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22 April 2024 Alexis Ren vs AnneMarie Morin

Page history last edited by caspian2 1 month ago

CELEBRITY BOXING AFTER DARK

Posted by caspian on 22 April 2024 at 9:54 am

CELEBRITY BOXING AFTER DARK

(Results: Lookout!, Words: Caspian)

Alexis Ren vs. AnneMarie Morin (FCBA Debut)

Tale of the Tape:

Name: AnneMarie Morin
Age: 32 (born May 1991)
Height: 5'8" (173 cm)
Weight: 125 lbs (57 kg)
Nationality: Canadian
Occupation: Model, Influencer, Actress
Hair Color: Brown
Eye Color: Green
Measurements: 34C-25-35
Record: FCBA Debut
Stable: Free Agent

Background:
AnneMarie Morin is a Canadian model, influencer, and actress. She was born in Montreal, Quebec, and began her modeling career at a young age. She has appeared in numerous fashion campaigns, magazines, and runway shows. She is also a popular social media influencer, with a large following on Instagram and YouTube. She has worked with various brands and has been featured in music videos and short films.

Name: Alexis Ren
Age: 26 (born November 23, 1996)
Height: 5'8" (173 cm)
Weight: 120 lbs (54 kg)
Nationality: American
Occupation: Model, Influencer
Hair Color: Blonde
Eye Color: Blue
Measurements: 34B-24-35
Record: 80 wins, 23 losses
Stable: VIXENs

Background:
Alexis Ren is an American model and social media influencer. She was born in Santa Monica, California, and began her modeling career at a young age. She has appeared in numerous fashion campaigns, magazines, and runway shows. She is also a popular social media influencer, with a large following on Instagram and YouTube. She has worked with various brands, including Calvin Klein, Victoria's Secret, and Sports Illustrated. She has been featured in music videos and has walked the runway for top designers during New York Fashion Week.

BEFORE:
Earlier, the room is packed with media and cameras as Alexis Ren and AnneMarie Morin take their seats at the podium. Alexis, dressed in a sleek black leather jacket and sporting her signature bold red lips, exudes confidence coming into this uneven match-up. She’s after all a decorated former Lightweight champ and recent Hall-of-Famer, and looks entirely dismissive about her opponent’s chances of winning tonight. Meanwhile, Miss AnneMarie is making her debut, the social media starlet and recent cookie-shop entrepreneur is wearing a crisp white tank top and her dirty blonde hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, looking focused and determined.

The moderator begins, trying to bridge the tension. “Welcome, everyone! Let's start with our first question. Alexis, you're the clear favorite going into this fight. How do you plan to take down the newcomer, AnneMarie?”

Ren immediately smirks. “Oh, it's not about taking her down. It's about showing her what a real boxer looks like. I've been in this game for years now, and if she fancies taking me down in her very first try, she can definitely dream…” she casts a challenging glance towards AnneMarie. “Think you can hang with me, sweetheart?”

Miss Morin, however, responds with a calm smile. “I'm not here to make friends, Alexis. I know of your reputation and those girls who cross you. Let me say, though, I'm not intimidated by your trash talk,” AnneMarie says, looking straight at Ren across the table. “You can dish it out, but can you take it?”

Ren laughs. “Oh, honey, I can take more than you can give! You think you're tough? I've been in the ring with the best of the best. You're just a novice trying to get your 15 minutes of fame. Please.” She ends with an eye roll.

But Morin leans forward and smirks. “That may be true, Alexis, but I've got something you don't: hunger. I'm hungry for this win, and I'll do whatever it takes to get it. You can underestimate me all you want, but I'm not going down to some blonde bimbo who’s known for stripping her clothes off.”

Just then, and right at the right time, the moderator interrupts. “Okay, let's keep it civil, ladies. Next question…” And just as well, cos’ Alexis is SEEING red, nostrils flaring as she attempts to rise and rush the newcomer down.

Thankfully, the pre-fight press conference comes to a close soon after, and the attention shifts to the weigh-ins. The crowd quiets down as Alexis Ren and AnneMarie Morin take their places on the stage, flanked by their respective corners.

