gaze flickering with a flicker of dawning comprehension. "That's right," Kelly continues, a cruel smile twisting her lips. "I heard it was you,. You whispered sweet nothings in Steve and Corey’s ears, painted me as a troublemaker, a liability. You couldn't handle the competition, so you played your little game and got rid of me, didn’t you?” Another punch lands, this time to Hannah's jaw, snapping her head to the side. As she speaks, Kelly's other hand snakes upwards, tangling itself in Hannah's hair. She yanks hard, forcing Hannah's head back, exposing her vulnerable throat. "Well, well, well," Kelly continues, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "Look how the tables have turned. You're the one on the ropes, and I'm the one calling the shots. Consider this payback for all those lost years."Hannah's lips part in a silent plea for mercy, her eyes wide with a mix of pain and humiliation. But Kelly leans in close, her breath hot against Hannah's skin. "This tournament is mine to win," she whispers, her voice a chilling promise. "And you're in my way.”
ROUND 4:
Ferguson emerges from her corner like a woman possessed. The sting of the previous round's defeat fuels her every move, her eyes blazing with revenge. Kelly raises her guard, her fists a barrier against the onslaught she knows is coming. A right hook crashes into Kelly's ribs early with a "THUD!" The impact sends a visible ripple through her burly torso, her breath momentarily stolen. A pained gasp escapes her lips as she stumbles backwards, her eyes wide with surprise. More punches fly both ways, but Hannah is determined now to keep Kelly out of her stable by hook or crook, swerving to the side to avoid a brutal haymaker before ramming a left uppercut into Kelly's gut to punctuate her intent. The sound is a dull "OOF!" as the air is forced from Kelly's lungs. Her body doubles over, her arms dropping in a momentary lapse of defense. Hannah dips her shoulders and strikes again: a right glove to hammer the ribs, another hook to whack the stomach – each blow landing with a "THWACK!”. Kelly's abs, once taut and defined, now ripple and contort under the assault. A guttural growl escapes her lips as she lunges forward, her right hand snaking out to grab a fistful of Hannah's golden hair. The veteran Vixen winces, her head snapping back with the force of the tug, but her eyes gleam with a defiant fire. Their bodies collide, a tangle of limbs and sweat-slicked skin. They stand toe-to-toe, legs intertwined, each woman's stance that of raw power and determination. Kelly's left arm remains firmly wrapped around Hannah's neck, a vice-like grip that limits her opponent's movement. Her right hand, encased in white leather, whips out, aiming for her exposed midsection. Hannah, however, is not easily subdued - her own hand finds purchase on the thin straps of Kelly's white bikini top, her fingers digging into the fabric as she pulls back. The sudden yank elicits a gasp of surprise from the Lioness, her own body momentarily thrown off balance. Here come the counter-punches: a right hook smacks into Kelly's jaw, making her stumble, but Hannah's grip on her bikini top keeps her from falling, pulling those thin strings taut. But with a snarl, after steadying herself, Kelly retaliates. Her free hand snakes its way to Hannah's chest, and with nowhere else to punch, she slams her glove into the firm flesh of her breast. The crowd gasps, the sound a mix of shock and excitement as the fight descends into a brutal, personal exchange. Both blondes continue to trade blows in close quarters, their punches fueled by raw emotion. One of Hannah's fists catches Kelly on the side ribs, the impact a dull thud that forces a grunt from the taller fighter. But Kelly retaliates instantly with her own left hook to Hannah's stomach, the blow causing her to double over in pain. Their bodies sway, locked in a desperate embrace. Sweat and blood mingle on their skin, the heat of the battle radiating outwards. Every punch is a declaration of defiance, a refusal to submit. When the bell finally rings, both women are battered, bruised, and gasping for air, still holding each other in a close but brutal embrace. But as she heads back to her corner, it's Hannah who raises her arms in triumph, a wide grin splitting her weary face, while Kelly, though bruised and battered, has proven her own resilience. The stakes have never been higher, and the final rounds promise a brutal, bloody spectacle.
ROUND 5:
Kelly has renewed aggression in the fifth, a firestorm unleashed after weathering Hannah's previous attacks. She's no longer the cautious underdog, but a force of nature, her white bikini and long legs crisscrossing as she storms across the ring. Hannah raises her gloves to shield herself, but Kelly throws bigger guns early: a left hook, a looping punch aimed at the side of Hannah's stomach, slams in with a thud, before a right cross, a straight punch targeting the same area just to the right of her navel, crunches into her midsection, forcing a grunt of pain from her lips. Kelly continues to press in, not allowing the veteran a moment's respite, her attacks driving Hannah back towards the ropes. The crowd roars, their cheers for the Lioness echoing the thunder of each of her blows. Trapped against the unforgiving ropes, the Golden Girl becomes a human punching bag, as Kelly's fists hammer into her stomach, the extent of her waistline, and the soft flesh around her navel. Each impact is a wince-inducing WHUMP, a jarring reminder of the Lioness’ raw power. Hannah's arms, once raised in a valiant attempt to block, now flail helplessly and push and shove, as she's herded back and forth by the sheer force of the onslaught. But Kelly's punches aren't just powerful, they're calculated. She exploits the openings created by Hannah's waning defense. A feint with her left shoulder dips the Vixen’s head for a split second, just enough time for Kelly to unleash a devastating right hook that slams into Hannah’s left, twisting her body twisting. Recognizing Hannah's desperation in the later part of the round, Kelly starts setting traps for a potential knockout blow. She circles to Hannah's right, forcing the Hall of Famer to shift her weight and keep her feet planted. Then, with a subtle shift in her weight, Kelly pivots on her right foot, lowering her body slightly. This sudden change telegraphs a potential hook, but it's a deceptive move. Instead, she explodes upwards, launching a vicious left uppercut that connects squarely with the underside of Hannah's belly. There’s a whudd as the air visibly whooshes out of Hannah's lungs. Her eyes widen in shock, her body folding inwards in a spasm of pain. Her legs buckle beneath her, and for a terrifying moment, it seems like she's going down.
