BEFORE:

Earlier, Emily Ratajkowski, a seasoned veteran and former JMD champion, sits stiffly on the stage, her signature smirk replaced by a tight-lipped frown. She's dressed in a body-hugging black cocktail dress, her usual air of confidence dulled by the shadow of her recent losses.

Across from her, Eden Cohen, the rising star in the Vixens, exudes her own brand of relaxed confidence that borders on arrogance. Clad in a daringly short red dress that accentuates her long legs and toned physique, she leans back in her chair, a playful smirk on her lips.

The MC tries to lighten the mood. "Ladies, welcome back to the Queen of the Vixens tournament! We've got a real treat for our third match tonight – a rematch between two sultry Vixens!"

Emily's eyes narrow, her voice dripping with barely restrained frustration. "It’s a rematch, yes. A treat? I'll be the judge of that."

The crowd murmurs. Eden, however, leans forward. "Don't worry, Ems," she drawls, emphasizing her chosen nickname for her fellow stablemate. "I'll make it a treat for you. Maybe this time, you'll actually land a punch on my abs."

A ripple of gasps and nervous laughter runs through the audience. Emily's jaw clenches, but she maintains her composure. A reporter jumps in, "Emily, you've lost to Eden twice now, both in specialty matches. Do you think a traditional boxing match will give you the advantage you need?"

Emily's eyes harden. "Those were gimmick matches. I respect the challenge that JMD and AMD present, but I believe a traditional boxing match will allow me to showcase my full skillset." This is real boxing, and I'm going to show Eden what it means to fight like a true champion."

Eden's smirk widens, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "Em, Em, Em," she says, her accent thickening with her rising excitement. "Always with the excuses, no? This time, no gimmicks, just fists. And maybe, just maybe, you learn to fight instead of complain."

The tension is thick, the air heavy with unspoken threats. Another reporter, sensing the potential for a verbal explosion, tries to steer the conversation in a different direction. "Eden, you're a relative newcomer to the FCBA. Do you feel any pressure facing a veteran like Emily?"

Eden shrugs, her confidence unwavering. "Pressure? I eat pressure for breakfast. Emily's had her time. Now, it's my time. Maybe she can retire, yeah? Leave the fighting to those still hungry."

Emily leans forward, her gaze locked on Eden's. "You're an arrogant little brat, Cohen. Just because you got lucky twice doesn't mean you can walk all over me. Tonight, it's different. Tonight, I'm going to expose you for the fraud you are, and send you back to the bottom of the roster where you belong."

The room falls silent, the only sound is the whirring of cameras and the scribbling of pens. The animosity between the two fighters is suffocating, a raw, visceral energy that promises an explosive showdown in the ring. The MC's voice, amplified by the gym's speakers, cuts through the tension. "Ladies and gentlemen, it's time for the official weigh-in!"

A spotlight descends upon the stage, illuminating a gleaming silver scale. Emily, with practiced poise, steps forward, shrugging off her cocktail dress to reveal a black bra and panties set that leaves little to the imagination. Her figure is lean and toned, her abs flat and defined. She steps onto the scale, the digital display flashing 118 pounds, a testament to her dedication to maintaining her model physique.

Next, it's Eden's turn. She strides confidently onto the stage, her red dress falling away to reveal a simple black sports bra and matching shorts. Her body is taller and more athletic than Emily's, her muscles hinting at a raw power that belies her relatively slender frame. She steps onto the scale, and the numbers flash 117.5 pounds – just under the Lightweight limit.

The crowd hushes as the two women turn to face each other for the staredown. Emily's gaze is cold and focused, her fists clenched at her sides. Eden, her head held high, meets her opponent's stare with a defiant smirk. The cameras flash, capturing the contrasting figures. Emily, with her flawless skin and delicate features, embodies the VIXENs' glamorous image. Eden, her face bare of makeup, exudes a raw, almost feral energy. Her dark eyes burn with a quiet intensity, her slightly broader shoulders and thicker thighs hinting at the power that lies beneath her sculpted physique.

