Female Boxing Federation

Valenzuela: The dimly lit venue near the border is buzzing with anticipation for tonight’s unsanctioned boxing match. In one corner stands Karla "La Princesa" Valenzuela, a fierce Mexican fighter known for her relentless style and sharp boxing skills. At 5'3" and 120 lbs, Karla is quick, powerful, and ready to take on any challenger. Her brown skin glistens under the sparse lighting, and her dark hair is braided tightly, a symbol of her focus and determination.

Valenzuela: Opposite her, Selene O’Connor—a seasoned American fighter with Irish roots—stretches her tall, 5'6", 142 lbs frame. Her red hair and green eyes hint at her fiery spirit and no-nonsense attitude in the ring. Known as "the redheaded witch," Selene's experience and versatility are her greatest assets. She’s fought countless bouts, each one sharpening her ability to withstand punishment and deliver devastating blows.

Valenzuela: The crowd is restless, sensing the intensity between these two warriors. There’s no referee stepping in to save anyone tonight; it’s KO or submission only. As the fighters glare at each other, fists wrapped in 8-ounce gloves, the air is thick with tension and the promise of a brutal, no-holds-barred fight.

Valenzuela:

Valenzuela: As I stand here in my blue and white short trunks, white sports bra, and blue boxing shoes,, bright green boxing gloves, I scan my opponent to decide on how to take her on. She looks like a tough gal who knows how to hurt, if she can land a punch. My job initially will be to avoid and counter, given her reach and weight advantage, then close in for the kill later in the bout.

Valenzuela:

Selene_boxer: After going through the rigamarole to get into Mexico, and knowing little Spanish, I make my way to the unsanctioned arena--any unsanctioned fights, I need to keep far away from home, but they pay well, and are a LOT of fun. My opponent is small, but I know well that she's fierce, and this is going to hurt like hell, win or lose-- my kind of fun. Facing you in my white trunks with black trim, white sports bra, black Reyes gloves, and white with black boxing shoes, I look you over--you're fit and trim as I expected, and I'm expecting you to be FAST. I want to keep you on the outside, at the end of my punches, but I know you'll be hard to keep out of my reach.

Selene_boxer:

Selene_boxer:

Valenzuela: As we are now both in the ring, staring at each other from our corners, the ref, a heavy set woman motions us out to the centre to talk to us in heavily accented English. "Alright fighters, listen up! This is an underground bout with no TKO; the only ways to win are by knocking your opponent out or forcing them to surrender. No standing counts, and the fight continues until one of you can't or won’t continue. There are no judges here tonight, so it’s all on you. Protect yourself at all times. There are no disqualifications, but no hitting below the belt, no rabbit punches, and no hitting after the break. If either of you gets knocked down, I’m going to give a count up to ten, and if you’re not up by then, you’re out. If you want to surrender, you need to make it clear to me. I’m not stopping this fight unless you say so, or one of you is out cold. When I say ‘break,’ I want you to take a step back and listen for my next command. Try to keep it clean, keep it fair, and remember: only KO or submission. Touch gloves if you want, and get ready to fight!”

Selene_boxer: Looking you in the eye, measuring that incredible intensity, my green eyes sparkling with anticipation--my long red hair loose, ring lights reflecting from the light sweat from my warm up--glad you're wearing a white top as well...any blood from either of us will show nicely--I know my weight advantage will help...say "This is going to be fun" as I reach out to tap gloves

Valenzuela: I tap your gloves, and then slowly back away to my corner. The crowd grows quiet as they have now finished placing their bets, and they anticipate the ringing of the bell. There is no doubt you have a little more reach than I do, and your more muscled body will absorb blows better than mine, but I am primarily a head hunter, so should not matter. And then DING! DING! DING! As the bell rings, I step forward from my corner, settling into my orthodox stance. My left foot is slightly ahead, my body angled just right to keep my profile narrow. I feel the canvas under my feet, my weight balanced evenly between them, ready to move in any direction. My left hand is up, just in front of my face, ready to jab or block. My right hand stays close to my chin, guarding my jaw while also being ready to deliver a powerful hook or cross if needed. I keep my elbows tucked in tight against my ribs, protecting my body while maintaining a strong, tight guard. My knees are bent, my body loose but controlled, every muscle coiled and ready to spring into action. I’m on the balls of my feet, light and nimble, feeling the energy in the room but keeping my focus sharp. My head bobs and weaves slightly, a subtle rhythm to make myself a harder target. The crowd around us is buzzing, but all I see is my opponent. I’m ready. I'm in my zone, waiting for that perfect moment to strike.

