Female Boxing Federation

The lights burn hot overhead, casting long shadows across the ring at El Diablo Cantina, a tough underground boxing venue buried beneath the cracked stone of a forgotten district. Tonight is the first fight of the TOUGH GALS BOXING COMPETITION where the winner wins a $1,000 prize for their pugilistic skills. And tonight, it’s personal.

Valenzuela: In one corner: Millie Cuccio. Just twenty. Fast, technical, relentless, weighing in at 110 lbs and standing 5 ft 5 in tall. All black from head to toe; sports bra, trunks, boots, except for those bright pink gloves. 

Sweet to look at, but one year ago she picked Carla Valenzuela apart with surgical precision, culminating in a devastating knockout that left Val face-up and broken, the ref counting over her limp body (https://venus.chatfighters.com/story/77633). Across the ring: Valenzuela, 12 years older, looking for redemption. She wears her war colors like a banner: red sports bra, green-trimmed shorts, white boots, and those iconic white gloves, all colors from the Mexican flag. She trained differently this time, tighter guard, smarter footwork, and a slow-burn fury behind her eyes but plans to use her 125 lbs of weight in her compact 5 ft 3 in stature to advantage .

Valenzuela: The crowd roars as the fighters approach center ring after being waved forward by the ref. for his instructions. This isn’t just a rematch. This is the kind of fight that gets whispered about after midnight, long after the last punch is thrown.

Valenzuela: I see the ref’s hand motion, fingers snapping, calling us to center ring. My fists clench tighter. My white boots scuff across the cracked, sweat-stained canvas of El Diablo as I step out of my corner. The crowd noise blurs, just this rising murmur of anticipation, of bloodlust. My jaw still clicks from the last time we fought. My ribs remember every punch she landed. We meet at the center, and I stare at her, not the cute kid with pink gloves people underestimate, but the wrecking machine who knocked me out cold. Her gloves are already twitching like she’s dying to throw. The ref speaks, but I barely hear it. My eyes stay locked on hers. My pulse stays steady, but there's a storm under my skin. This time, Millie, you're going to feel what it’s like to break. We’re told to touch gloves. I give her a slow nod, reluctantly lift my gloves up. Then I turn, slow and deliberate, and head back to my corner. I begin to bounce lightly on the balls of my feet, knowing the bell will ring soon. 

MillieBoxes: I wanted into the venue with my trainer. I saw that ring and my stomach started churning like it always does. I agreed to the this rematch out of respect. Our first match was everything a spectator would want. I am also damn sure it’s NOT what she wanted. I walk into another lion’s den as this is definitely NOT Midwestern USA, although I am surprised to see so much English displayed.

MillieBoxes: i thought about my prep at home getting ready for this. My trainer had the idea of doing a little social media about the fight, and had me pose for a picture in the ring. I never think of myself as 'a kid' but this image certainly makes me seem like one in comparison to "LA PRINCESA".

MillieBoxes: As I was shadowboxing and working up a sweat, it was clear, this was going to be much more intense than last time. I am SURE Karla wasn't expecting the fight or fighter she got.... but this time, oh she was getting ready. It's not like I was sitting on my hands. I was prepping in ways I'd never done before. My trainer didn't want me walking into that earlier noted "buzzsaw" unprepared. He cared. So we worked hard.

MillieBoxes: when I got into the locker room fight night, that adrenaline rushed through me like I'd had crushed too many Celcius Fruit Punches. I started going through my fight night prep, and as i get my hands wrapped (one of my favorite moments in any fight I prep for), my mind races to that last fight. My mind flashes to the moment I heard ... "..... TEN!!! " and I pumped my fist in the air screaming "YEAH! YESSSS!! YASS!!!" and even busting out some post-fight taunts... "You disrespect me, you pay. Enjoy the sleep, sweetie." Some people rest on that... I can't. I saw the look in your eyes when I saw your training posts on Insta. One with the hashtag #Redemption.... and one.... #Punishment as you worked the heavy bag. This fight was going to be very different in tone and tenor.

MillieBoxes: i hear the knock on the locker room door... "It's time!" My trainer gives me a shoulder squeeze. "Let's do this!" and I trot out. I hear from the crowd a mixture of cheers and ... jeers. Again.... not in Kansas anymore. The $1,000 prize doesn't seem to fit the buzz that's in the room. When I get in the ring, I see you, Karla aka Valenzuela aka LA PRINCESA as I remember you. I step through the ropes and do a quick shadowboxing before posing and looking right at you.