They inch closer, the space between them shrinking until they're almost nose-to-nose. Emily raises her fists in a defensive crouch, her knuckles positioned high near Eden's chin, daring her to make the first move. Eden counters by mirroring the stance, but with a subtle difference. Her fists are held even higher, almost brushing the underside of Emily's jaw, a constant, aggressive threat. It's a clear message: Emily might be focused on defense, but Eden is ready to attack at any moment.

The silence stretches, broken only by the ragged gasps of the audience. Finally, Emily breaks the tension with a low growl. "This time, Eden," she snarls, her voice laced with barely contained fury, "there won't be any lucky punches. Just me and you, mano a mano. And you're going to regret the day you ever stepped into the ring with me."

A slow smile spreads across Eden's face. "Don't worry, Em," she purrs, her accent thick with amusement. "I've been waiting for this a long time. Tonight, I expose you for the overhyped fraud you are. Three in a row, baby."

The tension reaches a fever pitch, but then, with surprising suddenness, both women break the stare. Emily exhales a slow breath, her shoulders relaxing slightly. Eden offers a curt nod, a flicker of respect momentarily replacing the animosity in her eyes.

"See you in the ring," she says, her voice lower now.

"Don't blink, b*tch," Emily replies, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips.

The two women turn away from each other, the press conference officially over. The crowd erupts in cheers and applause. Security guards stand by attentively, but there's no need for intervention.

The lights dim, casting a hush over the expectant crowd. The spotlight shifts to the blue corner, where Emily Ratajkowski emerges, a vision of sculpted intensity in a deep navy blue bra and matching briefs. The top, a simple bandeau style, showcases her toned shoulders and defined collarbone, while the high-waisted bottoms hug her hips, emphasizing her long legs. It's a look that's both athletic and undeniably alluring, a testament to her dual identity as model and fighter.

Across the ring, Eden Cohen steps into the spotlight, her presence radiating a quiet confidence. Her crimson bra and briefs, a stark contrast to Emily's, feature a strappy design that highlights her sculpted back and toned abs. Her low-rise briefs accentuate her long, powerful legs. Her dark hair is pulled back in a tight bun, a few loose strands framing her determined face.

The final preparations are done swiftly. Emily's cornermen, a team of seasoned professionals, work with practiced efficiency. They adjust the straps of her gloves, apply a thin layer of Vaseline to her cheekbones and nose, and offer final words of encouragement. Eden's corner, equally focused, goes through their own ritual. They check the tightness of her wraps, ensure her mouthpiece fits securely, and give her a final pep talk. Their eyes gleam with a cold fire, a shared understanding that tonight's fight might not be confined to the rulebook.

The referee, a stern-faced woman with a no-nonsense demeanor, calls both fighters to the center of the ring. Her gaze flickers between them, a flicker of concern in her eyes. These women weren't here for a points match; they were here to settle a score. With a curt nod, the referee decides against issuing the usual pre-fight instructions. Both Emily and Eden's expressions made it clear – they weren't interested in a lecture on sportsmanship.

HERE WE GO with ten rounds of Lightweight action! This here’s the third match in the Quarterfinals of the VIX: Queen of the Vixens boxing tournament!

ROUND 1:

The first round explodes into a frenzy of movement, each woman showcasing a starkly different approach: Emily, wanting to prove her doubters wrong, comes out swinging with wild abandon. Her punches are powerful but lack the precision of her earlier fights. Eden, however, is a study in controlled aggression. She circles her opponent, her movements lithe and graceful, her eyes constantly scanning for an opening. Emily lunges forward, her right hook aimed at the ribs. But the Israeli fighter deftly slips under the blow, her counter a lightning-fast jab that snaps Emily's head back! And this opening salvo sets the tone for the round. Emily continues to press the attack, her punches a barrage of raw power. Eden, however, remains elusive, her footwork and head movement a mesmerizing dance of evasion. Her counterpunches, while less frequent, land with stinging accuracy. Another sharp right hook catches Emily on the cheekbone, drawing a wince of pain. And though Emily retaliates with a desperate left hook to the body, Eden absorbs the blow, her abs rippling outwards with the impact but still looking pristine. The crowd roars with each exchange, their cheers and jeers a chaotic symphony that fuels the fighters' adrenaline. But it's Eden who controls the pace, her calculated aggression wearing down Emily's defenses. A final series of jabs to the face is followed by a brutal uppercut to the body – Eden's punches land with greater frequency and potency, each impact a testament to her growing dominance. And Emily, her composure slipping, resorts to desperate swings, her punches losing their power and accuracy. The bell rings, signaling the end of a round that showcased Eden's superior skill and tactical awareness. The judges' verdict is swift and unanimous: a wide win for Eden Cohen. The crowd erupts, their cheers for the rising star a deafening roar that echoes through the VIXENs' gym. Emily, her face flushed and her breathing ragged, retreats to her corner, a shadow of doubt creeping into her eyes.

