Emily Rudd vs Rachel Cook
Weigh-inThe MGM conference hall is packed elbow to elbow, fans chanting for their favorite brunette as cameras flash nonstop. Security forms a tight ring around the stage while Rachel and Emily step out from opposite sides. Both are in tight sports bras and shorts, both locked in, both already glaring holes through each other. The tension is thick before a single word is spoken.
Rachel Cook reaches the scale first. She plants her feet with her hands on her hips, a confident smirk cutting across her face as flashbulbs explode around her. The announcer raises his voice over the noise. “Rachel Cook… 119.6 pounds!” Rachel flexes a tight bicep and throws Emily a wink, drawing cheers from the crowd. Emily answers with a sharp eye roll.
Emily steps up next, calm on the surface but with her jaw clenched tight. She barely reacts as the announcer calls it out. “Emily Rudd… 118.8 pounds!” The crowd whistles at how close the numbers are—less than a pound apart. Perfectly matched.
They meet center stage, barefoot and squared up. Neither blinks. Neither backs down. Emily steps in first, their foreheads nearly touching. Rachel holds her ground and bumps forward with a hard, assertive shoulder bump, forcing a startled breath from Emily. The trash talk starts immediately—low, fast, and venomous—as security inches closer, sensing trouble.
Emily leans in and mutters, barely loud enough for the microphones, “You’re too slow to keep up with me you plastic b!tch.” Rachel snaps back instantly. “Cardio wins fights. You’re going to drown tonight in your own blood and sweat.” A loud ripple of “OHHHH!” tears through the crowd as the tension spikes.
Emily answers with a sharp chest bump of her own two perfect pair of B-Cups slamming into each other. Rachel shoves her right back. In a split second, security surges forward as both women grab at each other—Rachel’s fingers briefly tangling in Emily’s hair, Emily slapping Rachel’s arm away with a crack that echoes through the hall. Emily reaches out and wraps her fingers around Rachel's throat and squeezes. The two women lock up and stumble across the stage. Metal barricades rattle, reporters stumble backward, and cameras struggle to keep focus as security finally pries the two petite hellcats apart. Rachel screams over the chaos, “I’m gonna run through you!” Emily fires back without hesitation, “Try it, you plastic piece of ****!”
The weigh-in ends in pure bedlam, both fighters dragged offstage, still pointing, still yelling, still itching for violence—while the crowd roars, already fevered for tomorrow night.
WalkoutsThe arena lights dim, and the crowd rises to its feet as the opening notes of the first walkout track thunder through the rafters. Anticipation crackles through the air, every eye snapping toward the entrance.
Emily Rudd is first to emerge. Blue strobes pulse as she steps into the spotlight, hood up, expression calm and stone-cold. Her team parts the crowd while fans scream her name, arms reaching out as she passes. Tonight, she’s dressed in deep navy-blue bikini, white gloves stark against the dark fabric, her hair braided tight and secure. She looks small at a glance, but carved and coiled—abs tight, shoulders rolling with each measured step.
Emily doesn’t acknowledge the noise. She doesn’t smile, wave, or play to the cameras. She just walks forward with purpose, eyes locked on the ring like it’s the only thing that exists. Sliding smoothly through the ropes, she moves straight to her corner and begins bouncing lightly on her toes, already comfortable, already claiming the canvas. The crowd’s roar swells even louder as the tension builds.
Rachel Cook walks second, and the moment the lights flip to gold, the arena explodes. She appears at the top of the ramp with a swagger that instantly tells the crowd she knows exactly who they came to see. Chin lifted, shoulders loose, bikini barely covering her assets. She soaks in the chants of her name like fuel, feeding off the noise with a confidence that borders on cocky.
She makes her way down the ramp wearing metallic micro bikini and a gold thong that catches every camera flash. Black gloves are taped tighter than usual, and her hair hangs loose in soft waves, an unmistakable challenge after the weigh-in chaos. Rachel slaps hands with fans along the aisle, smiling, relaxed, completely at home in the spotlight.
At ringside, she slows and turns her attention inward. Across the ring, Emily is already waiting, shifting hr weight from foot to foot hr head nodding while she mumbles under her breath. Rachel locks eyes with her and holds the stare, neither woman willing to give an inch. Emily doesn’t look away. Rachel doesn’t either.