But Hannah uses the ropes at her back to remain upright, against the odds, digging her heels into the canvas. Her face is still contorted in pain, but her baser instincts take over. She throws her forearms up in a tight guard, protecting her head from the follow-up blows she knows are coming, and a left hook from Rohrbach, designed to KO, is instead deflected by her elbow. Another right cross glances off the top of her head, and Hannah's body is a fortress under siege, her experience allowing her to absorb the punishment and survive the onslaught so far. The bell rings, and it’s a merciful end to a round that showcased Kelly's raw power and desire to win. Both women stumble back to their corners, their bodies battered, their faces etched with the scars of battle. But it's Kelly who stands taller, her eyes blazing with a newfound confidence.
ROUND 6:
The bell for the sixth is a somber echo in the electric atmosphere. Hannah, her face a mask of grim resolve, emerges from her corner, the sting of the previous round's defeat fueling her forward, and her body, though battered, seems invigorated by a surge of adrenaline. Kelly, on the other hand, is a stark contrast. Her movements are a little more sluggish, her white bikini stained with sweat and dirt. Her shoulders are slightly slumped from the last round’s exertion and attempt to knock Hannah down, her once-bright eyes now dull and glazed. This wasn't supposed to happen. In the throes of the previous round's adrenaline rush, Kelly still does her best to storm out of her corner, determined to finish Hannah off early. She unleashes flurry after flurry, but Hannah weathers the onslaught with practiced ease, slipping punches, blocking blows, and then counters with jabs that sting Kelly's face. By the end of the first minute, the Lioness’ initial burst of energy evaporates, replaced by a bone-deep weariness that seeps into her muscles. The second half sees Hannah's punches no longer wild swings, but calculated blows, focusing on her fellow blonde’s midsection, her fists repeatedly sinking into the soft flesh around Kelly's navel with heart-wrenching WHUMPS, as Kelly's body convulses with each impact, her abs rippling and contorting, and she’s swiftly driven back. Soon, desperation fuels Kelly's movements as she tries to clinch up with her foe, to escape the barrage. But Hannah is too strong, too determined. She keeps her arms in the center, her fists low, denying Kelly any chance of respite. Kelly’s still clinging to her shoulders and neck like a desperate animal while Hannah’s fists, like pistons of fury, pummel her midsection with a methodical rhythm. Each blow is a short, concentrated burst of power, aimed at the area just below her ribs, where her body's natural defense is weakest. Kelly tries to brace her tummy, clenching her abdominal muscles to absorb the impacts. But Hannah's punches keep coming, forcing her arms away and finding the gaps in her defenses to drive her gloves into packed flesh. Another strangled gasp escapes her lips and her body lurches forward after another hit land, the muscles in her abdomen, once a taut wall of flesh, now ripple and shudder like a frightened animal beneath her skin. The pain is a white-hot inferno, radiating outwards and stealing her strength. Each strike seems to leave an imprint, a red welt blossoming momentarily on her pale skin. Finally, the assault takes its toll. Kelly's grip weakens with each impact, her body sagging in her assailant’s wild embrace. And by the final minute of the round, Kelly is a broken shell, her arms barely able to shield her battered midsection. Her face is now a portrait of agony. Fortunately for her, the bell soon rings, and the referee tries to pry off the Vixen. But Hannah isn't ready to relinquish control just yet. With a final, calculated move, she presses her gloved fist deeper into Kelly's navel, the yielding flesh closing around the leather like a hungry maw. As Hannah does so, the indent created by her fist deepens, carving a space from the center of Kelly's stomach, specifically along the central curve of her taut abdominal wall. The flesh, once proud and firm, seems to yield and cave in under the pressure, the imprint lingering for a horrifying moment before slowly starting to recede. The sight is one of grotesque intimacy, a violation laid bare for the entire arena to witness. "You never belonged on the same page as me,” Hannah hisses in Kelly’s face. “This is my ring, MY stable." A squelch erupts as Hannah twists her wrist, the pressure momentarily intensifying before she rips her fist free. Kelly's eyes widen in horror, a strangled cry escaping her lips as a fresh wave of nausea washes over her. Her body convulses uncontrollably, legs buckling beneath her as she crumples to the canvas, hugging her body, with Hannah standing over her for a beat longer, a cruel satisfaction burning in her eyes. Then, as if discarding a used ragdoll, she steps over Kelly with a contemptuous snarl. Things are certainly getting personal!