ROUND 2:

Round Two sees a resurgence from one battered Vixen. Emily, pride wounded and eyes blazing, emerges from her corner with a renewed sense of purpose. She's not going to be humiliated on her home turf, not by a newcomer with a flashy smile and a penchant for dirty fighting. This round is a stark contrast to the first. Her movements are sharper, her punches more calculated. She's learned from her mistakes, anticipating Eden's aggressive tendencies and countering with a newfound precision. A left jab snaps out, a corkscrew motion that dips under Eden's outstretched arm and catches her flush on the chin with a resounding "CRACK!" The crowd gasps, the sound of impact a stark reminder of the power Emily still possesses, and Eden stumbles backwards, her eyes widening in surprise! This is not the timid, hesitant fighter from the first round, she realizes! Capitalizing on Eden's momentary disorientation, Emily utilizes footwork drills ingrained through years of training. She employs a weaving shuffle, dropping her body low and pivoting on the balls of her feet as Eden throws a wild right hook as retaliation. But the momentum from her swing carries her past Emily's head, leaving her open for a punishing right hook to the body. By dipping low and shifting laterally, she disrupts Eden's aim and creates another window to strike. It's a risky strategy, but one that pays off handsomely in this instance, allowing her Ratajkowski to press her advantage, utilizing a textbook example of the bob-and-weave technique, following up with a swift left uppercut to the jaw, slipping under the desperate retaliatory swing with a well-timed head tilt. Another right hook finds its mark, this time landing flush on the side of Cohen’s ribs as Emily expertly cuts off the ring with calculated footwork, trapping Eden against the ropes! But Eden, though stunned, isn't out of the fight. She tries to rally, her fists swinging wildly back, but Emily is too quick, too focused. She continues to weave and bob, avoiding the worst of the onslaught, her eyes constantly searching for an opening. Another swift right cross finds its mark, landing squarely on the nose and throwing the taller brunette’s head back with a grunt. Finally, the bell rings, and the crowd erupts, their cheers for Emily deafening as she makes her comeback. The momentum has shifted once again, the fight a constant tug-of-war between two warriors.

ROUND 3:

Eden, her composure restored, emerges from her corner looking like a different beast. She's learned her lesson from the previous round's onslaught, and she's not about to let Emily dictate the pace again. This time, the Israeli fighter utilizes her superior reach to her advantage, keeping Emily at bay with a series of long, probing jabs. Emily, frustrated by her inability to close the distance, tries to counter and slip, but Eden's footwork is impeccable, her movements a frustratingly elusive dance. Sensing her growing frustration, Eden seizes the opportunity to exploit a weakness she'd noticed earlier. With a smirk, she dips her shoulder and suddenly unleashes a powerful right hook aimed not at Emily's head, but at her chest. Emily's body jolts backwards from the unexpected jug shot. A gasp of pain and surprise escapes her lips as she clutches at her chest, her eyes wide with a mix of anger and disbelief. "Hey!" she cries out, her voice a mix of pain and outrage. But the referee, focused on the action in the center of the ring, doesn't see the illegal punch. He waves the fight on, and Eden, still smirking, presses her advantage. The crowd roars its approval as Eden continues her unorthodox attack. Punches that were once aimed at Emily's head now target her chest, each blow landing with too much frequency. Emily, her face contorted in pain and anger, tries to cover up with her arms, but Eden's punches leave her no room to breathe. Right hook, left hook, uppercut – the punches sail in, each one a calculated strike aimed at inflicting maximum damage and exploiting a tactical loophole. She’s noticed her foe’s tendency to drop her left hand slightly to protect her midsection during close-quarters exchanges. This creates a small opening just above her bra line, a vulnerable pocket of flesh ripe for a strike, and Eden targets this area with surgical precision, each blow visible through the padding of Emily's bra top, her breasts wincing, the force of the punches momentarily causing them to compress and deform. The pain is excruciating, a sharp, searing sensation that steals the air from her lungs. By the time the round ends, Eden knows she's hit a nerve, both physically and psychologically. This isn't just about winning the round; it's about humiliating her opponent, about breaking her spirit. At the bell, Emily, battered and bruised, retreats to her corner, her eyes burning with a newfound hatred. She's been humiliated, outplayed, and her reputation tarnished. But the fight isn't over yet, and she's determined to make Eden pay for her transgressions.

