It was bad

As Usha rang the bell, Kat stepped in and threw a series of punches... to Cliff's belly and then when he lowered his hands to his face, followed by an uppercut.

Cliff took the punches and laughed. "That all you got, pussy. I know five year-old babies who can hit harder than that."

The big man started stalking Kat around the ring, trying to push her into a corner where he could use his superior size and muscle to dominate her.

Kat kept dancing, jabbing when he got near, landing punches that simply didn't do enough damage to penetrate through whatever steroid rage was motivating the angry bodybuilder.

Rick forced his gaze away from the ring and looked around at the women. One or two looked cynical, like they didn't believe this was the real thing. Most, though, were totally invested. They had become Kat. Cliff had become the men in their lives who had belittled them, physically abused them, sexually exploited them, then went looking for someone younger, hotter, or just different. Cliff's win would shatter their aspirations and would certainly doom Kat's gym. Unfortunately, Rick interfering at this point would only make things worse. These women were used to men stepping in to 'rescue' them, all the while reinforcing the notion that women were lesser, that they had to be 'protected' by the men who dominated them. They wanted to see Kat win but Rick simply couldn't see how that would happen.

Again and again, Cliff backed Kat almost to the corner and time after time she slipped away at the last minute using her superior speed and agility to counter Cliff's size and strength.

It wasn't a game that could last forever, though. Kat only had to make one slip and Cliff would be all over her. Her punches had seemingly no effect on him but Rick could only imagine what one of Cliff's punches would do to Kat. Or rather, he could only imagine until Cliff landed one to Kat's toned stomach.

Kat reeled back against the ropes, her stomach's skin suddenly blotchy with red in the shape of a boxing glove.

Cliff ran at her shoulder first, more like a professional wrestler than a boxer, and Kat, gasping for breath, barely avoided his body but got tangled up in his outstretched arms as she tried to wiggle away.

Cliff laughed then grabbed at her and Rick readied himself to go into the ring and stop the fight. It would be bad for the gym if Cliff whipped Kat but better that than to have Kat permanently injured.

Luckily for Kat, Cliff's boxing gloves interfered with his ability to actually hold on. Boxing gloves, unlike the gloves used in mixed martial arts, aren't designed with grappling in mind. Kat ducked away from his gloves, stepped inside his reach, and landed another three-punch combination to his belly. Which, again, seemed not to hurt him at all.

The fight, if it really could be called a fight rather than a stalking, continued. Kat landed dozens of punches for each of Cliff's that actually got through but he did more damage whenever he connected. Even when she blocked, he was strong enough to rock her back, so she had to try to slip the punches rather than simply meet them.

It was, Rick knew, hopeless. As it had been from the beginning. All she was doing was making him more and more frustrated, more and more angry, more and more intent on punishing this symbol of all the women who had rejected him, hurt him, or simply failed to accord him the respect he felt he deserved by virtue of being born a white male in America.