Selene_boxer: in my corner, eager for the bell...on my toes, my stance low, left foot in front, body angled--not an easy target...a tiny bit more weight on my back foot, my left out a little, right close to my chin, ready to intercept punches and counter--knees bent a bit more than yours to keep my eyes at the same level as yours, my head moving perhaps a bit more than yours, erraticly--your movement showing my that you are GOOD at this--the crowd might as well not exist. Inching closer, moving side to side so I'm not an easy target...sure we both know the usual opening moves, so change it up a little--a slight twitch of my left shoulder as if I'm going to throw a jab, then snap a fast straight right at your face, hoping to catch you nose early, then step to the right

Valenzuela: I see the subtle twitch in your left shoulder and brace for a jab, but you feint it beautifully and snap a straight right at my face. I instinctively react, twisting my bobbing my head to the left, trying to slip the punch just in time. Your fist grazes past my cheek, close but not quite landing solidly. I feel the rush of air from your punch, and my heart races a little faster, realizing how sharp and quick you are. As you step to the right, I know I have to keep up with your movement to avoid giving you any opening. I pivot on my left foot, adjusting my stance to stay squared up with you. I keep my guard tight, elbows tucked, and decide to test your defense a bit. I quickly step in with a short left jab aimed at your nose, not fully committing but enough to hopefully keep you busy. Immediately after, I plant my feet and pivot my hips, throwing a solid right cross aimed at your midsection, trying to pound it between your forearms. I stay light on my feet, and move close in, wanting to fight in close, toe to toe.

Selene_boxer: "You'regood," I think, not truly expecting the right to land, but hoping...measuring how you moved just enough to avoid the blow, yet stay positioned to retaliate. I slip to my right, outside your jab, feeling it almost brush my fair skin. As you throw the right, I twist my body, intending to take the right on ly left forearm, but you're FAST, and the THUD of blue leather on my hard abs echoes through the room, showing me your power--I have good abs, but enough punches can break anyone down. As you pull your right back, I bend my left knee slightly, shifting my weight, and lash out with a left uppercut, trying to sink my glove into your stomach--muscles ripple as I pivot, following with a right hook, looking to slam my glove into your eye

Valenzuela: As I pull back my right, your left uppercut sinks into my stomach, I feel the impact radiate through my core, a sharp reminder of the power you pack behind those gloves. My muscles tighten instinctively, absorbing as much of the blow as possible, but the force still drives a grunt from my lips. My mind races—this fight is going to be a brutal test of endurance and skill. As I pull my right back, ready to reset, I see your right hook coming, aimed straight for my eye. There's no time to think—just react. I instinctively bring my left glove up to block, but you pound my left glove into my face, not as bad as it could be, but still disorienting. You’re trying to break me down, to find that one opening that’ll turn this fight in your favor. I step back slightly, just enough to create a sliver of distance between us, enough to think clearly for a moment. I know I can’t let you dictate the pace—I need to stay aggressive, keep you on your toes. I take a quick breath, then step back in close, aiming to disrupt your rhythm. I fire off a quick left hook towards your ribs, hoping to distract you, and possibly return some of the pain you’ve just inflicted on me if I can curve it around your forearms as I step left. Immediately, I shift my weight and pivot on my right foot, launching a right uppercut aimed at your chin, hoping to catch you off guard and slam it between your gloves. yt.