ROUND 4:

Eden, still riding the high of her previous victory, is caught off guard by Emily's sudden change in tactics. The Vixen, her jaw set in a hard line, throws an early, sudden and wild haymaker that connects with her jaw, the impact a CRACK! The crowd gasps, the sound a collective intake of breath as Eden stumbles backward, her eyes wide with shock and pain. Emily, sensing blood in the water, presses her advantage! Punch after punch, flurry after flurry beats her back and pushes Eden against the ropes, but this time, the target isn't Eden's ribs or stomach. It's also her chest, a deliberate, calculated assault aimed at inflicting maximum pain and humiliation, just like she suffered before. Emily's gloves, draped in navy blue, slam into the other brunette’s orbs with a cruel rhythm, swiping them left and right, upwards and inwards.The Israeli fighter gasps and groans, tries to cover up, but Emily's punches are too fast, too powerful. Her breasts bounce and jiggle with each blow, the pain radiating through her chest and leaving her gasping for air. "How do you like it now, Cohen?" Emily snarls, her voice a guttural growl. Of course, the crowd roars its approval, their cheers a deafening chorus of bloodlust and excitement. Emily, her face contorted in a mask of rage, continues her assault - she's not just fighting anymore; she's fighting to punish, to inflict the same kind of humiliation she's suffered. Eden's once-confident smirk is replaced by a grimace of pain and desperation. She tries to fight back, but her punches lack their earlier power. Her arms, weakened by the attacks to her chest, made worse when Emily grabs her into a tight clinch, their bodies pressed together. Eden snarls, and throws a desperate elbow backwards, catching Emily on the shoulder. The Vixen winces, but doesn't relent, instead digs her knee up into Eden's thigh, the impact muffled by the padding of their briefs. Hair gets pulled, gloves continue to pack into exposed skin, and breathless shouts fill the air. The referee, finally breaking free from his trance, dives in between them, shoving both girls apart with a stern warning. Finally, the bell rings, a merciful end to the chaos. Both fighters stumble back to their corners, chests heaving, faces contorted in a mix of pain and rage. It's a brutal end to a brutal round, and it's clear that neither woman is willing to back down.

ROUND 5:

Eden, still reeling from the punishment she received in Round Four, raises her gloves in a desperate attempt to shield herself. But Emily comes in hot, her punches a constant barrage of leather and bone. A left hook to the body, a right cross to the head, another left hook to the side – her blows land off Cohen, targeting her arms, trying to wear her down and force her to drop her guard. Her punches are precise, aimed at the biceps and forearms, the impact causing her frame to tremble with exhaustion. And as her defenses weaken, Emily shifts her focus to the midsection. Her fists, like miniature battering rams, continuously slam into Eden's toned abs: a left hook to the navel, a right uppercut to the solar plexus, another left to the ribs bang bang BANG! At one point, a winded Eden is beginning to slide down the turnbuckle, her back arched, her mouth hanging open like a gasping fish. Emily, capitalizing on her opponent's fading strength, holds her steady with one hand wrapped around the back of her neck, the other glove repeatedly packed into her belly with the merciless efficiency of a piston. Eden grunts with each blow, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her arms, once a shield, now push uselessly at Emily’s shoulders, her gloves barely able to deflect the onslaught. Sensing victory, the Polish fighter unleashes a final flurry of punches, each one aimed at breaking Eden's spirit. A right cross to the jaw sends Eden's head snapping to the side. A left hook catches her on the chin, followed by a brutal uppercut that again slams into her chest and catches one of her breasts at its base with a whompph. Eden, desperate to escape the onslaught, tries to clinch, her arms wrapping around her foe’s shoulders. But the Vixen is too quick, too agile. She slips under Eden's grasp, her fists finding purchase on the exposed flesh of her torso once more. "Give up, b*tch," Emily taunts, her voice a venomous hiss in Eden's ear. "You're not in my league. You never were." Emily continues her assault, her punches now aimed upwards, targeting the soft underside of her breasts. Each blow reverberates through Eden's body, forcing the Israeli fighter to whimper, her arms wrapped tightly around her torso in a futile attempt to protect herself, and her breasts to jiggle violently with each hit. The flesh, normally perky and defiant, ripples and wobbles with vulnerability, and soon, red flushes begin to bloom across her chest. The bell rings before Ratajkowski can score her knockdown, however, but the damage is done: Eden collapses against the ropes, her body broken. Emily, her chest heaving, stares down at her defeated opponent, a triumphant smirk on her lips. The crowd erupts, their cheers for the Vixen deafening. The judges' verdict is swift and unanimous here: a wide win for Emily Ratajkowski. The momentum has shifted once again, and it's clear that Emily is not only back in the fight, but she's dominating it.

