Michelle Williams vs. Dove Cameron

(Hawkeye International vs. Hawkeye International)

Michelle: 41 yo, 5’4” 155-76-7 with 115 KOs vs Dove: 26 yo, 5’2”, 14-14 with 14 KOs

Results: Lookout. Story: Hawkeye
 
BEFORE: The perils of leaving an open-ended contract in front of Vanessa Hudgens is on display as the flyweight champion takes the Consortium up on their offer for her to name Mishy’s gatekeeping chore. Not blinking, Nessa places it on Michelle’s honor to face a woman banging on said gate, namely the woman whom Michelle’s grooming to take her place.

Last time out, Mishy showed the toughness for which she’s renowned in slowing the Cree Cicchino train, surviving a brutal slugfest with the teenager. Now, she’s been simultaneously training Dove for a PPV battle with Lucy Hale while gearing up to potentially run Cameron’s caboose off the rails from a potential title challenge.

It’s hardly a surprise the woman who booked the intra-stable battle is ringside, contributing her color commentary to the broadcast.

Mishy’s steaming at Nessa getting press credentials for the pre-match conference.

VANESSA HUDGENS



“I’m a professional. Dove’s a professional. Am I pissed the Consortium screwed up and put me in this unfortunate circumstance? Hell yes. But I’ve told Dove to treat me like anyone else standing in your way because, like them, I’m coming to win.”

“So,” Vanessa intercedes from press row, “is this different than the numerous times I’ve conquered you? Do you ever get tired of playing the doormat to the fittest flyweight ever?”

A squirming Mishy, face flushing, seems torn on whether responding is worth it.

“I get it,” Michelle offers. “Life’s pretty damn good for you right now. Don’t get used to it.”

Dove follows her mentor to the dais, apparently back in gear after a big-time hiccup against Brec Bassinger. Since then, she’s deposited Camilla Mendes and Isabella Moner to the canvas with Lucy Hale in her headlights. Cameron appears focused, knowing this might be her biggest test ever and, if she passes, Hudgens may be forced to put her name on the dotted line for a title fight.

“Mishy’s been a godsend for my career. She’s taught me to never give up on myself and ignore the doubters. Now, I know why this match is happening.”

Dove gives a steely, baby-blue stare at Nessa.

“It doesn’t matter how I got here. I’m putting Michelle on her back and she wouldn’t want me to think any other way.”

Michelle’s in a zebra-stripe halter with black trunks, boots and gloves. Her platinum pixie cut is wet.

Dove counters in Consortium colors, a yellow-gold combination of bikini top and boy-cut trunks trimmed in black. Her gloves are black as are her boots, with yellow-gold laces. The youngster’s golden locks are tied back in a tight ponytail.

The generational battle that may well be the most explicit passing of the Consortium’s flyweight division torch gets underway with a tap of the gloves mid-ring, a show of sportsmanship Nessa describes as the height of hypocrisy during her commentary, the champ indicating she’s salivating at the thought of “these two losers destroying each other”.

R1: Teacher and student circle, testing each other with feints and jabs. Nervousness is apparent on both sides in addition to the familiarity sparring breeds, leaving the offenses stuck in neutral. The more patient Mishy finds countering to her liking. Williams lets Dove toss first, only for Cameron to receive blowback, Michelle reading what’s coming with the knowledge of a 20-year vet. The platinum blonde presses black leather to the chin and nose of her foe with careful jabs, Mishy PIK-PECKING away. Cameron is off on her timing, perhaps accustomed to Michelle showing others’ tendencies rather than the Hall of Famer’s own. As the blondes dance into the back half of the first, it remains a wary chess match. Nessa is roasting both women on commentary, openly yawning, chastising the HISC flys for putting her to sleep. Down the stretch, Mishy’s parries and follow-up jabs have Dove visibly frustrated. The younger woman’s attempts to force the issue are met with sidesteps and meticulous defense from Williams, the first round ending with a close Mishy win on points due to the lack of meaningful impacts.

R2: Naomi Scott’s taking over as Dove’s second tonight and during the break she’s demanding the young blonde use her speed and energy to get after her teacher. Cameron’s out quickly, meeting Mishy a few steps from her foe’s stool. There’s no quarter given to start the second, Dove firing away. She bobs and weaves between volleys, the Gen X stalwart slow to catch up with her millennial counterpart, Michelle’s leather finding mostly air. Cameron weaves her way in close and buries a left deep into Williams’ midriff, drawing a throaty groan from the legend. Feeling the exhale course over a shoulder, Dove’s hands are set to rapid fire, the Disney-bred blonde taking Michelle’s body in handfuls from a retreating Williams. Mishy backpedals, tossing out ‘don’t hurt me’ jabs to keep Cameron off but Dove’s not having it, taking jugg with blistering gloves dipping beneath the raised forearms of her mentor. A bruised Mishy is leaning forward from the abuse when Dove snaps an uppercut between Williams’ defense, snapping Mishy’s head back and putting a shimmy in her foe’s slender ivory stems. The last minute Michelle rides out the tempest on the ropes, trying to keep her pupil at bay, finding it increasingly difficult as the bell rings, Dove answering back to take the second wide.

R3: Nessa’s perked up on commentary between rounds, lambasting Mishy, demanding her Hall of Fame status be rescinded if she loses to her student. A grimacing Michelle snarls on her stool, watching Cameron not bother to take a seat between stanzas. Williams meets Dove mid-ring, ready to fight fire with fire, but Cameron’s hands are too fast, flitting quickly to cheek and chin, putting Mishy on her back foot. Dove’s throwing hammer and tongs and backs Michelle to a neutral corner where she throws a right overhand meant to inflict maximum damage. But the veteran beats her to the mark, Michelle connecting with a gutting left as she ducks under Cameron’s would-be hammer. The youngster’s body collapses around Mishy’s leather, Dove listing to the side, gurgling when Michelle delivers another body blow to her navel. Trying to ignore her roiling tummy, Dove tosses a makeshift combination that connects with a shoulder on one side and ribs on the other. But the blonde bulldog ignores the impacts, connecting with a right hook to the jaw that has Dove’s wide baby blues blinking. A follow-up right hits the same button and Dove is staggering in fencepost holes, reaching out to grab the top rope with her right arm to keep from taking a knee.

“Keep that brat off my dance card,” Vanessa shouts. “Do your job!”

Blissfully unaware of Hudgens’ demands, Mishy tries to batter her protégé into surrender, capturing Cameron along the ropes and opening fire. But Dove seems to have learned some of Williams’ survival skills and she lasts the round, Michelle taking the third wide, placating concerns she might take it easy on Cameron.

R4: Michelle’s looking a bit gassed coming out for the fourth. She strides to the middle and sets up camp, letting Dove wheel around her, Cameron looking for openings as she revolves around the lioness in twilight. The previous round having taught her what Michelle could bring firsthand in a way sparring could not, Dove’s showing more caution. She’s finding the range with an occasional jab. It’s enough to keep Mishy from getting away with a free ride to recover her second wind and enough to prevent Williams from timing a potshot that could put Dove on her backside. Bronx cheers from Nessa on the sidelines, the champ unhappy with the deliberate pace of this round after the feisty battles in the previous two. Cameron’s staying active, landing lefts to Mishy’s rack, collecting points, when Michelle puts hammer to nail with a right to the chin that halts Dove’s fancy footwork. Immediately, Mishy fires the left of the combo, but gets blasted with a left to her ribs before it connects, sapping the strength from the swing and letting Dove finish off the fourth with the points in a close one on the cards.

