The press conference

Moscow greeted Karen Knoxx with a wall of cameras. The moment she stepped through the doors of the airport's international terminal, the noise hit her.

"Knoxx!"

"Karen! Over here!"

"Karen, look this way!"

"Are you really prepared for Volkova?"

"Six professional victories against forty-six!"

"Do you honestly believe you can beat her?"

Karen stopped for half a second. The entire world had been expecting her. Apparently, half the international sports press had decided that watching the American arrive in Moscow was almost as important as watching the fight itself.

Behind her came her mother, carrying two bags and wearing the expression of a woman who had already decided she hated every journalist in the building. A few steps behind them walked Karen's sparring partner and assistant, trying unsuccessfully to keep the luggage together while avoiding the cameras.

Karen smiled. She had expected this, what she had not expected was the hostility.

"Karen!" a British journalist shouted. "You have six wins. Volkova has forty-six. Isn't this whole thing just a publicity stunt?"

Another reporter immediately followed. "She hasn't lost a professional fight in more than four years!"

"Are you aware that you're walking into the most hostile arena in Europe?"

"Do you really think American boxing has a chance?"

Karen kept walking. Her mother did not.

"Enough."

Diana Knoxx stepped between her daughter and the nearest cluster of reporters. She was no longer young, but there was something about the woman that made people instinctively move aside.

"Give her some room."

A reporter recognized her. He froze. Then his eyes widened.

"Wait."

Another journalist turned. "No way."

"Is that...?"

"Diana Monroe?"

The name spread through the crowd like an electrical current. Suddenly the cameras weren't pointing only at Karen.

They were pointing at her mother. Diana stared back at them with visible irritation.

"Yes," she said. "Now get out of the way."

The journalists exploded. "Diana! The Diana Monroe?"

"You're Karen Knoxx's mother?"

"You trained her?"

"Are you really the same Diana Monroe who fought in the sixties?"

"Three-time world Sexfighter champion?"

"Is Karen being trained in your style?"

Diana sighed. She had spent years trying to leave that part of her life behind. Apparently, Moscow had other plans.

The headlines were already writing themselves.

THE LEGEND RETURNS.
DIANA MONROE'S DAUGHTER CHALLENGES VOLKOVA.
THE OLD CHAMPION'S FINAL GAMBLE.

And, inevitably:

CAN THE DAUGHTER LIVE UP TO HER MOTHER LEGACY?

Karen glanced sideways at her mother with a simpatetic smile on her face. Diana gave her a cold look.

"I was hoping they had forgotten." She whispered to her daughter.

"They haven't."

"I noticed." Karen laughed quietly. Then another question came.

"Karen! Your mother dominated international Sexfight during the 1960s. Are you here to restore American honor?"

Karen stopped. She turned toward the cameras.

"No." The journalists quieted. "I'm here to fight Elvira Volkova." A sigh. "And if I'm going to beat her, It won't be because of my mother's past."

Diana looked at her daughter. For the first time that morning, she smiled.

Across Moscow, another woman was watching the footage. Elvira Volkova. She sat in her training room with her arms folded, staring at the television. Karen's face appeared on screen: calm, confident, smiling.

Elvira's jaw tightened. "She likes cameras."

Her coach looked at her, a puzzled look on his face. "Most fighters do."

"Not like that." Elvira stood. On the screen, Karen was still answering questions.

She looked completely comfortable. That bothered Elvira more than the insults had. Karen didn't look intimidated. She looked like she belonged. And Elvira hated that.

---

The press conference was held four days later. The organizers had deliberately chosen a massive hall.

Hundreds of journalists filled the room. Television crews from Russia, America, Britain, France, Germany, Japan and several other countries crowded around the stage. Behind the podiums hung a gigantic poster.

ELVIRA VOLKOVA vs. KAREN KNOXX
TEN DAYS.
CENTRAL STADIUM — MOSCOW.

The official announcement confirmed that the fight would take place ten days later at Moscow's Central Stadium, one of Europe's largest sporting venues.

It was going to be enormous. Possibly the largest women's Sex Boxing event in history. Karen arrived first. She wore a simple dark suit, her blonde hair tied back. She looked relaxed. Then the room changed.

Elvira entered.

The reaction was immediate. Thousands of photographs had been taken of her already, but seeing her in person was different. She walked to her seat without smiling and sat down.

Karen looked at her. Their eyes met. Neither woman looked away.

Finally, Karen smiled. Just slightly. Elvira's expression hardened.

The room was a whirlwind of voices and shouts as people tried to get attention, but the moderator soon managed to calm everyone down and begin selecting questions one by one. The first questions were predictable.

"Elvira, you've dominated this sport for more than four years. Are you concerned that Karen Knoxx has become the biggest challenge of your career?"

Elvira leaned toward the microphone. "No." Fake laughter from some journalists in the room.

"She's twenty-one." She continued, glancing toward Karen. "She's talented, apparently. Six victories..."

Karen nodded politely but Elvira continued. "...I had more professional victories before I learned how to properly tie my gloves."

More laughter, even Karen smiled and Elvira noticed.

"You find this funny?"

Karen shrugged. "Maybe."

"You seem amused."

"I am."

The room erupted again with many questions, but the two fighters ignored them, focusing on each other.

Elvira's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

Karen leaned toward her microphone. "Because you're trying very hard to convince everyone you're not worried."

Silence.

Then an enormous reaction.

