Amazing what you can do with ChatGPT these days. I have developed a detailed prompt which examines fighter profiles I have uploaded to it (fictional characters as well as those drawn from real life) and then it weaves a fight story for me. Still a few teething issues but it can only get better from here. Grok, Gemini and Claude were not as responsive and/or imaginative as ChatGPT. Here's the output for the first two rounds of a Wales v Brazil confrontation. Hope you enjoy!
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? Pre-Fight Rituals – Sian vs. Allegra
Setting:
The private gym is quiet but heavy with anticipation. The octagonal mat is lit from above by a single overhead ring light, casting deep shadows beyond its boundary. Sweat glistens faintly on the ropes. You, the referee, stand between two doors—one painted Carnival Red, the other a Verdant Green.
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? Sian’s Entrance – “The Red Flame”
From behind the red door, Sian emerges wearing a cropped leather jacket over a black sports bra and tight compression shorts with crimson side-stripes. Her fists are taped; her red hair is slicked into a high, bouncing bob. Her entrance music? A Welsh-language techno remix thunders briefly, then cuts out sharply.
She doesn't strut—she stalks. There's a smirk on her lips and an edge in her eyes that dares anyone to doubt her.
She walks a slow circle of the ring before planting herself in her corner, flipping off her jacket with a flourish and tossing it over the ropes. She paces, shadowboxing in tight coils, biting her lower lip, her mouthguard clenched in one hand. She mutters to herself:
"She doesn’t know what’s coming... but he does. He’ll see. He always sees."
She makes direct eye contact with you for a second, then spits her gum shield into the air and catches it in her mouth with a practiced snap.
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? Allegra’s Entrance – “The Glamazon from the Amazon”
A pulsing samba beat begins to echo as the green door swings open. Allegra appears, wrapped in a shimmering Brazilian flag sarong around her hips, her upper body clad in a golden sports bra that gleams under the spotlight. Her face is calm—almost beatific. Her limbs loose and deadly.
She walks like a jaguar through water, every step a statement of lethal elegance. Her brown eyes are focused entirely on Sian, her mouth tight with controlled disdain.
As she enters the ring, she unties her sarong slowly, never breaking eye contact. She folds it with reverence and places it in the corner.
She kisses both gloves, then taps her heart:
"For Brazil… and for him."
Then she raises her arms in a T-pose, soaking in the moment—imperious, unapologetic. The air thickens.
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? The Ritual Stare-Down
At your signal, both women step to the centre of the ring. Foreheads nearly touch. Chest to chest.
The energy is nuclear.
• Sian, eyes glittering with barely-contained rage and anticipation, whispers something venomous in Allegra’s ear.
• Allegra responds with a slow, deliberate smile... and a single raised eyebrow.
Neither woman blinks. Neither yields an inch.
You gently place a hand on each of their shoulders, separating them as they backpedal into their corners.
The room holds its breath.
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Setting: The Arena, Lit for Intimacy and Drama
The lights in the studio gym are dimmed, save for the central mat illuminated by a tight overhead spotlight. The rest of the space—mirrors, benches, water coolers—vanishes into shadow, pushing all focus into the ring of velvet-padded flooring. No crowd. No noise except the steady breath of two women pacing barefoot at opposite sides of the circle.
The Referee finishes his words—first to Sian, then to Allegra.
Sian stands still as your words land, her chest rising and falling with sharp, almost flared breaths. Her shoulders are rolled forward, taut with anticipation. She tosses her long red hair up into a loose bob, eyes locked on Allegra across the mat. "She thinks she’s a queen," Sian mutters under her breath, her Welsh accent curling the vowels like smoke. "We’ll see if she’s got the stomach to dethrone me."
Allegra’s eyes narrow slightly as you speak to her—your phrasing unmistakably charged with emotional stakes. Dressed in deep forest-green sportswear, her tall, muscular frame glistens faintly from warm-up stretches. She gives you a slow nod, eyes gleaming. “So now I carry your hope and your desire,” she murmurs, accent thick with a sensual confidence. “I’ll make her feel it.”
They step forward to the centre, barefoot, toes brushing the edge of the circular mat. The height difference is immediately visible—Allegra at 5'8", towering a good five inches over the curvy, stocky Sian. But Sian doesn’t yield an inch of presence. She stands hip-cocked, defiant, exuding emotional voltage like a storm about to break.
The rules have been stated. No face punches. No gloves. Everything else is real.
No referee interruption unless a blatant rule is broken.
They circle once, shoulders rolling, eyes locked.
The tension is thick. Sweat has already formed along collarbones. There’s a long beat of silence as both fighters plant their feet, muscles ready to coil.
You raise your hand—
And then... pause.
ROUND 1 – Sian vs. Allegra
Setting: The modern, dimly lit gym is still, the air charged with tension. You, the referee, step back as the bell chimes crisply. No gloves. No crowd. Just the two women and their unfiltered hunger to dominate—with you as the only witness.
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0:00–0:30 – The first clash
Sian surges forward like a coiled spring released—head low, arms wide, feet skimming the mat with purpose. Her 5’3”, curvy frame moves with surprising agility, a blur of red hair and fierce intent. Allegra, tall and poised, meets her with a dancer’s grace and a predator’s calm, lowering her centre of gravity slightly in preparation.
The collision is primal: forearms smack, legs tangle briefly, and their torsos crash. Sian swings an early hook to the ribs, but Allegra absorbs it with a grunt, wrapping an arm around Sian’s shoulder in a partial clinch.
0:30–1:00 – Strength vs Ferocity
Sian twists like a wildcat in Allegra’s grasp, one hand slipping low to drive a short punch into Allegra’s obliques. The taller woman responds with a sharp slap to Sian’s cheek, a crack echoing off the studio walls. Sian’s head snaps sideways but her eyes flash with even more fury.
"You think that’s enough to put me down?" Sian growls, and with her knee, she attempts a thigh strike, narrowly missing Allegra’s core.
1:00–1:30 – The momentum shifts
Using her height and reach, Allegra locks her long arms around Sian’s shoulders, lifting slightly, forcing her opponent to bend backward uncomfortably. Sian grimaces, breath heaving, then drops low, head-butting into Allegra’s solar plexus (legal under your rules as body contact), creating a gasp and a retreat.
"Still got that spirit, Welshie," you mutter to yourself with satisfaction.
1:30–2:00 – Tactical adjustment
Sian pivots around Allegra’s longer reach, aiming to circle and jab into her sides with body punches that slap against her midriff and sideboob. Allegra counters with open-handed palm strikes to Sian’s upper back and shoulder blades, trying to slow the smaller woman’s bursty rhythm.
Allegra finally lands a punishing hip check, slamming Sian into the ring ropes briefly, holding her there with her body, chest to chest, hips grinding into dominance. But Sian grabs a fistful of Allegra’s hair bob and yanks it, earning a sharp warning glance from you—not illegal, but borderline.
2:00–2:30 – Frustration and fatigue
Their sweat is beginning to show, glistening along Allegra’s collarbones and across Sian’s lower back. Allegra’s breathing is louder now—controlled, but taxed. Sian is panting, her speed slightly dulled by Allegra’s size and pressure.
"You’re slower than you thought," Sian taunts.
Allegra replies with a brutal slap across the sternum, sending Sian back a step.
2:30–3:00 – Round finish
The final thirty seconds devolve into a grappling struggle—Sian clinging to Allegra’s waist, trying to trip her down, Allegra resisting and yanking her upright by the armpits. Sian sneaks in one more digging punch into Allegra’s lower abs, and Allegra answers with an elbow shove to Sian’s shoulder that spins her slightly off-balance.
You step in—Bell rings.
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END OF ROUND 1 – Damage Report:
• Sian:
o Slight redness on left cheek and upper chest from slaps
o Minor fatigue setting in, breathing hard
o Still aggressive, defiant, and moving well despite pressure
• Allegra:
o Shallow bruising beginning around lower ribs and obliques from body shots
o Hair slightly undone from the grab
o Breathing heavier than expected given her advantage in reach and power
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Tension note:
The fight is a study in contrast—Allegra’s Amazonian dominance versus Sian’s fast, fiery defiance. Neither woman has asserted clear control, but Sian’s unpredictable aggression is disrupting Allegra’s rhythm.