MillieBoxes: I can't miss that HUGE chip on your shoulder as you stare at me. I can't help but smile. I remember that face.... You looked the same way last time before I busted you up and put you flat on the canvas. When the call to center is barked, I can't help but roll my next and hear that crackity-crack of the neck echo through my head. the ref snap is loud, cutting through the audience buzz. My focus becomes singular as I look at you, cold, stoic, purposeful. My gloves unable to stay still. I so badly want another piece of you. I don't even hear anything exiting the ref's lips until... " Now touch gloves and go back to your corners." You seem unwilling to touch gloves but relent and stick em out "half-heartedly".... I tap and can tell that chip is getting bigger on those defined shoulders of yours. I turn and stand ... flat footed... in my corner. moving my head and shoulders a bit, shooting out the left hand, then the right as I get the last of the prefight tension out. It's time....class is in session, "Chica". Time for another education in underestimating me.

Valenzuela: Standing in front of Cuccio in the centre ring, was, to be honest, a little unnerving. She was 19 in our last fight, and I was 31, but I’m sure she has done more training since then. And what happened after the fight….I can still hear the words “Enjoy the sleep, sweeti” so this fight I will return the humiliation. No love lost here. But my strategy is different for this fight, as I know I can’t match her speed and reflexes, or her recovery time. All attributes of younger fighters. But I can fight smarter than I did last time, and I do have a weight advantage. All just thoughts that enter my mind as I wait for the bell. DING! DING! DING!!!!!The sharp sound of the bell brings me back from my hazy thoughts, and I snap into an orthodox stance, left glove and foot leading, elbows tucked in. I calmly bounce slowly towards the ring centre, if she wants to claim it, I’ll allow it, for now. I begin to bob erratically from side to side as I look for openings and square off with you. (R1 2:50).

MillieBoxes: No fanfare, no overhead loudspeaker introductions, nothing like the first encounter. This is all business. My trainer, and a great corner as well, FORGET the audience. FORGET anything other than who you are fighting. THEY don’t matter. Your opponent is who you are fighting, NO ONE else. SHE’S who you’re going to mess up.” I look him in the eye… and mutter, “Truth!” I smack my gloves together. “Ok Coach, I’m gonna do what you asked. But know, A part of me wants to simply charge this girl and break her.” He looks at me. “You’ll get that chance, just stick to the fight plan. Got it?” I nod. And then, the ref tells everyone “Seconds OUT!” and it’s just you and me. Time to bust you up. And before we know it, DING! Round 1.

MillieBoxes: Coach pops in my mouthguard and AS I turn and ready myself, the bell chimes (gawd I love that sound) and it’s all real. My heart as expected, races, my adrenaline soars, I pound my leather 8 ouncers together and roll my neck before stepping out to center. I shift into my orthodox stance, just as last time, alomst the same looking orthodox stance as you but…my hands a bit looser, more movement with them, left foot and hand lead, but the right hand moving with my head and shoulder shifts. On my toes as well, coach told me to play the patience game. So of course…. I walk right in at you and pump two stiff left jabs at your head, more force on the second one, hoping to break through your guard… “pffft pffft”… I follow up with a quick pop of the hips, trying to blast your solar plexus with a hard right cross as well ... "yssssh"... I wade right into range with you, unafraid of whatever damage your hands might try and do.

MillieBoxes: (R1 2:40)

Valenzuela: As I expect, you come out fast, hungry, twitchy, like you want to erase any doubt from the last time. There’s that loose stance, that reckless glint in your eye again… and maybe, just maybe, I can use it. You fire off two quick jabs straight at my head. No surprise. My reflexes are still fresh, and I bring my gloves up….pop, pop…..your pink gloves smack harmlessly into leather. I figure you’ll bounce back, reset… but no. UGGGGGGHH! You stay in the pocket and drive a stiff right cross into my midsection. I brace, core tight, but the shot still thuds deep, sharp enough to bite, strong enough to piss me off. I grunt, take the hit, and plant. You’re still in range. Bad call. I snap a short left hook up toward your jaw, just enough torque to test your chin. Then I dip low, fast, and rip a right hook into your floating ribs. I’m not just defending anymore, I’m firing back. (R1 2:30)