Rachel climbs the steps, wipes her feet, and slips between the ropes without breaking eye contact. The referee quickly steps between them to deliver instructions, more as a precaution than a formality. The crowd hums with electricity, the air buzzing, the tension thick and venomous.
Official Fight OddsRachel Cook opens as the slight favorite at –135. Oddsmakers point to her cleaner jab and sharper control from mid-range, along with faster hands and more accurate shot placement. Her excellent cardio and consistency in the later rounds give her an edge, especially with her reputation for grinding, body-focused attacks that wear opponents down over time. Bettors trust her ability to rack up rounds through aggression and visible damage, particularly in a bikini bout where sustained body work often plays a decisive role.
Emily Rudd enters as a narrow underdog at +115. Her case rests on stronger overall power, superior footwork, and solid defensive instincts. She’s also known for applying pressure and walking opponents down rather than giving ground. The concern for bettors is durability over the full fight—specifically whether she can manage Rachel’s speed and quick hands for the entire bout, especially when attacks to the body and ribs begin to accumulate.
Round 1The bell rings and both women explode from their corners without hesitation. Rachel snaps out a stiff jab immediately, the punch turning Emily’s cheek and forcing her back a step. Emily answers just as fast, whipping a right cross that lands flush on Rachel’s mouth, the sharp crack echoing off the cage walls.
They circle at speed, guards high, eyes locked, the intensity already pulling a low rumble from the crowd. Rachel presses first, firing a three-punch combination—jab, cross, hook—that drives Emily toward the fence. Emily absorbs the body shot with a grunt, spins off the cage, and fires back a sharp counter left to Rachel’s ribs that draws a visible wince.
By the halfway point, they’re trading in the pocket. Rachel’s speed starts to show as she lands fast straight rights, snapping jabs, and a clean hook that turns Emily’s head. Emily, though, makes her power count. She lands the single hardest shot of the round—a thudding right uppercut under Rachel’s jaw that sends sweat flying and forces Rachel to clinch.
They grind against the fence, each woman digging in short, punishing body shots as the seconds tick away. The horn finally sounds—but neither immediately stops. Emily sneaks in a jab after the bell, Rachel fires back with a hook and Emily starts unloading body shots to the ribs and breasts. Emily refuses to stop forcing the referee to physically pull her off a slumping Raquel. “To your corners!” shouts the ref. “To your CORNERS!”
“She started it” Shouts Emily! “Yell at her!”
It’s a fiery, razor-close round, but Emily’s heavier power shots—especially that massive uppercut—give her a slight edge on the scorecards.
Score: Rachel 9 – Emily 10
Running Total: Rachel 9 – Emily 10Round 2Rachel wastes no time coming forward, determined to erase Emily’s momentum from the opening round. She doubles up the jab beautifully, snapping Emily’s head back twice before driving a right hand straight into the solar plexus. Emily folds slightly, grits her teeth, and answers with a sharp counter hook that clips Rachel on the ear and knocks her off balance.
They settle into a gritty mid-range battle, Rachel working with speed and volume while Emily relies on timing and heavier single shots. Rachel lands three clean straights in succession, popping Emily’s chin up. Emily fires back with a chopping right to the temple that makes Rachel stumble and reset. The action turns chippy fast. They collide in a clinch, Rachel trying to dig shots into the body while Emily muscles forward, looking to free space for an uppercut. The referee shouts, “Break!” and steps in between but Emily lands a late parting shot to the ribs.
They fall into another messy clinch landing some dirty boxing before the ref steps in again but again, Emily sneaks a short right just after the command. Rachel recoils, furious, and immediately snaps a jab back as the referee wedges himself between them. This time the ref steps in hard, pointing directly at Emily and issuing a stern official warning for punching late.
The crowd roars as the fight resumes. Rachel uses the moment to surge forward, unleashing a flurry—jab, cross, hook, and another cross. Emily blocks most of it, but a final straight right lands clean down the middle. Emily answers with a body shot of her own, yet the momentum belongs to Rachel, who’s sharper, busier, and cleaner for the remainder of the round. The bell rings with both women glaring at each other, chests heaving. Emily follows Rachel toward her corner, still fired up, until the referee steps in and pulls her back, signaling the end of a heated second round.
