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« on: June 29, 2025, 06:18:43 am »Now that was a fight. Anytime a queen can shut up a princess is good by me
Posted by: BadassBarbies
« on: June 29, 2025, 01:33:41 am »Sin City Slugfest VI
Blind Fold Match:
Bella Thorne vs Kayla Erin
Fighter Profiles & Tale of the Tape
Bella Thorne
The bell rings, and Bella explodes out of her corner like a woman possessed. She charges forward with reckless intent, immediately unleashing a storm of wild, looping hooks aimed at Kayla’s ribs, sides, and belly. The shots thud like cannon blasts—her gloves smacking against flesh with meaty, echoing cracks that send a wave of adrenaline through the crowd. Kayla, poised and disciplined, keeps her composure amid the chaos, slipping just enough to avoid the worst of the barrage. Still, several of Bella’s punches find their mark—one particularly vicious left hook buries itself deep into Kayla’s obliques, forcing a brief grimace.
Kayla resets and answers snapping off a trio of stiff jabs that pop against Bella’s chest and upper ribs, each one meant to slow her advance. Bella shrugs them off and barrels forward, walking through a sharp right cross that clips her jaw but barely stalls her momentum. The exchange grows brutal. Bella takes a clean right hook to side of her left breast that lands with a loud smack, visibly buckling her briefly, but she roars back with a savage right hook into Kayla’s midsection. It lands just under the ribs, and the air rushes out of Kayla’s lungs in a painful grunt as she’s forced to step back, hand dropping instinctively to cover.
Mid-round, Bella sneaks in a devastating left hook right into Kayla’s liver. The impact is cruel and surgical—Kayla’s body freezes, her knees wobble, and she winces, her face twisting in pain. It's the kind of shot that lingers, draining strength with every passing second. But Kayla grits her teeth and raises her guard.
The round ends with Bella in relentless pursuit, stalking Kayla with raw fury, throwing clubbing shots to the body and sides. Though Kayla’s high guard and disciplined footwork keep her upright, she’s taken damage—noticeable bruising already spreading along her side and torso. Bella’s aggression wins her the round, and as the fighters return to their corners, it’s clear that both have felt the damage—this war is only just beginning.
Score:10-9 Bella
Health: Bella shows slight redness on her cheeks, Kayla’s left side is tender.
Round 2:
Kayla adjusts on the fly, tightening her guard and shifting into counter-strike mode with surgical intent. As Bella barrels in with reckless aggression, Kayla plants her feet and fires a crisp right cross that slams into Bella’s cheek, snapping her head back violently and sending sweat spraying into the air. The shot draws a gasp from the crowd—but Kayla isn’t done. She follows up instantly with a brutal right hook that slams into Bella’s exposed ribs with a sickening thud, the impact visibly folding her to the side.
Bella gasps for air, her torso twisting in pain, but her fighting spirit flares. She roars forward with fury and answers with a vicious combo of her own—two savage hooks straight into Kayla’s huge breasts that force her to stumble back with a pained grimace, arms instinctively lowering to shield her chest. Bella capitalizes, digging a deep left hook into Kayla’s ribs, causing her to grunt and retreat behind her forearms.
The fight ignites into a war as both women stand toe-to-toe in the pocket, hurling brutal hooks with zero fear. Leather crashes against flesh in a blur of violence. Then, Kayla sees her moment—she pivots off a miss and slams a perfect right hook into Bella’s liver. The punch lands flush with a bone-jarring crack. Bella’s eyes widen, her face contorts in agony, and she staggers, doubling over as her legs briefly buckle beneath her.
But somehow, Bella stumbles but refuses to fall. Her body screams in pain, but her will refuses to break. She grits her teeth, shakes off the shock, and keeps pushing forward, absorbing punishment just to stay in the fight.
The crowd erupts, rising to their feet in a thunderous roar. The arena vibrates with energy as both fighters stand bloodied but unbroken, digging deep in a battle of raw guts and steel hearts.
Score: 10-9 Kayla
Health: Bella’s left side bruising; Kayla’s breasts and ribs flushed and sore.
Round 3:
Fueled by pain and rage and gritting her teeth, Bella digs deep and launches a savage assault on Kayla’s midsection. Her fists become sledgehammers—slamming repeatedly into Kayla’s belly and ribs with punishing thuds that echo around the arena. Kayla grunts with each impact, trying to stay composed, firing back with a stiff jab-cross combo that briefly slows Bella down. But it's clear that the body attack is taking its toll.
Kayla’s breath shortens, her guard begins to drop, and Bella sees the cracks. Midway through the round, she slips a jab and torques her hips into a wicked left hook that crashes into Kayla’s exposed ribs. The shot lands flush, and Kayla stumbles backward, a grimace etched across her face. The crowd senses the momentum shift.
Smelling blood, Bella explodes forward like a predator. She drives Kayla back with a relentless flurry—ripping a savage uppercut that snaps Kayla’s head back, her ponytail whipping from the impact. Then Bella zeroes in on a familiar target: Kayla’s breasts. She slams home crosses, jabs, and uppercuts with brutal precision, her gloves pounding against soft flesh as Kayla cries out, arms crossing instinctively over her chest while her corner screams at her to fight back.
Bella’s fists crash into Kayla’s aching body again and again, targeting the vulnerable curves with ruthless accuracy. Kayla’s butt hits the middle rope, and she desperately covers up, taking a painful hook flush on the side of her chest that causes her to shudder. The bell clangs, but not before Bella drills another uppercut into Kayla’s sternum, sending a shockwave through her battered torso.
Kayla grabs hold and clinches just to survive the final seconds, gasping for breath as she leans into Bella’s shoulder. When the ref pries them apart, Kayla glares with fury as she backs her way to her corner—her chest heaving, her ribs bruised and sore. She sinks onto her stool, shooting daggers across the ring.
Bella just smirks, standing tall, sweat dripping from her brow, knowing she owned that round.
Score: 10-9 Bella
Health: Kayla’s ribs and breasts look swollen; Bella’s breathing is heavy but face clear.
Round 4:
Kayla’s corner is livid. Her trainer leans in, spitting urgency with every word.
“She’s beating you to the punch! She’s dictating the action—working your breasts like they’re damn punching bags!
FIGHT BACK, DAMMIT—FIGHT BACK!”
The message is loud, brutal, and crystal clear. Kayla doesn't wait for the bell to finish echoing. She’s off her stool early, adrenaline surging through her bruised body. Across the ring, Bella rises just as fast, cocky as ever, blowing mocking kisses in Kayla’s direction, smirking like she’s already won.
But Kayla is done playing defense, done having her breasts treated like cheap punching bags and sick of losing to the smug redhead. She storms out, aggression boiling over, and meets Bella head-on with a thudding right hook that slams into Bella’s left breast, flattening it against her chest. Bella winces, backing off as the shot reverberates through her torso.
Kayla doesn’t hesitate. She sidesteps a lazy jab from Bella and drives a devastating right hand deep into Bella’s belly, folding her opponent slightly with the force. Bella stumbles, her body betraying her. Sensing momentum, Kayla goes into overdrive—firing off a crisp jab, cross, left hook that rattles Bella’s head and sends her legs into a drunken wobble. The crowd rises in a frenzy.
Then Kayla lands the perfect shot: a brutal, whip-fast left hook to Bella’s liver.
Bella gasps.
Time slows for a beat as Bella’s face twists in agony, her legs betray her, and her body shuts down as she drops to one knee, her glove pressed to her ribs, mouth open in a silent cry. A thin stream of blood drips from her nose as the referee starts the count.
1... 2... 3...
Bella’s eyes are wide and watering. Her chest rises and falls in shallow, pained gasps.
4... 5... 6...
She blinks away the blur and clutches the ropes.
7... 8...
She’s up—barely—swaying, bleeding, and shaken, but upright.
The crowd is electric, on their feet, roaring as the tide turns. Bella is fighting off her back foot but is smart enough to stay out of range gathering her breath until the end of the round.
Score: 10-8 Kayla.
Health: Bella is visibly bruised and battered, breathing hard but still in the fight; Kayla’s ribs tender but controlled.
Round 5:
Now it’s Bella’s corner barking in her ear, voices sharp and demanding.
“You’re better than this slug! She’s got nothing for you—go out there and kick her ass!”
Bella breathes heavy, her face smeared with blood and frustration, then slams her gloves together three times, eyes burning with fury. She’s hurting, but she’s not done—not even close.
The bell clangs, and Bella charges like a woman possessed. Gritting through the pain, she lunges forward and unleashes wild, looping hooks into Kayla’s sides, pounding her ribs with raw power. A pair of vicious uppercuts crash into Kayla’s chest, flattening her breasts and briefly shattering her defensive guard.
Then comes the big one—a ferocious right uppercut that explodes under Kayla’s chin, snapping her head back and sending sweat and spit flying.
Bella snarls at Kayla.
“What now sl&t! What now!”
Kayla reels, but her recovery is lightning-fast. She bites down on her mouthpiece and counters with a devastating left hook to Bella’s jaw that staggers her backward like she’s been yanked by an invisible rope. Bella tries to cover up, but she’s breathing ragged. She leaves her midsection open for just a moment—and Kayla pounces. A thunderous body shot slams into dangerously low on Bella’s abs, making her grimace and drop her guard.
Bad mistake.
Kayla unloads a savage flurry—three punishing hooks to Bella’s ribs, followed by two brutal shots to her battered breasts, jiggling and bruised from round after round of abuse. Bella gasps and clinches tightly, wrapping her arms around Kayla just to stop the punishment.
The referee separates them as the round winds down. Both women are bloodied, gasping, drenched in sweat, but still upright, still glaring, still swinging but it's Kayla who is in control.
Score: 10-9 Kayla.
As the bell sounds, Kayla doesn’t go to her corner immediately. She stalks forward and steps toward the Princess corner, glaring at Bella through her swollen eyes.
“You like that? Huh? You like that, b!tch? ‘Cause there’s more coming.”
Bella, face flushed and chest heaving, flips her off defiantly—then plops down on her stool, her arms hanging limply at her sides as her corner frantically works to ice down her ribs and patch the bleeding.
Health: Both fighters bruised and sweaty; Bella’s ribs and jaw sore, Kayla’s ribs bruised.
Round 6:
Bella is slow off her stool, her face drained of color and her body screaming in pain. Her ribs are flushed an angry pink, dark bruises blossoming beneath the skin. Her breasts are battered, clearly swollen and tender from the constant barrage. Her breathing is labored, each step toward the center of the ring looking like an act of pure defiance. She gathers herself, teeth clenched, but looks like a beaten fighter clinging to pride more than momentum.
Her corner worked frantically between rounds—ice packs slammed against her ribs, Vaseline slathered over busted lips and scraped cheeks—but the damage is done. Meanwhile, Kayla springs off her stool, her expression ice cold. Not only does she look fresh, there’s a glint of controlled fury in her eyes.
The bell rings. The pace slows now, both fighters visibly drained. Bella throws wild, desperate hooks, missing by wide margins, her technique unraveling. She’s fighting on heart alone, swinging at ghosts.
Kayla stays calm and calculating, slipping shots and digging jabs into Bella’s body. A quick one-two snaps Bella’s head back, followed by a punishing hook to the side. Then comes the real pain: Kayla steps in and drives a sharp right hook deep into Bella’s liver.
Bella freezes. Then drops.
Her mouth hangs open in a silent scream as she crumples to her knees, the crowd letting out a collective gasp. The referee begins the count.
“One... two... three...”
Bella claws at the canvas, gasping, eyes wide with pain.
“Five... six...”
Somehow, she rises at seven, staggering on unsteady legs, her hands barely raised. She looks like she could fall over in a stiff breeze—but she nods defiantly at the ref.
The fight resumes—but it’s all Kayla now.
She keeps the pressure up, but not recklessly—her corner has warned her: “She’s got nothing left. Stay smart. Don’t empty the tank.”
Mid-exchange, Kayla steps in close—and accidentally lands an upward knee between Bella’s thighs. Bella cries out and clutches her groin, stumbling back. The crowd erupts in shocked outrage as the referee immediately steps in and calls time.
“Watch it, Kayla!” he shouts, gesturing furiously.
“It was clean!” Kayla barks back, face twisted in protest. “She was moving! That was clean!”
The ref issues a stern warning, waving a finger as Kayla fumes, shaking her head.
Time resumes, and Bella, still wincing from the low blow, gamely raises her gloves. But the round ends with Kayla picking her apart, landing jabs, body shots, and another painful hook to the breast just before the bell. Bella stumbles to her corner, needing help from her trainer to stay upright—but surprisingly, she’s alert, snapping back at instructions with gritty determination.
In contrast, Kayla returns to her stool with quiet confidence, her corner grinning.
“Next round is yours. Just stay sharp—her punches don’t have sting anymore.”
Score: 10-8 Kayla.
The damage is piling up—and Bella’s heart may be all that’s keeping her standing.
Health: Bella badly bruised and winded; Kayla’s body showing some wear but dominant.
Round 7:
The crowd is buzzing, expecting Kayla to finish the job — but Bella surprises everyone. Playing a little possum, she lures Kayla in. Kayla pokes out her double jab, stepping forward with quick footwork, shuffling left, trying to trap Bella against the ropes. Then—
BAM! BAM! CRUNCH!
A vicious uppercut snaps Kayla’s chin up, and before she can recover, a blistering left-right combo slams into her face, driving her stumbling back into the ropes. The arena erupts. And screams of “Holy ****” echo throughout the arena.
Bella has her stunned. But she’s too drained to capitalize. Her limbs are slow, her breathing ragged. She gathers herself, chest heaving, glaring through swollen eyes.
"You're done b!tch!" Bella spits out. "Get ready to eat some leather."
Kayla hears the taunt. Despite her corner screaming at her to pace herself, she ignores them completely, the humiliation of being rocked fueling her rage. Kayla goes all-in. She unleashes bombs—huge, wild overhand rights, looping haymakers, reckless hooks—every punch thrown with intent to end the fight. But Bella is reading her, slipping, ducking, parrying. Her instincts still work, even as her legs threaten to give out beneath her.
Thirty seconds of mayhem.
Then Kayla slows. She steps back, bent over, hands resting heavy on her knees, sucking in oxygen. Her chest rises and falls in frantic, desperate gasps.
Now it’s Bella’s corner shouting, desperate: “She’s hurt! Finish her!”
Bella nods slowly, then pushes herself forward. Her body screams in protest but her mind is laser-focused. She closes the distance, shoving Kayla back into the ropes. Bella works the jab—one, two, three quick pokes to the face. Kayla covers up tight. Bella winds up a wild overhand right—and misses.
BOOM.
Kayla explodes upward, drilling a brutal left hook into Bella’s ribs, the sickening smack of glove to flesh echoing through the arena. Bella hisses, her mouth gaping open as the air is driven out of her lungs. She tries to retreat—Too late. A thunderous uppercut catches her under the chin, snapping her head back violently. Her legs wobble. Then a clean left cross slams into her ear, making her stagger drunkenly. And finally—
THUMP!
A devastating hook to the belly lands flush, folding Bella in half. Her eyes go wide, lips trembling, and she crumples sideways, whimpering, curling into a fetal position on the canvas, arms wrapped around her ravaged midsection.
The referee starts the count.
“ONE… TWO… THREE…”
Bella doesn’t move.
“FOUR… FIVE…”
She twitches, groaning, but there’s no getting up.
The ref waves it off.
Bella is motionless! It’s over.
Final Result:
Kayla Erin wins by devastating 7th round KO!
Bella is left sprawled on the mat, groaning softly, her corner rushing to cradle her. Kayla stands tall, her chest rising with pride and exhaustion, bloodied but victorious, fists raised as the crowd erupts in approval.
Post Fight:
Despite leaving Bella sprawled on the mat like a broken doll, Kayla Erin isn’t done. Her fists are lowered, but the fire in her eyes burns hotter than ever. She storms across the cage, stepping right over Bella’s crumpled body, pausing just long enough to sneer down at the humiliated blonde gasping on the canvas.
Paris Berelc and Debby Ryan aren’t having it. The second Kayla’s foot crosses that invisible line of disrespect, they charge in, shoving her hard and sending her stumbling backward into her corner. Kayla roars in fury, but before she can retaliate—
Nadyasonika barrels in from the side, spearing Paris to the ground, and all hell breaks loose.
The two women roll violently on the mat, fists flying, hands tangled viciously in each other’s hair, screaming curses as security rushes to separate them. It takes three men to pull them apart. Both are spitting mad — Paris’s nose is gushing blood, and Nadyasonika’s left eye is already swelling shut, her cheek scraped raw from the canvas.
Debby’s still shouting, held back by Bella’s corner as the crowd eggs it all on, half cheering, half horrified. The cage, once a battlefield, now looks like a riot scene.