MillieBoxes: “Dammit Millie! I hear my trainer bark from the corner. But I just have a hunch. I remember your counters. We trained on this, so why the rough scolding from the corner? The jabs to their job as you stuff the doubled up jab as expected. But I’ve said it before, it’s always so satisfying when glove contact gets that reaction from my opponents….. no diff here when that enticing and sexy sounding grunt leaves your lips. “Mmmmm, that hurt” I quip as I smile, move and maneuver, trying to not be the stationary target, staying on my toes as your counter left comes, I step into the pocket and AT you slipping UNDER it dropping my head, the swift breeze of the snap hook over my head. You already get in that ‘left-right’ pattern and I drop my left shoulder to stop it, twisting my hip a bit, but it still gets partially through…. … “NNnn!”. Quickly pivoting my back foot, I bring a counter again pressuring you to think fast, I bring a straight right with power at your face center mass….as I see your open guard from the right going low.. “iissssh!” and a lightning fast 1-2 left jab straight right follow wanting to pound your face, wanting to put you on your heels "Pshh Pshh!" and put you on notice, I’m coming for you.

MillieBoxes: (R1 2:20)

Valenzuela: I can hear your coach barking at you….so the coach isn’t happy with the squirt….then you move towards me and slip under my hook, leaving me a little unbalanced as I try to check the swing in my left arm. Then your left shoulder drops slightly to take brunt of my right hook, although it’s still much more satisfying to hit something other than air. The crowd roars, but I hear my coach suddenly shouting above the roar of the crowd to “guard up!.” I’m starting to bring my left back to guard as your right straight POUNDS into my chin, and cheek….the pink glove compressing so that I can even feel the wrapped knuckles underneath it. mtc

Valenzuela: I now just react out of instinct, and as your left and right start to shoot out, I try to beat you to the punch, shooting out a left straight towards your midsection, trying to work under your right arm before it goes back to guard.... and then stepping back to let your left/right jab/straight combo hit the airspace in front of me. My eyes water a little from take the right straight in my face, but best not to think about it, so I bounce on my feet and circle to my right and come back at you fast, feinting a jab at your face, and then shooting out a right straight at your floating ribs. (R1 2:10)

MillieBoxes: Riding up my arm, I KNOW I caught you good. I feel my glove compress against your jaw and cheek. The sweat spatter is a bonus. But as I fire the 1-2, I don't see th.... "NNNmff!" Your left finds its mark pounding at my core just above my trunkline, my taut core strength tested. I fold slightly and my combo comes up short. I step back slightly and you bring a 'non-committal' like jab that I honestly don't react to, not because I didn't fall for it, I just didn't see it. But... I do see the straight right coming... Oh big mistake. I step back at you in the pocket and look to chip down that right, trying to parry it with my left hand, and immediately reload come with a right hook wanting to explode it into your open jawline and make you pay for staying and trading. "Pssssh!"

MillieBoxes: (R1 2:00)

Valenzuela: I come for you now, hard, gonna fuck up your day. I feint a jab high, testing you......no twitch, no flinch. Who the fuck cares? I commit anyway. I drive in the straight right, aiming to smash those skinny little floating ribs into pieces. I twist my hips, load my shoulder, putting everything behind it...... But your left forearm snaps down......pop!......parrying my glove off to the right, clean and fast......leaving my side exposed. BAMFFFF!!! Holy fuck shit!!!!!. A big right hook detonates into my jaw, snapping my head sideways. mtc

Valenzuela: My body reels......three steps back, teeth clenched, vision tilting. I shake my head, trying to clear it, trying to figure out what the hell just hit me. But I don’t go down. I’ve got a compact frame, a thick neck......built to absorb pain. My gloves shoot up tight around my face, elbows pinched in as I fall into a peek-a-boo stance, breathing hard, trying to get my bearings. 

Valenzuela: My jaw throbs......it’s the second strong punch to the face I’ve taken……most clowns don’t know how to throw a punch, to use their core….but you do…...I tell myself this shit stops now...and squeeze my wrapped fists tight under my white gloves....watching to see if you make the mistake of coming at me hard and heavy.....under my breath I hiss "BRING IT!"...(R1 1:50)

MillieBoxes: Such a site. That charge up my arm again....your face completely distorted. "Oooh, I know that hurt!" I giggle through my gummed up lips. I shuffle my feet as I see you falter back. My trainer barks, " Focus, stop #$%^& around." He doesn't like it when I try to have fun, especially so early in a fight. I can see you trying to refocus. Your gloves go up and you look to play peek-a-boo. Just one minute into the fight, I couldn't ask for a better result. A year passes and you still don't realize, I'm not who most think I am. I can trade. I don't waste any time when I see you try to put up a wall. I can hear you talking to yourself and smile through my mouthguard. Those gloves up give me an idea. I try to keep the pressure on you, skip stepping at you in the pocket.... I snap a left jab looking to keep your guard up or if it gets through, even better. But then I feint the left jab as if going upstairs again, but then shift my body and step right, and torque my torso as I bring a hard and heavy right hook coming for you side to swipe around and under that left elbow trying to cover up... "Hhssshh!"... looking to crater that left side and catch your liver, then quickly reload it and come upstairs to crash a right hook into your left jawline... "usssh!' Pressure pressure pressure.