R5: Dove’s bouncing on the balls of her feet, rotating out of her corner, showing the friskiness of youth, motioning a smirking Mishy forward. Williams shrugs and plods toward her foe with both barrels loaded, letting Cameron have her show but ready to end it at a moment’s notice. Stepping forward, Michelle fires a booming right that turns to bust when the nimble former Disney princess ducks and unpacks a punishing left to Mishy’s sternum. The heart punch leaves Michelle’s legs rubbery and a crashing follow-up right to the temple has WILLIAMS COLLAPSING TO THE CANVAS. Mishy timbers to her side in a single file, hazel eyes staring blankly at the rafters when she rolls to her back. Vanessa is on her feet, unable to contain her glee while Dove seems almost as stunned as the woman she’s put on her back. Cameron sidles to a neutral corner as the referee picks up the count at THREE. Michelle pushes up on her palms and rattles her braincase in a reclined position, eyes blinking wide, finally finding the official as he counts to SIX.

“Get up you has-been,” Nessa shouts, though it’s unclear that’s what she really wants. Nevertheless, it’s what she gets as Mishy makes her it to her feet at NINE and nods she’s ready to continue. That becomes increasingly debatable through the next two minutes as Dove ravages her guru. Cameron pus Michelle through a terrible beatdown. Williams is left staggering by a raft of lightning combos she barely sees, finally taking a seat on the middle rope and absorbing a dismantling show of force from the reborn Cameron, the midwife of Dove’s blossoming career taking the brunt.

“Damn. I hope she leaves something for me,” Vanessa chuckles on commentary. A generous ref lets the onslaught continue to the bell, Mishy’s corner having to enter the ring to guide her back to the corner, puffiness turning to nasty multihued welts as she slumps on her chair, Natalie Portman plugging a nostril with cotton to stop a trickle of blood. Mishy’s wrecked in the fifth but endures, Dove scoring wide with a knockdown.

R6: Dove’s ready to end things. She’s out at the bell as Mishy wearily pushes off her stool. Williams is a master of persistence, but the years are nibbling away at perhaps her greatest strength. Michelle appears forlorn as Cameron batters the veteran back into her corner. Dove’s ripping away without a care. She buries the crown of her head into Michelle’s cleavage and takes tummy like she’s a Foxfire foe, plundering her teacher without a hint of remorse, showing she really is mini-Mishy. Williams is gasping from the gut shots. She wraps her arms around the slightly smaller Dove, gathering her protégé in a clinch, leaning her chin on Dove’s shoulder. The comparatively inexperienced Dove is having trouble breaking loose for long, the official breaking the opponents only for Michelle to find her way back into an embrace that she pays for on the way in but takes immense relief in when the bearhug is established. The final seconds see another forced break from the official and a ‘remember me’ one-two to Michelle’s noggin from her would-be replacement that has Williams wobbling, but Mishy persists, Dove taking another round wide.

R7: Williams shuffles out of her corner, shopworn, mottled bruises around her ribs. Dove’s treated her mentor to a pasting over the last few rounds and it’s showing in Mishy’s face and torso but not in her hazel peepers. Michelle focuses on the advancing Cameron, dukes raised. The veteran is a stationary target, her only movement pivoting to keep the Consortium’s new top ten flyweight in front of her. Dove seems ready to consolidate this stanza when she realizes Michelle’s not going to do any chasing. Instead, Michelle stands her ground and trades careful jabs with Dove, the ingenue’s quicker hands pekking leather to Mishy’s jaw. Midway through, Dove’s packaging less explosive success, continuing to use movement from legs and leather to stow points, when Mishy explodes out of her stance and takes rack. Williams catches Cameron clean to the cups, Dove’s features twisting in pain, more so when Mishy doubles up with the back end of the combo to Cameron’s jugs. The youngster’s tango two-step slowed, Michelle barrels forward, swinging hard and fast. But the Disney alum takes the sweeping hooks into protective shoulders. Managing a tactical retreat, Dove escapes without match-altering damage, but it’s enough for Michelle to eke out the seventh and can get back on the scoreboard with a close win.

