If you are citizen of an European Union member nation, you may not use this service unless you are at least 16 years old.
You already know Dokkio is an AI-powered assistant to organize & manage your digital files & messages. Very soon, Dokkio will support Outlook as well as One Drive. Check it out today!

19 May 2024 Emily Ratajkowski vs Tasya Teles

Page history last edited by neon 1 week, 5 days ago

BREATHLESS @ THE METROPOLITAN OPERA HOUSE

Posted by caspian on 19 May 2024 at 8:15 am

(Results: Lookout!, Words: Caspian)

4. Emily Ratajkowski vs. Tasya Teles

Emily:
(32, 5’7, 60:28 FCBA, VIXENs)

Tasya:
(39, 5’9, 10:7 FCBA, Free Agent)

BEFORE:
The spotlight cuts through the smoky arena, revealing the two fighters already in the ring:

Emily Ratajkowski, true to form, embraces her bombshell image in an emerald bikini and matching shorts that showcase her toned and buxomed physique. A glittering "V" for VIXENs is emblazoned across her chest. Yet, behind the flawless makeup, there's a tightness around her eyes, a hint of desperation to silence the whispers about her recent losing streak.

In stark contrast, Tasya is a study in lean athleticism. Her attire is a plain black sports bra and shorts, devoid of logos or flair. Every inch of her screams focus, not flash. The years have etched fine lines around her eyes, but those eyes burn with an intensity that promises a very different fight than the fashion-forward and curve-flaunting Vixen is used to. The subtle scars on her arms hint at battles that have nothing to do with magazine covers or endorsements.

A hush falls over the crowd as the official lays down the rules and checks their gloves. Emily, even in this formality, exudes a kind of practiced allure, while Tasya's movements are curt nods and a steely economy of motion. She's here for one reason only – to prove herself.

Just before the bell rings, the cameras flash, catching the scene: Emily strikes a pose, a model even amidst the looming fight. Tasya doesn't flinch. Two women, each with a burning desire for vindication, are separated by the ropes and a gulf of vastly different boxing journeys.

HERE WE GO with ten rounds of Bantamweight action!

ROUND 1:
The bell shrieks, shattering the tense silence, and Emily springs forward, a practiced aggression in her movements, but Tasya weathers the initial storm with a calm focus. The first few moments are a blur of jabs, each fighter testing the other's range. Then, right after Emily throws a lazy right hook, leaving her midsection exposed, Tasya pivots on her left foot, dropping under the swinging arm, and unleashes a vicious two-punch combo: the first shot lands with a sickening thud – a right cross that sinks deep into Emily's left breast. The emerald green fabric ripples as the impact forces the air from her lungs. A gasp escapes the brunette model’s lips, her eyes widening in shock. But Tasya doesn't relent. A left hook follows immediately, a piston-like swing that slams into her right breast, mirroring the first blow. Another choked gasp erupts from Emily’s lips, her face contorting in a mix of pain and fury, as she back pedals, hugging her chest. The crowd roars, a mixture of gasps and sick fascination at the early exchange -- they certainly weren’t expecting a JMD contest! Yet, Tasya doesn't acknowledge the shocked response. She steps back just out of reach, her chest heaving slightly, but her eyes locked on her opponent with a cold intensity. The message is clear – this isn't a fight about winning on points, it's about breaking Emily, both physically and mentally. It's brutal contempt for her opponent’s status as a gravure model, and Tasya has made her feelings known clearly that she has zero respect for the Vixen’s fighting skills, or lack thereof. In the final minute, Tasya continues to trade precise leather with Emily’s own sloppy seconds, landing another stinging shot that snaps her head back, drawing a shocked gasp from the crowd. Her lip’s already starting to split, a thin streak of crimson against her flawless foundation. And when the bell rings, the judges don’t hesitate: it’s a clear, almost shockingly dominant, point win for Tasya Teles. The underdog, the released fighter, had thrown down the gauntlet and rattled the sweetheart of the FCBA!