Elvira's fingers tightened around the microphone. "You're very confident."

"I wouldn't have come otherwise."

"Confidence is one thing." Elvira smiled. "Knowing what you're walking into is another."

Karen remained perfectly calm. "I know exactly what I'm walking into."

"And what is that?" Karen looked directly at her.

"A Russian cow."

Elvira stared at her. For several seconds, neither woman moved. Then Karen smiled again.

Elvira leaned back. "You're going to regret that smile."

Karen's expression didn't change. "I don't think so."

The next question came from an American journalist.

"Karen, Elvira has publicly stated that she doesn't consider you a legitimate challenger. What's your response?"

Karen thought for a moment.

"I don't need her permission to challenge her, She asked for a challenge, I only picked it up."

Another wave of applause. Elvira shook her head. "You're mouth is very good at talking."

"Thank you."

"It wasn't a compliment."

"Oh really? Wanna see what other things my mouth can do?"

That answer made the audience laugh. Elvira's smile disappeared. The questions continued. Some were serious. Others were deliberately provocative.

"Elvira, are you offended that an American with only six professional fights has called you a Russian cow?"

Elvira's eyes flicked toward Karen. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because russian cows are useful. American sluts aren't."

Karen covered her mouth for a moment, trying not to laugh. Elvira saw it.

"Something funny again?" Karen shook her head.

"No."

"You keep doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Smiling."

Karen leaned closer to the microphone. "Would you prefer I cry? Your jokes aren't that bad."

The room exploded. Even some members of the Russian press laughed. Elvira's face went completely still. That was when Diana spoke from the side of the stage. "She only smiles when she is sure of her win."

Elvira looked at her, a mix of disbelif and anger. "So she thinks she can win?!"

Diana smiled. "Of course."

That one word changed the atmosphere. Elvira stood. Diana stood as well. The two women looked at each other. For a moment, nobody understood why. Then recognition seemed to settle over Elvira's face.

"You're the mother." She said with her thicc russian accent.

Diana nodded and smiled, like her daughter.

"Just an old hag trying to relive her past glories through her daughter." The room went silent. Diana's smile vanished.

Elvira continued. "And I've seen your old fights-"

"Then you know better than to call me old." Diana said, interrupting.

"You were dangerous when fighting weak men and women."

Diana stepped closer. "Get to the point"

Elvira smiled. "You led your daughter to believe she was someone special, but she's just a slut, just like her mother."

Diana face was of stone, unreadable, a dark shadow on her eyes. Karen's expression changed. "Mom, don't-" but Diana mother raised a hand, calming down.

"I'm fine."

Elvira looked at Karen and smiled. A taunting smug and then looked at Diana again. "Are you?"

Karen stood to defend her mother honor. The room suddenly felt much smaller. Diana moved in between the two, now acting as a shield and to stop her daughter to approach.

"You should be careful what you say." For the first time Karen wasn't smiling.

Elvira laughed. "Why? Because of you? I built a career destroying usless sluts like you. I'll make you beg in the ring, and at the end of the night you will cry out for momm-"

The first shove came so quickly that several cameras missed it. It wasn't from Karen or from Elvira.

It was Diana's.

Elvira almost fell as the american coach gave her an hard shove, making her stumble and trip onto the chairs. The ruassian boxer pushed back with explosive anger and the audience erupted in screams and cheers.

Security immediately began moving toward the stage, but the two former and current fighters were already squared up.

Diana threw the first punch. Elvira slipped it. The second came faster. Elvira blocked it with ease.

For one brief moment, the room saw the Diana Monroe that had once been feared across the world. She was still fast and dangerous, throwing eyemakers like a real fighter.

But Elvira was younger, stronger and also a boxer.

The exchange lasted only seconds. Diana tried a third punch, but Elvira answered immediately.

One punch, right on her nose. Diana dropped and the room went silent. Karen froze, her mother lay on the floor, conscious but stunned.

Elvira stood over her, leg spread, arms flexed, looking directly at her future opponent with a triumphly smug.

Karen's smile had disappeared from her face, her eyes locked onto Elvira's. Something changed. The playful confidence was gone.

"Mom!" Karen struggled against the security that now was holding her back, these Russians were clearly putting much more effort into holding her back than into holding back their champion, who was resting a foot on her mother's chest after knocking her out.

Diana moved and groaned "Karen..."

Finally, Karen was released, and she immediately rushed forward to help her mother. Elvira made a stap back and looked at her. Neither woman said anything.
The security personnel finally doing their job and separated the fighters, putting themself in between.

Karen knelt beside her mother. Diana grabbed her daughter's wrist.

"I'm okay, just help me get up." Karen looked at her, she saw fear in her mother eyes. They slowly stood, Karen helping her mother while looking across the stage at Elvira.

The Russian champion was surrounded by security, but she was still staring directly at Karen.

Ten days.

Karen had originally thought ten days was plenty of time to get used to the timezone and new clime, to the food and to just rest a bit before the match.

Now it felt like an eternity.

She picked up the microphone. Her voice was quiet. "I hope you enjoyed that."

Elvira said nothing. Karen's expression hardened. "Because in ten days, there won't be any security between us."

The cameras flashed a thousand time, taking in the best shots they could, now with that the dynamic changed.
For the first time since she had arrived in Moscow, Karen Knoxx wasn't smiling, but Elvira was: a smug, malicious smirk from someone who thinks they're better than anyone else.