Ren steps onto the scale first, having stripped down to a pair of cotton white undies, her eyes fixed on the display. The emcee announces her weight, and she gives a nod and eye roll as though this was known all along. Morin follows, her gaze locked on Alexis, daring her to try something, as she takes her place on the scale. The emcee announces her weight, and she gives a confident smile as she steps off.

Next, the two fighters face off in the center of the stage, their eyes locked in a fierce stare. The tension is electric as they go nose-to-nose, their faces inches apart, and of course this is the prime opportunity for Ren to LASH out with a sudden slap to the face and immediate LUNGES for AnneMarie’s hair, sending the two girls squealing and raging, locked up in each other’s arms.

Miss Morin perhaps expected this unsportsmanlike behavior and immediately counters with several plugs of her bare knuckles all over Ren’s waistline and chest, before lunging for those long blonde locks of her own and tossing and tugging. The ring officials rush the stage and separate both girls, whom they didn’t expect to get into an altercation. Well, we guess there’s a first time for everything!

Ren’s voice is loud and menacing as she’s led away by an army of officials, "You're in over your head, b*tch! You don't belong in the same ring as me." Across the hall, Morin, her own eyes blazing with determination, shoots back, "f*ck you, skank!"

24 hours later, both girls are already geared up and waiting for the opening bell. We’re of course here in the VIX Headquarters and Gym in downtown Los Angeles, and ready to start this exhibition match. Ren, dressed in her black trunks and white sports bra, has on matching red gloves. Her blonde hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail. Miss Morin wears white trunks and a silver sports bra, which matches her silver gloves. Her dark blonde hair is pulled back into a tight braided bun.

There’s the opening bell and HERE WE GO with ten rounds of Lightweight action!

ROUND 1:
Ren, the VIX veteran, prowls forward. Each step echoes with the confidence of a hundred past fights, and more, whereas Morin, the Canadian newcomer, dances back, her guard high, eyes wide with a mix of focus and fear. The Vixen clearly wants a statement win in this exhibition match, and begins probing Morin's defenses. Her punches are sharp, not the frantic swings of a novice, but measured strikes seeking a weakness. Meanwhile, the rookie bobs and weaves best she can, her movements a bit frantic, betraying her inexperience. Then, Ren finds her opening. A flicker of a jab snaps Morin's head back after landing clean on the nose, then a follow-up cross thuds solidly against the Canadian's cheekbone. Morin blinks, momentarily stunned, and Ren's assault only intensifies, pressuring the newcomer backwards. An uppercut smacks into the center of her arms, making her head and entire frame jerk, before a rib-jarring hook slams hard into her side, spraying sweat sprays as she recoils further, her face flushed from the exertion and the blows. But Morin's got heart. She fires back in the last minute, a few desperate jabs to the face to keep Ren at bay. The blonde, momentarily surprised, takes a step back after letting in one too many shots to the face in the closing seconds, the cool mask of the veteran slipping just slightly, and the round winds down with Ren landing more hard shots of the rookie’s arms. As the bell cuts through the tension, Morin's corner floods the ring, their voices a frantic buzz: "Hands up! Protect yourself!" while Ren sits on her own stool, chest heaving, the exertion evident, but her focus never leaving her opponent, as though cursing her own performance for not KO-ing the new girl within the first three minutes.

ROUND 2:
Ren looks hungry for the knockout she missed, and launches herself forward, her fists raised and tight. But Morin, fueled by the taste of success, has a different fight in mind. The Canadian challenger finds her groove early for a rookie - her jabs flash out, stinging Ren's cheek, her forehead as she comes inwards. A quick one-two, then a hook that arcs through the air and brushes her guard. The American blonde looks surprised by Morin's sudden accuracy and aggression, tries to answer with her own heavy shots. But Morin dances back, her head weaving in a blur, making her power punches slice through empty air. The rookie’s newfound confidence shines through to the second minute: a three-punch combo cracks against either side of Ren's ribs – jab, cross, hook. The Vixen winces subtly, her mouth slightly parted, her rhythm broken, and barely has time to throw up another block when Morin POURS IT ON – another uppercut whips under and into Ren's guard, tagging her tummy with the sound of leather hitting flesh, then a series of sharp jabs that pepper her face. Soon, a thin line of red begins to bloom above her left eye. Third minute and she rallies, forcing the pace with a flurry of punches. But Morin's defenses hold strong. She slips a hook, ducks another uppercut, firing back each time. With every exchange, she lands almost cleaner blows. Her punches are quicker, sharper, finding the openings in Ren's guard with a satisfying thud. The American model can't seem to anticipate her attacks, and her counters seem to fall short, glancing off the arms or sailing past her head. At the sound of the bell, the accumulated punishment starts to show on her face: the cut above her eye trickles a crimson line down her cheek, and her breathing grows heavier with each passing second. The round ends, and Morin's corner erupts – they know she's taken it decisively!