ROUND 6;

Emily, still riding the high of her previous victory, wears a look of hunger and resolve. She's tasted victory, and she's hungry for more. Eden, however, is a different woman. The arrogance has been replaced by a quiet fury, her dark eyes burning with a newfound intensity. She's been humiliated, underestimated, and she's not about to let it happen again. The first minute sees both fighters striding in for more, flurries flying in both directions. Emily, eager to maintain her momentum, lunges forward, but Eden is prepared. She weaves and bobs, slipping under Emily's punches with a newfound agility. Then, in a move that shocks the crowd into silence, she explodes forth, unleashing a lightning-fast left hook that catches her fellow Vixen flush on the jaw! OUCH! The impact is devastating. Emily's eyes widen in shock, a jolt of electricity seeming to surge through her body. Her legs buckle for a moment, her momentum carrying her forward before she backs against the ropes and holds on for dear life. And Eden wastes no time! She throws herself at the dazed Vixen, using her forearm like a battering ram to the belly and breasts to drive Emily deeper into the ropes. The impacts press the wind from Emily's lungs, a strangled gasp escaping her lips as Eden's forearm digs into her throat and chest, effectively immobilizing her. This isn't a sporting maneuver; it's a desperate act of vengeance! But in the heat of the moment, all Eden cares about is inflicting maximum damage. With Emily trapped and gasping for air, Eden unleashes a flurry of brutal hooks to Emily's midsection. The first one connects with a "WHUMP!" The impact visibly jolts Emily's entire body, her spine arching inwards as her face contorts in a mask of pain. A choked gasp escapes her lips, but Eden wastes no time, following up with a left hook that lands with a meaty "THUD!" off her left hip, just below her ribs. Emily’s body lurches to the side, her legs buckling momentarily before she slams back against the ropes. Another strangled gasp erupts from her lips, this one tinged with a hint of panic. Driven by a ferocity, Eden throws another short right punch. This one connects with a resounding "SLAP!" against her stomach’s taut skin, the force of the blow sending a ripple across her abdomen. The Polish girl’s face contorts in agony, her eyes squeezed shut as a primal, as her body folds inwards, her knees buckling as she finally CRUMPLES to the canvas in a heap - the body abuse is just TOO MUCH! The crowd erupts in a cacophony of cheers and boos, the sounds swirling around the fallen fighter in a dizzying haze! It’s a KNOCKDOWN for Eden Cohen! The referee dives in, his arm raised as he begins the count. But Emily barely stirs, her limbs flaying in the air overhead and to her sides. "Seven... Eight... Nine... Ten!" The referee's voice booms through the arena. "Knockout! The winner by KO in Round Six, Eden Cohen!"

Official Result: Eden Cohen defeats Emily Ratajkowski via KO6!

AFTER:

The arena erupts in a wave of cheers and jeers as the referee raises Eden's hand in victory. The Israeli fighter, her face flushed with exertion and triumph, soaks in the adulation of the crowd. Her eyes, alight with a feral intensity, sweep across the sea of faces, a silent declaration of her dominance.