Score: Rachel 10 – Emily 9
Running Total: Rachel 19 – Emily 19Round 3From the opening bell, the tension boils over. Rachel charges in, snapping jabs and hooks, while Emily angles off and counters with her own sharp strikes. The clash quickly turns
chippy—shoulders bump, elbows graze the chest, and Rachel digs a sneaky step-stomp on Emily’s toes. Emily responds with a subtle low blow that makes Rachel stumble, and both exchange sharp glares.
The crowd senses the danger as punches fly, foreheads clash, and the action teeters on chaos. Rachel lands a clean hook to the ribs, but Emily sneaks in a jab to the right breast in return. The ref steps between them repeatedly, warning them to fight clean, but their aggression only escalates.
Mid-round, after a particularly brutal exchange where both fighters throw elbows, knees, and quick stomps, the referee finally calls a halt. He steps in, sending both fighters to their corners and scolding both fighters loudly, pointing fingers, and separating them as the crowd boos and cheers in equal measure. A point is deducted from each but neither seems the least bit concerned. Both women breathe heavily, glaring at each other, sweat and redness visible across their faces and torsos, clearly itching to continue once the fight resumes.
They step in and scuffle both shoulders resting on each others shoulders as they dig nasty hooks to the rib, breasts, and stomachs as the referee lets them sort things out in the middle of the ring Emily bullies Rachel to the ropes but takes an elbow across the chest .They wrap each other in a tight bear hug and wrestle each other to the canvas. The crowd roars as their legs tangle and they roll across the ring.
Once the ref gets them back to neutral corners, they glare across the ring, bouncing lightly on their toes, hands up, ready to pick up where they left off. Their hatred is apparent, and the round ends with a tense energy that promises the next rounds will be even nastier.
Score: Rachel 9 – Emily 9
Running Total: Rachel 28 – Emily 28Round 4The bell rings and neither woman backs down. Rachel and Emily immediately engage, snapping quick jabs while shouting at each other, their rivalry spilling into every swing. Rachel ducks low, catching Emily with a short body hook, but Emily responds by leaning in, grabbing Rachel in a tight clinch. They wrestle furiously against each other, each trying to dominate, hands scrambling for leverage.
The crowd roars as the two topple over, rolling across the canvas while still locked together, exchanging strikes and furious shoves. Rachel manages to twist Emily onto her back, but Emily counters, trying to pin Rachel’s shoulders, all while yelling insults that echo through the arena. The referee leaps in, pulling them apart before things get worse, scolding them for excessive roughhousing and deducting a point from each fighter for the unsanctioned grappling.
Both women step back to their corners, breathing heavily, faces flushed and sweat dripping from every angle. They glare at each other, fists up, refusing to give an inch, clearly ready to continue the fight at full intensity despite the warning. Their hatred fuels the fire, promising even more brutal action in the next round.
They step in and start unloading bombs. Emily tags Rachel with a cross to the jaw but eats a four punch combo and stumbles until her back is on the ropes. Rachel is all over her catching her with a cross to the jaw and some punishing shots to the belly. The bell sounds as Rachel lands a lat punch to the nose as they are pulled apart kicking and screaming at each other.
Score: Rachel 9 – Emily 8
Running Total: Rachel 37 – Emily 36Round 5The ref goes to each corner letting them know that the next illegal shot will end up in a disqualification.
The bell sounds and both women explode out of their corners, fully aware of the referee’s stern warning. Rachel starts strong, snapping jabs and hooks to Emily’s ribs and midsection, while Emily leans on her to counter with crisp crosses and flurries to Rachel’s shoulders and chest. Neither woman is holding back; sweat glistens as each punch lands with audible thuds.
Emily times a short combination perfectly, landing a clean uppercut to Rachel’s jaw that makes her stagger back, but Rachel recovers quickly and drives a body shot to Emily’s solar plexus, forcing a grunt of pain. Both fighters press the action, circling, cutting off angles, trying to dominate in the clinch without crossing the line. Every punch is calculated yet brutal, and the intensity has the crowd on their feet.
