Part 1:
Posted by Simguy on 8/26/2006, 10:17 am
Before: Tense prefight sessions—huge fight for promising independent [prospects and both girls know it. “Kristen showed everything good she is, and everything bas, against lacey,” says a frosty/analytical Sarah at the podium. “When you’re getting hit clean by the dumbest cow in boxing, you know your game isn’t where it needs to be. I’m sharper than Kris, more polished—I know she’s very sturdy, but I’ll take my time and pick her part. I had some of the best sparring of the summer on the set of “DOA” and I know I’ve gone to the next level while Bell’s been spinning her wheels: it’s time to separate myself from her and move on.” Bell flinching at the mention of Chabert—cruel of Sarah to bring it up—but that’s Carter all over. “I made mistakes against Lacey—all of which have been corrected,” Bell answers steely-eyed, “If Sarah’s counting ion meeting THAT Kristen Bell, she’s going to be weeping—sorry. I look at Sarah and know I can boss her around inside—my legs are stronger, my body is stronger—I know exactly what I have to do wih her. This fight is so huge, I mean—the winner probably gets ranked; winner gets Kristin Kreuk as soon as she’s done with Burton and; winner gets first-look status HBO for swings bouts and the like. Independents just don’t get these kind of opportunities—everyone knows the FCBA is run by politics and the best fighters aren’t always the ones you read about—I can’t allow Sarah to steal the spotlight from me here.”
Kristen in black bra, leopard print bottoms, small black workout gloves. Sarah in purple push up and panties, white lace trim, small black workout gloves, low braid with wispy bangs framing her face. Heartpounding staredown as little vixens glare deeply into one another’s eyes—neither flinching as respective souls are searched for any sign of weakness.
During R1: Sarah with slinking, lithe footwork—hands up, palms open to Kris, pawing at the air as Carter negotiates left. Kris more conventional, balled fists held cheek-high, stepping to the attack. Carter fading, gliding, gracefully parrying Kristen’s stern bodyjab with a sweeping right, darting back a nifty flick-jab in response as Bell blocks her tight guard. Bell the moiré forceful beauty, the clear aggressor—she’s cutting off the ring diligently, bouncing small-glove rights and lefts off Sarah’s drum-tight ribcage in tic-toc combinations. Carters legs keeping her free of the ropes, but she’s basically hounded for points in a Bell first.
R2: Carter: hands up, palms out, arms relaxed—feet still nimble, but not as much constant movement as Sarah sets down to bait Kristen forward this round. Carter sliding back as bell commits—clawing Kris a swiping-quick left hook on the ear, then rotating to the right, jabbing Bell up the middle to keep her occupied. Feints and hesitation right hands see Sarah score jolting potshots to chin and chest—again, Carter nimbly stepping away from receipts. Gracefully brushing Kristen’s punches out of the air with parrying hands. In, out, around—boxing basics honed to a razor’s edge—Sarah gets her touches, circles her opponent, shuts Krissy out bell to bell.
R3: Kristen adjusts, moving her head side to side, doubling up her jab—she’s weaving Carter’s insolent stick and collapsing distance this round, engaging Sarah toe-to-toe. Second minute sees Bell’s pressure rewarded—constant tidy bodypunching has Carter wincing, retreating for the first time to ropes: Kris able to stalk, square up and land the hardest right hand of the night thick to Sarah’s waist. Carter bunching up hurt, gasping as Bell’s lips curl into a gloating smile—Kris sets her hips, stays on the body with a brisk, bt controlled snatching of ripping lefts and rights. Sarah well-peppered, mouth open in anguish as Bell bangs dutifully away: then Krissy comes up top to shock Carter anew. Brisk, swiping hooks take Carter in her ear as bell doubles up swat—punching Sarah into her own corner. Straight rights and lefts pound up the middle—Bell shredding Sarah’s guard—small gloves pounding at Carter’s beautiful face, buckling her knees. Crowd roaring—Bell really taking it to Carter—Krissy punching Sarah into stupor with ratcheting, straight criss cross punching to the bell. Stepping back, Krissy gives Sarah a small smile of supremacy as a disheveled Carter pushes up awkwardly from the ropes: much more of that from Bell and both girls know Sarah will be stopped.