ROUND 7:
But the taunt ignites a fire within Hannah. Her eyes, moments ago glazed with pain, suddenly blaze with a primal fury. She seizes a fleeting opportunity, her body twisting with a strength born of desperation. A left hook, a perfectly timed counter to Kelly's taunting jab, explodes from her core! KAPOW!! The sound is a sharp crack that cuts through the arena's roar. Suddenly, Kelly's head snaps to the side, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief. The blow has stunned her, momentarily stealing her breath and her focus! And Hannah doesn't hesitate! She DRIVES Kelly back across the ring with wild swings meant to disorient and get lucky. A right hook to the jaw, a left uppercut to the body, a final, devastating right cross to the chin sends Kelly collapsing back against the opposite ropes, and all of a sudden, her arms are wavering in front of her face, her eyes glazed over by the turn of events. A rocking uppercut to her chin stacks her up briefly before her entire frame COLLAPSES, her legs buckling beneath her!! And it’s a KNOCKDOWN for Hannah Ferguson!!
AFTER:
"Remember what you said about sticking to modeling?" she taunts, her words dripping with sarcasm. "Looks like you're the one who should be posing for the cameras now."
Meanwhile, in a separate room, Kelly sits slumped on a bench, her body aching with the aftermath of defeat. Yet, despite the visible signs of exhaustion and pain, a fire still burns in her eyes. "I won't make excuses," she says, her voice barely a whisper. "Hannah was the better fighter tonight. But this isn't the end. She’s gonna get what’s coming to her."
2. Hannah Ferguson vs. Kelly Rohrbach
Hannah:
(31, 5’10, 130, 98:26 FCBA, VIXENs)
Kelly:
(34, 5'9, 42:24 FCBA, Lioness Club of America)
BEFORE:
For our second match in the tournament, Hannah Ferguson, the newly inducted Hall of Famer, strides onto the stage of the press conference with an air of confidence. Her outfit, a sleek black jumpsuit that showcases her statuesque figure, while her long blonde hair cascades over her shoulders, framing a face that's both beautiful and hardened by years of fighting.
Next, Kelly Rohrbach, a former Vixen with a chip on her shoulder, follows suit. Her attire is a stark contrast to Hannah's polished look – a simple white tank top and black shorts, the Lioness Club of America emblem emblazoned on her chest. Her lean, athletic frame exudes a quiet strength, a testament to the years of training and the burning desire to reclaim her spot among the elite of the elite.
The MC's voice booms through the gym, his words the tension like a knife. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to another electrifying Queen of the Vixens press conference! In the black corner, the newly inducted Hall of Famer, Hannah Ferguson!"
A roar of applause erupts from the crowd, a mix of genuine admiration and the buzz of celebrity worship. Hannah basks in the adulation, her smile widening as she raises a hand in acknowledgment.
"And in the white corner," the MC continues, his voice laced with a hint of mischief, "the Lioness with a vengeance, Kelly Rohrbach!"
A different kind of energy from Kelly as she steps forward. The cheers are mixed with boos and hisses, a testament to the controversial nature of her departure from the VIXENs stable. Kelly meets the mixed reactions with a defiant smirk, her eyes locked on Hannah, a silent challenge etched on her face.
"Ladies," the MC begins, his voice taking on a more serious tone, "we're here to talk about the upcoming fight. Hannah, you're fresh off your Hall of Fame induction. How does it feel to be back in the ring, facing a former stablemate?"
Hannah's smirk widens. "Good," she purrs, her voice dripping with confidence. "Being inducted into the Hall of Fame was a dream come true, a testament to all the hard work and dedication I've put into this sport. And facing Kelly? Well, I'm just hoping she's learned a few new tricks since our last encounter."
Kelly's eyes narrow, a dangerous glint in them. "Don't you worry, Hannah, I've been practicing. I've learned a lot since then, including how to knock out a Hall of Famer." Her gaze sweeps across the crowd, her voice rising with each word. "And I'm not just here to beat you, Hannah. I'm here to show the world that I'm better than ANY Vixen. Past, present, or future."
Kelly leans forward, a knowing glint in her eyes. "Hannah's got a shiny new plaque on the wall," she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "But plaques don't win fights. They just collect dust. And let's be honest, she's been collecting a lot of dust lately."
A gasp ripples through the crowd as Hannah's smile tightens, but she doesn't break eye contact. "Still bitter about being kicked out of the VIXENs?” Hannah says. “Maybe if you'd spent less time posing for cameras and more time training, you wouldn't be here begging for a second chance."
Kelly's cheeks flush with anger, but she quickly regains her composure. "I wasn't kicked out," she retorts, her voice rising. "I left. I left because I got tired of being surrounded by washed-up has-beens who were more interested in their social media following than their fighting skills."
Hannah scoffs, her eyes flashing with contempt. "Washed up? Well, I'm just getting started. You, on the other hand, are a one-trick pony. All you've got is a pretty face and a pair of gloves. You never had the heart, the skill, or the drive to be a true champion."
Kelly's knuckles whiten as she grips the edges of the podium. "We'll see about that, Hannah," she snarls. "You might have the experience, but I have the hunger. And tonight, I'm going to eat you alive."
The two women glare at each other from across the room, their words dripping with venom. The MC clears his throat.
"Ladies, ladies," he interjects, his voice a forced calm. "We appreciate the passion, but let's remember, we're all here for the love of the sport. Let's keep it professional."
Moments later, it’s time for the weigh-ins. Kelly steps onto the platform first, stripping off her tank top and revealing a black sports bra that accentuates her lean, athletic frame. The numbers flash on the digital display: 126 pounds. Right on the Lightweight limit, every ounce of muscle meticulously sculpted.
Hannah’s next, her movements deliberately slow and theatrical. She shrugs off her jumpsuit, revealing a black sports bra and matching shorts that cling to her curves like a second skin. The crowd murmurs as she steps onto the scale, the numbers revealing a surprising truth: 125 pounds. She's leaner than expected, her physique honed for speed and endurance.
Then, the two women turn to face each other. It's time for the staredown, and Kelly's gaze is unwavering, her eyes locked on Hannah's. Her fists clench at her sides, a silent promise of the violence to come. Hannah, however, can't resist the urge to push her opponent's buttons.
With a slow, deliberate movement, she extends her balled fist, her knuckles gently pressing into Kelly's taut stomach. "Still think you can beat me?" she purrs, her voice a venomous whisper. "Or are you going to crumble like you did last time?"
Kelly's eyes narrow, her fists clenching even tighter. But before she can retaliate, Hannah continues her taunt.
"Maybe you should stick to modeling, darling," she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Leave the fighting to the real athletes."
That's the final straw. The Lioness lunges forward, her right hand a flash as it connects with Hannah's cheek. The impact is sharp, a loud SMACK that echoes through the stunned silence of the arena. The force of the blow sends Hannah's head snapping to the side, her golden hair whipping across her face. A bright red mark blossoms on her cheek, a stark contrast to her flawless makeup.
Hannah stumbles backwards, her eyes wide with shock and fury. And before she can recover, Kelly is in her face, a smirk of her own twisting her lips. "Who's the pretty face now, Ferguson?" she taunts, her voice laced with venomous satisfaction. "Maybe you should stick to the Hall of Fame and leave the real fighting to me."
The slap's crack silences the room. Fury contorts her features as she lunges back at Kelly, her fingers instinctively reaching for the blonde's hair. But Kelly is ready. She meets the attack head-on, her own hands tangling in Hannah's golden locks. What was a staged rivalry has ignited into a visceral brawl indeed!
The two women GRAPPLE with a shriek, their manicured nails replaced by weapons of instinct. Punches fly, each one a wild haymaker aimed at inflicting pain. The crowd, momentarily stunned into silence, erupts in a frenzy of cheers and gasps. Knees collide with ribs, feet kick out in a desperate attempt to gain leverage. The air is thick with the sound of ragged breathing, grunts of exertion, and the thud of flesh on flesh!
The MC's pleas for order are lost in the din. Security guards rush in, their faces grim as they try to pry the fighters apart. It's a messy, chaotic struggle, the women's fury so intense that it takes several men to finally separate them. As they're dragged away, the physical toll of the brawl is evident. Hannah's carefully styled hair is a tangled mess, her face streaked with tears and mascara. Bruises are already forming on her arms and legs, a stark contrast to the flawless skin she had showcased earlier.
Kelly, too, is disheveled. Her blonde hair, once perfectly coiffed, now hangs in damp strands around her face. Her normally vibrant makeup is smeared, a testament to the ferocity of the struggle. A thin trickle of blood runs from her split lip, a battle scar that speaks volumes about the intensity of her anger.
They glare at each other across the widening distance, their eyes burning with a hatred that threatens to consume them both. This isn't over. Not by a long shot.
Later, The lights dim, a hush falls over the VIXENs' HQ gym as the spotlight focuses on the ring. A low hum of anticipation vibrates through the crowd, the tension after the pre-fight brawl still lingering in the air.
From the blue corner, Hannah emerges, a vision of athletic grace. Her black bikini top and matching bottoms hug her curves, showcasing a physique honed by years of rigorous training. Her muscles are long and lean, a testament to her dedication to both boxing and Pilates. Her abs, a series of sculpted ridges, ripple beneath her tanned skin as she bounces lightly on the balls of her feet.
Across the ring, Kelly steps into the spotlight, her presence radiating a different kind of energy. Her white bikini, simple yet striking, clings to her body, highlighting a physique that's leaner but no less powerful. Her muscles are taut and wiry, hinting at the explosive power she possesses. Her abs, while not as defined as Hannah's, are a solid wall of muscle, a testament to her dedication to strength training. Her eyes, a piercing blue, scan the crowd with a fierceness.
Hannah's cornermen, their faces grim, apply a thin layer of Vaseline to her eyebrows and cheekbones, a final barrier against the inevitable impact of leather on flesh. Kelly's team, their eyes gleaming with a mix of hope and anxiety, offer words of encouragement
ROUND 1:
Hannah swiftly takes control of the center of the ring. Her jabs are sharp and precise, a rhythmic tattoo against Kelly's raised guard. Rohrbach, perhaps wary of the newfound aggression, circles cautiously. Her movements are more fluid, her eyes constantly scanning for an opening. She retaliates with a few well-placed jabs of her own, but Hannah's superior reach gives her a distinct advantage. A right cross lands flush on Kelly's cheekbone, drawing a gasp from the crowd. The Lioness stumbles backwards, her eyes widening in surprise. But she quickly recovers, her fighting spirit undeterred. But Hannah presses in. She unleashes a combination of hooks and uppercuts that force Kelly to cover up, their bodies a blur under the harsh lights. Despite her best efforts, Kelly struggles to keep up with Hannah's relentless pace. The Hall of Famer's punches continue to chip away at her defenses. A jarring left hook to the body sends a jolt of pain through Kelly, followed by a right cross to the head that momentarily stuns her after her guard dips from the blow. Then, the bell rings, signaling a round that showcases Hannah's dominance. Both women retreat to their corners, their bodies already bearing the marks of battle. The crowd erupts in cheers, their voices a deafening roar of approval. Hannah basks in the adulation, her smile a triumphant sneer as she glances across the ring at Kelly. The Lioness, though battered and bruised, still holds her head high. She knows she's facing an uphill battle, but she's far from defeated. The war has just begun.
ROUND 2:
Kelly emerges from her corner with a renewed vigor, her blue eyes blazing with a fire that belies her earlier hesitancy. She’s no longer cautiously circling, replaced by a more aggressive stance, her feet planted firmly on the canvas, her body language screaming defiance. Hannah raises her guard, her fists held high in a classic boxer's stance. She knows that this round will be a test of her ability to withstand the storm, to weather the onslaught that is about to come. The Lioness’ first move is a feint, a quick jab towards the face that draws Hannah’s guard up momentarily. Then, with a lightning-fast pivot on her right foot, she unleashes a powerful left hook aimed at the ribs. The punch connects with a thud, forcing Hannah to wince, her body involuntarily twisting with the blow, but her recovery is swift. The Vixen swiftly retaliates with a right cross, but Kelly slips under it, her head movement fluid and graceful. The fight transforms into a brutal dance of offense and defense. Kelly presses her attack, a mix of hooks and uppercuts aimed at overwhelming Hannah's defenses. The Vixen, however, proves her mettle. Her footwork is impeccable, her head movement calculated as she weaves and bobs, avoiding the worst of the onslaught. Her gloves, a shield of black leather, deflect blows with a practiced ease that speaks of years of experience. Yet, Kelly keeps the pressure on, her punches coming from all angles. A right hook glances off the shoulder, followed by a left uppercut that grazes the Vixen’s chin, momentarily dazing her. And in the final minute of the round, Kelly's persistence pays off. A feint to the head draws Hannah's guard up, leaving her midsection exposed. Kelly’s right fist is ready and waiting, launching forward in a devastating uppercut that connects with the soft flesh of Hannah's stomach, just below the ribs. The impact forces a grunt of pain from the Golden Girl, her body momentarily folding inwards. With seconds dwindling down, Kelly presses her advantage, her punches now aimed at ANY exposed target. A left hook to the stomach, followed by a right uppercut to the solar plexus, driven between the arms, each blow landing with a thud. Hannah, clearly winded, stumbles backwards, her arms wrapped protectively around her midsection, trying to weather until the bell rings. It’s a 180 this time that showcases Kelly's raw power and aggression, and the crowd erupts, their cheers for the underdog reaching a fever pitch. Hannah, her face a mask of pain and frustration, retreats to her corner, the realization dawning that she's facing a far tougher opponent than she anticipated.
ROUND 3:
Round three explodes into a frenzy, Kelly riding the wave of her second-round triumph. She charges forward, her punches a storm aimed at reclaiming the narrative. Hannah, her composure shaken, struggles to keep up with the Lioness's newfound ferocity. Rohrbach’s white gloves flash like lightning strikes as she lands a series of blows to the body. A left hook slams into the ribs, followed by a right uppercut that catches her under the guard and just below the breastbone with a whudd. Hannah grits her teeth, her hands and arms trying to block the onslaught. But another right cross to the solar plexus sinks into her abs and doubles Hannah over, a pained gasp escaping her lips, before another left hook digs into her exposed midsection. The veteran Vixen stumbles backwards, her eyes wide with surprise and pain. The crowd's cheers for Kelly are deafening, a tidal wave of sound that threatens to drown out Hannah's cornermen's frantic instructions. Kelly presses her advantage, her punches continuing to batter and bruise: a left hook banged off the ribs, a right uppercut driven to the navel - each blow leaves its mark on Hannah's once-flawless physique. Finally, the bell rings, a merciful end to a round that showcased Kelly's dominance, and the Lioness wears that triumphant smirk, her eyes locked on Hannah's as they pass each other on their way back to their corners. "Not so tough now, are we?" Kelly taunts. "Looks like your shine's wearing off. Maybe I should be the one in the Hall.”