Selene_boxer: Loving the feel of my punch smashing into you, the grunt like music, your face showing that it hurt good--I know shots like that add up, but will mine or yours break down first? You are quick, but at least my hook still had some effect--being the stronger one has its advantages...I can take a few more punches and still wear you down. I start moving to my right just as your hook comes in, stopping my motion as I move my elbow just enough to catch your glove. My right's slightly out of position, giving you room to slide your uppercut into my chin. My head snaps back, red hair flying, and I step back and to my right--I can;t let you control the range, and the blow shook me up a bit. Time to use my reach, as I snap a double left jab at you--first one aimed at your right eye, second at your mouth

Valenzuela: The crowd roars as they see your red hair flying upwards after eating the left uppercut! I feel the impact as my uppercut connects with your chin, but you step back and recover quickly, snapping a double jab toward me. The first one glides over my right glove, snapping into my right eye, rocking my head back a little, and it stings! I know the eye will probably not swell, but I also know I will soon have a shiner of bluish discoloration circling the eye. The second jab hits my right glove. I know you're trying to create distance and use your reach, but I can’t let you get comfortable. I decide it's time to close the distance again before you can fully reset. I duck low, and push forward with a quick burst of speed, aiming to stay inside your reach. As I close in, I fire off a short right straight toward your solar plexus, hoping to knock some wind out of you and disrupt your rhythm. Without hesitating, I immediately follow up with a left hook aimed at your liver, keeping my punches tight and powerful to capitalize on the close range.

Selene_boxer: Your eye won't swell from this one, but it's a start, and after taking that uppercut, I needed to see your head move. Your ducking low hints at what's coming, and you're quick enough that I can'

Selene_boxer: t keep you outside. Your right comes in fast...I can't block it, but I twist right a bit so it doesn't tag my solar plexus, landing with a wet thud of leather slamming into sweaty flesh..you hit HARD! It feels like, so far, you're controllong the pace, and I shift my forearm just enough to catch that right--you're vicious in close. I take a fast step back--the ropes are almost at my back, so i can't move much further back afterwards...snap a left jab out, looking to punch your left hand aside, even as I shift more weight to my right foot. Muscles ripple as I drive a straight right at your nose, hoping my left cleared the path--but are you quick enough...

Valenzuela: My right hits you, but misses you dead centre as you twist your body. I see your left jab coming in to clear to punch my left hook away from your liver, taking me a bit by surprise, and with my left hand pushed away, I can't react in time. Your straight right comes barreling toward my face, and before I can fully slip to the side, it slams directly into my nose with a sharp, crushing impact. I feel a burst of pain explode across my face as your glove connects, and I know instantly my nose is bleeding. Warm blood starts trickling down my lip, the metallic taste filling my mouth. My white sports bra taking a few drops of that precious liquid. The crowd gasps at the sight of the hit, but I know I can't let this slow me down. I can feel the sting and the blood, but I need to stay focused. I quickly bring my guard back up, trying to ignore the throbbing in my nose. I step in close, determined not to give you space or let you see that you hurt me. With my adrenaline pumping, I fire off a quick left hook aimed at your ribs, looking to remind you that I’m still in this fight. As soon as the left hook is thrown, I step in closer, pivoting my right foot, and throw a powerful right cross aimed at your jaw,  using my pain to fuel the intensity of my attack. I know I need to stay aggressive, keep you on your back foot, and not give you any chance to capitalize on the bloody nose.

Selene_boxer: I've been feeling like I'm starting to lose the fight...a steady stream of your hard punches bruising me, and more important, you've been controlling the range, moving me to your tune, wearing me down. grinning as I see your left move, and the feel of a nose under my glove--exquisite. Blood--and just a start--I have a good target...I want to move back, but can't, so I slide to my left, looking to get clear of the ropes. I'm moving away from your left hook, and block it with my right forearm...you're close, and too fast, and I'm moving into your right--your right crashes into my jaw, slamming my head back, a halo of sweat around my head. That one rung my bell, but I can't let you see that I'm hurt--planting my feet, I rip a hard left hook at your eye, hoping that, even if you block it, I can drive your glove into your head, then try to slide left and around you, getting some room to move

Valenzuela: My left left hook has no effect, as you are moving away from it, and what's left of it is blocked with your right glove. But you are moving towards my right, and oh, baby doll, you catch my right on the jaw! I get a nice spray of your sweat onto my face, but, suddenly a big black glove swings over my right shoulder and hits the side of my right eye.....an eye that has already been punched!!! My head twists to the left as you circle around me to my right towards the ring centre, leaving me blinking my teary right eye now begins to swell and puff up. I give my bloody nose a wipe with a glove, and then pivot to square up with you and reset my guard.

Selene_boxer: That right ROCKED me--my reply was on pure instinct--another like that would have been BAD. As you reset, I take a step back, out of reach of those punishing gloves, needing a moment to clear my head--the lull in the action is punctuated by the crowd, loving the action, mostly cheering for you as the local. I'm taking more punches, but feeling like I'm back in the fight, my confidence back. Looking you over, I see the trickle of blood staining your top, the discoloration in your eye--not fight changing yet, but with some more work, could be--but you have come scary close to both my plexus and liver.

Valenzuela: I can feel the sting in my swollen right eye and the blood trickling from my nose. My head throbs from your left hook, but I’m not letting up. You’ve moved back, trying to catch your breath, and I can see you're feeling the impact of my punches. The crowd’s noise fades into the background as I focus on you, watching your every move. I know I’ve hurt you, but you’re still dangerous, and I can’t afford to get careless. I decide it's time to suck up the pain and go on the offensive again and not let you get comfortable. I need to keep pressing, keep you on the defensive. I start bouncing lightly on my feet, showing a bit of movement to keep you guessing. I see you’ve taken a step back, and I’m going to use this moment to push the pace. I feint with a quick left jab toward your face, looking to draw your guard up high and distract you. Immediately, I shift my weight and step in with a right straight, aiming for your midsection again, targeting just below your ribs. I want to force you to drop your guard and expose yourself for my next move. mtc

Valenzuela: As soon as the right straight is launched, I pivot to my right side, keeping my head low, and come up with a powerful left uppercut aiming toward your chin, looking to rock your head back and follow up on the damage I've already done. I don't stop there. I continue pressing forward, closing the distance, and throw a tight right hook aimed at your temple, hoping to disorient you and put you on the ropes. I want to keep this fight close and make sure you don’t have any room to breathe.

Selene_boxer: We're both hurt--this is FUN! I'm shaking off the effects of your punches and about to move in, but you beat me to it. I slip my head to my right, just outside your jab, then grunt as you smahs your right into my gut. My hands drop just a trifle, but it's enough, leaving a momentary opening. I see what's coming, but too late, and your left SLAMS into my chin, sweat spraying everywhere, my whole body shaking from the repeated blows, my hands droppong mtc

Selene_boxer: My head is wide open, and your right lands HARD, my eyes crossing, as I drop to all fours, dazed, trying not to faceplant on the canvas

Valenzuela: I feel the impact of each punch connecting, my fists finding their marks with a satisfying force. When my right hook slams into your temple, I see your eyes cross and your body sway, and then you drop to all fours. The crowd erupts, the sound of their cheers and shouts nearly deafening. My chest heaves as I breathe heavily, the adrenaline coursing through my veins, my muscles burning with effort, but I know I can't show any sign of fatigue now. I quickly step back to a corner, raising my gloves in a defensive posture, ready in case you manage to get back up. My eyes stay locked on you, watching for any sign of movement, but inside, I feel a rush of triumph. The sight of you on the canvas, struggling to stay up, fuels my confidence. I know I’ve got you hurt, but I also know this fight isn’t over until the ref says it is. I wipe the sweat and blood from my face with the back of my glove, my breathing slowly steadying. I circle around, keeping a good distance, not wanting to give you any easy openings if you somehow manage to recover. I can feel the excitement from the crowd feeding into me, pushing me to stay sharp, to stay ready for whatever comes next. "Come on, Selene," I mutter under my breath, half to myself and half to you. "Get up if you can. Let’s finish this." And then ref commences the count….UNO…..DOS…..TRES……Cuatro!!!!!!!!!

Selene_boxer: Wondering why I'm down here...why everything's spinning, why my head feels like it's been hit with hammers--and it sinks in--it has been hit with your fists, which are close enough. Watching the referee's fingers--a bit too rocky to remember the numbers here...taking the short, controlled breaths as I try to get my head clear...then getting slowly to my feet. The ref's check is brief, since there are no TKO's, and I tell her I do want to continue. I look across the ring, seeing your swelling eye, bloody nose--I may be losing, but I'm far from done. As I get my hands up, she says, "BOX!"

