UFC/MMA
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Starring
Valenzuela (deleted member)
El Diablo is the premier underground venue for unarmed combat sports in all of Mexico; though you'd be hard-pressed to find any commission willing to admit it exists, let alone sanction what goes on inside. It's a place where people come to drink, to gamble, and to fight, though the order of those things depends entirely on the night.
Within its smoky walls and flickering red neon glow, almost every style of fight imaginable has taken place: boxing, bareknuckle boxing, Muay Thai bloodbaths, jiu-jitsu chess matches, prowrestling. There are no scorecards, no split decisions. A fight ends one of two ways: submission or knockout. That’s it. There’s no judging panel here, just a drunk crowd and a ref who probably poured your last beer.
Tonight, the event is all about MMA. A special feature: the Tough Gal Competition. They say it follows the usual UFC rules, but I’ve never seen anyone get disqualified in this place, no matter what happens. You’d have to kill someone with a folding chair to get thrown out and even then it might be ruled a TKO. Joking of course!
01:47 Valenzuela: I’m fighting tonight. Carla Valenzuela, five-foot-three, 125 pounds, thirty-two years old, overall fight record 38:49. My opponent? Ackerman Mikasa, twenty-two years old, five-foot-nine, a lean, mean 154 pounds, overall fight record 37:0:1. Jesus, her one defeat was a draw? I’ve watched footage of her. She’s fluid, composed, skilled in both striking and grappling. A solid fighter. The kind who knows how to cut through space and capitalize the moment you pause. But then, so do I.
01:48 Valenzuela: I rise from the battered wooden bench in my changing room, adjusting my red sports bra and tightening the green briefs around my hips. My hands are already wrapped and secured in white 4-ounce fingerless MMA gloves. I bite down on my white mouthguard. I’m barefoot, as always. Nothing between me and the cage but hard concrete and sticky spilt beer.
01:48 Valenzuela: They make a quick announcement over a staticky microphone, in both Spanish and English. Somewhere behind the thin partition, Mikasa’s probably doing the same pre-fight routine. We’re kept in separate spaces for a reason. Too many fights have started before anyone made it to the cage. I move out into the bar, the crowd thick and close, pushing in like they want to be part of the fight themselves. Hands reach out, pats on the back, high-fives, drinks raised in salute, but I ignore them all. I keep my chin down and my eyes locked forward. I can already feel the shift in atmosphere as the fight nears. People stop talking and start watching.
01:48 Valenzuela: At the cage entrance, I pause. One of the bartenders, doubling as tonight’s ref, gives me a quick once-over. No weapons, no tape, no funny business. I step in. Inside the cage, I bounce lightly on the balls of my feet, keeping my shoulders loose. I throw a few sharp jabs into the air, then a quick one-two combo, following up with a tight hook and an uppercut. I dip low, weaving under imaginary punches, letting my body move with rhythm and purpose. It’s not just for warm-up. It’s a little performance for the crowd, and maybe a message for Mikasa. When she walks down that ramp and sees me loose, ready, sharp-eyed and coiled like a spring, I want her to understand exactly what she’s up against. A fucking little Mexicana powerhouse, built for war.
..
13:18 Ackerman_Mikasa: he light above the tunnel flickers. It’s hot in here, but I don’t sweat. I don’t feel the crowd, the noise, or the beat of the music thumping outside. All I hear is my breath: calm and controlled . Another fight, another opponent ready to end up laid out. I stretch my muscular arms on each side, making sure to ease the fibers of my guns, the weight of the black sports bra tight across my chest, the red MMA gloves are snug over my taped hands, the leather creaking as I flex my fingers in position. My green shorts sit low on my hips, making sure to reveal my sixpack fully. The black foot guards wrap around my ankles, tight and secure, ready to block or strike without hesitation and deliver the maximum output of damage while securing my ankle. Everything is exactly how I want it. No detail left unchecked, no weakness shown. Levi stands to my left, silent and sharp as always. He’s been where I’ve been, fighting his way in the underground city of Mitras. He knows what I need—nothing but a nod, a look without words. On my right, Armin’s eyes scan the ring from afar. Always thinking, always watching. He tells me small things, reminders, but most importantly his brilliant strategies. I appreciate his presence, i will make sure to perform as best as i can. I walk forward slowly, stepping through the tunnel toward the red glow of the arena itself. My name echoes overhead, loud and clear: “Mikasa Ackerman, undefeated Titan Slayer from Eldia!” The crowd roars, but I don’t raise a hand. I don’t smile.