ROUND 4:
Ferguson emerges from her corner like a woman possessed. The sting of the previous round's defeat fuels her every move, her eyes blazing with revenge. Kelly raises her guard, her fists a barrier against the onslaught she knows is coming. A right hook crashes into Kelly's ribs early with a "THUD!" The impact sends a visible ripple through her burly torso, her breath momentarily stolen. A pained gasp escapes her lips as she stumbles backwards, her eyes wide with surprise. More punches fly both ways, but Hannah is determined now to keep Kelly out of her stable by hook or crook, swerving to the side to avoid a brutal haymaker before ramming a left uppercut into Kelly's gut to punctuate her intent. The sound is a dull "OOF!" as the air is forced from Kelly's lungs. Her body doubles over, her arms dropping in a momentary lapse of defense. Hannah dips her shoulders and strikes again: a right glove to hammer the ribs, another hook to whack the stomach – each blow landing with a "THWACK!”. Kelly's abs, once taut and defined, now ripple and contort under the assault. A guttural growl escapes her lips as she lunges forward, her right hand snaking out to grab a fistful of Hannah's golden hair. The veteran Vixen winces, her head snapping back with the force of the tug, but her eyes gleam with a defiant fire. Their bodies collide, a tangle of limbs and sweat-slicked skin. They stand toe-to-toe, legs intertwined, each woman's stance that of raw power and determination. Kelly's left arm remains firmly wrapped around Hannah's neck, a vice-like grip that limits her opponent's movement. Her right hand, encased in white leather, whips out, aiming for her exposed midsection. Hannah, however, is not easily subdued - her own hand finds purchase on the thin straps of Kelly's white bikini top, her fingers digging into the fabric as she pulls back. The sudden yank elicits a gasp of surprise from the Lioness, her own body momentarily thrown off balance. Here come the counter-punches: a right hook smacks into Kelly's jaw, making her stumble, but Hannah's grip on her bikini top keeps her from falling, pulling those thin strings taut. But with a snarl, after steadying herself, Kelly retaliates. Her free hand snakes its way to Hannah's chest, and with nowhere else to punch, she slams her glove into the firm flesh of her breast. The crowd gasps, the sound a mix of shock and excitement as the fight descends into a brutal, personal exchange. Both blondes continue to trade blows in close quarters, their punches fueled by raw emotion. One of Hannah's fists catches Kelly on the side ribs, the impact a dull thud that forces a grunt from the taller fighter. But Kelly retaliates instantly with her own left hook to Hannah's stomach, the blow causing her to double over in pain. Their bodies sway, locked in a desperate embrace. Sweat and blood mingle on their skin, the heat of the battle radiating outwards. Every punch is a declaration of defiance, a refusal to submit. When the bell finally rings, both women are battered, bruised, and gasping for air, still holding each other in a close but brutal embrace. But as she heads back to her corner, it's Hannah who raises her arms in triumph, a wide grin splitting her weary face, while Kelly, though bruised and battered, has proven her own resilience. The stakes have never been higher, and the final rounds promise a brutal, bloody spectacle.
ROUND 5:
Kelly has renewed aggression in the fifth, a firestorm unleashed after weathering Hannah's previous attacks. She's no longer the cautious underdog, but a force of nature, her white bikini and long legs crisscrossing as she storms across the ring. Hannah raises her gloves to shield herself, but Kelly throws bigger guns early: a left hook, a looping punch aimed at the side of Hannah's stomach, slams in with a thud, before a right cross, a straight punch targeting the same area just to the right of her navel, crunches into her midsection, forcing a grunt of pain from her lips. Kelly continues to press in, not allowing the veteran a moment's respite, her attacks driving Hannah back towards the ropes. The crowd roars, their cheers for the Lioness echoing the thunder of each of her blows. Trapped against the unforgiving ropes, the Golden Girl becomes a human punching bag, as Kelly's fists hammer into her stomach, the extent of her waistline, and the soft flesh around her navel. Each impact is a wince-inducing WHUMP, a jarring reminder of the Lioness’ raw power. Hannah's arms, once raised in a valiant attempt to block, now flail helplessly and push and shove, as she's herded back and forth by the sheer force of the onslaught. But Kelly's punches aren't just powerful, they're calculated. She exploits the openings created by Hannah's waning defense. A feint with her left shoulder dips the Vixen’s head for a split second, just enough time for Kelly to unleash a devastating right hook that slams into Hannah’s left, twisting her body twisting. Recognizing Hannah's desperation in the later part of the round, Kelly starts setting traps for a potential knockout blow. She circles to Hannah's right, forcing the Hall of Famer to shift her weight and keep her feet planted. Then, with a subtle shift in her weight, Kelly pivots on her right foot, lowering her body slightly. This sudden change telegraphs a potential hook, but it's a deceptive move. Instead, she explodes upwards, launching a vicious left uppercut that connects squarely with the underside of Hannah's belly. There’s a whudd as the air visibly whooshes out of Hannah's lungs. Her eyes widen in shock, her body folding inwards in a spasm of pain. Her legs buckle beneath her, and for a terrifying moment, it seems like she's going down.
But Hannah uses the ropes at her back to remain upright, against the odds, digging her heels into the canvas. Her face is still contorted in pain, but her baser instincts take over. She throws her forearms up in a tight guard, protecting her head from the follow-up blows she knows are coming, and a left hook from Rohrbach, designed to KO, is instead deflected by her elbow. Another right cross glances off the top of her head, and Hannah's body is a fortress under siege, her experience allowing her to absorb the punishment and survive the onslaught so far. The bell rings, and it’s a merciful end to a round that showcased Kelly's raw power and desire to win. Both women stumble back to their corners, their bodies battered, their faces etched with the scars of battle. But it's Kelly who stands taller, her eyes blazing with a newfound confidence.