MillieBoxes: (R1 1:40)

Valenzuela: The peek-a-boo guard is pretty good for dense, but is shit for an offensive posture. For the moment, I don’t care, as I just need a few moments to regroup, clear the head, and refocus. I don’t get much time, because you skip step straight towards me, that nasty smile on your face showing off your mouth guard. BAM! Jab pops out and punches into my gloves, then a second jab starts, but I realise it’s a feint, just a flick of your shoulder, but you step off to your right….trying to flank me, and a right hook launches towards my left side, but I turn to square off and dip my left elbow down further to take the hook on my upper forearm….I’m getting in the groove and reading you now….and then keep my right up, expecting you to use your left, but instead a right hook comes out heading for my jaw….ugggghhhhh…..I can’t block nor weave fast enough so I twist my face to my right to roll with the punch, mediating some of it’s power, but even so, it smarts. The crowd roars….I now swing back with my own left hook towards your jaw, trying to go over your right shoulder, and then, getting in the groove, I punch out with a right cross towards your nose and a left uppercut at your belly button, huffing and puffing as I swing and punch. Stepping back into an ortho stance hoping to teach this squirt a lesson.....(R1 1:30)

MillieBoxes: That defense of yours tightens as I try to swat away at, around, and through it. The sounds of the leather-to-leather exchange give me such a rush. Even when I don't connect, just the movement and the intensity are beyond enticing. My right, connecting to your open jawline elicits another sound from my glove to your face and I find myself noticing those watching, their reaction. This is supposed to be enemy territory, but that roar, that didn't sound like they didn't like what they saw. You counter with the left, and I shift and move left with a foot shuffle as it misses. But I don't even see the rig.... "Gnnhnf!"... your right crashes flush into my face sending my head snapping back suddenly. Walked right into it... DAMMIT!. I step back to reset. I move right and get my gloves up to look for an op.... "Ooooff!"... your left buries into my navel at my trunkline. My care can handle it but it took some wind form me anyway. I immediately move left and back toward center ring as you do the same, stepping back yourself. Both reset, I blink and wince a bit. And right on cue... "I told you not to screw around. Now focus." The old codger isn't wrong. I just hate hearing it cuz he WILL remind me again....I move and circle you as my head clears this time willing to give it a moment. I have to keep my head in this to make sure I don't make THAT mistake again.

MillieBoxes: (R1 1:20)

Valenzuela: My left hook misses, but the value of combination strikes shows brilliantly, as you walk into my right cross, and I swear I can see some droplets of blood splatter from your cute little nose! I can see a little red smear on my gloves….FUCK yeah!

 

 And then that left uppercut takes some of the wind and some of the spunk right out of you! And hear that jerk face coach of yours shouting……is just music to my ears. SHIT YES!!!! You pull back to reset, but I’m not going to give you much time, I wanna brawl, and I wanna brawl now! So I bounce forward as we circle, and throw out a feint jab with my left, and then step around right, to try to flank you and launch wicked right hook at your jaw, trying to curve my glove around your guard. (R1 1:10)

MillieBoxes: When you stepped back and we both reset, I thought you'd play coy, but you don't. Good! You haven't had an answer to my counters and ..... when you push action, my smile goes wide. We move and shift, your last combo seemed to reignite you a bit. So, when you saunter forward with some rekindled 'bravado', you think that a feint is gonna make me flinch? Pu-leaze. It's a dead giveaway. Your body speaks volumes, showing your already going to try and follow the last combination with another one or at least a power punch. Your shoulders tell me... upstairs. And when my loud mouthed trainer barks at me, sure enough, here comes your right. That hook comes fast. I need to cut off the strength so I step INTO the pocket and bend, dropping at the waist, shifting my shoulders and head under rolling with the missed blow. The right soars harmlessly overhead, giving me the opening I want.... your body is right there... I shift and sweep my body position under and left and bring a hard left hook looking for your ribs and core... "uusssh"....wanting to cave in that open side.... then reload the left and shovel it up, pulsing as I plant my foot bringing the left up wanting to crash it into your right jawine...."Psshhh"... and give ytou a hurtin' bomb to that pretty face of yours.