13:19 Ackerman_Mikasa: They’re not here for smiles nor for taking the glory from the crowd. They’re here to see someone get broken, but most importantly they know very little of the girl theyr'e laying their eyes on. They stare at my body, feminine yet shredded and solid like titanium, a body made to hunt giant creatures. A weapon shaped into a body. The floor under my feet is salightly sticky, the bar stinks of beer and sweat and smoke, but I don’t notice. People in Mitras follow the same lust, the smell is the exact same. I tune it all out. I don’t walk like I’m scared or nervous. Instead, i advancewith confidence, showing off my cold-blood. My chin is low, eyes locked ahead. I don’t scan the crowd. I don’t touch hands. I’m not here for them. I’m here for her. I see Carla already in the cage, moving and warming up, throwing punches in the air. She wants to send a message. Good. Let her. I don’t send messages—I deliver reality. Cold, fatal and final.
13:20 Ackerman_Mikasa: I reach the cage door, stepping inside. The mat gives under my weight. I circle slowly once. No show, just readiness. I stop in my corner, head down for a second, then up. My eyes lock onto yours. No weakness shown. Just my cold eyes locking onto yours. My muscular body is as shredded as ever, the lights make sure to highlight every single muscle popping off. I await there, standing like a machine ready to be activated. My breaths are slow, silent. I don’t bounce. I don’t waste energy. I don’t flinch. I let the tension build in the air around me. Every inch of me is calm, but inside I’m coiled like wire, ready to snap forward the moment the bell rings. My fists are tight in the red gloves, knuckles already itching for contact. My stance doesn’t waver at all. The black foot guards press firm against the canvas, I feel every shift of weight, every beat of silence between us. I barely blink, I don’t smile.. I’m not here for drama or noise... I’m here to win.
13:35 Valenzuela: I watch as you confidently enter the cage, and now I stop my performance, I think my point has been made, even if you pretend not to notice. I dissect your body from head to toe, deciding how to work you, to make you mine, to make you play by my play book. This is the first glimpse in person, you are tall, so 6 inches taller than me, with long legs that probably can kick like a mule. So it's gonna be up close in personal with you, right in your face the whole way. The ref now motions us forward, to go over his set of rules, such as they are....he emphasizes that there are no judges, the match is won only by KO or submission, tells us to protect ourselves at all time....I smirk....of course of course.....yeah yeah....fucking idiot. I stare at you blankly the whole time, like a zombie, trying to bore a whole through your head with my dark Latina eyes. If my eyes don't do it, my fast moving gloves fists will. The ref tells us to tap gloves if we are so inclined, so I give you a smirk and offer my gloves for a tap in case you wanna do it. Then I turn sharply and return to my side of the cage to wait for the bell.
13:53 Ackerman_Mikasa: As the ref calls us forward, I do so and step without hesitation. My walk is steady, measured—each step makes sure to not let me lose a single inch of my composure. Just pure discipline. I close the distance until I’m right in front of you. Not a single words leaves my sealed lips—just my menacing aura conquering you. I tower over you, not just with height but also by weight. Im way above the limits you've face till this very moment. I scale way higher. My shredded abs, my bulging biceps—It's not for show, but a body forged with hard work and a blood far superior than any others. You glare at me with those dark, heated eyes. I see it, I feel the fire behind them nut I don’t flinch. I don’t blink, instead I stare straight into you, craving for your souls, exploiting any weakness. My eyes are cold, sharp, unreadable. There’s no smile on my face. No arrogance—ust calculation. The look of someone who’s already broken down every opponent she faced before. Either by a devastating knockout or by a painful submission. I raise both my red gloves up, making sure to click your gloves—not over, not beneath. I don't plan to set up my domimance this way, unlike many cocky fighters. Instead i bump yours knuckles to knuckles, fingers against fingers. I take a few steps back, raising up a modified kickboxing stance. My left hand extends forward, glove open just slightly, fingers loose but ready to snap shut. My right hand stays tight, close to my chin, ready to fire or guard on instinct.
13:55 Ackerman_Mikasa: My feet are light, heels just kissing the mat, ready to explode forward or back. I shift my weight with precision. My stance is built for control, for reads, for sudden bursts of violence. The bell finally rings and I don’t charge just yet. Instead I circle to the right, light on my feet , testing the cage space, testing your angles while keeping the distances. My eyes stay locked on you. I throw out three light left jabs—not full power, not meant to land hard. Each one separated by half a second. Just enough to reach for your guard or if I'm lucky even your face, to see how you block, how you react. My body stays tall but balanced, knees bent slightly, lead foot probing the distance between us. I'm not giving you anything yet. Not my rhythm, not my plan. Just a few flickers. A few whispers of what’s coming. I'm studying you.
