To the Limit: Tiki Lowell vs Karla Ray Reinhardt

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It felt like Tiki had Karla dead to rights at this point. The red haired wrestler continued to cry, and even begged for the greenette to let go of her submission hold. But Tiki had no intention of giving such a both dangerous and aggravating foe any mercy. "I'll let go of the hold once you've submitted to it," she answered.

Once Tiki had made it clear that Karla would not be released, the German tried to reach her arms around Tiki's and grab at the hands that were yanking her head back. But with her arms had such an awkward angle, Karla had no hope of mustering the strength to pull Tiki's hands away. But Tiki would soon realize that wasn't her intent. Karla was merely concealing Tiki's hands from view so she could sink her teeth into them.

"AH!" Tiki cried out as she yanked her hand back. Well, most of her hand. Karla had bit down so hard that her teeth had broken skin, and when Tiki pulled her hand free, her pointer finger was left with a bloody gash. "My hand! You bit me!" Tiki accused. Even if she had hidden her act from sight, what could Karla do with the evidence of Tiki's bloodied hand.

[Monsy]

The camel clutch wasn’t to last forever. Whether it was by her spine or by the arsenal of bone inside her maw, unleashed onto Tiki’s hand. It blitzed into its objective, and a metallic taste fizzled on her tongue like strong wine. When Tiki released, Karla came down on her elbows, and her back tightened, and she needed to hold her back’s arch, shoulder-blades rolled back, to stand. That’s when Tiki’s finger showed right in front of her. Karla licked any evidence off her lips, smirked, then raised her hands up shoulder-height. “I have nothing to do with that.”

The referee shouted back, “Did you bite this woman?!” And Karla turned to them, stomping her foot and shouting, fists at her side. “I DID NOT!” The referee shook her head, then walked to Tiki, getting in between them. “Please let me confirm… This is to preserve the rules of this contest.” Her hand held out, and Karla was a few feet behind her, shaking her head. “I’m not about to let this conquest get away from me…” She muttered, then balled her left fist, side-stepping forward and slugging her entire upper body into a punch to the back of the referee’s head. They’d drop cold like spilled milk after stumbling a step, and Karla growled, shaking out now purplish knuckles. “My apologies, well, not really, but I hope you understand why I had to do that… And this…”

Her hand dipped into her coloured thigh-high, and drew a pair of gold brass knuckles, donned them on her bruised fist. She punched into her palm, feet should-width, that smile evolved into a wicked grin, and that gaze desired blood. “I want to fight my way. The right way.”

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Tiki was livid at Karla. She wasn't the kind of heel who made for good shows. Those who were actually decent people who simply had personas that boosted up faces and sacrificed their own reputation and likability for the sake of spectacle. Or even those who were genuine assholes, but were damn good and the ring, knew they were good, and made for perfect love to hate material.

Karla was none of that. She was a decent wrestler at best, an insufferably abrasive personality, and now she had proven that she didn't even have the respect for herself or the sport to even try to win fairly once things went against her. But thankfully, she had bit down too hard on Tiki's hand, and now would receive a penalty at least. Hopefully an outright disqualification.

But with nothing left to lose, Karla turned from heel, to supervillain. First she sucker punched the ref in the back of the head, dropping him clean in a single blow. "What the-?!" but Tiki was stunned into silence once she saw Karla pull out a pair of knuckles. Clearly meant for nobody else but her.

"Absolutely shameless," Tiki was nervous, really nervous. She considered simply ducking beneath the ropes and escaping backstage. If Karla got a single opening with those knuckles, there was no doubt that she wouldn't leave Tiki a bloodied mess. But Tiki wouldn't run. She couldn't vindicate Karla by letting her dirty tactics scare her off. Tiki had to avoid the fist, so she would go low with a sweep and try to knock Karla down.