MillieBoxes: (R1 1:00)

Valenzuela: It happens so fucking fast, I think I’ve got you, just getting in my stride, and everything goes to fucking shit in a couple of seconds….You read me like an open book, and have the reaction time and fight IQ to make your reading more than theoretical…..a reaction in real time. As my right arm archs over head, I know I’m in for some hurt. mtc

Valenzuela: A hard left hook drives into my wide open rib cage, ugggg…..stinging…..and more significantly bending me forward, so when that left is reloaded, it crashes under my jaw line, snapping my head up and back, and in a split second I loose my footing and crash onto the canvass, on my side….I’m blinking my eyes…mtc

 and as I look up, my vision is blurred and you are blurred as you stand over me....

Valenzuela: I blink my eyes fast, trying to clear my vision, and see you moving about....mtc

Valenzuela: I already hear the ref shouting for you to move to a neutral corner...and as I blink my eyes, you come into focus.....and I shake my head at you smirking down at me. mtc

Valenzuela: I can still taste blood in my mouth, and my legs feel like jello, and my jaw… my fucking jaw… throbs with every breath, but I’m standing, but it’s like my body’s still catching up to the hit that put me down. My gloves hang heavy in front of me, and the ref's voice buzzes in my ears, asking if I’m okay. I nod, and he quickly agrees, NO ONE AT EL DIABLO WHO IS STANDING IS NOT ALLOWED TO FIGHT. I can feel Millie, in the corner, behind my back, smirking at me. She probably is already in on guard stance bouncing on her feet to show off. She knows she hurt me, thinks she got this wrapped up, but that might just be the key to busting her up. The ref is now telling me to get my gloves up, and then motions us back together as he shouts “BOX!!!!!!!!” (R1 1:10)

Valenzuela: (R1 0:50)

MillieBoxes: I watch as you struggle. You simply continue to underestimate me. And it's clear you have, in what I see, an 'overinflated sense of your skill'. You continue to think you can just brawl. Fine.... keep going there. I may not win every exchange, but I AM going to win the war. And the crowd watching seems to like what they see as they roar their approval when you rise. When the ref checks you, nods, and says "BOX!", I bite hard on my mouthguard, get on my toes...."Cmon.. Chi...CA!" and wave you in. Time to go to work.

MillieBoxes: (R1 0:40)

Valenzuela: I'm not going to let this squirt from North of the border get away with any of this. I can feel the crowd loving her already, her cute face. And my face? Looking a little scruffy at the moment. I begin to bounce on my toes, and circle to my right. I know there is not much time left in this round, and I know I will have time to recover in the break, I just gotta do some smart boxing now. I expect you to move on me any second, but so far you're playing it cautious and cool. We both know how a slipup could end the match in a second....the way I got knocked down in a second....but I'm up and I know I can take more. I give you a smirk, and wave my gloves for you to come in at me....and I bob left and right as I keep my orthodox stance....(R1 00:30)

MillieBoxes: I reset and get on my toes, my trainer going with the standard not-very-motivating, "Don't do anything stupid", barking so loud, there's actually a laugh track in the crowd buzz. I move with you and see you return the wave in... OK, fine, you wanna mix it up, let's mix it up. I step into the pocket and since we've had so many feints, I decide to simply go hard and fast at you... "pffft pffft" I snap a quick double left jab looking to split those gloves and see just how 'ready' you are then immediately sweep the right as I shift my body and torso looking to carve a chunk out of your left obliques... "ussssh".

MillieBoxes: (R1 0:20)

Valenzuela: It's now on again, but I've had a good 30 seconds or so without taking a punch, so I'm ready for battle.....well sort of. You come in hard and fast, a double jab, the first one hits my guard, disrupting it, and the second one comes in towrds my cheek, but I mitigate some of its power by moving my head back, and it makes a gentle popping sound as it connects.....that right hook connects with only my elbow as you look to cave in my obliques....but that's my signal....the signal to react. With your right down, smashing into my left elbow/arm, I send out a vicious right cross, moving towards your right eye, and hoping I disrupted further attacks from you, I drop my left glove to try to drive a brutal shovel hook towards your liver, I'm hopping you can't take it as well as you can dish it out.....and then the 10 second warner buzzer sounds.....relief that the round will end soon.....(R1 0:10)

MillieBoxes: The pop sound resonates in the club as my jabbed gloves make contact both with leather and flesh seeing your head get swatted back. The right isn't so successful ... and as a reward, "Gnnnh!" a slight flash as your right smacks my face sending me faltering right..... I stumble slightly from the force of the blow. Your left follow only smacks my mars, but not because I had some great defensive movement. The momentum from the right that connected sent my hands and arms moving and they simply got in the way of the blow. Then when the bell rings ... ... the ref steps in between us. The crowd now completely into the fight roars that approval The action was exciting. I walk to my corner and sit on my stool and no sooner.... "What was that? Do you really want to give this girl ANY confidence? Cuz it seems you do!" He grabs my mouthguard washes it and starts to give instructions for round 2. I look and lean left and right to get a look at you. I definitely won that round with the knockdown, but my trainer is right, I am getting cocky. I need to focus.

MillieBoxes: (R1 0:00 - end of the round)

Valenzuela: I walk slowly back to my corner, arms heavy, lungs heaving, my mouthguard tasting of sweat and blood. My legs still remember that knockdown, I can feel it in every step. The crowd’s still buzzing from the back-and-forth, and even though I stayed on my feet after that last exchange, I know I need to reset. I drop to the stool, arms resting on the ropes, eyes closed for half a second too long. 

Then my coach is in front of me, and as he cleans up my face...... "Look at me. Look at me, Val." I lift my chin. My coach’s face is stern, not angry, just sharp, focused. He spits water into a towel, wipes my jaw, and growls through clenched teeth: "She’s fast, yeah, and she got rhythm, but she’s not untouchable." He holds up two fingers. "You landed two hard rights that made her think twice. But you can’t just brawl. You swing wide, she slides in. You open up, she makes you pay." He pops the mouthguard out, gives me a quick sip, then slaps it back in. "Peek-a-boo only works if you MOVE your fucking head. Make her miss, then make her pay big time. She’s getting cocky again, so use it. She's loose, she likes to play, punish her for it. But you gotta stay smart. No more big wind-ups, no more haymakers. You're not going to win this with brute force, you’re going to win it with pain and pressure." He leans in close. "You're stronger than her, Val. Make her carry you." 10 second buzzer...and I'm back up on my feet.....

MillieBoxes: My mouthguard popped back in as the ref hears the 10-second buzzer sound.... "Seconds OUT!".... "Okay, you understand what we're doing this round?" I nod. "Good, now remember, she's got power.... that nose bleed is all you need to remember. You get sloppy, you get hit.... so... don't get sloppy. Focus." My trainer climbs out. I stand up feeling refreshed, no crimson trickle from the nostril anymore, but you look a bit worn. That motivates me. I wanna punish you this round. On my toes and gloves up, biting on that gummed mouthpiece.... "Fighters Ready!..... BELL!.... *ref drops his hand*... BOX!" Round 2 is on.

MillieBoxes: (R2 3:00)

Valenzuela: I reform an orthodox stance as soon as the bell rings....I don't wanna just defend, I wanna attack, I wanna show the coach I ain't no bubble head. You look good, across the ring, no longer a bleeding nose....what a fucking shame. I'll fix that though. I decide that I need to make a show, to dominate, to surprise. So instead of coming out slow and easy, like everyone might expect, I charge out fast, taking the ring centre, and rather than waiting for you, or even trying to feint, as you've never bought any of my feints, I launch an assault, sending a rapid fire left/right/left/right set of straight punches at your face, trying to bust up your guard and really rattle you. I might look shitty, but I wanna take you by surprise, and after finishing the barrage of straight punches, I slip off to my right. (R2 1:50)

Valenzuela: 

MillieBoxes: Gloves up... on my toes, moving and ready. I come out with the desire to continue where I lef..... GUH GUH NNNGH GUHH!!! "What the.... " my world sees a flash as my head gets pummeled back repeatedly. your Flurry of lefts and rights crash into and through my unexpected guard sending my head flying back. My face flattened from each blow, spittle and sweat shake off and from me. I am hurt and staggered, stumbling back from the absolute surprise. I get my gloves up and try to reset getting behind them. Eyes blinking... sudden fast hands... where the hell did THAT come from?

MillieBoxes: (R2 2:40)

Valenzuela: I took a gamble, and it works out. She never expected to face a buzz saw at the start of round 2, and I can just picture the dumb look on my trainer's face. But I ain't finished with this chica. I feel I'm finally in my groove, and she gotta pay now. That$1000 prize is something I'll take home. You cover up quickly, but you take punches like a pro, and I know the fight ain't over. I keep up the pressure, and after making my assault and turn off to my right, I turn back quickly to square off again, trying to send a left hook at your guard to swipe it away for a moment, as I try to drive a right cross towrds your face, and then send a reloaded left hook, but this time, higher, hoping to drive my gloved fist into your jaw. I get an adrenalin surge as I make these combos.....