After what feels like forever, order is finally restored.
Bella, looking like she’s been dragged behind a truck, somehow manages to stand—her lip split, eye swollen, arms trembling and body bruised and battered. She doesn’t flinch when they drag her to the center of the cage, but the pain in her body is obvious. She stands there, chest heaving, defiance still burning in her bloodied eyes.
The referee grabs both women’s wrists, and when Kayla’s hand is raised, she yanks it up higher herself, turning in a slow circle, flipping off Bella’s corner as she does.
No handshake. No hug. No respect.
Kayla doesn’t even look at Bella again.
Her team erupts in celebration, screaming triumphantly, pounding the cage walls. Kayla climbs the cage and shouts to the crowd,
“THAT’S WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU MESS WITH A REAL QUEEN!”
Bella just stares through her, too proud to cry, too broken to speak.
Tonight, Kayla didn’t just win.
She made a statement.
Inside the Locker Room — Bella Thorne (Post-KO Loss)
The mood in Bella Thorne’s locker room is nothing short of volcanic. She sits on the edge of the bench, wrapped in an ice pack and a towel, her body marked with deep bruises and scrapes. Her chest still rises and falls sharply from the effort it takes just to sit upright. A medic finishes checking her vitals, and with a wave from her corner, the reporter cautiously steps forward. Bella’s eyes burn — not from tears, but from rage and humiliation.
“Bella, that was a brutal end. What’s going through your mind right now?”
Bella doesn’t hesitate.
“Rage. Pure f&ckin rage. I had her. I had her hurt, the stupid b!tch was on her way out and I let it slip. I’m pissed at her, at myself, at everyone screaming like it was over. That’s not how I go out.”
“You seemed to play possum in Round 7 and rocked Kayla early. Why didn’t you finish her?”
She slams her fist into her thigh.
“My tank was dry. I couldn’t breathe. I saw her glassy-eyed and I wanted it, but my body didn’t respond. That’s the worst part — knowing your brain’s screaming ‘Go!’ and your limbs say ‘Nope.’”
“Kayla’s hook to the ribs and uppercut seemed to completely shut you down. Can you walk us through that final sequence?”
Bella winces at the memory.
“I felt my ribs shift. That shot… it felt like a knife. Then the uppercut? I didn’t even see it. Next thing I knew, the b!tch lands a lucky shot and I was staring at the lights with her standing over me.”
“Do you feel the ref should’ve stopped it earlier?”
Her glare sharpens.
“No. I’d rather die on the canvas than have someone save me early. Don’t protect me from a fight — I’m not made of glass.”
“What’s your reaction to Kayla’s post-fight behavior?”
She laughs bitterly.
“Classless. Stepping over me like I was roadkill? Flipping off my corner? She’ll regret that. We’ll meet again, and next time I finish her.”
“So… what now?”
Bella’s eyes narrow.
“I heal. I train. I hunt. This isn’t over. Kayla may have won the fight—
but she just started a frickin war.”
Inside the Winner’s Locker Room — Kayla Erin (Post-KO Victory)
Kayla Erin lounges back against a padded bench, legs spread, her gloves off, tape still clinging to her wrists. Her sports bra is soaked with sweat, and there's a cut above her left brow that required three quick stitches. Her knuckles are red and her body bears bruises of its own, but her expression? Pure adrenaline-soaked satisfaction.
Her team is buzzing behind her, replaying the knockout on a loop. She grins when the reporter steps in.
“Kayla, that was a violent, explosive finish. What’s your take on how the fight ended?”
Kayla leans forward, her voice low and intense.
“I told everyone—don’t sleep on me. Bella tried to clown me early, and yeah, she landed some slick shots, but I fight with fire and as everyone saw, she was spent and running on fumes. And when I saw her break? I didn’t hesitate. I crushed her.”
“You looked hurt in Round 7 after those uppercuts. How close were you to being finished?”
She chuckles, wiping blood from her mouth.
“Closer than I liked. I’ll give her that—she hits like a truck. But you know what? That just flipped the switch. Pain’s just a signal. And I turned it into a frickin hammer.”
“Some fans say you got reckless, especially after her taunt. Thoughts?”
Kayla snorts.
“She called me out—told me to get ready to eat leather. That was her mistake. You don’t poke a wild animal and expect it to stay cute. I got emotional, yeah. But I broke her body in half. That’s what matters. The mighty Bella Thorne bend in half crying like a drooling little baby. Priceless! Frickin Priceless!”
“There’s a lot of talk about your post-fight behavior — stepping over her, flipping off her corner. No handshake. Any regrets?”
Kayla's smile fades into a cold smirk.
“None. She disrespected me before the fight. Talked like I didn’t belong. I earned that moment. You wanna act like a queen? Don’t cry when someone rips off your crown and stomps your face into the ground.”
She leans back, laughing darkly as her corner roars in savage agreement, the chaos still buzzing around them like electricity. Her voice drips venom as she glares into the camera.
“Tell Canada to brace itself—and Amelia Windsor? You better up that health insurance, sweetheart. I’m bringing hell with me.”
She starts to turn away, but then snaps her head back toward the mic, eyes burning.
“And as for Ms. Thorne—if that fragile little glass-jawed Disney Princess wants another lesson, I’ll be more than happy to leave her broken and bawling in a pool of her own tears again. This time, I won’t stop at the bell.”
Written by the Badass Barbies
Blind Fold Match:
Bella Thorne vs Kayla Erin
Fighter Profiles & Tale of the Tape
Bella Thorne
- Age: 27 (born October 8, 1997)
- Height: 5'8" (173 cm)
- Weight: 125 lbs (57 kg)
- Reach: 68" (173 cm)
- Background: Actress, model, and singer. Bella has a wild, rebellious streak with a history of dance and light athletic training. She's known for her endurance and unpredictable fighting style — erratic but tenacious.
