Before: Bitter coast to coast apartment wrestling rivalry spills over to the FCBA as these two elegant vixens can't keep paws off each other. Unusually nasty for these two - every slight and foul remembered, avenged in the next contest: what began as a healthy competition between like-types has assumed survival-of-the-fittest proportions. "I know every inch of her gangly farm-girl body," a sombre Angie says at the podium. "Every twist and turn of her devious mind. Helfter's got no surprises where I'm concerned - that's my big advantage against her. While she's being cute, I'll be throwing punches - I always outwork Trish, and I'll touch her one thousand times in this fight en route to using her up. Oh, and one other thing: In New York, Tricia submitted me - but do you know how? She raked her claws down every square inch of my back, thighs, tummy, chest and arms. I was screaming for her to stop and she kept at it. So you know what? Refs keep a close eye on her in this one, because when she stops competing - I won't stop punching. Sorry Trish, but I won't: that's a promise." Helfer waiting until Angie is all the way back in her seat before taking the podium: girls have been known to spontaneously combust into fighting if a certain personal threshold is breached. "It's funny how Angie remembers New York - but she neglects to tell you about Chicago," Helfer says, eyes hard. "She had me mounted on the carpet and she was scoring slaps, and I admit: I surrendered. And you know what Angie Harmon did? She kept slapping - she slapped me out. I was just lying there stunned, and even THEN, Harmon kept on me with right hands until they pulled her off. So if it's her plan to touch me a thousand times in this fight, she can be my guest. I just want to touch her once. KO." Angie in midnight blue bikini, white gloves, long black hair tangly, loose and shiny. Tricia in metallic baby blue bikini, white gloves; platinum blonde BSG hair. Seething looks all around - ref already edgy.

During R1: Angie stomping her front (left) foot forward, crouching, looking to ratchet away rigid combinations. Tricia thoughtful, supple - extending either hand to measure as she steps around, then setting down on sudden lanky bite with the off-hand. Harmon walking into vicious single shots here - Helfer in wide stance, slinging in the right cross, lashing across the hook. Tricia guides Angie forward with the left atop Angie's scalp, neatly positioning her for clanging right uppercuts. Harmon dogged, trudging through the strapping potshots, lavishes Helfer's svelte torso chopping rights and lefts - brunette determined to beat down blonde ribs. Down the stretch, Trish circling smoothly to her right catches Angie another right uppie to chin; quick-caresses brunette cheek a light-swiping left hand before gouging the left uppercut to sternum and ANGIE GOES DOWN GUTTED! Harmon gasping on all fours at the bell, astonished: Helfer breezy, smouldering as she struts back tall to her corner.

R2: Harmon combative - still applying forward pressure, but remembering to tap out a steady stream of jabs first. Trish slide-stepping back, dragging that front (left) foot; bending supple at the waist and slipping shots with torso rolls; gloves at her face, elbows in. Angie spitting jabs, baring her teeth - she's just stepping-to and pelting - bouncing mitts off Tricia's long flanks, slender arms. Anything up top usually a glancing blow off scalp or shoulders as Tricia's hard to nip clean - but Harmon ringing blows off Helfer's hips, waist and ribs - brunette's slender arms shivering as she commits to crippling Trish. Helfer oily, sleek about the ring, slipping and rolling, but she can't offer back. Suffocating persistence from Harmon nibbles into the Helfer lead.

R3: Girls settling into a rhythm now - each trying to get their way. Angie wants to come forward and herky-jerk a constant stream of rigid punches onto Tricia, trying to overwhelm the blonde with volume. Helfer more selective, looking to slide back, lure Angie in, and hurt her with sleek, slashing counters. Flashing eyes, bared teeth so expressive, uniquely intense as first one, then the other enjoys herself at the other's expense.

R4: Angie banging at Tricia's body - rigid, withering rights and lefts bouncing off fat-free ribs and waistline. Helfer grunting, grimacing face-in-gloves - she's loping away, sliding along ropes, trying to use the ring, but Harmon walking her down and pouring it on. Angie's eyes bright and wide, so hungry - whenever Trish folds forward behind her mitts, there's Angie, burying punches in behind either elbow. Late the round - Helfer butt in ropes, bending forward: Angie swabs the exposed lower back, bringing in the ref. Helfer wincing - Angie pursing her lips, offering a very grudging "Sorry" as she extends her mitt. Tricia elects to punch a right hand instead - also bringing in the ref. Warnings all around. Girls are remembering too many Limo-brawls, too many writhing carpet sessions to be civil at this point.

R5: Tricia under constant pressure, but looking to lash at Harmon's ribcage now - blonde easing back, then walking Angie into choice right or left uppercuts underneath. Harmon slowing under the assault - visibly disrupted as her own punching loses steam. Angie's lips part, face tightens as Tricia applies crippling hurt: Helfer oily smooth to either side, slinking around Harmon, then strapping her thick, lashing blows across the tummy. It's all too much - gasping Harmon takes a voluntary knee in the third minute, hugging her body. Tricia trails an insolent mitt through Angie's damp hair while strutting past, brushing it off brunette right shoulder.

R6,7,8: Majestic assault on Tricia Helfer's body - unique in the blonde's experience. Harmon on with jabs, staying close, then strapping away thick and persistent. Gnawing, biting, snatching stuff - Harmon bouncing her licks off Trish, bringing the hands back quick to chest before deploying again in volleys. Long, sensuous minutes of Tricia beaten numb along ropes, or in stumbling random paths midring - the brunette just on her, lavishing and stroking. Angie not heavy handed at all here - sharp, pesky, snappy rips taking Helfer in her hips, arms, ribs. Helfer becoming disorganized in her retreats, scrambling away: Harmon steps-with, jabbing, constantly touching, knocking, chopping at Trish. Helfer showing face-in-gloves, her movements slowing as she rolls her torso: Angie pasting away vigorous, pelting punches off the scalp and shoulders as well as digging in downstairs. More warnings for Harmon for belting Trish across her back: shiny-eyed glares of resentment from Tricia after these moments, met by hard glares of determination from hungry Harmon. Tricia's long, sinuous legs stiffening, locking at the knee these rounds: she doesn't go down - but Angie's awarded a 10-8 for a brutal, sensuous, bell to bell hounding of her beautiful blonde rival in the 8th.

R9: Tricia mouthbreathing, obviously in agony: Harmon's terrible body work has done wonders on her svelte foe. Helfer loping to her right, arms in slight gull wing with her hands gently out to either side - she tries to slosh a right hand onto Harmon as Angie once again penetrates up the middle, jabbing Helfer's face. Brunette hounds blonde to ropes: Tricia shows face-in-gloves, butt-in-ropes, covering up and tilting side to side to ride out the punishment. Angie snarling, crowding in close, lashing away. Harmon curling a tight right uppercut, scraping it against Tricia's facial guard, loosening it somewhat: Helfer's breaking down, becoming more available. Sheets of Harmon leather anaesthetize the Helfer ribs - mitts just bouncing off lean meat, pulverizing it tender. More hip and back taken - Harmon relentless, remorseless as she licks hooks, or buggywhips her right hand in against Tricia's tortured flanks. Poor Helfer - long legs holding her up, but she's not punching back or moving at all - just getting worked over by a tireless brunette whippet at this point. Ref lets it go for two minutes, then pushes Angie away, cradling Helfer into the ropes. "NO!" Helfer sobs when it occurs to her the man is stopping this. TKO9 Angie Harmon.

After: Tricia heartbroken, led away gently to her stool as her defiant legs finally tremble and quit. Harmon sobbing in triumph - pouring her heart and soul into a decisive body attack that successfully sucked away all of Tricia's guile and sorcery, leaving her numb and helpless tonight.

Helfer on her stool, disheveled, shopworn: Angie suddenly looms over top, glaring down.

Trish looks up, makes woozy eye contact. "You can't be serious," she says.

"Get up," Angie drawls - voice soft, husky, and Texan. "let's go."

"What if I say no?"

"You're groggy - still out of it: I slap you silly, and take you against your will. Trish, I'll put you into a wheelbarrow if I have to, but you're going on this walk. Have some dignity: Get up."

Trish slowly stands, swaying slightly, eyes never leaving Angie's. "This isn't over, you realize that, right?"

Angie smiles, her right hand taking Trish by her left wrist. "It is tonight," Harmon says.