ROUND 3:
The Canadian newcomer claims the center early, a whirlwind of fists shooting out to trouble her veteran counterpart. Jab-cross-hook slam into Ren, each punch thrown with hunger. The American girl’s guard buckles, but holds. Barely. And Morin is showing off her fluidity, but Ren can also be a desperate brawler. A wild uppercut grazes the chin, but before she can counter, a stinging jab snaps her head back. The Vixen has no choice but to answer with a haymaker that misses wildly, the power behind it a testament to her fading control. The crowd roars as Ren tries to force the pace, a flurry of hooks unleashed at her rookie challenger with reckless abandon. Morin stays calm and slips two, before taking one square on the shoulder, the impact rattling her. And it's the opening Ren needs! A vicious right hook flies towards the Canadian fighter... but a flicker of light – Morin ducks under by the nick of time and plenty of luck! As the round winds down, Morin continues to pour on the pressure. Her punches come in waves, each one carrying the sting of her newfound confidence. Ren's arms rise in a desperate block, but some still get through. A left hook glances off the cheekbone, reopening the cut above her eye, before a right cross thuds against her ribs, forcing a grunt of pain. Yet, Ren remains on her feet. She knows she's behind on points, but a single well-placed counterpunch could turn the tide. She’s faced more uphill challenges before, and there's still a fire in her eyes when the bell rings. Morin's upset continues, and is tantalizingly close this time round. But Ren fights on, survival her only goal. Can she summon one last rally in the final round, or will the rookie Canadian conquer the veteran?

ROUND 4:
Ren surges, not the controlled fighter of the early rounds, but a woman on fire and wild aggression. She throws punches with abandon - wild hooks, desperate uppercuts - seeking the knockout that's her only salvation. Morin, caught off guard, dances back. Her guard is high, but Ren's sheer aggression pushes her towards the ropes, more shots landing on her arms and herding her against the unforgiving turnbuckles. There, Ren lets loose a battlecry and barrage of punches – a short, hammering hook to the body, another looping right cross that glances off Morin’s forehead, then another left hook that digs into the ribs, each wicked blow echoing through the newcomer’s frame. The Canadian newbie grits her teeth, covering up, but the relentless assault forces her to cede ground. Even after circling away and out of range, Ren follows her up, leaping in with another right cross, this one landing flush on Morin’s jaw. The Canadian staggers back, momentarily stunned, her legs buckling. AND HERE COMES REN, smelling blood! Another hook catches her on the temple, snapping her head to the side with a crimson bloom spread across her cheekbone. Morin tries to counter, but her punches lack the sting of earlier rounds. Yet, the rookie's footwork saves her. She slips back from the ropes, using the ring, breathing raggedly. Ren presses, knowing time is her enemy. A solid right finally connects, flush on the jaw, and the Canadian model stumbles, but STILL doesn't fall! Ren, growing tired, unleashes more punches, but they're sloppy, glancing off her foe’s arms and shoulders. The round's end is a blur of desperate swings and gasping blocks. Both fighters, tired and spent, lean on each other at the final bell, trading punches to the belly with short, heaving breaths – punches that lack power but carry the weight of wanting to wind the other girl. Sweat drips from their brows, stinging their eyes. They clinch briefly, gasping for air, chests heaving against each other, before the referee pries them apart when the bell finally rings. This time, Ren takes the round wide, the judges' nods acknowledging her last burst of aggression. But it's a Pyrrhic victory for the veteran fighter, who is not liking the situation she’s found herself in.