ROUND 6:
The bell for the sixth is a somber echo in the electric atmosphere. Hannah, her face a mask of grim resolve, emerges from her corner, the sting of the previous round's defeat fueling her forward, and her body, though battered, seems invigorated by a surge of adrenaline. Kelly, on the other hand, is a stark contrast. Her movements are a little more sluggish, her white bikini stained with sweat and dirt. Her shoulders are slightly slumped from the last round’s exertion and attempt to knock Hannah down, her once-bright eyes now dull and glazed. This wasn't supposed to happen. In the throes of the previous round's adrenaline rush, Kelly still does her best to storm out of her corner, determined to finish Hannah off early. She unleashes flurry after flurry, but Hannah weathers the onslaught with practiced ease, slipping punches, blocking blows, and then counters with jabs that sting Kelly's face. By the end of the first minute, the Lioness’ initial burst of energy evaporates, replaced by a bone-deep weariness that seeps into her muscles. The second half sees Hannah's punches no longer wild swings, but calculated blows, focusing on her fellow blonde’s midsection, her fists repeatedly sinking into the soft flesh around Kelly's navel with heart-wrenching WHUMPS, as Kelly's body convulses with each impact, her abs rippling and contorting, and she’s swiftly driven back. Soon, desperation fuels Kelly's movements as she tries to clinch up with her foe, to escape the barrage. But Hannah is too strong, too determined. She keeps her arms in the center, her fists low, denying Kelly any chance of respite. Kelly’s still clinging to her shoulders and neck like a desperate animal while Hannah’s fists, like pistons of fury, pummel her midsection with a methodical rhythm. Each blow is a short, concentrated burst of power, aimed at the area just below her ribs, where her body's natural defense is weakest. Kelly tries to brace her tummy, clenching her abdominal muscles to absorb the impacts. But Hannah's punches keep coming, forcing her arms away and finding the gaps in her defenses to drive her gloves into packed flesh. Another strangled gasp escapes her lips and her body lurches forward after another hit land, the muscles in her abdomen, once a taut wall of flesh, now ripple and shudder like a frightened animal beneath her skin. The pain is a white-hot inferno, radiating outwards and stealing her strength. Each strike seems to leave an imprint, a red welt blossoming momentarily on her pale skin. Finally, the assault takes its toll. Kelly's grip weakens with each impact, her body sagging in her assailant’s wild embrace. And by the final minute of the round, Kelly is a broken shell, her arms barely able to shield her battered midsection. Her face is now a portrait of agony. Fortunately for her, the bell soon rings, and the referee tries to pry off the Vixen. But Hannah isn't ready to relinquish control just yet. With a final, calculated move, she presses her gloved fist deeper into Kelly's navel, the yielding flesh closing around the leather like a hungry maw. As Hannah does so, the indent created by her fist deepens, carving a space from the center of Kelly's stomach, specifically along the central curve of her taut abdominal wall. The flesh, once proud and firm, seems to yield and cave in under the pressure, the imprint lingering for a horrifying moment before slowly starting to recede. The sight is one of grotesque intimacy, a violation laid bare for the entire arena to witness. "You never belonged on the same page as me,” Hannah hisses in Kelly’s face. “This is my ring, MY stable." A squelch erupts as Hannah twists her wrist, the pressure momentarily intensifying before she rips her fist free. Kelly's eyes widen in horror, a strangled cry escaping her lips as a fresh wave of nausea washes over her. Her body convulses uncontrollably, legs buckling beneath her as she crumples to the canvas, hugging her body, with Hannah standing over her for a beat longer, a cruel satisfaction burning in her eyes. Then, as if discarding a used ragdoll, she steps over Kelly with a contemptuous snarl. Things are certainly getting personal!
ROUND 7:
Round Seven becomes a desperate fight for survival. Kelly, despite the battering of the previous round, emerges with a newfound ferocity. Her blue eyes burn with a cold fire to prove that she isn't broken. She adopts a southpaw stance, her weight balanced evenly on the balls of her feet. This stance gives her a slight reach advantage and keeps her right hand, her stronger hand, closer for more powerful punches. As Hannah circles cautiously, Kelly utilizes short, measured footwork to stay in range. She shuffles laterally, mirroring Hannah's movement, never letting the veteran get too close or too far away. Her head remains low, hidden behind her raised gloves, but her eyes dart over her forearms, constantly tracking Hannah's movements. Suddenly, Hannah feints to the left, dipping her head and shoulders as if throwing a left hook. But Kelly anticipates the move, expertly slipping to her right while simultaneously pivoting on her back foot. This maneuver puts her at Hannah's flank, a perfect position to unleash a counterattack: with lightning-fast reflexes, Kelly throws a right cross. She doesn't simply swing wildly; the punch is a culmination of calculated steps. She dips her weight slightly, coils her core, and explodes upwards, transferring all that energy into her punching arm. Her right glove rockets towards Hannah's jaw, a perfectly timed blow aimed to exploit the opening created by the feint - KAPOW! The blow SNAPS the Vixen’s head back and a groan explodes from her lips. Hannah stumbles backward, momentarily disoriented! Kelly capitalizes, driving her opponent towards the ropes with a sudden series of blows. She was playing it cool to start, but with Hannah now in disarray, it’s time to FINISH HER OFF! Just like that, the momentum has shifted, and it seems as if the Lioness might just claw her way back from the brink!