[Monsy]

A gale of boos howled down when the referee’s face smothered the canvas. When she donned those brass knuckles, there’s a moment where she just rolled her neck, looked left and right, and relished. Then she found Tiki still standing there, and her mind could run a menagerie of what she could do and what she wanted that she didn’t flee. This weapon to be her brush; their body the canvas.

Her brow quirked though at their response. "And you're not… running?"

Her left foot slid behind her right, both fists drew, the one with the brass knuckles vestige on her left. They'd swing for her legs, and it both as she tried to move in. Her hip smacked the canvas, and she'd snarl, looking up with firey eyes. A hand pushed on the mat, and one leg threw itself over the other to scramble back to her feet. "That's…. wonderful.” Her voice carried strain. “One punch is all I need. And you're done. Understand, Hundchen? There's no referee to protect you now… Just me." Her smile couldn't replenish any brighter. Now she'd come closer, trying to footwork her way in front of Tiki Lowell so she couldn't circle, and trap her towards a corner to close in. She inched forward with her bladed stance, then ran with a war cry, pulling back her brass-knuckled fist then throwing a straight for their belly.

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Since the proper official couldn't lay judgement upon Karla for her actions, all Tiki had to take solace in was the court of public opinion siding with her against Karla's foul play. The German had certainly been expecting Tiki to run, but still she stood her ground, refusing to give Karla the satisfaction of scaring Tiki off. "Well, you've already basically admitted that you can't beat me in a fair fight," said Tiki. "I figure that all this is just giving you an even chance."

Despite her bravado, Tiki was incredibly wary of Karla's left hand. Something Karla took advantage of, as she continuously cut Tiki off to the right knowing that she didn't want to go left. Soon, Tiki ran low on space and Karla finally moved to strike. The veteran would try to catch Karla by her arm, stopping the fist attached to it before it got close. But Tiki grabbed high assuming Karla would go for her head, but the German's arm slipped underneath and into her stomach.

"AGH!" Tiki cried out as the metal dug into her belly. She was in trouble, big trouble. As her mouth hung open from the impact, Tiki saw her only shot and was going to take it. She was fighting to survive, and staying within the rules when her opponent was not was nothing but stupid now. So Tiki lunged her head forward and tried to take a desperate chomp out of Karla's neck.

[Monsy]

Her fist sunk into a fine canvas of flesh that moulded her opponent like a patch of wet clay. She leaned back to see how their mouth gaped, then twisted her fist like it were a knife, pushing the metal knuckles against the point of impact. “Why should I exert more effort than required with actually wrestling? You’re unnoteworthy trash, after all.” And she’d jerk her knuckles into their stomach more, just to see how they liked a newfound bruise to be aggravated. Then she snapped with their teeth. A move that made her eyes gape, breath to hitch and stomach to sink. Her head-movement dodged its home, but their teeth found a home in Karla’s firm shoulder. “GGRRR…”

She wanted to yelp, but could only growl like some seething mutt. The pain raged a forest fire inside her whole limb, stiffened it, and sent a throb through her whole right side. Her head shook and she welded her wet eyes shut, shuttering a breath. And her legs wobbled until one foot postured back, even then, her knees almost buckled, and the corresponding arm of her bitten shoulder lifted, and wrapped around Tiki’s nape, holding their head to her body. She now charged back her brass knuckles, cocking the arm and lifting the elbow shoulder height. “I met a dog who bit me once. I-It went something like this!” Then she opened her eyes and swung, full-force, where metal could bury itself in the same spot once again.

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Tiki felt her abs giving way under the force of Karla's brass boosted fist. And then when the redhead dug in and twisted Tiki's stomach. It hurt like hell, but Tiki could take a hard hit and still keep going. And keep going she did, straight into Karla's shoulder. The German was clearly stung by the bite at the very least, as Karla's arm stiffened while her legs shook.

But even still, Karla moved to strike with her weapon again. Counterattack would be her escape. Karla even held Tiki's head in place so she couldn't dodge the punch. But the veteran had other ways of stopping an attack. Like last time, Tiki would try to catch Karla by the wrist or forearm to stop the punch while avoiding the knuckles. But this time, she guessed right on where Karla would punch, and caught the attack.

"I had you beaten before you cheated!" Tiki spat back as she released her bite. "If I'm unworthy," Tiki would fire a knee into Karla's stomach in tandem with her verbal assault. "Then what does that make you?!" another knee, and then a third. Then, still holding onto Karla's arm, Tiki would try to use her other hand to rip the brass knuckles off of her hand, and toss them out of the ring.

[Monsy]

Her brass-knuckle gyrated in search of gold. Bone drilled into her shoulder, and Karla reeled back, intercepted by the larger woman’s grip. Then the knee. Karla folded over, her arm postured up. Spit shot-gunned from her mouth. “GUH!” The second… “GAH!!” Her eyes screwed shut, and the strikes made her bounce from the canvas. She dogged breath, with nothing left to spend after the third. “Blegh!” As her jaw opened and the last bit of spit before her mouth ran dry dripped out. “It makes…” Karla’s teeth clenched, as did her fist. The rip became one of attrition, more tenuous than the trenches as Karla sucked the air back into her lungs and heaved.

She stepped to the side, trying to inch towards Tiki’s flank with their hands occupied, and took her boot to press the sole against the back of Tiki’s knee, applying pressure until she had them grounded at one knee. “Me…!” And Karla’s elbow came up and tried to thrust down on Tiki’s prying arm, and yank her brass-knuckled hand from them. If freed, that weaponized limb would whip back and rebound forward, the five-knuckle spearhead now aimed to crack into the heart of their forehead....

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Tiki knew that her only hope was to get those brass knuckles off of Karla's hand. Otherwise, they would be too painful to bear for Tiki if she tried to defeat Karla through conventional means. But Tiki had been too single-minded in trying to get rid of Karla's weapon, and the redhead was able to start stepping on her knee.

"Ah!" groaned Tiki. She couldn't focus on trying to stay upright against Karla's foot and trying to maintain her hold on Karla's knuckles. As a result, the German was able to yank her metal hand free from Tiki's grip, and swing right back with a massive hook that crashed into Tiki's head. The veteran immediately fell down to the ring, laid out flat and unmoving from the blow. Tiki was tough, but few could take a brass knuckle boosted punch square on the head.

[Monsy]

One thrust and crack off the skull and Karla dropped to her knees. The cameras caught her lopsided sneer, which blossomed into a closed-eyed grin as she coursed a hand through her velvet tress and remounted her feet. Boos showered louder than before. She couldn’t hear herself think. But that didn’t matter. Neither did it matter to the referee, who groaned and was climbing onto all fours. This brought her attention to stand, toss the brass knuckles outside the ring, then walk over to grab their shoulder and pull them onto their knees. “Do your job, Hundchen.” She pointed to Tiki. “You will count my pin.”

Karla released, then walked over to the veteran, grabbing her ankle then walking back until they occupied the ring’s heart. She cupped her ear and listened to the fans, and the referee looked left and right, puzzled, but still shuffling on her knees and shrugging. Something was wrong. But what? Karla already placed her knee onto Tiki’s stomach, reached and held their leg up with both arms on the shin. Her glare stabbed the camera the referee’s options nulled to zero, and began the count.

“ONE.”
“TWO.”
“..THREE!”

The bell sang.
There was silence for the first portion, then, another wave of their shouts. Karla released the leg and held her stomach, wincing as she tried to laugh, then rolled onto her side and out to ringside. Her hair was thrown back one more time, and she chuckled, blowing a kiss to the front-row, then eye-rolling with an intense look of raw disgust as she scaled the ramp. One arm remained on her gut along the way. This night was over. Tiki Lowell’s challenge, was over.

Winner by Pinfall: Karla "Ray" Reinhardt