14:08 Valenzuela: I begin to bounce lightly on the balls of my feet in anticipation of the bell. I watch your movements, note the stance that you take. I mirror the orthodox stance, left fist leading out a little, right glove held back for power punching or defense, elbows tucked in tight. I'm gonna wipe that confident look right off this gals face, I tell myself. DING! The bell rings and I immediately step forward and begin to bob side to side erratically, my movements intending to confuse. You move to my left and start to circle, and I move to my right, wanting to test the waters before committing. A jab flicks out, fast and sharp. My reflexes are up and read, a slight slip of my head to the right avoids it, another jab, I parry use my right forearm to parry the jab off to my right, then another jab....shit this bitch loves jabs.....but this time I lean back, so your glove very light smacks my cheek. As I come back forward, I then explode forward, stepping into range of my short legs, I throw out a fast moving low round house kick towards the side of your knee, hoping to achieve some real damage early on and teach this big woman some manners. I drop my right leg forward after the kick to switch into southpaw, and then I'm in range of my fists, trying to first pump a quick left straight into your lower ribs, and then try to swing a short right hook over your left shoulder to target your jaw. It's scarry being in this close to someone so tall and heavy, but this is where I need to be, otherwise you pick me apart with jabs and kicks.
14:22 Ackerman_Mikasa: I see the kick coming—a quick low roundhouse aimed at the side of my knee—but I check it cleanly, lifting my shin just enough to absorb the strike with barely a sight of effoer. I see that is just as a quick test, not meant to hurt, just to measure. I retreat a full step to create some distances, my eyes narrowing, and sure enough, you switch to southpaw. My body doesn’t flinch—I prepare for what is about come it. I’ve studied fighters like you. The left straight shoots toward my ribs, but I step slightly back, shifting my torso just enough to let it graze past while setting up a devastating counter. As soon as your right hook starts to unload, a tight arc aiming for my head, I slip it before your shoulder can even rotate through. That was my window i needed. I raised my right leg, shooting up without hesitation, a brutal front kick that drives into the pit of your stomach before your arm can even finish its path to my face. The impact lands deep and flush, meant to jolt your whole frame and knock the wind out of your rhythm. It's not just a front kick, i shift my body weight forward to force my sole into your abs. I step in off the recoil, my stance compact now, guard tight and high. I make sure to followe your steps if you step back, then throw a fast, surgical straight right to your nose—no wasted motion, then I drop low, driving a left hook into your stomach with the twisy of my hips behind it. I keep pushing by rotating up and around with a vicious right hook aimed square at your nose. Right in the middle of your face, not meant to daze you out—but to punish you, hurting you. Each move flows into the next, like a machine that’s been turned on. Cold, automatic, unrelenting. I’m not just trying to hurt you. I’m dissecting you.
14:40 Valenzuela: I had hoped that my low round house take you unawares, but no such luck, you see it coming and raise the leg in time to spare the delicate mechanical device called a knee. My left straight misses those ribs that I had wanted to cave in, not even close, due to your quick movements. My right hook starts its arch, and I'm sure I'm gonna do damage with this one, but you move again, slipping it, and as my arm continues to arch to the left, UGGGGGGGGG!!!!Your right leg shoots up in a brutal front kick....I can tell its coming, but can't avoid this, but at lease in a split second I tighten my abs to absorb the impact, that lifts me onto my toes and bends me forward slightly.....but even so...FUCK! it hurts and I gasp for air as my mouth opens big. After you recoil you step in, throwing a fast right at my nose, but I bring my left forearm up to deflect the blow, sparring my nose. I start to launch a left over hand at your mouth, after knocking your right out to the side, but FUCK! your ain't home, you weave low and hammer a nasty left hook into my abs.....shit....this bitch is trying to break down those muscles early....I gasp after taking the second blow..uhhhhh..then comes the right hook, but in spite of my gasping for breath, I weave under it, easy enough given my short stature....and then I let rip with a vicious left shovel hook towards your liver, trying to take advantage of your out stretch right arm...but I ain't finished...I try for a cork screw right punch towards your solar plexus.....and then try to step in close, wanting to drive my left knee across towards the inner thigh of your left leg...I ain't pulling back because I have to stay in my range.....suck up the pain....and fight like hell...sweat begins to bead on my brow as I breath hard, trying to work though the pain in my abs....
15:06 Ackerman_Mikasa: Your shovel hook is nasty and it crashes into my liver—not clean, not deep, but enough to send a bolt of white heat across my side. I grunt, teeth clenched through my mouthguard, the pain threading through my ribs. My breath shudders, but I don’t retreat. I don’t give you space. I refuse to. As your right fist uncoils toward my plexus, I step slightly off-line, slipping the strike just enough while parrying it with my left forearm. In that same instant, I twist my hips and explode upwards with a vicious uppercut that aims right into the base of your chin—meant to snap your head back before your next move can even register—delivering enough power to make tou see the stars. I’m not done, I close the distance quicklu, crashing into your space like a wave, but this wave is made out of steel-like muscles, my arms wrapping around your neck in a tight muay thai clinch(sort of). My fingers lock, elbows tight, and I yank your head down with cold efficiency and strenght. I drive my right knee up toward your face with everything I’ve got.. speed mixed with raw power. Driving it up thrice. Bone chases bone, my thigh snapping forward like a hammer. The first knee is pure violence, aiming to jolt your head upward. I don’t let you breathe. A second crashes up just as fast and powerful, and the third—harder, faster... i seek to paing the white canvas red. I' m sure the crowd will love to see a painter go at it right in front of their eyes. If they land and your balance waver, I'd shift the angle of my clinch, lowering my grip slightly, and pivot to change the meaning of my knees. My knee digs in, deep and merciless—twice into your stomach. Pushing in for each strike.
15:07 Ackerman_Mikasa: These aren't just strikes, they’re hammers meant to wind you off. Each knee drills upward into your stomach, aiming to crush the air out of your lungs and shove your body back with raw force, forcing the break. The instant your frame would stumble back even slightly from the impact, I release you and spin myself fast and fluid on my left foot. My body becomes a blade, cutting through the air as I twist fully around. I step into the motion and unleash a devastating spinning back kick, aiming to catch you cold. My heel slices through space and cracks forward, hungry to smash flush into your nose or mouth—looking to finish the combo by turning you into a living fountain of hell. Pouring blood all over the canvas instead of water.
15:18 Valenzuela: My left digs in deep, but still it feels like it’s not gonna drop you to the canvass….then my right straight goes parrying off to my right….As I lift my left knee….UGGGGGGGGGGH! The uppercut detonates under my chin. My jaw jerks back, and for a heartbeat, my vision flares white. Stars. Fucking stars. I stumble forward straight into your clinch. Your arms are tight around my neck, elbows like steel brackets, and you’re so fucking strong, before I can reset WHAM! your knee drives up into my face. My forehead catches the first one just off-center, it hurts, but it doesn’t break me, as I twist, slipping the full brunt. The second? Again it glances as I twist. A glancing crack off my temple, enough to blur things but not enough to stop me. The third comes like a hammer. This one I dodge, desperation taking over, and instead of eating it square, my shoulder takes the hit. It sends shock down my side, but I’m still standing. You try to shift grips, aiming lower, setting up for gut shots, but I don’t let you have it clean. I push hard against your clinch, arms fighting underhooks, forcing space between us with short jerks of my head and forearms. I manage to twist my hips inward, jamming the point of my left elbow into your ribs just as you try to adjust. Your first knee to my stomach lands shallow, but the second digs deep. UGHHHH! It hurts. My core caves for a second. But I use it, I drop low with it, timing your release. As you spin for that back kick, I drop even lower and roll hard to my right. I hit the mat in a crouch, the wind barely in my lungs, but your heel slices clean past where my head was a second ago. I pop up off the mat, sweaty, gasping, blood trickling from my mouth…..which is wide open, breathing hard, feeling like you are the most dangerous bitch I've ever met. Am I fighting to win or just stay alive???? My head hurts, my abs and ribs hurt...but I get my guard reformed
15:46 Ackerman_Mikasa: The knees hits… but not like I wanted. You absorb the first two to the face, twisting just enough to turn skull-breaking blows into glancing damage. I feel the impact, feel the effort vbut not the crumble I expected..damn. The third knee, the one meant to be the nail in the coffin, clips your shoulder instead. Frustration bubbles for a split second—then I try to finish it anyway. I release and spin, my heel cutting through the air like a guillotine. But you drop low—rolling under it with grit and guts—and I spin past empty air. My foot hits the mat with a sharp skid. I turn, face tight with effort, jaw clenched. You're still standing, bleeding, breathing like a beast, but still standing like a warrior. Outside of the ring, my two coaches react to what just happened. Armin is the more cheering of the two. Levi on the other hand keeps himself neutral, holding his emotions back as he analyses the bout ongoing. Armin: “Did you see that!? She just barely dodged Mikasa's wheel kick! If only Mikasa can catch her chin!!” Levi: “Tch. She’s still conscious. That’s all that matters. Let Mikasa wear her down. Though she must keep herself to end up greedy. No need to risk.” Armin: “Yeah, but how long can she take this kind of punishment? Her guard is still up but—Mikasa is looking as sharp as ever!” Levi: (calmly sipping tea) “Doesn’t matter. One mistake from either, and it’s over.” Back in the fight, I don’t let the miss slow me down. I exhale sharp, tighten my stance, my guard now is more compact, my legs are tense springs again. I lunge forward, closing the gap with a snap. My right hook slams toward your cheek like a club, then the left follows a split-second after, aimed to rattle your head and force your hands up high. Against such power it's not wise to let your opponent hit your face.