"That's three-zero, baby!" she shouts into the microphone, her voice hoarse but filled with a fierce pride. "Looks like someone needs to stick to her day job. Modeling's more your speed, Em."

The crowd roars with laughter, the sound a mix of genuine amusement and cruel mockery. Emily, sprawled on the canvas, her body a broken mess, can only glare up at her opponent, her eyes filled with a venomous hatred.

Eden, however, isn't finished yet. She quickly sheds her gloves, the Velcro ripping apart with a satisfying sound that cuts through the din of the crowd. Then, with a plastered grin, she strides towards her fallen adversary.

Emily, her face a mask of agony, struggles to her knees, her body trembling with exhaustion. Her once-perfect makeup is now a smeared mess, her mascara running down her cheeks in dark streaks. The crimson of her bra and matching cotton briefs is stained with sweat and blood, a stark reminder of the punishment she's endured. Eden, with a cold amusement, allows Emily to use her lower body as support as she’s hauled upwards, with Emily's face pressed into her stomach and the cotton fabric of her briefs.

Eden towers over her, her smile a cruel mockery of the Vixen's signature smirk. Gripping a fistful of Emily's hair, she yanks upwards with a merciless force, forcing Emily's stunned gaze to meet her own. The world tilts on its axis for Emily as she's pulled to her feet, her head hanging back at a grotesque angle. Eden's eyes, burning with a cold fury, pierce into Emily's, a chilling reminder of her complete and utter defeat.

"Remember what you said about me being a fraud?" she taunts, her voice a venomous hiss in Emily's ear. "Looks like you're the one who couldn't handle the real deal, huh."

With a swift, backhanded slap, Eden's palm connects with Emily's cheek, the sound a sharp crack that echoes outwards. The impact sends her head snapping to the side, a fresh wave of pain washing over her. But Eden doesn't stop there.

She keeps her hands open, but with varying degrees of force. Each one lands on Emily's cheek with a stinging impact, a series of light, open-palmed "taps" that slam into the defeated girl’s cheek or forehead, punctuated by a theatrical gasp. "Oh no, did I make the big bad Vixen cry? There, there, don't worry, your reign of terror will be back... eventually. Maybe." Emily, still trapped below, her arms raised in a futile attempt to shield herself, can only whimper in response.

Eden's face contorts with contempt. "You're washed up, Ratajkowski," she spits. "A faded image. The Vixens deserve a real fighter, not a photo op."

The crowd is a mix of shock and morbid fascination. The cameras flash, capturing every humiliating moment, every tear that streaks down Emily's face. The fight might be over, but the public execution continues, a brutal display of dominance that will leave scars long after the bruises have faded.

Backstage, the air crackled with a different kind of energy. The adrenaline-fueled chaos of the ring had given way to the hushed whispers of the media, their pens poised to capture every raw emotion.

Eden Cohen, a victor's glow illuminating her bruised features, stands amidst a throng of reporters. Her ripped crimson cotton bra and briefs, now stained with sweat and a few flecks of blood, serves as a testament to the battle she’s just won. A wide smile is spread across her face, a touch of arrogance returning as she addresses the crowd.

"That's how you do it, babies!" she exclaims, her voice raspy yet jubilant. "Emily thought she could intimidate me, but this is just the beginning, though. Ren better watch her back. I'm coming for her next, and this time, I'm gonna stuff her stomach with my fists."

Her words are a mix of confidence and a thinly veiled threat, a message to the entire VIX stable that a new era was dawning. She might be the underdog, the rising star, but she doesn’t seem afraid to take on anyone.

In the adjacent locker room, the atmosphere is heavy with defeat. Emily, her face pale and drawn, sits slumped on a bench, ice packs clutched to her throbbing midsection. Her black cotton bra and briefs, once pristine, are now a tattered reminder of her crushing knockout.

She speaks in a hushed voice, her words barely audible over the din of the crowd outside. "I underestimated her, let my emotions get the better of me. Maybe I don't have what it takes for this anymore."

A reporter presses further. "Are you saying you're considering leaving the VIXENs?"

Emily hesitates, the question hanging heavy in the air. The cheers of the crowd in the background celebrating Eden's victory seem to mock her. "I... I need some time to think," she finally manages, her voice barely a whisper.