Valenzuela: I watch closely as you struggle to your feet, seeing the determination in your eyes even through the daze. You’re tough, Selene—I’ve known that from the start. The crowd is roaring, urging us on, and I can feel the tension thick in the air. My eye is swelling, my nose is still bleeding, but I know I have the advantage right now, and I need to press it. The referee gives the signal, “BOX!” and I immediately step forward, my gloves up, ready to capitalize on the moment. I can see you’re still trying to get your bearings, and I can’t give you time to recover. I’ve got to keep the pressure on, keep you off balance. I start with a quick left jab aimed at your forehead, looking to keep you guessing and maintain my distance. I don’t want to overcommit too early, not until I see how steady you are on your feet. The jab is sharp, snapping out to gauge your reaction and to keep you from getting comfortable. As I see your response, I decide to follow up with more intensity. I move in quickly, stepping to my left to create a better angle, and then fire off a fast one-two combo—a left straight aimed at your cheek and a right hook targeting your body, aiming just under your ribs. I want to test your defense, see if you’re still hurt, and hopefully catch you off guard.

Selene_boxer: I'm hurt good, and I know it, and have a choice--try to stay out of reach long enough to clear my head, or try to use my power on you. You're too fast to keep at a distance, so it's clobbering time. I see where the first jab is going...tense my neck muscles and absorb it, my head not moving much. Still rocky, the secnd jab smacks into my cheek, stinging, leaving a big red splotch on my fair skin. I'm just too slow to block the right, grunting as I bend into it, grimacing in pain--you're wearing me down. Instinctively, I fire a left hook at your head, aiming for your swollen right eye. Plenty of power, but not as much power or speed as when the fight started...trying to even things up...still hurt, needing you to back off, I throw a stiff right at your chin, almost no defense as I try to slow you down

Valenzuela: I see my jab land on your forehead and my follow-up left straight snap into your cheek, leaving a mark. I can feel that you’re slowing down, your reactions just a bit delayed. My right hook digs into your side, and I hear you grunt, bending into it. I know I’m wearing you down, but I can’t let up. I need to keep this momentum going. Then, your left hook comes out of nowhere, aiming straight for my swollen right eye. I try to bring my glove up to block it, but I’m a fraction too slow. WHAM! Your glove slams into my already swollen eye, sending a jolt of pain through my head. My vision blurs for a moment, and I feel the sting intensify as the swelling worsens. Before I can fully recover, I see your right hand coming up fast, aiming straight for my chin. I try to pull my head back, but your punch catches me on my chin. My head snaps back, and I feel the impact rattle through my jaw. My teeth clench, and I bite down hard, tasting a bit of blood from the inside of my cheek. The crowd gasps, sensing the intensity of the exchange. I now need to pull back, your punches are powerful, and I need to reorient, my head rocked and stinging.

Selene_boxer: It's a rush feeling my blows connect with your head--you are TOUGH, and I'm going for that eye--whoever wins, that'll remind you of my fists for a while--and that swelling lkooks SO good. The way your head moves, the sweat flies,and the impact runs through my arm, a little of your blood spraying onto me--I'm still in the fight, and the swelling, the blood means that time may be on my side...if the swelling closes your eye, I can hit you at will, and if the blood makesit harder to breathe...mtc

Selene_boxer: I'm still rocky from the knockdown, but need to keeop you bosy--I step forwward, hands flying--all arm punches, FAST, more to distract than hurt, tpo push you back--left jab--right straight--left jab--right straight...not much power, but hoping oit keeps you busy

Valenzuela: You’ve really fucked up my right eye. I can hardly see out of it now. You’ve landed three solid punches on it, and it's swollen and discolored. The pain is intense, radiating through my skull. Blood congeals inside my nose, forcing me to breathe through my mouth, each breath a reminder of how hard you’ve been hitting. I know I can’t let this stop me, but the vision in my right eye is almost gone, and I need to adjust fast. I see you coming in again, stepping forward with your hands flying. I can tell these are all arm punches—fast but not powerful. You’re trying to keep me busy, pushing me back towards the ropes, me stepping back with each punch you throw until my back presses into them. Your left jab flicks out, followed by a right straight, then another left jab and right straight. The punches are coming in quick succession, more to distract than to do real damage, but I can’t ignore them. I bring my guard up, trying to block as many as I can, but my right side is weaker, my vision blurred. I take a couple of jabs on my right cheek, each one buring! The punches from your right, I take on my left glove. I need to get out of this flurry and reset myself. I step back, shifting my weight to my back foot, creating just enough space to regroup. I know I can't stay on the defensive for too long; you’re trying to overwhelm me, but I won’t let that happen. I take a quick breath through my mouth, trying to stay calm and focused despite the pain and the impaired vision. As you keep pushing forward, trapping me on the ropes, I decide it’s time to try to box back. I tighten my guard and brace for your next jab, stepping in just slightly to smother your punch. Then, I drop my left shoulder and roll to the side, ducking under your right straight. Using this momentum, I spring up with a left uppercut aimed at your ribs, trying to make you feel it. Trying to force your bigger body back so I can try to circle off these ropes. My head’s throbbing, my eye’s nearly shut, but I’m not backing down, it ain't over.

Selene_boxer: Pressing you back, stinging you, the crowd roaring as we maul each other, the rapid smacking of leather on leather and sweaty flesh exciting them even more (and exciging me) each blow reddening your cheek, I know exactly what you're feelng--I'm feeling victory...as you get to the ropes, I'm about to start loading up when you smother my punch, and my right hits nothing but air, leaving my bruised body wide open. I can see what's coming, how you have your whole body behind the punch, realizing how much it's going to hurt--and I can't do anything but take it. Grunting in pain as it almost feels like my ribs are bending under your sweaty blue glove--we're so close I can smell your sweat and blood...bending to the side under the force of the blow, and turning to face you as you move, trying to reset my guard

Selene_boxer: My face clearly showing the pain the punch inflicted

Valenzuela: I feel my left uppercut dig deep into your ribs, and I hear your grunt of pain, knowing I’ve landed a solid shot. My glove feels the impact, almost as if I can feel your ribs bending under the force. We're so close that I can sense your breath and the heat of the fight. The crowd’s roar crescendos, sensing the intensity of this exchange. I see the pain in your eyes, and I know I’ve momentarily broken through your defense. As you bend to the side and try to reset your guard, I quickly take this chance to create some distance. I step back swiftly, my back leaving the ropes as I circle out towards the center of the ring. My breaths are heavy, and my eye is nearly shut from swelling, but I force myself to stay focused. I raise my gloves back up, tightening my guard to protect that right side as much as I can. I know I need to be smart here, using my footwork to keep you guessing and avoid getting cornered again. I start bouncing lightly on my feet, staying mobile, watching you carefully as you move to reset. The pain radiates through my head and ribs, but I can’t let it show. This is a test of endurance now, as much as skill. I throw a quick, probing jab with my left, not to land but to measure the distance and keep you on edge. I follow up with a feint to my right, trying to make you think I’m going in with another right cross, but instead, I quickly pivot to my left, aiming a left hook at your body, trying to keep you guessing and off balance.

Selene_boxer: I need to open some distance and reset, but you've been beating me to the punch--I'm breathing hard from the effort and the body punches, my bare midriff black and blue. Flat footed, moving slowly--looking for an opening. Blocking the jab with my right, but too slowly--if it had had power, it would have stung...a lot. I go for the fake right--you got my guard up right where you wanted. As I started to throw a right at your head, your left SMASHES into my expsed ribs, and my right doesn't get anywhere near your face--your face is a MESS, but your power is still brutal. I bend my knees, stepping back, gasping for air as I pop a couple of jabs at your face to keep you back...weak punches, to keep you busy more than to hurt...