R4: Kris on the hunt: Sarah desperately legging out of the round to get her wits back. Carter a lovely ring-general—dancing, stepping, crouching, prowling, feinting—equally adept rotating to either side, even stepping gracefully into southpaw stances (right foot forward, left back) to help change angles. But Bell’s having none of it—Kristen constantly forward—dukes fidgeting from her mouth to her brow and back as she crouches forward—much tighter defensive form from Bell than she showed against Chabert. Kris with a very firm, scolding jab up the middle—rarely connecting, but dictating terms to Sarah. Kris doing her business to sarah’s ribcage—small gloves sounding out PIK! PAK! When she can get there—Carter shying away from extended her contact, keeping her back clear of ropes. In the end, both girls achieve: Carter gets her bearings, recovering well from a rocky third; Kristen piles up the points, going 3 rounds to 1.
R5: Sarah bites back. Similar looks and moves, but everything sharper, more committed—the punching snappier and more hurtful as Carter up-tempos. Krissy batted and cuffed hooks as she tries to penetrate—Sarah so cute sliding back, somehow getting of lefty from her front (left) foot to intercept and bedevil Bell. Feints: Sarah’s eyes wide as she sells a move to make Kris flinch, then smites her the hesitation right—Bell being struck cleanly on her mouth, startled. Second minute, Sarah goes over to offence, now taking the fight to Bell with lashing hooks behind the elbow, on the ear, across the breasts—drilling straight right hands to mouth and chin, starting to pile up hard hurt on a confused Krissy. Midway through, Bell standing too erect—arms crossed at her chest loike she’s Genie: Sarah able to triple-rip PIK! PIK! PAK! Hooks to liver as Krissy groans and SINKS TO ONE KNEE! Carter devouring the sight with her eyes—Krissy hurting on her knee, hugging her body has Sarah trembling with unspeakable delight. Kris blinking back tears, beats the count, but she’s shabby, digging ion on the apron to let Sarah have her way.
Oh, the beatdown, Sarah to Kristen.
Bell wilts to a seat on the ropes, slowly drooping forward, numbly earmuffing up, mouth open as Carter POURS on the punishment in a lathering sheet of small-glove leather. Clawing, ripping blows bounce off Krissy’s skull, shoulders, back when Carter beats her fists downward—then Sarah will dip a shoulder to jerk up underneath, sampling tender tummy, rib and jug meat. Breathtaking fury—only flyweights treat each other like this—wiry little bodies and slender limbs generating scalding volume and BELL GOES DOWN! Kristen beaten panting to hands and knees, head bowed, body shaking: Carter staggers back, blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes, body glistening in a silvery sleeve of sweat. Bell sounds as Krissy’s still down—Sarah’s arms quivering as she backs away, chest heaving.
Carter/Bell conc.
Posted by Simguy on 8/26/06, 10:18 am.
R6: Krissy: tears dried but eyes still forlorn, mouth downcast—her turn to shy away, trying to regroup physically and emotionally from a disastrous fifth. Carter now stalking, taking the fight to Kris—Sarah nimbly cross-stepping, cutting off the ring, jabbing Bell to her chest to locate her, then stepping in to work toe-to-toe. Completely different fight: girls flat footed, hunched down behind rigid guards, elbows in—taking turns pelting each other with deliberate small-glove combinations. Typical exchange: Sarah right hand at her cheek as she dips n’ tucks a left hook PAK! to tummy, PAK! to tummy, brings it up skidding across the front bars of Krissy’s guard, then clips it wide to bell’s ear; Sarah covers up and bell answers left hook to bicep, skidding left uppercut against guard, then hacki9njg left down on Sarah’s ear as Carter dips forward slightly to slip. Back and forth—girls keeping the right hand mostly tight to cheek as they jerk, swipe and lick multiple hooks and jabs in tasty little sequences. Carter getting the better of it—gnawing at Bell, landing a little more cleanly, moving Bell a little more visibly—and Krissy can’t get off the apron.
R7: Similar stuff—Sarah spending the first minute choking off Kristen’s lanes of retreat, negotiating Bell to ropes, then forcing that draining, peculiar guard-on-guard attrition as mobile blondes choose to stand and dig at each other. Mostly tidy left hands staying in close for defence, only occasionally deployed to help spice up the combinations. Close and competitive—but Sarah steadily better—outthrowing and outlanding Kris—poor Bell just can’t renegotiate position as Sarah keeps her girl pinned down at the ropes. Tummies and ribs pinking up nicely—both girls featuring drum-tight torsos and abdominals—small gloves bouncing off taut body meat with an almost n on-stop patter. Bell’s face the more punished, looking puffy and sunburned: Carter more adventurous with the left uppercut, starting to split bell’s mitts with diligent persistence.