R8: Dove’s out early. Ready to end any thoughts of a comeback before the flicker of the previous round can become a flame. Williams is haggard, looking every bit her 41 years and 20-plus in the game. Cameron’s shown why she’s the future and Vanessa’s enjoying every second, sometimes forgetting to provide commentary, caught up in the mass of contusions Mishy’s become as the blondes move into the home stretch.

The women meet mid-ring, each poised to make their stand, and neither hesitates, sending leather flying. Dove catches chin with a powderkeg left that staggers Williams and Dove is on her teach, pummeling Mishy with the speed that’s bedeviled the veteran. But as she seems ready to crumple, the blonde bulldog braces and stuffs a nasty left into Dove’s bosom, slipping it beneath an overhand right from Cameron. Dove squints in pain before her head is snapped to the side by a blistering right from yesteryear, Cameron’s body spinning to catch up with her twisting noggin. Dove’s stumbling and Mishy pounces, turning both her keys for thermonuclear war. Michelle bombards Dove’s increasingly blank face with tattooing combos, the crowd gasping at the sight, Michelle providing a history lesson in front of a grumbling Nessa.

Final minute is a test of Dove’s survival instincts. She raises a cage of forearms to protect her features, but the platinum hailstorm is unleashed, Mishy using Dove’s tummy like a heavy bag, Cameron grunting and groaning after each impaling body blow until Cameron COLLAPSES TO HER HAUNCHES, Dove hugging her tummy, baby blues welled with tears.

Michelle steps away when Dove tries to use her legs to balance and Cameron tumbles forward, forearms and chin on the deck, ass raised with her knees still under her. Cameron gurgles out her guard to suck in more oxygen at the ref’s count of FOUR.

Vanessa tosses off her headset, screaming at Williams.

“Look what you did to your girl!”

Mishy watches stoically as Dove gets back to her knees at EIGHT but Cameron tumbles to her right shoulder and hip when she tries to rise further. DOVE IS DONE! MICHELLE WILLIAMS WINS WITH A KNOCKOUT IN THE 8TH!

After: The fittest flyweight angrily tosses her headset into the third row as Michelle waits for the Consortium attendants to help a gut shot Dove to her feet and assist Cameron to her corner. Mishy gives a halfhearted fist pump to the crowd then moves to her protégé, Dove sniffling back sobs.

“C’mon, Dove. You were great.” Michelle consoles, pulling Cameron to her feet so she can gently embrace the future of fly at HISC.

“But my title shot…it’s gone,” Dove responds breathlessly.

“You’ll get there,” Mishy insists. “It’s just going to a little lonGUHHHH”

Williams heaves forward, banging foreheads with her stablemate. Dove flops to her backside, azure pools in a daze from the accidental head butt.

Pushed into the ropes beside the corner, chest tight to the rubber-coated steel, arms hanging over the top cable, Mishy gets pounded in the kidneys by the bare fists of FREAKIN’ VANESSA HUDGENS!

The snarling champion spins a grimacing Mishy to face her and BLASTS the blonde with a raised knee to Williams’ solar plexus. The doubled Michelle is snapped straight by a forearm uppercut that cuts Mishy’s strings, the vacant eyes and rubbery stems of Michelle evident, Williams only approximating verticality by Vanessa’ choice, Hudgens pressing tight to her most bitter rival, chest to chest.

“Your amazing ego just cost Dove a title shot. Great work, gatekeeper!”

Nessa slips a pair of fingers under her halter top on either side and tugs the red cotton high enough to display her incomparable abdomen. She climbs to the bottom rope and stuffs her tummy into the elfin mug of Mishy, holding Williams’ head straight so she can’t turn away from being force-fed Nessa’s abs until exhaustion and lack of air leaves a suckling Michelle to slide lethargically down Nessa’s frame, pooling at the champ’s feet.

A nodding Hudgens calls for her gold and raises it high after receipt, as she puts a sneaker on the cleft of Mishy’s bosom.

“Let’s see her say I’m not her conqueror now!” Hudgens proclaims. “I told you this is the Age of Vanessa! What more evidence do you need!”