Valenzuela: (R2 2:30)

MillieBoxes: My gloves up but you're right there, no respite....i try to pop a lazy left to keep you off, but you walk right past the miss...HWAP! My gloves swiped away as you swat at them with your left..... before I can react.... "NNNGGHH! MMMNNFF!!!" you hammer a right that crashes into my left cheek sending my head flying right... I see a flash... then the left hook just explodes into my jaw , deforming my face... I stagger, my gloves drop as I falter left....hurt badly... stumbling.... the ring spinning.... I didn't expect this beginning to the round. I hear my trainer shouting for me to move and get my gloves up, but my head is in a sudden haze.....

MillieBoxes: (R2 2:20)

landing the left. 

Valenzuela: I feel it, that beautiful moment when power, rhythm, and rage all align, like an alignment of the planets.. Your head snaps right, and that second hook crashes in like thunder. I can see your knees buckle, your arms droop, your footing go rubbery. You’re hurt, dazed .....not used to being hunted like this, and I’m not about to let you off the hook. I surge forward, a little wild, but that's my Mexican nature. My feet shuffle tight to cut your retreat off, and I throw a sharp jab at your face, mostly to keep your guard distracted, but wonderful if it punches your fucking nose in as well, then I dip low and drive a looping right towards your ribs wanting to punish, trying to fold you at the waist. “C’mon, chica,” I growl through my mouthguard, my voice barely audible, “you wanted this!!!!!!.” Then I twist my hips and launch another left hook at your temple, gloves whistling through the thick and humid El Diablo air. I want the crowd to feel every impact and for your corner to panic, to shout instructions.(R2 2:10)

MillieBoxes: "NGUH!!" All I see is a white leather blur as the sting of your jab smacks my center mass. My head flies back as I backpedal now, I get my gloves up a bit to try to fend off the.... "UUUUHH!!" my left side is carved into with a right that explodes inside... I fold and drop my left instinctively as if I tried to block it... way too late....your taunt a mumbled tone in my ear when... "Mmnnfff!" ... my body moving as your left going upstairs cracks into my right eye and cheek, immediately I feel the tightening..... I hit the corner pad, gloves half up, ring spinning, I am in real trouble....

MillieBoxes: (R2 2:00)

Valenzuela: You’re in the fucking corner now, and the only way out is to come through me! No more running, I've got you trapped, and I've got you hurt! "C'mon let's see you smirk at me now!". Just me and you, and I surge in close, gloves up, hips squared, this is a demolition job now, and I don't worry too much about defense because I think I've got you. I drop low and swing a brutal left shovel hook straight toward your belly just above the waistband and below the navel....trying to drive the wind right out of your lungs. Hoping that you slump forward a little bit, enough for me to snap a crisp right uppercut up into your cheek, hoping to feel my fist twist into that cute face. I shift my feet, plant, and attempt to drive a left hook into your side, aiming to catch your ribs and dig in deep, twisting my hips to increase the power. I wanna crush your core, make resistance impossible. Then I follow with a tight right cross at your nose, aiming to snap your head back against the turnbuckle, and then one more for the road. I torque and reload a left uppercut, coming in fast, aimed right for your chin, trying to lift you clean off your feet. (R2 1:50)

MillieBoxes: I recoil a bit off the corner pad .... you're right there...."OLLLLF!!!" your left hook implodes my body at my navel.. my face forms the O as your gloves sinks in deep. My breath taken from me as my lungs empty folding forward..... "GNNMFF!!" a crashing uppercut deforms my jaw and cheek and I spew spittle from my gummed lips, my knees buckle a bit, my head ratched up as the leathe bomb explodes.... everything goes in slow motion, my arms flailing. My body and head snapped up as you are already following up...."UUUUHH!" your left carves another chunk out of my body's right side... I cave around the blow.... my face writhes in pain as you just unload on me...."NNNGHH!!! I feel my face implode a bit as your right pops my nose and cheek restarting the crimson stream from my nostril... my hail flies, my body convulses....My head bangs into the corner pad... my world caving in..... I try to reach out desperately to clinch only to be met by.... "GGGNMMMPH!!!!!" my chin just crushed, *FLASH*... my body starts to give... I stiffen straight up..... I start to fall foward at you....arms and gloves spread and up... out on my feet.... the crowd in a frenzy, but sounding only as a dull buzzing....