Midway through the round, Rachel lands a hard hook to Emily’s midsection that visibly folds her over, but she maintains balance and retaliates with a sneaky jab to Rachel’s temple, keeping the round razor-close. By the end, both are breathing heavily, chests heaving, faces flushed, and every inch of their petite frames glistening from exertion.
Score: Rachel 10 – Emily 9
Running Total: Rachel 47 – Emily 45Round 6From the opening bell, Rachel smells blood and goes straight to Emily’s midsection, driving a series of punishing body punches. Emily tries to evade, circling and weaving, but Rachel’s relentless pressure and superior cardio force her back into the ropes. A sharp hook to the ribs doubles Emily over, and another punishing uppercut to the solar plexus drops her to one knee. The referee begins the count as the crowd roars, Emily shaking her head to regain focus.
She struggles to rise, clutching her belly, face pale, chest heaving, but manages to get back on her feet just before the count of ten. Rachel immediately presses the advantage, snapping jabs and short hooks that make Emily stagger and gasp for air. Emily tries to fight back, but every punch to her torso weakens her stance, sapping her energy and leaving her vulnerable.
By the bell, Rachel is still crisp and controlled, bouncing lightly on her toes, while Emily leans heavily on the ropes, ribs stinging, belly bright red and gasping through clenched teeth. The damage is clear, and the round is a decisive one for Rachel.
Now it's Rachel who follows Emily to her corner forcing the referee to issue a warning.
Score: Rachel 10 – Emily 8
Running Total: Rachel 56 – Emily 53Round 7The round starts with Rachel driving forward, landing heavy body shots that have Emily bent and struggling on the ropes. Every jab, hook, and uppercut from Rachel lands flush, testing Emily’s stamina and resolve. Rachel’s dominance is clear, her combinations relentless, her precision forcing Emily backward with each blow. Emily’s face shows the strain, sweat mixing with bruises as she tries to defend herself, but Rachel is punishing her body and ribs with surgical accuracy. Emily is getting pummeled as the beatdown continues.
In a last desperate bid, Emily lashes out, sneaking in two cheap, illegal shots—one right between Rachel’s legs and a chop to the back of her head. The referee, who has been watching carefully, immediately halts the action. The crowd gasps as Emily argues, but the violation is clear. Rachel, bruised and down on one knee, shakes her head in disbelief while the ref signals decisively: disqualification. Emily slumps back, anger and frustration contorting her face, her desperate attempt to salvage the fight backfiring completely.
Rachel’s corner rushes in, supporting their fighter, whose eyes are wide with relief and exhaustion. The audience erupts, half in shock at the chaos, half cheering Rachel’s survival and victory. Emily, furious and defiant, storms toward the ropes in complete disbelief, but the referee intercepts, escorting her from the ring as the crowd continues to roar. Rachel, battered, bruised, and breathing heavily, gets to her feet and is declared the winner.
Score: Rachel 10 – Emily DQ
Running Total: Rachel 65 – Emily 63Official DecisionBruce Buffer strides to the center of the ring, his voice booming over the roaring crowd, full of energy and his signature flair.
“Ladies and gentlemen! After seven punishing rounds of nonstop action, the referee has reached an official decision. Due to repeated illegal strikes issued in a desperate attempt to change the course of the fight, the bout has been stopped. The winner by disqualification… fighting out of the Badass Barbie corner…
Raaaachel Cooook!”
The crowd explodes with cheers, whistles, and applause as Rachel raises her battered, bruised fists in triumph. Sweat and blood streak her face, her breathing heavy from the brutal contest, but the satisfaction of victory shines through her exhaustion. Rachel’s corner rushes in, embracing her as she soaks in the energy of the arena.
Meanwhile, Emily Rudd slams her gloves against the announcers table, furious and fuming, yelling at the referee and shaking her head in disbelief. She is escorted to the side, still arguing that the fight should have continued, that she was still in it. Bruce’s announcement, over-the-top and electrifying, leaves no doubt in anyone’s mind—Rachel Cook was in control, prevails, and claims the hard-fought victory in one of the most chaotic and controversial bouts the fans have seen.