15:47 Ackerman_Mikasa: If your guard reacts as i predict, I duck low and drive two quick straights, one left, one right into your stomach, just above the navel. I want to feel the thud in my gloves. I want to feel your breath cut short again, turning your stomach all red. Then I reset—bouncing back half a step, hands back up, sweat rolling down my temple. Eyes locked on you, as I plan to dismantle you bit by bit.
16:00 Valenzuela: I standing here with my bleeding, bruising around my eyes too….those knee strikes….so I move into a tighter peek-a-boo guard…got to protect the face now at all costs….You don’t give me the time I need to recover….to catch my breath….we are only 1 and a half minutes in, I estimate, and I’m breathing so hard….because you fucked me up so bad….The bitch comes….those long arms shoot out, right hook coming into my cheek, but I check it with my left forearm, and before I can counter that left comes out, smashing into my forearm….uggggg….but not my pretty face. I punch out with a right straight, intending to bust up your fucking nose, but again, you ain’t home….you weave low….BAM! BAM!!!!!!!!!! Left and right straight pound in just above my navel, bending me forward, gasping again for breath…..you use your long powerful legs to bounce back out of my range, but I ain’t having no more of this shit…you intend to pick me apart at distance, so I lunge forward, trying to take you by surprise….a right cross at your right eye socket….just hoping to slice it between your powerful forearms, then I step off to my left and towards you closer, trying to land a left hook around your guard on your jaw…..if it hits, I’ll keep going and ready my right for an uppercut at your lower ribs….if it misses, I’ll try to run like hell …..
16:16 Ackerman_Mikasa: I dart forward, my eyes locked on your midsection. You’re open just enough, your guard a little high, and I know those abs are sore — I felt them buckle earlier. I drop my stance, loading up, ready to drive a straight into your stomach again and fold you in half. But the moment I commit, the moment where i'm sure you're about to toss the towrel and collapse..you explode like a fucking beast. No buildup, no warning, you just push yourself through bloodied lips and lunge in—quicker than I expected, wild eyes still burning, your fists already in motion. “Shit—!” My punch barely leaves my shoulder when your right hook crashes into the side of my face. It’s not clean, but it’s heavy. My head snaps to the side, hair whipping with the force— I stumble a step, and before I can blink, your left hook crashes in right after, tagging my jaw hard enough to send a shiver through my legs and jolt my head as well- I grunt, teeth clenched tight into my mouthpiece. I try to step back but you don’t let me, you step with me..following the steps i make, cutting the distance like a predator—your right uppercut spears into my ribs, slamming just under my guard. “nngh!” a shut groan escapes my sealed lips, your uppercut did connect well, causing me to stagger back a little. You're older, bleeding and bruised. But you’re fighting like you’ve got something to prove. And it’s working. I stagger back, eyes wide, shocked I didn’t see it coming. 'How the hell did she turn this around so fast? How is she still moving like this?' I reset my stance, feet skidding slightly on the mat.