Valenzuela: I feel the impact of my left hook against your exposed ribs, and I see the pain flash across your face. I know I've landed a good one, and I can hear the crowd reacting, a mix of cheers and gasps. My own body aches, and I can feel every inch of damage you've dealt me—my right eye is swollen shut, my nose is swollen and throbbing with every heartbeat, blood dripping from it, and my cheek is bruised and stinging with each breath. The pain is intense, radiating through my face like a constant reminder of every punch you've landed, but I can't let that stop me. This is about who wants it more, and I'm not backing down. I see you bend your knees and step back, clearly hurting, trying to buy some time with those weak jabs aimed at my face. My vision in my right eye is nearly gone, and I have to squint to see out of my left. I block your jabs with my gloves, not letting them through, but I can feel the exhaustion in my arms. My body is screaming at me to stop, but my spirit is still in this fight. I decide it’s time to push through the pain. I can’t give you any more time to recover. I lower my head slightly, tucking my chin behind my gloves to protect my swollen face, and step in quickly. I bob and weave as I close the distance, trying to make myself a harder target to hit and to avoid any desperate shots you might throw. As I get close enough, I fire off a rapid left hook to your body again, aiming for the same spot I hit before, hoping to dig into those bruised ribs. Immediately after, I follow with a right uppercut aimed at your chin, hoping to catch you as you try to keep your guard up high. My punches are fueled by adrenaline and determination, each one thrown with everything I have left. The crowd is on its feet, roaring with every move we make.

Selene_boxer: I'm hurt good from your constant body punches, needing a respite--yet at the same time, that might not be enough. My body feels like it's on fire, I can hardly breathe, and you seem much fresher than me--headhunting might have been the wrong plan. I just want to lie down and moan, but THAT's not happening--too much pride. you avoid a weak jab, and I grunt in pain as you use the big welt on my side as a bull's eye, bending to the side, struggling to keep my hands up...staggering to the side mtc

Selene_boxer: My chin's wide open as you SMASH your right into my chin--it feels like you're trying to send me into orbit...I stagger backwards, stopping when I'm against the ropes, struggling to get my hands up, green eyes glassy

Valenzuela: I feel my left hook sunk into your ribs again, right on that big welt, and I hear your painful grunt. You bend to the side, trying to keep your hands up, but I can see the exhaustion in your movements. You’re hurting, and I know I’ve got to keep pressing, not give you any time to recover. The crowd’s roar is almost deafening now, feeding off the intensity of every exchange between us. My powerful right uppercut aimed straight for your chin and SMASH! My glove crashes into your chin with everything I’ve got, and I feel the impact reverberate up my arm. It’s a clean hit, and I see your head snap back violently, your eyes going glassy as you stumble back into the ropes. For a moment, you look like you might go down, but you catch yourself, struggling to get your hands up, your legs wobbling beneath you. Your green eyes are unfocused, almost distant, and I know you’re on the verge of going down, but still standing with sheer willpower. Here is where my younger age gives me the edge over your more powerful body. I can’t let up now. I step in quickly, closing the distance to keep you pinned against the ropes. My left jab shoots out toward your face, not necessarily to hurt but to keep you busy and distract you. I’m just setting you up. As soon as the jab connects with either your glove or face, I follow it with a strong right hook aimed at your temple, hoping to rattle you and make you drop your guard. Without waiting to see if the hook lands clean, I drive a left shovel hook toward your right side, trying to dig into your liver. I want to take the wind out of you completely, make it harder for you to stay standing. Then, I fire a powerful right straight aimed directly at your chin again, looking to exploit that moment of vulnerability and end this exchange with a decisive blow. My punches are relentless, each one thrown with all the energy and adrenaline I have left. I’m pushing through the pain, the exhaustion, knowing this is the critical moment.