R8: Bell changes tack—unable to outmaneuver her ballet-trained tormentress, Kris goes back to bulling up the middle, engaging Sarah toe-to-toe, midring. Blistering, torrid exchanges—one little blonde covering up and shaking as the other lambastes her with tic-tac-toe rights and lefts: punching starts to take on a much more desperate, vicious tone. Agonizing stuff midring goes back and forth for almost two minutes, but it can’t last: Carter finally wilts just a smidge, backing away behind a defensive jab, wincing with how-could-you eyes, trying to buy time with her legs. Kris won’t have it—rushing Sarah to the ropes and treating her to a robust, pumping right hand in under the left elbow: Carter sobbing aloud for the first time as she crumples slightly, face tilted up prettily in distress, Bell able to put the chamois to Sarah’s breasts, polishing them a series of heartless short-scrubbing hooks, then dip down to plug hook-to-liver, buckling Carter’s knees at the bell, Krissy’s nostrils flaring, chest heaving, forces hard eye contact, letting Sarah know this fight’s not NEAR over.
R9: Desperate, hungry brawling replaces the measured and disciplined turn-taking of the last few rounds—both girls tapping the last of their reserves in a late bid to overwhelm the other. Legs give way, spilling one or the other to the ropes; faces are punched more frequently, clouted side to side as girls close and rip at one another. Whenever one girl hides behind her mitts, drooping forward to catch her breath—the other will widen her stance, snarl and lash her hardest right hand to the opponent’s waist TUPP!: both girls crying out, cringing under such hot body-touches. Eyes feral, frowning with hate: clamping shut in pain; narrowing with fury. Down the stretch, Bell can’t take it any more, groggily trying to clinch: Sarah heartless with her shoulder inside, butting it against Krissy’s bruised face, then catching Bell a nasty left elbow disguised as a short hook to send her reeling into ropes. Ref doesn’t catch it: all the judges see is how suddenly hurt and stunned Bell seems to be—Carter steals the closest round of the fight with the hardest-hearted tactics of the night.
R10: Bell snarling, refusing to be punked by Carter’s rough-house: Krissy comes forward with renewed vigour. Sarah covering up against a shelling Bell right—Krissy immediately coming back underneath with a withering hook, small glove gouging at Carter’s taut belly meat to win a breathy gasp from Sarah, carter wilting, backpedalling—she hits ropes and shows earmuff: Bell snarling, draws the right arm back even as she’s leaning forward, PLOWING righty to gut as Sarah screams in pain behind her gloves. CARTER”S HURT! Legs shot, poor Carter hangs on grimly—one of the fight’s few true clinches—Bell squirming, screaming at ref to break, From then on, it’s Bell on Carter—scrounging, hounding pounding—Sarah open-mouthed, all used up, just looking to survive, Kristen finding fresh reserves from somewhere and throwing them into the battle—punching with first-round vigour—pumping right hands at Sarah’s stubborn tummy whenever Carter folds forward. Sarah reaching to clinch around the waist, or tie up behind Krissy’s whenever Carter folds forward. Sarah reaching to clinch around the waist, or tie up behind Krissy’s arms—anything to slow the beating. Bell to bell Krissy, pouring her heart and soul at Sarah to get her out of there—but it’s no go. Carter raggedly to the bell, battered and disheveled, but on her feet. Comes back UD10, Sarah Carter.
After: Bell heartbroken, staring around the ring with a lost, confused expression: all she recalls is rolling Sarah up at the end and “big sistering” her at the ropes. 5 rounds a piece, Carter’s brilliant fifth the difference as she forced Bell’s legs to give twice—Sarah turns back her beautiful blonde foe to advance to Kreuk. “Everything went according to plan.” Carter asserts, puffy face and spasming ribmeat saying otherwise, “I outboxed her, embarrassed the girl with my legs, then took it to her. She thought she could punch with me, but I made her swab the deck a couple of times in fifth, didn’t I? Seeing Krissy go down was the best feeling of my life—we both knew I’d won at that point, and I could see how heartbroken she was, rest of the way was me—all me. I’m ready for bigger and better things. Bell can go back to fighting dinner theatre—it’s where she belongs.”
Reposted by Archer 10/6/09.