16:25 Valenzuela: My punches take you by surprise, the look on your face, I’m shorter, lighter, and 10 years older, but I’ve been in bad situations a lot, and you ain’t the first tough gal I’ve fought, so I know pain, in a way that you don’t. That flash of doubt behind your cold, perfect composure gives me hope. I keep surging forward, still hunched, still hurting, still bleeding, but my gloves are tight against my cheeks and my shoulders are rolling with each step. I’m inside your arms now, where that reach don’t mean shit. I throw a short left jab at your mouth, not hard, not fancy, just enough to make you raise your guard, then drop low and rip another right uppercut into your side, same spot as before. I don’t even care if it lands clean. I just want to keep hammering the body until you start to slow.. “Come on, pretty girl,” I mutter through a blood-slick grin, voice hoarse and cracked. “Bleed with me.” Then I drive my left shoulder into your chest to force you back, trying to off-balance you, and drive you into the cage wall where I can limit your mobility….the crowd is now shouting loudly as the fight momentum changes a little….
16:46 Ackerman_Mikasa: Your jab snaps my head slightly backwards. Slipping right between my muscular forearms—quick, sharp, just enough to sting a little. Before I can even square my stance, your right uppercut slams into my side again, landing just above my hip. “tcch!” I baely groan while my muscles feel the hit, my teeth are clenched, my ribs endure as your glove crashes right under my arm. My sweat flies off my pale skin, right under the impact. You’re smaller, older, but damn if you don’t throw like a savage with something to prove, letting your fire help you at it.. until it burns you from beneath your skin. I try to drop my arms tighter, but your damned shoulder crashes forward, ramming into my breast. I stumble back a step—not from weakness nor to retreat, but to surprise you. I'm about to show you why you don't mess with an Ackerman. Your body is all in, trying to drive me back into the cage, trying to own the space and limit my mobility to set up your further combinations. But this time, I dig in. My feet screech slightly on the canvas as I plant myself firm, forcing you press harder against, your body locked into mine, trying to bulldoze—but I’m not budging. Not even Reiner is able to tackle me back. You drive forward with that shoulder, desperate to dominate the clinch—but now you're overcommitted and that's what I was craving the whole time. I tighten my core, feel the pressure rise, and then pivot subtly to my right. Your weight surges forward just as I shift—your own momentum becomes your enemy, victimg of you own fire. I slip out of your line, and you lurch forward into empty space, just barely catching yourself before hitting the smae wall you were looking to trap ,e. That’s when I spin fast—my muscles snapping tight like a whip, and I throw a right spinning backfist that aims to nail the side of your temple with a sharp smack.
16:46 Ackerman_Mikasa: If it lands, then i prepare to serve a sweet dessert. As soon as you turn around to face your nemesis I’m already in the air. I leaped forward with a wild, punishing right knee, my body twisting slightly to drive it right up into your face at full power. Flying forward as if i were operating with my ODM gear. T blow would right into your nose, to snap your head back again and force more blood out. The crowd’s roar is getting louder and louder as they're witnessing a gladiator battle. I land light on my feet, soem of your blood fell on my thigh, some on my forearms as my gloves cut you open earlier—but I’m not done. I take half a step back, torque my hips, and slam a devastating left sidekick right into your gut, seeking to feel the flat of my foot sink into your belly.
17:02 Valenzuela: I charge forward….reckless? Some might think so, I don’t. I either bring the fight up close to you, or you just pick me apart with those long range bombs. So what real choice do I have? My attack works, I land a jab on your cheek, hard enough to wobble your head, and then my uppercut lands, just before I ram my shoulder into your boob….and it pushes you back a step….yeh….I’m moving this mean lean fighting machine back….showing her who I the boss here….but the it happens….suddenly….so very quick…..shockingly fast. You spin and it’s the type of situation where a spinning back fist is called for, but even so, my reflexes don’t move fast enough…BOOM!!!!…..the back of your gloved fist SMASHES into my temple, spinning my head and body to my right…..it feels like you hit me with a baseball bat….I stagger, like a drunk, stunned, my brain crashing around inside my skull, I feel like things are growing dark, as my vision blurs. I see very little until your knee is a couple of inches from my face…..BAM!!!!!....the knee hits my nose, busting it, twisting it where it should not twist, blood now spurting out everywhere. My mouth guard pops out, bouncing on the canvass.
My gloves drop to my side….I stagger there as my knees begin buckle. I barely can hear the crowd shouting, going nuts….A second later your foot lands into my untightened abs…expelling the air out of my lungs, propelling me backwards into the cage wall, which keeps me propped up for a moment as my vision blurrrs, my nose bleeds, dribble comes out of mouth. After my attempt to achieve glory, the counter attack finishes me in what, 3 to 6 seconds…..ugggg….I barely stand, legs now spread wide as my back presses into the cage wall, looking out of it….