MillieBoxes: (R2 1:40)

Valenzuela: You’re fast footwork is now useless, trapped in the corner with reduced mobility, and now my brawler boxer style and my 15 pound weight advantage are the controlling factors, unless you land a freak KO punch because of my lack of defence. I’m on fucking fire, and the only thing to put it out is the sweat, saliva and blood splashing off your face and body as I pound it out of you. The crowd is roaring….for me or for you? I don’t give a fuck….My punches are devasting you, and you are now defenceless…..in a regulated fight a TKO would be called, but this ain’t Disney Land babe! And now she’s fucking wide open now. That smirk from earlier? Gone. Now it’s just panic behind those swollen eyes. I see her guard sag, arms too slow, too sluggish to react. I take a half-step in and let my fists fly. A short left hook smacks into your belly just above the waistband, folding you slightly. I hammer a right straight up into your cheek, snapping snapping your head left. A brutal shovel hook with my left into belly bends you forward…knees dipping. then my right glove crashes into your chin, jerking your jaw up and sending sweat flying. I follow with a left uppercut to your chin, launching you off your feet for a split second. My punches have kept you propelled and prompt up in the corner….but you look waisted so I take a step back….. ....my body soaked with sweat....my fire slowly put out..... (R2 1:30).

MillieBoxes: The crowd is in a frenzy.... the roar is a dull, muffled array of sound to me as your gloves simply wreck me. I can hear my trainer screaming something about my gloves, but my head simply isn't regis......OLLLFF!... oh gawd!!! Your left craters my belly center mass at my trunkline.... I ... fold forward right into a blur of leather.... "GNHHH!" your right pummels my left cheek.... knees buckling.... caving in my face, head flies to the side, spittle and sweat fly...I'm ..... "UUUUUH!" ... another body shot hammers my belly..... folding me more as it sinks in deeply.... struggling to... breathe...."NNNNGHHH!!".... a right bludgeons my chin, snding it up, a bit of crimson joins the sweat and spit, as my mouthguard almost comes out...."MMMFFNNFF!!"... right into a blistering uppercut that stiffens me and sends my head violently up... my legs rubbery, my gloves dropping.... I can't stay up .... I hit my knees...... then face first plant to the canvas..... completely wrecked as my body recoils before resting next to the ropes.... badly hurt.... mind spinning.....

MillieBoxes: (R1 1:20)

Valenzuela: My guns now drop to my sides,, exhausted, but feel vindication. 

 My chest is heaving, my face is red and sweaty from the rapid fire punching I did, and I feel relief, because after the disastrous first round, I was sure I was gonna get another ass whooping humiliation at the fast hands of this small boxer. The ref begins to count ONE, TWO, THREE....a ref that doubles as a bar tender and not the brightest tool in the box. He suddenly realizes that you are not going to get up and just waves his hands over you and calls off the fight. And I know that this is not the end between me and Millie Cuccio....no it is not....I know that neither of us will rest when it is 1:1 between us....someday there will have to be a third bout to settle who is the better boxer.....

Valenzuela: And now, after Millie is revived by our team, and we stand between the ref....the loud speaker makes it official...."Ladies and Gentlemen, the winner of tonight's bout, by knockout, is Carlotta Valenzuelaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" And I can't help but feel smug as the ref raises my still wrapped fist in the air. 

MillieBoxes: I don't even hear the count.....next thing I know, my trainer is over me, ice pack behind my neck, jaw aching, shin, aching... cotton swab up my nose..... "hey kiddo... there you are." And he sits me up.... My gloves already off, my mouth guard probably sent flying from the barrage of leather I ate. I can't remember what happened in the latter half of the round. Later I would watch the video recording, and realize I was out on my feet for much of it. And like what happened to my opponent in our first encounter, this time, I was worked.

MillieBoxes: I feel embarrassed and it shows on my face as I am helped up by my trainer as they prepare to make the announcement....when I hear the winning call, I drop my head.... tough loss. I was in complete control in round 1. My trainer sees my face. When the announcement is over and Carlotta's hand is raised, I wince a bit and then walk away out of the ring, through the ropes back to the locker room. "Kid, no shame in this..... she had your number tonight. You got caught by a buzz saw. It can happen to ANYONE." I don't react, I just walk. Inside me is a bit of rage that I walked in so cocky. I have no one to blame but myself....

MillieBoxes: "Coach? Get a rematch setup.... soon. And we'll talk tomorrow. I want her bad." And then I slip into the locker room to shower and clean up. I rip the cotton swab from my nose and fling it at the garbage. I rip off my hand wraps and throw em away, "Bad juju" I hurl my gloves into the can as well. Time for some new ones.