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 Madison Beer vs Rosie Mac

Page history last edited by neon 3 weeks, 1 day ago

BREATHLESS @ THE METROPOLITAN OPERA HOUSE

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

(Results: Lookout!, Words: Caspian)

2. Madison Beer vs. Rosie Mac

Madison:
(24, 5’5, 19:17 FCBA, VIXENs)

Rosie:
(27, 5’4, 0:3 FCBA, Free Agent)

BEFORE:
While the previous match was a testament to grit and technical prowess, this next bout promises an entirely different flavor of drama. It's a clash between the social media darling and the untamed rookie, a feud already simmering on Instagram and gossip sites.

First to emerge is the songstress Madison Beer. As a newly joined Vixen, she's no stranger to the spotlight, clad in a designer sports bra and shorts that accentuate her toned physique. Tonight, however, there's an extra spark in her eyes, a hint of steel beneath the glamorous exterior. She's here to prove she's more than a social media sensation; she's a fighter to be feared in the FCBA.

Next, a roar of mixed cheers and boos greets Rosie Mac as she strides towards the ring. Unlike her opponent, she embraces the underdog persona. Her attire is simple – black shorts and a plain sports top – as if to emphasize that glitz and glamor mean nothing in the squared circle. She's all coiled power and raw intensity, her eyes burning with a fierce determination that belies her lack of FCBA experience.

The fighters ascend the steps, their mere presence amplifying the tension. Madison's team murmurs last-minute strategy. Rosie's corner, made up of scrappy newcomers like herself, offer words of raw, unfiltered encouragement. Then, the referee calls them together. Tonight, it's a barely-contained moment of simmering animosity. Madison's smile is practiced, a thin veil over her disdain. Rosie, ever the rebel, returns it with a defiant smirk that promises fireworks.

“Ready to get humbled?” Mac says, the blonde unusually cocky for someone who hasn’t won a single fight yet.

“Gonna knock you out, blondie,” Madison responds, in a soft hiss and smirk.

Back in their corners, there’s the referee’s hand for the bell! HERE WE GO with ten rounds of Flyweight action!

ROUND 1:
Beer explodes from her corner, her training kicking in. She knows Rosie has the reputation of a brawler, and her aim is to neutralize that advantage early, utilizing her reach and footwork, circling the ring and flicking out her jab like a whip. Rosie, unaccustomed to being on the back foot, lunges forward attempting to close the distance. But Beer is ready, pivoting and shifting with the practiced grace of a dancer. Slowly, Rosie's frustration grows. She throws wild, desperate punches that sail harmlessly past Madison's head, allowing the socialite to counter with a series of sharp, precise jabs that snap her head back. Each crisp impact elicits a roar from the crowd, divided in their loyalties. Mid-round, Madison lands a clean right cross that sends a jolt through Rosie's guard, the impact briefly silencing Rosie's supporters in the crowd. Seeing her opponent momentarily stunned, Madison POURS on the pressure. A flurry of punches follows – a left hook to the body, a right cross to the chin, another jab. Rosie bobbles back, forced onto the defensive. The blonde girl gasps, each breath a ragged wheeze. Forced into the ropes, Beer looms over her, a mountain of muscle and fury. The canvas of the ring vibrates beneath Rosie's back as Beer rains more punches into her arms and body, till sweat stings Rosie's eyes as another glove pummels her midsection with a sickening smack, the leather compressing against her taut stomach. With every blow, a guttural grunt erupts from Beer's throat, as she DOMINATES this opening round, seeking that KO1 victory! The crowd’s got her back, roaring their bloodlust along with her drive! Meanwhile, Rosie Mac tries to weather and defend herself! Her vision blurred, the lights overhead warp into fuzzy haloes. The world seems to contract, with Beer's fists the only things in focus, slamming into her again and again with bone-jarring force. Madison's gloves snake out, packing cruelly into Rosie's navel over and over, the soft leather making brief and hollow, sucking sounds as they find purchase. And with each forceful thrust, the glove burrows deeper, the skin around it puckering and turning an angry red, forcing Rosie's body to instinctively recoil, her abdominal muscles spasming in a desperate attempt to escape the relentless pressure. A strangled groan tears from her throat, no longer able to stifle the sounds of her pain, as each indentation of leather sucks the fight from her, leaving her trembling and vulnerable, made worse by the sound of Madison's glove squeaking against her hip, Rosie's breath hitching as Madison's gloved hand clamps down to hold her steady, before more leather digs into her exposed skin. A choked gasp escapes her lips as Madison reaches down, the ends of her glove nimbly working at the tie-side of Rosie's bikini bottoms.