ROUND 2:
Emily emerges from her corner, determination washing away the shock of the first round. Her eyes are cold, the model veneer replaced by the stark focus of a fighter pushed to the brink. She circles Tasya with a newfound purpose. Her footwork is lighter, quicker, using short, measured steps to keep Tasya off-balance. A sharp jab lands flush on the nose, drawing a grunt and a momentary flicker of surprise. The Vixen capitalizes immediately, following up with a right cross that whistles past Tasya's ear. The underdog isn't used to being put on the defensive, and the change in pace is unsettling. The fight shifts, evolving into a brutal dance of attrition. Every punch lands with a sickening thud, their bodies bearing new marks of the battle. Yet, Emily, despite her efforts, can't entirely shake her opponent’s rhythm. Her desperation mounts with each missed opportunity. In her haste to close the distance, she becomes sloppy, her guard open, her stance unbalanced. And Tasya recognizes the weakness, and POUNCES! Planting her feet firmly, she drops her own guard in a calculated move, her sculpted chest thrust forward. It's a risky gambit, an invitation that seems suicidal against the onslaught. But Emily can't resist. Her eyes narrow, and she hammers a left fist, encased in its emerald green glove, into Tasya's right breast. The impact is brutal: the soft flesh ripples like disturbed water, momentarily disfiguring the sculpted form beneath. Tasya recoils slightly, the force of the impact vibrating through her torso. A sharp gasp escapes her lips, but it's a sound of grim satisfaction, not pain. Her head snaps back momentarily, but she quickly regains her composure, a challenging glint in her eyes. Encouraged, Emily digs her right hook deep into her left breast, twisting her knuckles inwards in a brutal attempt to maximize the damage. The other orb distorts grotesquely under the attack, the movement traveling with sickening visibility beneath her sports bra. Another sharp grunt from Tasya, this one tinged with a hint of outrage. The crowd, sensing the bizarre turn of events, erupts in a frenzy of cheers and jeers. They've never seen anything like this - a vicious tit-for-tat that has little to do with technique and everything to do with raw, unhinged aggression. Tasya, though surprised by Emily's change in tactics, doesn't falter. She ducks under a follow jab combo to the head, before unleashing a punishing body blow to the ribs, just before the bell signals the end of a blistering second round. Both women slump against the ropes, gasping for air. Emily's lip now throbs, and a dark bruise is blossoming on her ribs. While Tasya sported similar marks, her eyes hold an unwavering intensity. The judges confer, the verdict far closer this time. But the decision still comes as a punch to Emily's pride: another win for Teles. The underdog, the released stable-reject, is systematically dismantling the VIX star.

ROUND 3:
The third round opens with a primal scream. Not from the crowd, but from Ratajkowski. It's a raw sound, born of desperation, frustration, and the chilling realization that if something doesn't change, this fight threatens to redefine her career. She explodes out of her corner, eyes blazing, her stance shifting slightly forward. Every punch now carries the full weight of her burning need to reclaim control. Tasya, momentarily bewildered by the onslaught, struggles to maintain her calculated pressure. Emily's jabs find their target on her face, before she opens up Tasya's defenses for devastating crosses and hooks. The underdog, so dominant in the early rounds, is forced into a defensive crouch. Her footwork, usually so effective, becomes frantic and uncoordinated. This is the fight Emily's been famed for: wild dominance and ruthless efficiency. Yet, there's a ragged edge to her punches, a frantic energy betraying the inner turmoil beneath the surface. The crowd witnesses a woman fighting against a legacy crumbling before their eyes. Tasya, though bloodied and on the defensive, refuses to break. She absorbs the onslaught and waits for her moment, for a crack in the relentless attack. But the moment never comes. Emily's fists hound her about the ring, giving no quarter for a counterattack. Even when Teles swings back, the lean Vixen shows off her own boxing chops, dipping to the side and under, before smacking leather into Tasya's lean torso again. The bell rings, and both fighters slump slightly, their faces tight masks of pain and exertion. Emily's chest heaves, her knuckles white from clenching so hard. But there's a glimmer of something resembling triumph in her eyes, replacing the panic of earlier rounds. The judges waste no time; it's a decisive win for Ratajkowski, finally landing a definitive answer after the shocking start to the match. Yet, as she looks across the ring, she doesn't see a defeated opponent in Tasya Teles. She sees the chilling reflection of her own desperation mirrored in the underdog's unwavering gaze.

ROUND 4:
A chaotic brawl erupts to start the fourth, a stark contrast to the precise exchanges of the previous round. Both women abandon all pretense of strategy and trade blows in the center of the ring, descending into a brutal spectacle, a whirlwind of leather and bone. Emily, her face flushed and slick with sweat, launches a jab that splits Tasya's eyebrow open, a crimson line blossoming across the older fighter's forehead. Tasya roars in pain and retaliation, swinging a wild left hook that whistles past Emily's ear. Undeterred, Emily counters with a right cross that lands squarely on her nose. The sickening crack echoes through the arena, forcing Tasya to stumble back, momentarily stunned, blood trickling down her chin. But she's a veteran, and veterans don't go down easy. She lunges forward after a few seconds, throwing a looping right that Emily ducks under with practiced ease. As Tasya overextends, Emily capitalizes with a brutal uppercut to the body. The impact doubles Tasya over and forces a grunt of agony from her lips. They clinch briefly, both fighters gasping for breath, sweat stinging their eyes. The referee steps in, separating them with a firm shove, and the fight resumes. Tasya, fueled by fury and the metallic tang of blood in her mouth, wades into Emily, throwing a flurry of punches. Emily, circling away, uses her footwork to avoid the worst of the attack, but a glancing blow on her cheekbone sends a jolt of pain through her jaw. She retaliates with a left hook that catches Tasya on the temple, snapping her head back. Back and forth they go, trying to murder each other! The crowd roars, their bloodlust rising with every exchange. Emily, however, starts showing glimmers of her former brilliance. While still driven by a raw urgency, she begins weaving her head subtly, slipping under Tasya's wild swings. Her own punches, though lacking the elegance of past fights, carry the sting of focused anger. A well-timed right hook snaps into Tasya's jawline and jolts her head to the side, momentarily interrupting the relentless pressure. However, Tasya is not easily deterred. She roars back out of frustration, throwing a series of looping overhands with a ferocity that forces the Vixen to retreat to the ropes. But just as Tasya thinks she has the Vixen cornered, Emily ducks under another wild swing! Pivoting on her right foot, she unleashes a picture-perfect uppercut that lands flush on Tasya's jawline! The CRACK echoes through the arena, silencing the crowd for a heartbeat. Tasya stumbles back, legs wobbling. Sensing an opening, Emily launches a barrage of combinations. Jabs snap Tasya's head back and forth, a brutal left hook sends a crimson spray arcing through the air. The referee, ever vigilant, watches closely, but Tasya manages to stay on her feet! The final bell is a sweet relief, both fighters collapsing onto the ropes, spent and battered. The decision, however, is agonizingly close. Emily, despite the dominant end of the round, sports numerous welts and a swollen eye. Tasya, though bloodied and showing signs of fatigue, has a fire in her eyes that refuses to be extinguished.