- Style: Brawler with a scrappy edge. Relies on pressure, relentless aggression, and surprising power. Unorthodox but dangerous when she gains momentum.
- Age: 28 (born August 16, 1996)
- Height: 5'6" (168 cm)
- Weight: 130 lbs (59 kg)
- Reach: 66" (168 cm)
- Background: Australian cosplay sensation and fitness enthusiast. Kayla has trained recreationally in boxing and MMA for cosplay accuracy and physique building. She's more technical than people assume and very durable.
- Style: Counter-striker with strong core power. Focuses on defense and measured combinations. Packs sneaky strength in her compact frame and knows how to pace herself
The bell rings, and Bella explodes out of her corner like a woman possessed. She charges forward with reckless intent, immediately unleashing a storm of wild, looping hooks aimed at Kayla’s ribs, sides, and belly. The shots thud like cannon blasts—her gloves smacking against flesh with meaty, echoing cracks that send a wave of adrenaline through the crowd. Kayla, poised and disciplined, keeps her composure amid the chaos, slipping just enough to avoid the worst of the barrage. Still, several of Bella’s punches find their mark—one particularly vicious left hook buries itself deep into Kayla’s obliques, forcing a brief grimace.
Kayla resets and answers snapping off a trio of stiff jabs that pop against Bella’s chest and upper ribs, each one meant to slow her advance. Bella shrugs them off and barrels forward, walking through a sharp right cross that clips her jaw but barely stalls her momentum. The exchange grows brutal. Bella takes a clean right hook to side of her left breast that lands with a loud smack, visibly buckling her briefly, but she roars back with a savage right hook into Kayla’s midsection. It lands just under the ribs, and the air rushes out of Kayla’s lungs in a painful grunt as she’s forced to step back, hand dropping instinctively to cover.
Mid-round, Bella sneaks in a devastating left hook right into Kayla’s liver. The impact is cruel and surgical—Kayla’s body freezes, her knees wobble, and she winces, her face twisting in pain. It's the kind of shot that lingers, draining strength with every passing second. But Kayla grits her teeth and raises her guard.
The round ends with Bella in relentless pursuit, stalking Kayla with raw fury, throwing clubbing shots to the body and sides. Though Kayla’s high guard and disciplined footwork keep her upright, she’s taken damage—noticeable bruising already spreading along her side and torso. Bella’s aggression wins her the round, and as the fighters return to their corners, it’s clear that both have felt the damage—this war is only just beginning.
Score:10-9 Bella
Health: Bella shows slight redness on her cheeks, Kayla’s left side is tender.
Round 2:
Kayla adjusts on the fly, tightening her guard and shifting into counter-strike mode with surgical intent. As Bella barrels in with reckless aggression, Kayla plants her feet and fires a crisp right cross that slams into Bella’s cheek, snapping her head back violently and sending sweat spraying into the air. The shot draws a gasp from the crowd—but Kayla isn’t done. She follows up instantly with a brutal right hook that slams into Bella’s exposed ribs with a sickening thud, the impact visibly folding her to the side.
Bella gasps for air, her torso twisting in pain, but her fighting spirit flares. She roars forward with fury and answers with a vicious combo of her own—two savage hooks straight into Kayla’s huge breasts that force her to stumble back with a pained grimace, arms instinctively lowering to shield her chest. Bella capitalizes, digging a deep left hook into Kayla’s ribs, causing her to grunt and retreat behind her forearms.
The fight ignites into a war as both women stand toe-to-toe in the pocket, hurling brutal hooks with zero fear. Leather crashes against flesh in a blur of violence. Then, Kayla sees her moment—she pivots off a miss and slams a perfect right hook into Bella’s liver. The punch lands flush with a bone-jarring crack. Bella’s eyes widen, her face contorts in agony, and she staggers, doubling over as her legs briefly buckle beneath her.
But somehow, Bella stumbles but refuses to fall. Her body screams in pain, but her will refuses to break. She grits her teeth, shakes off the shock, and keeps pushing forward, absorbing punishment just to stay in the fight.
The crowd erupts, rising to their feet in a thunderous roar. The arena vibrates with energy as both fighters stand bloodied but unbroken, digging deep in a battle of raw guts and steel hearts.
Score: 10-9 Kayla
Health: Bella’s left side bruising; Kayla’s breasts and ribs flushed and sore.
Round 3:
Fueled by pain and rage and gritting her teeth, Bella digs deep and launches a savage assault on Kayla’s midsection. Her fists become sledgehammers—slamming repeatedly into Kayla’s belly and ribs with punishing thuds that echo around the arena. Kayla grunts with each impact, trying to stay composed, firing back with a stiff jab-cross combo that briefly slows Bella down. But it's clear that the body attack is taking its toll.
Kayla’s breath shortens, her guard begins to drop, and Bella sees the cracks. Midway through the round, she slips a jab and torques her hips into a wicked left hook that crashes into Kayla’s exposed ribs. The shot lands flush, and Kayla stumbles backward, a grimace etched across her face. The crowd senses the momentum shift.
Smelling blood, Bella explodes forward like a predator. She drives Kayla back with a relentless flurry—ripping a savage uppercut that snaps Kayla’s head back, her ponytail whipping from the impact. Then Bella zeroes in on a familiar target: Kayla’s breasts. She slams home crosses, jabs, and uppercuts with brutal precision, her gloves pounding against soft flesh as Kayla cries out, arms crossing instinctively over her chest while her corner screams at her to fight back.