Panic flares in Rosie's eyes. There’s about thirty seconds left in the round, and all she needs to do is survive this attempt to smother her resistance. She writhes against Madison's hold, but the larger woman appears immovable, the flimsy fabric of Rosie's bikini bottoms straining under Madison's grip, but holding. Before Rosie could react any further, a sickening WHOMP echoes as Madison's fist connects with Rosie's stomach, stealing the breath from her lungs and doubling her over. Instinctively, her body lurches forward, straight into the Vixen’s waiting arms! OUCH! And the round ends soon after, with Madison still firmly in control. She strides back to her corner, a flicker of a victorious smile gracing her lips. Meanwhile, poor Mac collapses back into her stool, her face a mask of pain and frustration, but her eyes still burning with defiance. In her eyes, this battle has just begun.

ROUND 2:
Rosie emerges, a firestorm unleashed. There’s no more hesitation in her eyes, realizing that if she wants to win this, she’s gonna need to fight fire with fire. First minute and she charges forward, abandoning technique for raw aggression. She ducks under Madison's first jab, bobbing and weaving like a manic boxer possessed, and Beer, caught off guard by her punches suddenly no longer landing, is forced onto the back foot when Rosie unleashes her own torrent of wild hooks and uppercuts. Some miss their target, others are partially blocked, but a few crash through Madison's defenses. The singer stumbles backward, momentarily off-balance, and sensing her opponent is rattled, the smaller blonde presses her advantage. She hammers away at Madison's body with forceful hooks that send tremors through the Vixen's frame, before a particularly vicious cross connects with Madison's jaw, eliciting a pained grunt. There’s a flicker of surprise in her foe’s eyes just before her own fist connects, and the satisfying SMACK of leather on flesh resonates through her own hand, as Madison's head snaps back with a yelp, the cruel amusement momentarily wiped clean from her face. Now, with a surge of adrenaline, Rosie capitalizes, shoving the stunned Beer backwards, with the ropes groaning in protest as they catch the larger woman's bulk. Immediately, Rosie follows through, one hand clamping around the back of Madison's neck, effectively pinning her against the corner. Fury contorts Madison's features, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and rage, but Rosie only tightens her grip, relishing the momentary power shift. Her other hand, a coiled fist of vengeance, then begins a revenge tour of Maddy’s midsection. Each uppercut is a piston-like blow, her glove making a sickening "pop” against her exposed navel. At first, Madison bucks against the blows, incoherent snarls ripping from her throat. But the blows keep coming, a rhythmic punishment that steals her breath and resolve. And soon, her struggles become feeble, her body slumping against the ropes, her arms desperately trying to cover herself up, and Rosie sees a flicker of something new in her eyes - a flicker of fear. A primal growl rises from Rosie's own throat, each successive uppercut fueled by the memory of Madison's earlier taunts and cruel prodding. "This all you've got?" Rosie sneers in her face, her voice thick with adrenaline and a twisted satisfaction. "Looks like the Vixen is all hot air." She didn't wait for a reply, driving another vicious uppercut into Madison's gut, making the larger woman gasp, the air forced from her lungs in a painful rush, and her body convulse, a wet cough escaping her lips. “Well, time to deflate your ego, b*tch…” Rosie hissed, before following through with another, and then another, each punch bending Madison's body over against the ropes.

Desperation flickers across Madison's face, replacing the earlier arrogance. She tries to shove Rosie away, her arms flailing half-heartedly at her shoulders and hips, but Rosie's grip around her neck is like iron. Every attempt to brace her abs is more and more futile; the force of Rosie's punches is too relentless, each strike sinking deeper into her exposed flesh. Meanwhile, Rosie catches the flash of pain twisting her features, a cruel mirror of her own torment from moments earlier. It feeds the blonde’s fury even more, and for a moment, the line between fighter and bully blurs. But as Madison's struggles grow weaker, her eyes pleading, a flicker of something else stirs in the Vixen -- a sense of unease settling in her own gut. With a final, desperate heave, Madison manages to buck and twist slightly to the side. The shift was just enough to deflect the trajectory of Rosie's next oncoming punch, and the misstep throws her assailant off balance, which loosens her grip on her neck momentarily. Seeing the opening, Beer seizes it. She wriggles her upper body, twisting just enough to snag her elbow under Rosie's outstretched arm. With a grunt, she yanks upwards, using her unexpected leverage to break the clinch! The sudden release sends Rosie staggering back a step. And before she can recover fully, Madison LUNGES. Her counterattack wasn't pretty or technical, but it sure as hell is ferocious. Flailing arms and wild hooks rain back down on Mac, and Rosie, still momentarily disoriented, finds herself scrambling to defend rather than attack. Yet, Madison still struggles to regroup. She attempts to regain control with her jab hand to the face, but Rosie ALSO wants to end this early, weaves around it again and tries to resume her onslaught, leaving little room for the Vixen to maneuver. Beer throws a desperate counter-punch, but it's sloppy, and leaves her momentarily open, allowing Mac to duck under and land another vicious right hook to the ribs that doubles her over. The crowd goes wild, sensing an upset in the making, and just as Rosie closes the gap, the bell rings! Both fighters retreat to their corners in a mirror image of the previous round. This time, it's Madison who looks dazed, her breath ragged, one glove on her bruised tummy. Her team works furiously, wiping the blood from her nose, their usually polished demeanor momentarily frayed. Rosie, on the other hand, is a picture of wild energy. She gulps water, a victorious smirk spreading across her bloodied face. And it's a tight one. Two judges score the round 10-9 for Rosie, impressed by her sudden resurgence. One judge disagrees, still awarding the round to Madison despite her faltering composure.

ROUND 3:
And here comes Rosie Mac, determined to reassert her dominance! This time, she's not chasing shadows – every wild punch carries the weight of her determination to avoid being outclassed and underestimated! Madison, shaken but determined, meets her assault with wary eyes and calculated movements. She knows the blonde will try to overwhelm her again, and that a single misstep could be her downfall, so she chooses to dance around the ring, peppering Rosie with swift jabs while avoiding a direct confrontation. Meanwhile, Mac surges forward, a relentless battering ram in human form. She throws a wild left hook that grazes Madison's cheek, but Madison anticipates the move – she plants her feet, pivots, and unleashes a perfect right cross that catches her back flush on the jaw! OUCH! A collective gasp echoes through the arena as Rosie's forward momentum falters, her eyes looking wide with a mix of shock and sudden pain. Her knees buckle, and she stumbles backward, swaying hard! The crowd explodes in a ROAR – the fight, once seemingly in either girl’s reach, now teeters on a knife's edge! AND HERE COMES BEER!! Her heart thunders in her chest, fueled by adrenaline and a fierce desire to seal the victory. She charges forward, sending a barrage of blows into Mac’s frame – a left hook to the ribs, another right hand rocked to the jaw, another punishing hook to the body! And Rosie is overwhelmed! A final swing to the face sends her CRUMPLING down to the canvas in a KNOCKDOWN for the young Vixen! She’s fallen to her side and reduced to a puddling mess, trying to raise those spent arms in a futile attempt to support herself against the ropes. But the referee is there in an instant, waving Madison back and sending her to the neutral corner... He kneels beside Rosie, checking her vitals, as she struggles to her hands and knees, her eyes disoriented. The world spins, and the referee's voice seems distant, filtered through the haze of the knockout blow… "One…two…" he counts, and Rosie tries to push herself to her feet, but her legs waver. She shakes her head, trying to clear the fog, but it's useless. "Five…six…" Rosie's arms collapse beneath her, her body betraying her fighting spirit. And as darkness starts to creep in around the edges of her vision, she gives in to the inevitable. "Nine…ten!" It’s OVER via shocking KO!

Official Result: Madison Beer defeats Rosie Mac via KO3!

AFTER:
Relief washes over Beer, tinged with an unexpected savagery that surprises even herself. The fight wasn't just about winning – it was about silencing the doubters, and crushing the audacity of a rookie blonde who dared challenge her. The crowd roars, a wave of affirmation, as she raises her arms, allowing herself a smile, a practiced display of grace amidst the brutal reality of the sport.

But her attention is soon drawn to the far side of the ring, where Rosie remains hunched on the canvas, the medics tending to her wounds. A flicker of malice sparks in the Vixen’s eyes. This isn't just about competition anymore. It's about teaching little blondie a lesson, and shattering her defiant spirit the way she shattered her defenses in the ring.

As Beer approaches her fallen opponent, the medics part, a look of silent disapproval in their eyes. They know this has transcended sport. She kneels down in front of Rosie. The rookie's eyes, swollen and bloodshot, still stare vacantly at the floor. "How are ya doing, blondie?" Madison asks, her question rhetorical, and the furthest from concern. Her voice is deceptively sweet, those words intended not just for Rosie, but for the cameras, for the world.

Madison's hand snakes out, grasping a chunk of Rosie's blonde, sweat-matted hair. With a brutal yank, she forces her slowly upwards, to her knees, before tilting her head back to meet her gaze. Mac’s vacant eyes finally focus on her opponent, pain blending with a flicker of defiance. "Thought you were so tough, huh?" Madison sneers, the veneer of politeness fully shattered. "Guess those Instagram comments gave you a big head for someone who's 0 for 3 in the ring." She leans in closer, her voice dropping to a vicious whisper. “Maybe you need to learn some respect."

Then, her hands shoot out, grabbing Rosie's by her upper arms, then hauling her back to her feet with a force that jars her sore body. Pain flares in Mac like fireworks in her midsection, each throb a reminder of her defeat. "Thought you could take me, huh?" Madison sneers, prodding at the angry red welts on her stomach. "We're not done yet, darling. Think your tummy needs a little more…attention."

Rosie shudders in her grasp, a wave of nausea washing over her. Madison's grip tightens, dragging her with agonizing slowness towards the center of the ring. It seems like a walk of shame, each unsteady step under the harsh lights accompanied by more cruel mockery. For Mac, the world has narrowed to nothing but the smell of sweat and leather, and the hard press of Madison's body against hers.

"Let's have some fun, huh?" Madison breathes. Rosie feels one of her arms being released, and before she knows what’s happening, Madison’s fist blurs in a flash of leather before disappearing somewhere below her line of sight. Then, the fist connects. Not bone-jarring hooks, but short, vicious uppercuts, each one slammed into the soft flesh of her stomach. THWUMP-THWUMP-THWUMP, they came in relentless succession, each strike bending her body further and further downwards and over.

Rosie’s body crumples with each shot, involuntarily folding in half over each relentless blow. A cry of pain tears from her throat, ragged and desperate, and soon, tears mixed with sweat blur her vision, and every gasp brought the metallic taste of blood to her mouth. She tries to buck, to struggle, to get away, but Madison still held her steady with a firm grip on her shoulder and other arm, each uppercut forcing her lower, until finally, her limp body collapses completely - her backside using the the middle rope to support itself, with her upper half bent over in agony.