ROUND 5:
Tasya, her face a mask of blood and bruises, presses the initial attack. A flicker of the defiance from earlier rounds returns, the taste of a possible upset fueling her waning strength. Her punches are sloppy, but their weight is undeniable. Emily backpedals, momentarily on the defensive once more. The crowd, sensing a possible shock reversal, roars in support of the underdog. Suddenly, a flicker of opportunity sparks in Emily's eyes. Tasya, throwing a desperate, looping punch, leaves herself wide open. It's the fatal mistake that has been brewing for rounds. Emily, with a flash of her honed instincts, ducks under the blow and, with ruthless efficiency, lands a blistering counterpunch squarely on Tasya's already bruised ribs. Instantly, Tasya doubles over, a gasp of agony tearing from her throat. She drops to her knees, winded and struggling for breath, her entire frame shaking from the suddenness of the attack. Ratajkowski stifles a smirk and herds herself to the neutral corner. The referee starts his count! "One...Two..." Tasya, shaking her head, starts to push herself up. The fight isn't over yet. "Three...Four..." She reaches one shaking hand toward the ropes, searching for a way to haul herself back into the game. "Five...Six..." Emily watches Tasya with narrowed eyes. This isn't about revenge or redemption; it's about her career, her reputation. "Seven...Eight..." Tasya, with a superhuman effort, heaves herself to her feet, but her legs wobble precariously. She's up! But just barely! Is it enough, though?!

The bell rings to resume, and Emily Ratajkowski closes the distance in a single fluid movement. She unleashes a brutal barrage along the ropes. Tasya, too battered and exhausted to defend herself, slumps back, absorbing the onslaught with a helpless groan. Her arms, raised in a feeble attempt at defense, begin to falter. Left hook, right cross, uppercut after uppercut – Emily is in a frenzy. She drives leather all over her opponent's face and body, her blows fueled by a chilling focus born from desperation, by the lingering memory of those earlier rounds she'd almost lost! Finally, Teles can take no more! She slumps forward, a broken form against the ropes. The referee, ever-present, lunges in. He covers Tasya, waving the fight over, forcefully pulling Emily away. TKO!!

Official Result: Emily Ratajkowski defeats Tasya Teles via TKO5!

AFTER:
Silence descends over the arena, a stark contrast to the roar of moments before. It's broken only by a wild surge of noise – not a celebratory cheer, but an awestruck rumble acknowledging the brutal back-and-forth they've witnessed. Emily stands above her opponent, chest heaving, her own face a roadmap of the fight. There's no triumph in her gaze, just a grim, weary finality. Medical staff descend on Tasya, their voices a distant hum as Emily watches, her breathing finally starting to slow.

Later, the glow of victory is absent in the cramped backstage room. Emily, still sporting the bruises of the fight, faces a flurry of reporters. Her responses, usually tinged with a practiced arrogance, have a new, hardened edge.

"Teles took me by surprise," she admits, her voice scratchy, fingers tracing a split along her eyebrow. "She's got guts. But guts ain't enough – gotta have the skill to back it up, and there..." She trails off, a brief flash of something akin to grudging admiration in her eyes. "Well, she didn't have it in the end."

A reporter mentions the early rounds, the ones where it looked like Emily might fall. She tenses, her jawline hardening. "There's falling, and there's getting pushed. Tonight was a reminder – don't ever doubt me. I may get rattled, but I don't break," she spits, the words fierce and defiant.

Meanwhile, in a makeshift medical area, Tasya sits hunched on a stool, her spirit as battered as her body. The sting of defeat cuts deep, yet there's a defiant spark that loss can't extinguish.

"Ratajkowski's tougher than she looks," Tasya grumbles between bloody coughs. She winces as a medic dabs at the cut above her eye, the swelling starting to make it throb in time with her pulse. "But she ain't invincible. I cracked her…almost had her."

There's a raw truth in her voice. The fight hasn't just been about winning or losing; it has been a desperate bid for recognition, a statement to the FCBA and the world. And even in defeat, she's landed that blow.

"Next time..." Tasya's voice drifts for a moment, a mixture of pain and unyielding determination swirling in her eyes. "...next time, I'll break more than just crack."