Bella’s fists crash into Kayla’s aching body again and again, targeting the vulnerable curves with ruthless accuracy. Kayla’s butt hits the middle rope, and she desperately covers up, taking a painful hook flush on the side of her chest that causes her to shudder. The bell clangs, but not before Bella drills another uppercut into Kayla’s sternum, sending a shockwave through her battered torso.
Kayla grabs hold and clinches just to survive the final seconds, gasping for breath as she leans into Bella’s shoulder. When the ref pries them apart, Kayla glares with fury as she backs her way to her corner—her chest heaving, her ribs bruised and sore. She sinks onto her stool, shooting daggers across the ring.
Bella just smirks, standing tall, sweat dripping from her brow, knowing she owned that round.
Score: 10-9 Bella
Health: Kayla’s ribs and breasts look swollen; Bella’s breathing is heavy but face clear.
Round 4:
Kayla’s corner is livid. Her trainer leans in, spitting urgency with every word.
“She’s beating you to the punch! She’s dictating the action—working your breasts like they’re damn punching bags!
FIGHT BACK, DAMMIT—FIGHT BACK!”
The message is loud, brutal, and crystal clear. Kayla doesn't wait for the bell to finish echoing. She’s off her stool early, adrenaline surging through her bruised body. Across the ring, Bella rises just as fast, cocky as ever, blowing mocking kisses in Kayla’s direction, smirking like she’s already won.
But Kayla is done playing defense, done having her breasts treated like cheap punching bags and sick of losing to the smug redhead. She storms out, aggression boiling over, and meets Bella head-on with a thudding right hook that slams into Bella’s left breast, flattening it against her chest. Bella winces, backing off as the shot reverberates through her torso.
Kayla doesn’t hesitate. She sidesteps a lazy jab from Bella and drives a devastating right hand deep into Bella’s belly, folding her opponent slightly with the force. Bella stumbles, her body betraying her. Sensing momentum, Kayla goes into overdrive—firing off a crisp jab, cross, left hook that rattles Bella’s head and sends her legs into a drunken wobble. The crowd rises in a frenzy.
Then Kayla lands the perfect shot: a brutal, whip-fast left hook to Bella’s liver.
Bella gasps.
Time slows for a beat as Bella’s face twists in agony, her legs betray her, and her body shuts down as she drops to one knee, her glove pressed to her ribs, mouth open in a silent cry. A thin stream of blood drips from her nose as the referee starts the count.
1... 2... 3...
Bella’s eyes are wide and watering. Her chest rises and falls in shallow, pained gasps.
4... 5... 6...
She blinks away the blur and clutches the ropes.
7... 8...
She’s up—barely—swaying, bleeding, and shaken, but upright.
The crowd is electric, on their feet, roaring as the tide turns. Bella is fighting off her back foot but is smart enough to stay out of range gathering her breath until the end of the round.
Score: 10-8 Kayla.
Health: Bella is visibly bruised and battered, breathing hard but still in the fight; Kayla’s ribs tender but controlled.
Round 5:
Now it’s Bella’s corner barking in her ear, voices sharp and demanding.
“You’re better than this slug! She’s got nothing for you—go out there and kick her ass!”
Bella breathes heavy, her face smeared with blood and frustration, then slams her gloves together three times, eyes burning with fury. She’s hurting, but she’s not done—not even close.
The bell clangs, and Bella charges like a woman possessed. Gritting through the pain, she lunges forward and unleashes wild, looping hooks into Kayla’s sides, pounding her ribs with raw power. A pair of vicious uppercuts crash into Kayla’s chest, flattening her breasts and briefly shattering her defensive guard.
Then comes the big one—a ferocious right uppercut that explodes under Kayla’s chin, snapping her head back and sending sweat and spit flying.
Bella snarls at Kayla.
“What now sl&t! What now!”
Kayla reels, but her recovery is lightning-fast. She bites down on her mouthpiece and counters with a devastating left hook to Bella’s jaw that staggers her backward like she’s been yanked by an invisible rope. Bella tries to cover up, but she’s breathing ragged. She leaves her midsection open for just a moment—and Kayla pounces. A thunderous body shot slams into dangerously low on Bella’s abs, making her grimace and drop her guard.
Bad mistake.
Kayla unloads a savage flurry—three punishing hooks to Bella’s ribs, followed by two brutal shots to her battered breasts, jiggling and bruised from round after round of abuse. Bella gasps and clinches tightly, wrapping her arms around Kayla just to stop the punishment.
The referee separates them as the round winds down. Both women are bloodied, gasping, drenched in sweat, but still upright, still glaring, still swinging but it's Kayla who is in control.
Score: 10-9 Kayla.
As the bell sounds, Kayla doesn’t go to her corner immediately. She stalks forward and steps toward the Princess corner, glaring at Bella through her swollen eyes.
“You like that? Huh? You like that, b!tch? ‘Cause there’s more coming.”
Bella, face flushed and chest heaving, flips her off defiantly—then plops down on her stool, her arms hanging limply at her sides as her corner frantically works to ice down her ribs and patch the bleeding.
Health: Both fighters bruised and sweaty; Bella’s ribs and jaw sore, Kayla’s ribs bruised.
Round 6:
Bella is slow off her stool, her face drained of color and her body screaming in pain. Her ribs are flushed an angry pink, dark bruises blossoming beneath the skin. Her breasts are battered, clearly swollen and tender from the constant barrage. Her breathing is labored, each step toward the center of the ring looking like an act of pure defiance. She gathers herself, teeth clenched, but looks like a beaten fighter clinging to pride more than momentum.
Her corner worked frantically between rounds—ice packs slammed against her ribs, Vaseline slathered over busted lips and scraped cheeks—but the damage is done. Meanwhile, Kayla springs off her stool, her expression ice cold. Not only does she look fresh, there’s a glint of controlled fury in her eyes.
The bell rings. The pace slows now, both fighters visibly drained. Bella throws wild, desperate hooks, missing by wide margins, her technique unraveling. She’s fighting on heart alone, swinging at ghosts.
Kayla stays calm and calculating, slipping shots and digging jabs into Bella’s body. A quick one-two snaps Bella’s head back, followed by a punishing hook to the side. Then comes the real pain: Kayla steps in and drives a sharp right hook deep into Bella’s liver.
Bella freezes. Then drops.
Her mouth hangs open in a silent scream as she crumples to her knees, the crowd letting out a collective gasp. The referee begins the count.
“One... two... three...”
Bella claws at the canvas, gasping, eyes wide with pain.
“Five... six...”
Somehow, she rises at seven, staggering on unsteady legs, her hands barely raised. She looks like she could fall over in a stiff breeze—but she nods defiantly at the ref.
The fight resumes—but it’s all Kayla now.
She keeps the pressure up, but not recklessly—her corner has warned her: “She’s got nothing left. Stay smart. Don’t empty the tank.”
Mid-exchange, Kayla steps in close—and accidentally lands an upward knee between Bella’s thighs. Bella cries out and clutches her groin, stumbling back. The crowd erupts in shocked outrage as the referee immediately steps in and calls time.
“Watch it, Kayla!” he shouts, gesturing furiously.
“It was clean!” Kayla barks back, face twisted in protest. “She was moving! That was clean!”
The ref issues a stern warning, waving a finger as Kayla fumes, shaking her head.
Time resumes, and Bella, still wincing from the low blow, gamely raises her gloves. But the round ends with Kayla picking her apart, landing jabs, body shots, and another painful hook to the breast just before the bell. Bella stumbles to her corner, needing help from her trainer to stay upright—but surprisingly, she’s alert, snapping back at instructions with gritty determination.
In contrast, Kayla returns to her stool with quiet confidence, her corner grinning.
“Next round is yours. Just stay sharp—her punches don’t have sting anymore.”
Score: 10-8 Kayla.
The damage is piling up—and Bella’s heart may be all that’s keeping her standing.
Health: Bella badly bruised and winded; Kayla’s body showing some wear but dominant.
Round 7:
The crowd is buzzing, expecting Kayla to finish the job — but Bella surprises everyone. Playing a little possum, she lures Kayla in. Kayla pokes out her double jab, stepping forward with quick footwork, shuffling left, trying to trap Bella against the ropes. Then—
BAM! BAM! CRUNCH!
A vicious uppercut snaps Kayla’s chin up, and before she can recover, a blistering left-right combo slams into her face, driving her stumbling back into the ropes. The arena erupts. And screams of “Holy ****” echo throughout the arena.
Bella has her stunned. But she’s too drained to capitalize. Her limbs are slow, her breathing ragged. She gathers herself, chest heaving, glaring through swollen eyes.
"You're done b!tch!" Bella spits out. "Get ready to eat some leather."
Kayla hears the taunt. Despite her corner screaming at her to pace herself, she ignores them completely, the humiliation of being rocked fueling her rage. Kayla goes all-in. She unleashes bombs—huge, wild overhand rights, looping haymakers, reckless hooks—every punch thrown with intent to end the fight. But Bella is reading her, slipping, ducking, parrying. Her instincts still work, even as her legs threaten to give out beneath her.
Thirty seconds of mayhem.
Then Kayla slows. She steps back, bent over, hands resting heavy on her knees, sucking in oxygen. Her chest rises and falls in frantic, desperate gasps.
Now it’s Bella’s corner shouting, desperate: “She’s hurt! Finish her!”
Bella nods slowly, then pushes herself forward. Her body screams in protest but her mind is laser-focused. She closes the distance, shoving Kayla back into the ropes. Bella works the jab—one, two, three quick pokes to the face. Kayla covers up tight. Bella winds up a wild overhand right—and misses.
BOOM.
Kayla explodes upward, drilling a brutal left hook into Bella’s ribs, the sickening smack of glove to flesh echoing through the arena. Bella hisses, her mouth gaping open as the air is driven out of her lungs. She tries to retreat—Too late. A thunderous uppercut catches her under the chin, snapping her head back violently. Her legs wobble. Then a clean left cross slams into her ear, making her stagger drunkenly. And finally—
THUMP!
A devastating hook to the belly lands flush, folding Bella in half. Her eyes go wide, lips trembling, and she crumples sideways, whimpering, curling into a fetal position on the canvas, arms wrapped around her ravaged midsection.
The referee starts the count.
“ONE… TWO… THREE…”
Bella doesn’t move.
“FOUR… FIVE…”
She twitches, groaning, but there’s no getting up.
The ref waves it off.
Bella is motionless! It’s over.
Final Result:
Kayla Erin wins by devastating 7th round KO!
Bella is left sprawled on the mat, groaning softly, her corner rushing to cradle her. Kayla stands tall, her chest rising with pride and exhaustion, bloodied but victorious, fists raised as the crowd erupts in approval.
Post Fight:
Despite leaving Bella sprawled on the mat like a broken doll, Kayla Erin isn’t done. Her fists are lowered, but the fire in her eyes burns hotter than ever. She storms across the cage, stepping right over Bella’s crumpled body, pausing just long enough to sneer down at the humiliated blonde gasping on the canvas.
Paris Berelc and Debby Ryan aren’t having it. The second Kayla’s foot crosses that invisible line of disrespect, they charge in, shoving her hard and sending her stumbling backward into her corner. Kayla roars in fury, but before she can retaliate—
Nadyasonika barrels in from the side, spearing Paris to the ground, and all hell breaks loose.