The world spins, Rosie's vision a kaleidoscope of flashing lights and the distorted image of Madison's triumphant smirk above. Her breaths are shallow, ragged gasps against the throbbing agony in her stomach. But amidst the pain, a spark ignited. No. Not done. Not yet. With Beer thinking she’s done for, and tugging her hair this way and that, Rosie suddenly lashes out. Her fist connects with the soft flesh, just below Madison's ribs, and the satisfying grunt that escapes her assailant’s lips is sweet music to her ears. Instantly, the larger brunette doubles over, the air momentarily expelled from her lungs.

Seizing the opportunity, Rosie lurches forward, using Madison’s own stunned frame to support her own, whilst pushing her back, inch by agonizing inch, muscle straining against muscle, towards the nearby turnbuckles. The metal groans in protest as both girls slam into it, twisting and struggling for dominance. But the blonde works quickly, snaking her left arm under Beer’s armpit, trapping it. Then, with her right hand, she grabs a fistful of Madison's sweat-slicked hair, eliciting a yelp of pain.

"You like that, Mads?" Rosie snarls, her voice hoarse but laced with venom. "Thought you weren't done with me?" Ignoring the searing pain in her own stomach, Rosie drives a fist into her lower abdomen, the leather of her glove absorbing some of the impact, but the sickening thud that follows told her it connected.

Madison lets out a choked scream, her body convulsing as she tries to pull away. The power dynamic had shifted entirely, and Rosie, fuelled by a primal rage, is no longer the battered fighter she was pummeling out seconds ago. Instead, a chilling realization flickers across the Vixen’s face, replaced with a dawning fear: she had initiated this post-fight brawl, and now, she was in danger of losing it.

Rosie, however, is reveling in the moment, savoring each agonizing blow she drills into the American singer, a brutal echo of the torment she'd just endured. Blow after blow, her fist hammers in, each impact met with a strangled grunt or a desperate gasp. The relentless pummeling is mirrored on Madison's face – her eyes are squeezed shut in agony, her brows knitted in pain, her lips parting in a silent plea for mercy that went unanswered.

Slowly, gradually, Rosie feels Madison's body sag against her own, growing weaker with each strike. Her once-taunt smile is gone, her arrogance replaced by the raw vulnerability of a fighter on the brink of collapse. The blows continue until Madison's torso is a painful curve, her chin coming to rest precariously on Rosie's shoulder, such that Mac can hear the rasp of every expelled breath. Still, Rosie leans in further, nuzzling Beer’s ear with her lips. "Thought you could break me, huh?"

She drives one last fist into her exposed belly, not with the blind fury of earlier blows, but with a cold calculation. The glove sinks deep into Madison's yielding flesh, the impact molding itself around the contours of her glove, as though Rosie was carving a brutal hollow from her stomach. This was a punctuation mark, a final word in a sentence of pain. The force of the blow snatches the last air from Madison's lungs, and a wet cough escapes her lips. Her body lurches forward, then goes completely limp, slumping dead weight against her foe.

Silence descends upon the arena, broken only by Madison's shallow gasps as she struggles to breathe on the canvas. Meanwhile, standing above, the roar of the crowd is a distant wave crashing against the adrenaline still surging through Rosie's veins. She pants hard, her breaths ragged, but a savage satisfaction courses through her.

"...You're putty in my hands. Better watch your back, champ,” she hisses from above, before the ring officials, having seen enough, tug her away from the battered Beer at her feet. Still, the words hang heavy in the air, a threat disguised as a declaration. On the ground, Madison's eyes, glazed with shock and pain, flicker with something that might have been fear, or perhaps a newfound desire for vengeance at this treatment. She had underestimated the lithe little blonde, and Mac was going to pay. One day.