ROUND 5:
Ren, eyes burning with desperation, storms the center of the ring. It's knockout or bust for the Vixen, as she eyes Morin across from her, the rookie’s movements slower from a body on the brink, who still manages to dance away. Ren sends hooks that crack against her guard, and uppercuts that hammer at her ribs and sides. And while the Canadian blocks most, the sheer force of the Hall-of-Famer’s punches drives her back. It’s clear as day now: Morin's defense is fraying, her once-fluid jabs now ragged. Ren smells blood. A vicious cross cracks through the arms and against the jaw, followed by a gut-wrenching hook, which FOLDS Morin over and forces her to gag in shock! The girl’s got grit, we’ll give her that. She throws up a desperate guard, bobbing, weaving, slipping the worst of Ren's onslaught. But Ren still senses the kill and corners her against the ropes. Left hook, right – Morin's body is her drum, getting rocked from side to side and doing what’s instructed: protecting her face at the expense of her lean body. A left hook digs into her taut abdomen, landing with a sickening whud just below her navel. Above, Morin's breath explodes from her lungs in a sharp exhale, her body lurching forward, before a follow-up right hand catches her high on her right side with its own meaty whack! The Canadian stumbles, but before the ropes betray her, she clinches up Ren, using her arms to wrap around the model’s shoulders and body and keep herself upright. It's against the rules, but the ref breaks it up half-heartedly. Morin's buying time, and the crowd knows it. The rookie's face is a mess of exhaustion mixed with pain, but her legs hold steady. Still, Ren keeps punching, keeps pressing in, her own shots growing tired, each punch thrown weaker, but determined to sap the last of Morin's energy first. The final minute is an echo of the fight - Ren's desperate assault, her opponent’s crumbling defense. Neither has the power left for a knockout. It's ugly, bloody, but both show the heart of champions. Finally, the bell cuts through the exhaustion. Both fighters collapse back to their corners. Ren's eyes are empty, the fight leaving her quicker than her win. Morin's corner shouts, but their cheers can't quite mask the fear.

ROUND 6:
Round 6, and it's Morin who surges forward, an underdog desire to win surging her forward! She throws an early feint to raise Ren’s guard before a right hook SLAMS into her side the other way, the sound like a gunshot! Ren winces, gasping, and the Canadian follows through with a flurry: a right cross crunching into her face, before a left hook whips towards her kidneys. Faced with pressure, the Vixen stumbles back, tries to counter, but her punches lack their usual snap. Morin dances away, too quickly, banking on her reserves to get the job done. And in the second minute, Ren's frustration BOILS over at this upstart girl who thinks she can outbox her - she charges, throwing wild haymakers towards her head. But Morin dodges them each and stays at a comfortable distance, before a vicious left lands high on her cheekbone! OUCH! Eyes wide with a mix of shock and pain, Ren tries to clinch to stave off disaster, to slow things down. But Morin cuts her off, thumping her tummy with short-ranged blows that swerve in under her arms. Trapped in close quarters, she follows up with a vicious uppercut that digs into Ren's gut, driving the breath from her lungs, forcing her to grunt in pain, her body folding inwards momentarily. Quickly, Morin shoves her back, landing ANOTHER stinging uppercut that sends her head snapping back. The veteran's legs WOBBLE as she stumbles against the ropes. Now, it’s the rookie who smells blood!! She steps in and UNLEASHES, throwing punches towards the torso! And the tide shifts! Morin lunges, pinning her against the unforgiving ropes. Their bodies tangle, breath mingling in the chaos. Morin snakes an arm around Ren's neck, locking her in a suffocating grip, forcing her chin to dig into shoulder, her bicep cutting across her jawline. "Feeling the pressure, champ?" her voice is a raspy snarl in the blonde’s ear. Panic flickers in Ren's eyes, mirrored by the rising cheers and jeers of the crowd. She squirms, her powerful arms flailing desperately against Morin's ribs, but the rookie's hold remains firm. Then, she sees her opening - Ren's exposed abdomen. Her fist clenches, a weapon primed. "Guess you underestimate me, huh?" she taunts, then unleashes her fury. The first punch slams into Ren's waistline. The Vixen winces, the impact squeezing the air from her lungs, as Morin's glove sinks in, the leather rough against bare skin. Another blow lands, this time a vicious hook digging into Ren's belly button, forcing her to suck in a sharp breath, her body convulsing as if electrocuted. She continues to hammer punches into the flesh, a merciless tattoo, each impact forcing another grunt of pain. "What's wrong? What happened to the veteran?" Morin mocks, her own breathing ragged with exertion. Ren's struggles weaken with every blow, her body arching in agony. But the humiliation fuels her as much as the pain – her eyes burn with a defiant fire. The referee finally breaks the brutal exchange. Yet, even as Morin steps back, her parting shot rings clear: "Maybe stick to modeling, sweetheart." Thankfully, the bell finally slices through the frenzy, and Morin, also winded, throws Ren off and circles back to her corner, looking like she might actually win this! Meanwhile, Alexis stumbles back to her own and collapses onto her stool, bloody and broken. The crowd, on their feet, senses the shift as much as the judges do. The cheers for the rookie thunder through the arena - she might be minutes away from an impossible victory!