The two women roll violently on the mat, fists flying, hands tangled viciously in each other’s hair, screaming curses as security rushes to separate them. It takes three men to pull them apart. Both are spitting mad — Paris’s nose is gushing blood, and Nadyasonika’s left eye is already swelling shut, her cheek scraped raw from the canvas.
Debby’s still shouting, held back by Bella’s corner as the crowd eggs it all on, half cheering, half horrified. The cage, once a battlefield, now looks like a riot scene.
After what feels like forever, order is finally restored.
Bella, looking like she’s been dragged behind a truck, somehow manages to stand—her lip split, eye swollen, arms trembling and body bruised and battered. She doesn’t flinch when they drag her to the center of the cage, but the pain in her body is obvious. She stands there, chest heaving, defiance still burning in her bloodied eyes.
The referee grabs both women’s wrists, and when Kayla’s hand is raised, she yanks it up higher herself, turning in a slow circle, flipping off Bella’s corner as she does.
No handshake. No hug. No respect.
Kayla doesn’t even look at Bella again.
Her team erupts in celebration, screaming triumphantly, pounding the cage walls. Kayla climbs the cage and shouts to the crowd,
“THAT’S WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU MESS WITH A REAL QUEEN!”
Bella just stares through her, too proud to cry, too broken to speak.
Tonight, Kayla didn’t just win.
She made a statement.
Inside the Locker Room — Bella Thorne (Post-KO Loss)
The mood in Bella Thorne’s locker room is nothing short of volcanic. She sits on the edge of the bench, wrapped in an ice pack and a towel, her body marked with deep bruises and scrapes. Her chest still rises and falls sharply from the effort it takes just to sit upright. A medic finishes checking her vitals, and with a wave from her corner, the reporter cautiously steps forward. Bella’s eyes burn — not from tears, but from rage and humiliation.
“Bella, that was a brutal end. What’s going through your mind right now?”
Bella doesn’t hesitate.
“Rage. Pure f&ckin rage. I had her. I had her hurt, the stupid b!tch was on her way out and I let it slip. I’m pissed at her, at myself, at everyone screaming like it was over. That’s not how I go out.”
“You seemed to play possum in Round 7 and rocked Kayla early. Why didn’t you finish her?”
She slams her fist into her thigh.
“My tank was dry. I couldn’t breathe. I saw her glassy-eyed and I wanted it, but my body didn’t respond. That’s the worst part — knowing your brain’s screaming ‘Go!’ and your limbs say ‘Nope.’”
“Kayla’s hook to the ribs and uppercut seemed to completely shut you down. Can you walk us through that final sequence?”
Bella winces at the memory.
“I felt my ribs shift. That shot… it felt like a knife. Then the uppercut? I didn’t even see it. Next thing I knew, the b!tch lands a lucky shot and I was staring at the lights with her standing over me.”
“Do you feel the ref should’ve stopped it earlier?”
Her glare sharpens.
“No. I’d rather die on the canvas than have someone save me early. Don’t protect me from a fight — I’m not made of glass.”
“What’s your reaction to Kayla’s post-fight behavior?”
She laughs bitterly.
“Classless. Stepping over me like I was roadkill? Flipping off my corner? She’ll regret that. We’ll meet again, and next time I finish her.”
“So… what now?”
Bella’s eyes narrow.
“I heal. I train. I hunt. This isn’t over. Kayla may have won the fight—
but she just started a frickin war.”
Inside the Winner’s Locker Room — Kayla Erin (Post-KO Victory)
Kayla Erin lounges back against a padded bench, legs spread, her gloves off, tape still clinging to her wrists. Her sports bra is soaked with sweat, and there's a cut above her left brow that required three quick stitches. Her knuckles are red and her body bears bruises of its own, but her expression? Pure adrenaline-soaked satisfaction.
Her team is buzzing behind her, replaying the knockout on a loop. She grins when the reporter steps in.
“Kayla, that was a violent, explosive finish. What’s your take on how the fight ended?”
Kayla leans forward, her voice low and intense.
“I told everyone—don’t sleep on me. Bella tried to clown me early, and yeah, she landed some slick shots, but I fight with fire and as everyone saw, she was spent and running on fumes. And when I saw her break? I didn’t hesitate. I crushed her.”
“You looked hurt in Round 7 after those uppercuts. How close were you to being finished?”
She chuckles, wiping blood from her mouth.
“Closer than I liked. I’ll give her that—she hits like a truck. But you know what? That just flipped the switch. Pain’s just a signal. And I turned it into a frickin hammer.”
“Some fans say you got reckless, especially after her taunt. Thoughts?”
Kayla snorts.
“She called me out—told me to get ready to eat leather. That was her mistake. You don’t poke a wild animal and expect it to stay cute. I got emotional, yeah. But I broke her body in half. That’s what matters. The mighty Bella Thorne bend in half crying like a drooling little baby. Priceless! Frickin Priceless!”
“There’s a lot of talk about your post-fight behavior — stepping over her, flipping off her corner. No handshake. Any regrets?”
Kayla's smile fades into a cold smirk.
“None. She disrespected me before the fight. Talked like I didn’t belong. I earned that moment. You wanna act like a queen? Don’t cry when someone rips off your crown and stomps your face into the ground.”
She leans back, laughing darkly as her corner roars in savage agreement, the chaos still buzzing around them like electricity. Her voice drips venom as she glares into the camera.
“Tell Canada to brace itself—and Amelia Windsor? You better up that health insurance, sweetheart. I’m bringing hell with me.”
She starts to turn away, but then snaps her head back toward the mic, eyes burning.
“And as for Ms. Thorne—if that fragile little glass-jawed Disney Princess wants another lesson, I’ll be more than happy to leave her broken and bawling in a pool of her own tears again. This time, I won’t stop at the bell.”
Written by the Badass Barbies