Part 1:

Posted by Simguy on 8/10/2007, 7:24 am.

Before: “I hate her,” Sarah says quietly, half smile coy upon her lips, eyes dancing. “I’d go anywhere, do anything to torment her. I love being the aggressor with Kris—I don’t fight her, I bully her—and I love that she brings that side out of me. And she knows hoe I get with her—that[s why she’s afraid of me, and that’s why she doesn’t want this fight. Nobody gets after Kristin Kreuk the way I do, and that scares her.”

Kreuk agitated, fidgeting her side of the dais—dark eyes flashing, nostrils flaring when she speaks. “Sarah’s a bully all right,” Kreuk glares, seething at the mic, “when she’s got Bell, or Panettiere, or whomever in the room, ready to jump in if I start to get the better of it. It’s just going to be one on one in the boxing ring—me on her—and Sarah’s never liked that much. You know—I’m no fan of Kristen Bell, but when she battered Sarah, I was glad, because Kris s right: Sarah isn’t special. She THINKS she is, but she’s not. The truth is, Sarah’s never going to be the star that me, or Nell, or Natalie, or Lindsay, or Hayden or any of the rest of the top girls are, and that kills her. She’s like a poor little stepsister to us—always trying to crash the party, but she’s never getting in. Never.”

Kreuk in tan suede western motif bikini; midcalf boxing moccasins; small black workout gloves; slick long low ponytail. Sarah in white leather sheepskin bikini—big western stitching and fringes; white rabbit pelt boxing moccasin to midcalf; small white workout gloves; low long ponytail with bangs framing face. Smoldering eye contact through ring instructions: neither girl offers to touch gloves.

During R1: Uptempo, wide ranging action. Sarah raising and lowering her left hand to distract, trying to thrust the straight right, then mop up the left as Kreuk backpedals. Kristin dancing back, then circling smartly—ponytail swishing: she cuts back at Sarah with spitting jabs, clawing rights and swiping lefts as she’s bouncing away to her right. Carter’s jab finding Kristin’s left eye—forcing brunette retreats. Every scoring blow brings a fierce gleam of exultation to one girl’s eyes; flat glare of hate from the other.

R2: Kris loping to her left, under threat—she turns southpaw (right foot forward), feints and catches Carter a wonderful little left uppercut directly to the chin. Sarah startled, staggered by the sucker-shot—she scrambles backwards as snarling Kreuk pounces with straight lefts and rights in volleys. Ropes—Sarah swiveling low on the hips, feet braced wide: Kreuk dukes at cheeks, snapping off hooks, left uppercuts, nimble right hands in pretty flurries, Carter’s supple upperbody moves frustrate Kreuk’s head hunting: Krissy switches up midway through, pushing inside with her head lowered, slender limbs thrashing away to dig up flat blonde gut. Carter grimacing, lips tightly pressed, brow furrowed: she bends her knees, answers back hot. Torrid flyweight hup-hup to offending ribcages at the bell brings crowd to its feet—both girls parting with chests heaving, eyes blazing as ref moves in.

R3: Sarah pounces: Krissy fades, counter-pounces and turns Carter’s face aside with a cracking right. Sarah’s eyebrows high, eyes closed, lips parted as she takes the shot: Kreuk bending into her follow through, eyes never leaving Carter’s face. Follow up exchange sees Kris beat Sarah to crisp lefts and rights: blonde on her heels, trying to slug her way out of trouble when she’s hurt. Ropes. Krissy immediately crouches, ringing Carter up to the breadbasket with pumping fury. Carter groaning, eyes shut tight as she ties up: Kreuk squirming, throws a bony left shoulder into Sarah’s mouth to break the clinch. Tuff stuff here from Kris—she’s heavy handed, but she’s drumming away on Sarah’s slender ribs, systematically crippling sinewy blonde. Carter slumping into ropes face in gloves, biting back sobs as Kreuk’s small fists bite and twist at tummy and rib meat. Jerking right uppercuts two and three at a time scrape at Sarah’s guard, wedging in, bumping her face back and opening her up to Krissy’s hook. Down the stretch, demoralized Carter trying to slide-right along the ropes: Krissy steps-with, extending a range-finding left to Sarah’s chest—she lands three crisp right hands to Carters mouth, driving her into the Foxfire corner at bell. Sarah staring in wonder, frazzled: scuffed up features. Sarah choking back a cry of outrage: she’s just been ponylashed by Kristin Kreuk!

R4: “She’s fast tonight,” Sarah tells her corner during the break: trainer urges blonde to re-establish the jab as the answer. Heartless stuff—Carter as accurate and coldblooded with poke as Natalie Portman or Kelly Packard—she patiently bangs away on Kristen’s beautiful face, working over the left eye. Kreuk gritting her teeth, bending low, trying to weave blonde’s educated stick with mixed results, Sarah rotating left, keeping her distance: she’s been outpunched in close-quarters trading—just trying to renegotiate terms here, Midway through, frustrated Kreuk pounce gets intercepted by a smart carter right hand: Kris nearly dropped, wobbles away teary-eyed as calm blonde walks her down. Down the stretch, Sarah spearing at Krissy along the ropes—pinning her down with the jab, menacing her with feigned rights, then staking all on gorgeous, sinuous left uppercuts underneath, taking Kris in her ribs. Cruel taunting fro cool blonde when she scores particularly well—Sarah repeatedly asking “Give?” in the same strident triumphant tone she’s used on apartment carpet when Krissy’s suffering: Kreuk well understands the reference, Bell: Kreuk’s mouth open, panting, arms immediately moving to hug her body: Sarah whirls, gets that ponylash back as poor winded Kris stares helplessly into soft, damp blondelocks.

R5: Sarah chooses her moment, systematically stepping up her attack: Kristin is shredded. Carter opens with a series of spearing jabs—kicking back Krissy’s head: blonde makes one complete clockwise circuit of her foe as she busts Kreuk up with poke. Changing direction—Sarah steps right, leans in with right hands, scoring over Krissy’s left hand and turning her face with cracking force. More jabs spruce Kris up as Sarah again steps left—blonde’s eyes absolutely pitiless: Kreuk’s stumbling, breaking down at the midway mark. Carter mixing in the left uppercut to Kreuk’s body—a vicious shake from these blows—she cries out distraught, hands extended as she stumbles backwards on weakened legs. Kate the round, Sarah pours it on—standing upright now, letting her hands go in to Krissy’s, Carter pivots-ri9ghts, weight on her left foot as she twists a lashing hook flat to paunch from the angle. Kreuk cramping up, face pinching in gutshot agony. Bell—Kristin open-mouthed and swooning at the ropes, badly handle. She’s swaying unsteadily when Sarah leans in from Krissy’s left side, depositing a cruel right elbow-tip deep to brunette breadbasket. Kreuk cries out, doubles over, hugs herself and sinks to her knees: ref pushes a seething Sarah back, gives her a stern finger wagging.

Carter/Kreuk conc.

Posted by Simguy on 8/10/2007, 7:25 am.

R6: Sarah moves in to finish—KRUSTIN WON’T HAVE IR! Kreuk feigns weakness, all don’t-hurt-me eyes and trembling lips, but she roars off the ropes with a looping right hand to catch Sarah a terrible clout upside the head. Carter momentarily tilting on her right foot—left foot up off the canvas—she recovers balance, covers face-in-gloves as Kristin surges forwards, slender limbs DIGGING amidships. Taut PIK! PAK! PEK! sounding out from flat meat of Sarah’s waist as she’s beaten breathless—Kreuk rough with the crown of her head, manages to butt Carter in the mouth, backing blonde to ropes. Ensuing melee favours Kris, but see Sarah answer: glorious flyweight hooks and crosses slashing back and forth as ponytails dance/lissome frames bend and twist. Kreuk at a nice distance—just inside Sarah’s cruel jab—brunette able to tear up blonde ribcage—dipping and ripping small mitt vigour in under either breast to buckle Carter’s knees at points. Sarah’s lips peeled back off teeth as she dips to her left, hoists her lanky left uppercut into Kris—blonde slugging hard off either foot staying supple, rolling and turning with punches best she can. Spirited stuff—Kreuk outworking Sarah, keeping blonde back to ropes to bell. LATE RIGHT HAND, KRISTIN KREUK! Sarah staring—ref bodies Kristin back and shakes her by the arm. Some booing from regular fans: other flyweights in attendance are OK with Krissy’s foul here.

R7; Late shot worked wonders: Sarah can’t recover during break. Carter’s legs rubbery—hands disorganized—she’s pushing her punches, bringing her hands back low, catching sharp Kreuk leather in reprisal. Krissy’s turn to hunt—she’s stalking, eyes narrowed, lips snarling—body curved forward and low as she weaves Sarah’s tired stick, then pounce-punches to face and body. Kris landing either hand to Carter’s chin/jawlines—blonde ponytail tossing as Sarah’s head jerks; blonde knees repeatedly tested. Tears stand in Carter’s eyes as she staggers around, trying to find her nimble balance—but Kreuk keeping the blonde constantly on edge with sudden, darting pokes to chin or stepping-with and scoring as Carter’s trying to step away—blonde repeatedly scattered to ropes from leaping Kreuk hooks or gambling Kreuk right hands. Down the stretch, Carter’s buttocks propped on ropes for support—she’s badly broken down—pushing out weak straight lefts and rights as nimble Krissy bobs and weaves, then answers back head and body. Bell: Kreuk grinning as Sarah’s tilting sleepily forward: soft brown ponylash wafts across bruised blonde lips, drawing a dull moan of protest from swaying Carter.

R8: Kris aggressively to Sarah, bending into lead right hands—blonde shying away as looping blasts brush  her lips. Carter still-shaky legged, but firming: she smites Kris a lazy right uppercut off the ropes—trade hooks to chin to back off. Sarah boxing a smart middle minute—jabbing while stepping right or sliding back—constantly elongating distance. Kris coming forward, but getting pre-empted, then sidestepped—complete with insolent blonde hand behind the head or pushing in the back. Carter leaning her head in close, pivoting right, and getting that vicious, whip-lick left hook loud on paunch: Kristin shouting in pain as she absorbs it-her temple grinding against Sarah’s hairline. Final minute—Sarah jabs over Krissy’s right shoulder, simultaneously blocking Krissy’s right and drawing her forward onto Sarah’s RIGHT UPPERCUT! Short, jagged, ripping blast takes Kris on her chin, dislodging the mouthpiece all a flutter. Kreuk’s dark lashes blinking—she totters back on her heels, then baby-steps forward a step—hands low to either side. Sarah pivots right while touching her left hand to Krissy’s mouth, then SMITING her the right cross, Kreuk’s head snaps aide, face blank: she’s just staring dumb into punishment. Sarah taps the left to measure; rips the lanky right uppercut; taps the left, then TORQUES a left hook—poor Krissy’s head on a swivel as her body loosens and sways. Kreuk stumbling backward into ropes, tilting forward to receive the full force of Sarah’s swinging majesty and the REF STEPS IN! Kristin cuddled to safety, immediately breaking down into woozy, heartbroken sobs of disappointment, TKO*, Sarah Carter

After: Carter lingering outside ref’s left shoulder—heartless taunting: “God, you’re PATHETIC! Quitter! That’s another one for me, Krissy—when’re you gonna get going?” Carter eventually coaxed away for her interview—she’s busted up, but jubilant, warmed by the sight of Kreuk’s distress. “She’s not enough foe me,” Sarah explains with a shrug. “She thought me desperately tonight—I’ll give her that—but you all saw it—she  just can’t…” ROLLING CHOP BLOCK FROM BEHIND TAKES SARAH DOWN! Seething, tearstained Kreuk—strands of hair slipping her ponytail, furious face red with hate—she stands with little fists clenched at her sides as poor Sarah’s writhing on her back, clutching right knee in with both hands. Kris reaches down for slender blonde ankle, roughly tugging the leg out straight, pulling Sarah across the canvas as stunned officials start flipping through “In Case of Emergency” booklets. First step in protocol is “Secure ring—prevent any broadening of the conflict”: Foxfire women are immediately prevented from jumping in and making an already tense situation that much worse.

Stomping kick to Sarah’s right hamstring: Kristin’s right foot the weapon.

Stomp kick to the hammies.

Stomping kick to the hammies—Sarah shrieking in pain; Kris clutching that foot and controlling the legs like it’s hers.

Another tug turns Sarah on the canvas, then Krissy steps her right foot between Carter’s, legs, planting it on the canvas at Sarah’s right hip: crossover toe hold sees Kris bennnnd that lithe blonde limb around her own wiry thigh, Krissy’s hands grip and twist hard at Sarah’s slender right foot—a foot for glass slippers, not rude brunette clutchings. “Give?” Kreuk mocks through clenched teeth in her best Carter imitation: Sarah batting at canvas, clutching her head, wailing in fresh agony.

Officials are getting their act together, nearing a decision: Krissy quickly shifts weight, scissors up Sarah’s right leg in both of her own, then drops onto her back for a terrible reefing of that tortured blonde limb. Krissy’s got Sarah’s right foot tucked up under the Kreuk right armpit as brunette pulls and yanks for all she’s worth. As officials start to enter the ring—Kreuk shoves clear, scampering away as Carter holds her leg, lying on her right side and sobbing.

In days to come reactions from the fight community run the gamut. “Kristin should be suspended,” says Cat Bell—voicing the prevailing opinion of most fighters over 120 pounds. But curiously, smaller bodied vixen are more flexible in their responses. “Sarah must have done something to provoke Kristin,” Natalie Portman tell Celebrity Ring. “People who don’t know Sarah the way we do,” Hilarie Burton adds in BLONDE! Magazine—“She gets to you with her attitude—she does. You can only push people’s buttons so much before they push back.”

Reposted by Archer 10/15/09.