ROUND 7:
Round 7. Morin is on the cusp of victory, and she explodes from her corner, using the last reserves to immediately hammer Ren with a relentless barrage – jabs, hooks, crosses – each punch thrown with knockout intent. The Vixen covers up, her guard high, but her punches slowly crack through her defenses, her gloves landing with a sickening thud against her navel and those toned abs on either side. Each blow seizes the taut flesh and squeezes the air from Ren's lungs, a muffled grunt escaping her lips, and the shock jolting her back a step or body forward. Meanwhile, the crowd roars. They didn’t expect this massacre of such a famed and decorated fighter. But Morin’s STILL pressing in, sensing a flicker of an opening, as Ren's chin is exposed for a fraction of a second. Her left hook slices through the air, catching her flush on the jaw! OUCH! A collective gasp fills the arena. Ren's head WHIPS to the side, her long legs buckling, before her body CRUMPLES to the canvas like a felled tree! It’s a shocking KNOCKDOWN for the newbie!!

Silence descends, broken only by Morin's ragged breaths, as she heads to the neutral corner to await the count out! It’s her VERY first knockdown of what’s promising to be an epic career in the ring! Time seems to stretch as Ren stirs, a groan escaping her lips. Her vision swims, blurry and distorted. The harsh ring of the referee's voice cuts through the haze: "One..." With a deep, shuddering breath, she forces her eyes open. The arena lights are a kaleidoscope of colors, but slowly, the scene comes into focus. "Three..." she grits her teeth. Mustering every ounce of strength, she pushes herself onto her hands and knees. Her arms wobble, threatening to give way, but she clenches her fists, digging her knuckles into the canvas. "Five..." A low growl escapes her throat, a roar of defiance against the impending darkness. "Eight.." Ren pushes herself upright, her legs finding some semblance of stability. The referee steps back, his arm outstretched, signaling the end of the count.

A wave of hope washes over the crowd – but Morin is merciless. As the bell rings, she resumes her assault and frenzy of leather. Ren covers up desperately and moves, but her movements are sluggish. Each punch that crunches into her tummy and arms draws a sharper cheer from the sudden Morin-loyalists in the audience. Meanwhile, the blonde’s eyes are squeezed shut, her body trembling with each shot. Minute 2: Ren digs deep, summoning a last surge of strength. She throws up a wild counter-punch, more instinct than aim, but it CONNECTS! A right cross catches Morin mid-combo, throwing off her rhythm as her head is snapped back in shock! The newcomer stumbles back, off-balance from the unexpected hit! And Ren spies her chance!! Jab, cross – a classic combo, to smack her pretty head back again, her eyes widening in shock, her punches thrown up in the air mid-swing! The Vixen is striking at the most opportune times, disrupting her advantage! Morin throws a sloppy haymaker and she ducks easily under before ramming her own hook into the side of her jaw! This time, the Canadian's legs FLY out from under her, and her body SPINS on the spot before slamming into the mat with a sickening thud!! What the--! It’s a RETURN KNOCKDOWN for Miss Ren!!

As the count starts, Morin thrashes on the canvas like a landed fish, her body and chest heaving on all fours, but her limbs refusing to obey any further movement upwards. The referee is standing overhead, slow-counting, his voice a steady drone against the chaos. She reaches up to the ropes, her vision blurred, muscles screaming in protest. But she can't find her feet. She can only stare, helplessly, as the referee's hand waves one last time overhead, and the count reaches ten! It’s OVER in double-whammy-shocking fashion!

