Fight on your own terms.

Never fight on your opponent’s terms.

The words of your training coach dawn on you just as you’re about to make your biggest mistake yet.

It’s clear that she wants a boxing match, one that will obviously play to her strengths as a well-rounded striker while exposing you as an amateur fighter at best.

Still skipping around you with a smug confidence radiating off of her, you can tell she’s just waiting for a chance to pop the crowd while probably knocking your teeth out in the process.

That’s what La Diabla wants, so you instead elect to give her something that she desperately needs: an old-fashioned ass kicking.

Feigning a boxing stance yourself, you sloppily mimic her footwork, which predictably amused the veteran as well as the majority of the viewing audience.

“Oh boy! This will not end well for you, young man!” Ignoring the ring announcer’s scolding taunt, you continue pacing around the ring with her in close pursuit.

Smirking confidently as you two now entered into striking range, La Diabla eyes you confidently until she apparently finds an opening.

Sensing her opportunity, she lunges forward to take her shot.

Right where you want her.

Before she can even throw the first jab, you thrust your boot forward and catch her in her exposed midriff.

An audible grunt escapes her lips as the kick connects, catching her (and probably the audience) off-guard.

Clutching her midsection, she starts to back out of range—but you also sense an opportunity to take advantage.

Moving in swiftly, you continue on by clubbing the back of her now lowered neck, causing La Diabla to straighten back up with a pained grimace etched across her face.

Gritting her teeth together to hold back some choice words (probably in Spanish), she start. towards you angrily only to run into an knife-edge chop that slices right into her scarlet bikini.

“Wooooo!” The crowd’s collective tribute to the classic strike fills the entire arena, while giving the Latina she-devil an angrier shade of red on one of her breasts.

Feeling more confident now, you repeat the strike to even greater success, now aimed at her other breast.

The accompanying Woooooo from the crowd is music to your ears, and probably **** to hers.

Clutching one breast sorely while massaging the other one, she an only glower resentfully at this unexpected turn of events.

“Wow, did you feel that impact, folks! Maybe the rookie’s got a pair after all!” the ring commentator exclaims, begrudgingly giving you props.

Circling around her with the roles now reversed, you can’t help but let out a smirk as another idea crosses your mind.

“Those were new ones, right?” you taunt her, making an enlarging gesture with your hands that the crowd certainly enjoys.

“Puto gusamo!” she snarls in her native tongue, your implant joke finally hitting her where it hurts the most: the ego.

Acting out of pure emotion, she lunges at you with her arms outstretched only for you to duck underneath her armpit and reappear behind her.

Finding nothing in her grasp except empty air, she twirls around only for her chest to be lit up yet again with another powerful chop.

Stumbling backwards, Angelica now finds herself slumped back against the corner turnbuckle.

Feeding off the crowd’s roaring intensity, a surge of confidence energizes you with every momentum-building step.

Surging forward with a running start before she can even look up, you squash her back into the corner with a powerful clothesline.

Crumpling like paper as your entire upper torso collides with her unsuspecting chest, Angelica lets out a loud yelp before seemingly collapsing into your arms.

With certain victory seemingly within your grasp, you take a moment to ponder your next move: