Imagine yourself taking on Ivy as a spoiled brat whose lowly boxing skills are somehow better than yours. Now imagine her taking you apart punch by punch...jab by jab, your skills so beneath hers you can't manage to land a single punch.
Now imagine knockdown after knockdown...your body barely able to beat the count each time, the lovely lady known as Ivy laughing as she continues to pummel your skull, jaw, and stomach.
Nearly ten minutes later, imagine that final blow...the one that puts you down for the count. All you can see is the ceiling, the victor's smiling face, and the only sound blowing through your brain is the 1-10 count she easily delivers, posing next to you for the final shot...everything fading to black as the winner leaves the room.