Official Result: Alexis Ren defeats AnneMarie Morin by KO7!

AFTER:
The aftermath of the fight is a stark contrast for the two combatants. Ren, the victorious fighter, is ecstatic after managing to catch her breath, her corner erupting in cheers and congratulations as she raises her arms in exhausted triumph. Back in her corner, her team swarms around her, patting her on the back and offering words of praise. She finally breaks into a grin from ear to ear, at the same time wondering how the hell the fight came so close and down to the wire.

Meanwhile, Morin, the Canadian rookie, lies sprawled on the canvas near the ropes, still tying to register the shock ending that almost saw her walk away with a possible upset-fight-of-the year. Alas, it was not to be. And Morin’s corner can only watch with horror as Ren, exhausted but victorious, weaves slightly on her feet, making her way over to exact her revenge.

Standing above, she stares down at Morin, the Canadian's eyes glassy and unfocused, before she crouches down and reaches down for her dark brown hair. The Canadian flinches, a flicker of fear in her eyes, but she's too weak to resist as Ren's grip tightens, a hiss escaping through her teeth, "You should have stuck to baking cookies, b*tch."

She yanks Morin to her feet, the abrupt action making her sway about, unable to resist besides the odd slap or weak pull on Ren’s own tresses. The Canadian tries to push and shove at her shoulders and chest away, but the fatigue is overwhelming. Meanwhile, Ren takes her time, her voice lowered, malice dripping from each word, "Pathetic. I should have ended you sooner."

The crowd falls silent, a collective gasp escaping their lips as Ren ignores the outstretched arms of medics and shoves Morin back against the nearby turnbuckle. It's a grotesque parody of a sportsmanly embrace. There, she slumps against the unforgiving steel, trapped.

Ren's fists clench, her knuckles white after having shed her gloves earlier. A torrent of taunts pours from her lips, laced with venom: "You almost had it, rookie. Almost."

Then, her assault begins. It's not a flurry of punches, but a slow, methodical battery. Jabs to the midriff, short, vicious hooks aimed at Morin's vulnerable, trembling abdomen. Each blow lands with a sickening thud, visibly contorting flesh, and Morin's own breath hitching with every impact. Her eyes widen in a mixture of pain and shock, as she tries to raise her arms in a semblance of defense, but they're too weak. Slowly, agonizingly, Ren folds her over, the Canadian's back arching against the turnbuckle as she hugs her body..

"Had enough?" Ren sneers, her voice dripping with sadistic pleasure. "Welcome to the FCBA, b*tch.”

Ren's eyes glitter with a dangerous light. She grabs a fistful of Morin's hair, jerking the Canadian's head back to expose her bruised neck and torso. Then, she winds up, every muscle in her arm tensing. Morin's eyes, brimming with tears of pain and humiliation, fix on her fist.

The uppercut lands. Not on her chin, but on her exposed abdomen, the force of impact rippling through her frame as Ren’s fist briefly disappears into her gut. A guttural cry of pain escapes Morin's lips. Her body convulses, instinctively curling in on itself, both her hands flying to her stomach. Finally, she collapses to the canvas with a choked sob. It's over. Finally. Her body trembles with pain and exhaustion, as the medics rush over, pushing Ren away. The American stands over her, breathing hard, the adrenaline slowly draining away.

Ren steps back, surveying her damage wrought. Smirking, she raises her arms in victory, basking in the applause. Yet, something flickers in her eyes. Perhaps she hadn't expected such a fierce fight. Then, her expression suddenly turns stern. She expected a dominating victory, a knockout in the early rounds, not a grueling, hard-fought win in the seventh. Her eyes narrow, her mind already focused on the next fight, the next challenge.

As she exits the ring, Ren's team tries to congratulate her, but she brushes them off with a scowl. "I should have won sooner," she mutters to herself, her eyes fixed on some distant point, her mind already plotting her next move.

In contrast, Morin's team offers her comforting words, praising her courage and resilience. They help her out of the ring, supporting her as she takes her first steps towards recovery. Though defeated, the rookie knows she gave it her all, and that knowledge brings a sense of pride and fulfillment. As she disappears into the dressing room, her team by her side, she can hold her head high, knowing she left everything in the ring.