With Hannah trapped against the ropes, Kelly unleashes her full fury. In a textbook clinch, Kelly hooks her right leg behind Hannah's left leg, effectively tripping the other blonde’s base and further limiting her ability to move away from the onslaught. Simultaneously, Kelly dips her hips beneath Hannah's center of gravity, using her core strength to lift slightly and drive her upwards. This maneuver accomplishes two things: it disrupts Hannah's posture and makes it harder for her to block or counterpunch, and it allows Kelly to get even closer, smothering any offense Ferguson can give. Hannah’s eyes go wide with desperation, trying to shake the dizziness from her head but also power out of the clinch. But Kelly swiftly throws her left arm around the back of her neck and shoulder, effectively trapping her upper torso in place… and frees up her right hand to pummel the Golden Girl’s midsection with a series of short, powerful punches. Her gloves of white leather find their mark over and over, each punch a gut-wrenching whud into braced muscle. Hannah tries to withstand the attacks but her body is beginning to crumple, her arms reflexively wrapping around her abused torso or push at Kelly’s shoulders, in a desperate attempt to shield her body. Her head soon dips forward, lolling helplessly over Kelly's shoulder, as each shuddering impact sends a jolt of pain through her body, her torso lurching and twisting with every blow as if it were an independent entity, desperately trying to escape the punishment. Her once-proud abs are now a map of punishment, each blow leaving a deeper indentation, a more lasting mark. Meanwhile, the crowd roars its approval, their cheers for Kelly a deafening crescendo. Kelly's dominance seems absolute. In a moment of hubris, she delivers a final, brutal uppercut into Hannah's upper abdomen, specifically targeting the area just above the navel, near the midline. The impact forces a choked gasp from Hannah, her body lurching and shuddering as if in response to a violent electric shock. And this time, it’s the Lioness who revels in her foe’s agony, keeping her glove buried in Hannah's stomach for a beat too long, savoring the moment after the same treatment in the last round. The pressure intensifies, a twisting of leather on flesh, as Kelly digs her fist in deeper. A look of pure hatred contorts her face as she leans in close to Hannah's ear and hisses, "Looks like being at the top hasn't made you a better fighter…"
The referee dives in, his arm raised as he begins the count. "One... Two... Three..." But Kelly lies prone, her body momentarily still. The lights overhead and the roar of the crowd a distant echo. "Four... Five... Six..." She stirs, her limbs twitching as she struggles to regain her senses. But it’s no use! "Seven... Eight... Nine... Ten!" That’s it, folks! It’s OVER!
Official Result: Hannah Ferguson defeats Kelly Rohrbach via KO7!
AFTER:
Hannah, her chest heaving with exertion, basks in the spotlight for a moment, savoring the taste of victory. Her eyes, narrowed with a fierce intensity, scan the crowd, acknowledging the cheers of her VIX faithful.
But the moment of triumph is short-lived. A cold fury replaces the adrenaline rush as she remembers Kelly's taunts, the bruises that now mark her body. With a determined glint in her eyes, she strides towards the fallen Lioness, a stark contrast to the playful bounce she exhibited earlier in the match.
Meanwhile, Kelly lies sprawled on the canvas, her body a broken doll. Her white bikini, once pristine, lies marred with grime and sweat, and one of her strings has already slipped off her shoulders, revealing some of her bosom. Her face, usually a picture of confident beauty, is contorted in a mask of pain and humiliation.
Hannah stops before Kelly, a victor surveying her fallen foe. "Get up," she commands, her voice laced with steel. "We're not done yet." Kelly looks up at Hannah, her eyes filled with confusion and a flicker of defiance. When she doesn’t comply, Hannah rolls her eyes and “helps” her to her feet, one hand buried into the top of her messy blonde hair. And with a grunt of effort, she’s hauled to her shaky feet, their bodies momentarily locked in another unwilling embrace.
Hannah reaches down, her taped fingers, the gloves having been discarded in the post-victory celebration moments earlier, tracing the bruises on Kelly's exposed, breathing, and battered midsection. "Those abs didn't quite live up to the hype, did they?" she continues, her voice a chilling mixture of amusement and cruelty.
Kelly, her eyes filled with tears of frustration, tries to push her off, but her body is too weak, too battered. She can only whimper and writhe in response as Hannah's fingers dig into her flesh, a final act of dominance.
With a final, contemptuous smirk, Hannah shoves her off, intending to walk away and allow Kelly to slowly crumple back to the canvas. The crowd's roar follows her, a mix of cheers and boos that underscore the controversial nature of her victory. But Kelly, though battered and bruised, stands tall. Her eyes lock with Hannah's, a flicker of defiance replacing the tears. This fight isn't over. Not to her.
With a surge of adrenaline, Kelly tries for a sudden swing, just like she did previously in their press conference. But Hannah anticipates the move this time, bracing and blocking the punch with one of her arms, before unleashing a vicious uppercut right into Kelly's already punished belly. The impact is a crush of leather to bruised flesh, with the air whooshing out of Kelly's lungs. Her eyes widen in shock and pain, her legs buckle beneath her, and she crumples back down to the canvas, defeated.
Backstage, the VIX locker room is abuzz with activity. Hannah Ferguson is surrounded by a swarm of reporters, her face still flushed from the adrenaline rush of victory. Despite the bruises and cuts marring her otherwise flawless skin, a triumphant smile graces her lips.
"She put up a good fight," Hannah admits, her voice a touch hoarse from the exertion. Her eyes glint as she glances towards the closed door of the next room, where she knows Alexis Ren is still being patched up after her own war with Nina Agdal. "This is my tournament to win," Hannah declares, her voice ringing with confidence. "And I'm here to make sure everyone knows it. Alex, you're next," she states with a half-smirk.