Post Fight InterviewJoe Rogan steps into the center of the ring, holding the microphone firmly as the crowd continues to roar around the chaos of the aftermath. He turns to Rachel, whose chest is heaving and face streaked with sweat and blood.
“Rachel, first off, congratulations on the win. But wow, that fight was brutal. There were a lot of low blows, stomps, elbows, and punches after the bell. Walk me through what was going through your head during all that.”
Rachel shakes her head, wiping sweat from her brow. “Honestly, Joe, I was just focused on staying composed. I was clearly winning, and the referee kept letting her push limits. I had to stay on my game and keep landing clean shots. The cheap stuff just made me more determined.”
Joe nods. “And what about those moments when she kept swinging after the bell or stomping on your foot? That had to hurt, right?”
Rachel grits her teeth. “It did, but I knew my corner and my training had me ready. I was controlling the fight, landing body shots, keeping her off balance. Even with the cheap stuff, I was dominating. You could see it in the ring and that is why she fought dirty.”
“Did the disqualification feel like the right ending to you, given how intense that last round was?”
Rachel breathes deeply, clearly trying to calm her adrenaline. “Absolutely. I was winning every moment leading up to that. The DQ was just a formality, honestly. I had her, I was in control, and it couldn’t have gone any other way. I know some fans are booing, but anyone who saw that fight knows I was kicking her ass and was handily in charge and she was about to go down for the count. I know it and so does that cheat Emily.”
Joe smiles and points to the crowd. “You earned this win. No doubt about it. You’re standing tall, battered but victorious. How does it feel knowing you survived one of the nastiest fights this arena has seen?”
Rachel raises her arms, looking out at the crowd. “It feels amazing. Brutal, yeah, but I proved who’s in charge in that ring. I earned this one and Emily, well, she can cry all she wants but deep down she know that th better woman won.”
The crowd erupts as Joe wraps up, shaking his head in amazement at the chaotic and intense spectacle they just witnessed.
Losers Locker RoomErin Andrews is escorted into the Awesome Aries locker room thirty minutes after the fight—security only letting her in once the chaos dies down. Even then, the moment she steps inside, she hears Emily Rudd screaming, pacing in circles, her face red, eyes wild, and gear half-ripped off as her team keeps a cautious distance.
Emily slams her glove against a locker. “I WAS COMING BACK! That was not a low blow! It was right on the
freakin’ bikini line! I DROPPED Rachel—clean! CLEAN! CLEAN! CLEAN!”
Erin steps forward, calm but firm. “Emily… it didn’t look clean from where we were sitting. And the ref—”
Emily cuts her off with a furious point. “The ref is BLIND. **** BLIND. That was a fair shot, and she folded like laundry. They penalize ME? ME? When all Rachel did was cheat all night!”
Erin raises a brow. “But Emily… you punched her in the back of the head right after that. The replay shows it clearly.”
Emily throws her hands up. “I took a swing and she was falling! What am I supposed to do—freeze mid-punch? It was a knockout shot! They robbed me of a KO! And SHE’S the one who stomped my foot, elbowed my ****, and clawed at me in the clinch. Rachel should’ve been disqualified, not me!”
Erin tries another angle. “Okay… but even in the earlier rounds, the ref had to warn you several times. Did frustration get the best of you?”
Emily snaps back instantly. “Frustration? I was fighting for my life in there while she got away with murder! Another one of Kylie's little princesses that the refs shield like a fragile plastic doll. Don’t talk to me about frustration—talk to the idiots officiating this event!”
Erin nods carefully. “So… do you want a rematch?”
Emily steps closer, eyes blazing. “A rematch? Erin, I’d step in there right this minute. No breaks. No resets. I’d finish her. She got saved by the ref and by that DQ. Next time, I don’t let her breatheand I rip her apart piece by plastic piece.”
Erin finishes with a soft but pointed question: “So you’re saying you stand by every punch you threw tonight?”
Emily glares. “Every. Single. One. And next time? The Prima Donna is not walking out under her own power.”
The room crackles with tension as Erin slowly backs out, leaving the furious fighter pacing like a storm trapped in a cage.
Written by the Badass Barbies
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