The women retreat to their corners, panting and glistening, with red marks already appearing on their bodies from the furious opening round. Sian sits on her stool, chest heaving, her red bob bouncing with every breath, her eyes bright with adrenaline. You lean in close, and she fixes you with an eager, almost feral look.
To Sian (Round 1 Advice):
"Fantastic start, Welshie! She was not expecting you to come out like that and throw hands so freely. Fantastic work to the body—really rattled her lungs. Keep doing it and she'll slow, trust me. She’s already breathing heavy. Just keep shocking her like that, short bursts, sudden swings. You’re the storm. Be it."
Sian grins wickedly, nodding fast.
“Yeh, she’s all tits and air now. I got her.”
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Allegra stands in her corner, shaking out her arms, sweat running down her temples. She’s glaring across the ring, lips parted as she drags in air. You step beside her.
To Allegra (Round 1 Advice):
"Tougher than she looks, huh? No worries. You’re still in one piece and looking good out there. Now listen—use your height. Stay the hell out of her flurries, control the range. Jab, keep her outside. And when you tie up? Lean heavy, drain her legs. Trust me—when her fire dies, she’ll be ripe for the taking."
Allegra exhales, nodding slowly, teeth gritted.
“She wants a war. I’ll give her a war she can’t breathe in.”
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The bell sounds for Round 2. Both women step forward with renewed focus—Sian bouncing on her toes, eyes fixed with glee; Allegra more cautious now, chin tucked, arms raised.
Round 2:
The bell echoes, and both fighters surge from their corners with purpose—but this time, it’s Allegra who draws first blood. Her long legs carry her across the mat with imposing grace, and she slaps Sian’s guard aside with a sharp left hook, not to hurt but to disrupt. Then she leans in, using her superior height to bully the shorter woman backward. Her forearm presses across Sian’s neck, guiding her toward the ropes. The redhead grimaces, trying to push off, but Allegra plants her feet and leans, a full 185 cm of Brazilian pressure making itself felt.
“Thought you were gonna steamroll me, princesa?” Allegra hisses, lips just inches from Sian’s cheek. “Welcome to the deep end.”
But Sian grits her teeth and shoves hard off the ropes. Her back arches, legs flexing as she explodes with a vicious hook to Allegra’s ribs—twice in succession. The thwack of glove on flesh is sickening. Allegra flinches, her breath catching audibly. Sian seizes the opening and ducks under an attempted clinch, then digs another right hook into Allegra’s body, this time lower, more punishing.
“You don’t lean on me, babe,” Sian spits. “You fall on me when I’m done with you.”
Allegra backpedals, winded but refusing to look weak. She throws a defiant front kick that clips Sian’s thigh—enough to sting and create separation. Her eyes flash with anger. Sian smirks through her sweat, swaying slightly, arms still up, taunting.
The round enters a brutal rhythm. Allegra peppers Sian with long, sharp jabs, trying to reclaim distance. Sian slips under them, absorbing some but parrying others, and keeps returning to the body with that same wicked intention. Allegra’s reach is a clear advantage—but Sian is beginning to read the timing.
Mid-round, Allegra tries to clinch again, dragging Sian down and wrapping her arms around her shoulders. But Sian wriggles low, gets her head under Allegra’s chin, and drives forward with short, thudding uppercuts into Allegra’s belly. Allegra's body jerks with each one—raw, close-range damage.
“Breathe through it, girl,” Sian growls. “You’re not going down yet, but you’re not walking out clean either.”
Just before the bell, Allegra manages to break free and lands a gorgeous roundhouse kick that glances off Sian’s upper arm, forcing a stumble. Allegra straightens, breathing heavy but triumphant.
Both fighters glare at each other as the bell rings—Sian’s chest heaving, Allegra’s midsection already mottled with red. Neither turns away. Not yet. This is personal now.