17:29 Ackerman_Mikasa: I see you falling. That staggering twist of your body, the limp sway of your arms, the spray of blood that still hasn’t hit the canvas yet and I'm not planning to let you rest yet. Your face is slackening, your mouth open just enough to draw a shallow breath—but I’m not letting you drop. Not yet, you deserve a proper end. My hands shoot out with precision, and I hook my arms under your armpits, dragging you back upright with raw strength against the metal fence of the octagon. You’re weightless to me now. Your blood smears against my shoulder, your breath hot and broken against my collarbone as I lean in close, so close our foreheads nearly touch. I whisper to your ear, low and ice-cold “I’m not done with you just yet.” Without a pause, I grip your shoulders and shove you back hard, slamming you against the cage wall. The chain-link shudders from the force, camera lens practically pressed against it just inches from the back of your head. I reset my stance with surgical precision and pin your shoulders against the cage yo drive my right knee deep into your belly twice—each blow lifting you an inch off your feet. The muscles of my tight core flex, my abs gleaming under the sweat and blood dripping from your face. You fold with each impact, your breath shooting out in pitiful gasps, lips painted crimson red. I keep you pinned with my forearm across your chest to not let you drop, then snap my right elbow up into your cheekbone followed by another—your head jerking to the side, the fire in your eyes is already gone, will you be able to survive without your fire radiating deep inside of you? Then comes the roundhouse,. I plant my left foot, twist my hips and swing a strong right roundhouse into the side of your already pulverized face. My kick sounds like a whiplash that cuts the air between us.
17:30 Ackerman_Mikasa: The blow whips your head around violently, your mouthguard flies off place your body twisting around like a puppet whose strings just got cut. You crash down to your knees, face first into the cage..metal right against your face, blood leaving red streaks where your lips and cheek drag. You’re on your knees now, kissing that cold steel like it’s your last prayer, and I step behind you, ready to end it all. I crouch low, wrapping my right arm around your throat, slipping it under your chin like an anaconda murdering in silence. My left arm hooks behind your head and I lock it tight, pulling you into me—breast to upperback, our sweat-slick bodies pressed flush as I rise to my feet, dragging you up with me. The camera is just inches from your ruined face—bloody, limp, the proud fire in your eyes now completely gone. The camera catches the humiliating last seconds as I push you right into the cage wall, grinding your face into the steel while my arms tighten like a an anaconda's grip. Your face turns red, then dark purple… your eyes widen… then cage… Your legs twitch barely as I hold the choke, not relenting—not for a second. The crowd shouts. Their favourite fighter ahs been destroyed right in front of their eyes.. There's no tap, just a long, helpless silence from your lips as your body long-limp in my deadly embrace. “Hmpf,” I exhale, voice calm but final, my cheek resting lightly on yours. “You fought well, Carlotta. Have a well-deserved rest.”
17:30 Ackerman_Mikasa: I begin to rise slowly, letting your dead weight hang off my arms for just a moment before releasing you. Your body crumples backwards onto the canvas like a ragdoll, limbs splayed wide, your face tilted to the side, eyes barely open. Blood streaks across your jaw, your chest heaving once... twice… then nothing but twitching fingers. I stomp on your belly, my foot sinking deep as i pose victorious, my right red glove raised to the sky. Claiming the glory from one of my most resilient opponents.
[Spectator Raul] “Damn… that wasn’t just a loss. That was a public execution. Val’s done. She has to be. No way you come back from getting ragdolled like that by a girl ten years younger. This is the most humiliating ass whooping I've ever seen. ”
[Spectator Jaime] speechless, half-laughing in disbelief “She looks like a corpse with gloves by the end. Mikasa wasn’t even fighting her at the end, she was demonstrating dominance. Like… holding her up just to humiliate her in front of everyone. Dragged her across the cage like a fucking broken doll, choked her out face-first into the fence. That was cold.”
Raul: “Val's fought everyone in this cage, taken on monsters twice her size, and always stood back up. But tonight? She didn’t just go down, she’s fuckin finished. That last kick spun her like a top. And that rear naked choke? Jesus. She didn’t tap. Because she could'nt tap. Didn’t even twitch. Just went out like the lights were turned off.”
Jaime: “She was still twitching when Mikasa was posing over her body. Like, twitching. Bro, if I took a beating like that, I’d change my name, move to another country, and never look at a cage again. She did'nt just lose man, she was beaten like a fuckin dog, humiliated, left for dead, like you take out the garbage bro. I heard that it was Val that challenged Mikasa....look at the age difference, the fight record difference, the size difference, what was Val thinking”
Raul: “Shit, I hope she can still think after this man. She’s gotta retire after this. This wasn’t just a loss, this was a message man. The old guard’s done. El Diablo just watched its last lioness get put to sleep by a fucking assassin from another generation. Pity, she only 32 years old bro! Mikasa has chalked up a retirement on her record!"
Published: 2025-06-17, viewed 136 times.
Jinny (deleted member)
2025-07-09 00:40Wow so tough match! Misaka dominated the whole match and used her strong biceps to let Valenzuela fall asleep
Ackerman Mikasa
2025-07-09 00:43(In reply to this)
I'm happy people keep finding out about this match, thank you ;)
Valenzuela (deleted member)
2025-07-09 00:42(In reply to this)
Yes, that's what happened....a great fighter....Thanks!
Askeladd Ruthkaaznok
2025-06-20 21:34WOW! Mikasa’s a beast but Val took them hits like a champ
Valenzuela (deleted member)
2025-06-20 21:47(In reply to this)
Thanks very much, it was a tough figure for sure
MissyMcdonagh123 (deleted member)
2025-06-20 16:43A real tour de force. Superb!
Valenzuela (deleted member)
2025-06-20 16:56(In reply to this)
Muchas gracias Senora McDonagh. Much appreciated!
Mixtko8910
2025-06-19 20:03Controlled destruction that’s what that was! No doubt! Back to the drawing board Val…Mikasa taught a master class in fucking you up!
Valenzuela (deleted member)
2025-06-20 16:56(In reply to this)
Yes, she did indeed! Thanks for commenting
May Li
2025-06-19 17:09Mikasa maybe get some troubles during the fight, but the tough and cold fighter like here end this match with a cruel choke….so attractive. And Val is always a victory-chaser in every match, but.. bad luck in recent matches.
Valenzuela (deleted member)
2025-06-19 17:10(In reply to this)
Many thanks May Li, much appreciated. Too many younger and taller women here!
Jay D Maid (deleted member)
2025-06-18 16:02This fight is the perfect distillation of everything I love about pure cw fights. The action is snappy, yet you both manage to wind literal seconds down to incredibly detailed and intricate thoughts and plans. Both of you are proactive and reactive against your opponents, doing your best to pick your enemy apart and defend yourself while looking for opportunities to strike. It’s very clear that the vibe is fighting for the joy of the fight, my favorite kind of vibe and one I try to emulate when I actually want to fight. One of the best matches I’ve read, going on the reading list for sure.
Ackerman Mikasa
2025-06-19 16:41(In reply to this)
No need to emulate our fighting style, maid. Your way of fighting is just as good as mine or hers.
We had our fun, yes. It was a great comeback for me ;)
Jay D Maid (deleted member)
2025-06-19 16:52(In reply to this)
Emulate the style may have been the wrong terms. It's moreso like... the vibes. Fist to fist, kick to kick, full on brawl out. I love being a part of and watching it. But thank you and yes you guys seemed to have a fun time!!
Valenzuela (deleted member)
2025-06-18 16:32(In reply to this)
Thank you so much for your comments, they are so very much appreciated!
Mrs Dei Squid
2025-06-18 14:17Another great fight loved it great job both of you
Nanase Haruka
2025-06-17 23:25The War Goddess of Paradis Island strikes again! A brutal, ice-cold end, yet.. full of respect that only the strongest could grant. Good job to the two of you, it was truly a beatiful read~
Ackerman Mikasa
2025-06-19 16:42(In reply to this)
Thanks Haruka. It truly means a lot for me, both my fight you and the one with Carlotta, both made me realise how I missed fighting~
Valenzuela (deleted member)
2025-06-17 23:27(In reply to this)
Thanks so much for your comments. Much appreciated!
Leo Boxer (deleted member)
2025-06-17 22:13Wow, the was MMA with an edge, I don't think I've ever seen a more decisive win, nor a more humiliated defeat. So well written by both. Congrats on your win Mikasa
Leo Leòn Rebirth
2025-06-17 20:40My Mikasa always delivers 🥰
Ackerman Mikasa
2025-06-17 21:08(In reply to this)
I make sure to deliver the best—not looking to leave the ring without beating someone bloody~
Valenzuela (deleted member)
2025-06-17 20:47(In reply to this)
Oh boy she sure does!