Selene_boxer: I'm helpless in front of you--any normal match, the ref would be pulling you off me; the crowd yelling for you to F*** me up, others yelling for you to knock me out. My long, strong arms are almost at my side, the small 8 ounce gloves feeling like they weigh 8 tons, only held up by the ropes. I can see you--or rather, two of you...as you fire off the jab...not enough power to start it bleedingh, but pain shoots through my face as your glove hits my nose. The right hook slams into my head, more sweat flying in a demented halo around my head, and I start to slide down the ropes. I'm open enough so you can really load up with each punch, the wet THUD of blue gloves on exposed flesh stirring the crowd mtc

Selene_boxer: The punches are com,ing faster than I can even understand in my addled state, and your hook into my liver brings a deep gasp, my face contorted in raw agony, feeling like your glove is going clean through me. My chin is right there for you--easier to hit than a speed bag, and your right smashes into it, slamming it back...I start to slide down the ropes, landing in a heap, right glove over the bottom rope, unmoving

Valenzuela: These Mexican underground boxing fights are brutal affairs, not for the faint hearted. I see you slide down the ropes, landing in a heap with your right glove draped over the bottom rope, your body slumping as if all the fight has drained out of you. My breath is ragged, each inhale burning my lungs, and every muscle in my body screams in protest. My face is a mess—my right eye swollen shut, blood trickling down from my nose, and my cheek bruised and throbbing. But I can’t think about that now. I can’t let up. This is it. This is the moment I’ve fought so hard for. The crowd is a chaotic blend of shouts and cheers, a cacophony of noise that feels distant in the heat of the fight. I see the pain etched across your face, your green eyes glassy and unfocused, and I know you're done, but I have to make sure. I stand over you, gloves up and ready, ready to punch again if you try to get up. The crowd is hungry for more, chanting and roaring, pushing for the climax they came here to see. I hear some of them shouting for me to finish you, to put an end to this, and others calling out in concern, maybe even wanting mercy. But I’ve been trained to finish what I start, to leave no doubt in the ring. I’m ready to throw another punch, but I see you’re not moving, your body slumped against the ropes, arms hanging heavy. You’re completely vulnerable, and I lower my glove slightly, just enough to see if there’s any fight left in you. The referee finally steps in, commencing the count…..1….2…..3….4…5….. He kneels beside you, checking your condition, and I take a few steps back, lowering my gloves fully, my heart still pounding in my chest.

Selene_boxer: I lie on the canvas as the referee counts, a classic image of total defeat as the count keeps going...my eyes blinking as I hear "Ocho" and try to sort out what it means, slowly pulling on the ropes as I hear something that, to my punch addled brain, sounds like "Nerf-aa" as I moan in pain, then something else as I start to actually try to get my body to move...then I somehow make out "knockout" from "¡Estás noqueado!" with that, I stop struggling to get up, and let the beating I'm taken win, lying there on the canvas

Valenzuela: As the referee declares, "¡Estás noqueado!" and waves his hands to signal the end of the fight, a wave of emotions crashes over me. My heart is still pounding in my chest, every beat echoing through the bruises and cuts on my face. I can feel the sweat trickling down my body, mixing with the blood from my swollen nose and the sting of my cheek. But amidst the pain, there’s a surge of relief and triumph that fills my entire being. I breathe heavily, the taste of blood still fresh in my mouth, but I lift my gloves high in victory. The crowd erupts, their cheers and applause washing over me like a wave, fueling the adrenaline still pumping through my veins. I close my eyes for a brief moment, letting the noise soak in, savoring the feeling of having come out on top. This wasn’t an easy fight—none of them ever are—but I pushed through, fought with everything I had, and it paid off.

Valenzuela: I turn to see my opponent, Selene, still being attended to by the ring doctor and her corner team. I feel a mix of respect and empathy for her. She fought hard and didn’t give up until the very end. I know what it’s like to be on the other side, to push your body to its limits and beyond. Despite the bruises and the pain, there’s a mutual respect that comes from sharing a battle like this.

Valenzuela: I slowly make my way over to Selene, my legs feeling heavy but determined. As I get closer, I lower my gloves, extending a hand to her as a gesture of sportsmanship and respect. "Good fight," I manage to say through labored breaths, my voice a bit rough from the exertion. "You’re tough as hell." I see her eyes flicker up to mine, still glazed from the knockout, but there’s a hint of acknowledgment there. The ring doctor nods, giving her the okay, and I know she’ll be alright. We both will. This is part of the game, part of what we signed up for.

Selene_boxer: I smile up at you and accept your hand. Even as i still struggle for breath, I whisper, "You are, too. Wanna go for a few drinks to numb the pain?"

Valenzuela: Si si, tequila?