Don't Get Me Started

[3ho]

”Ambushing is not strategy and you certainly didn’t do it in an exciting way.” Morgan protested, still turning her head up to peer up over her shoulder at Rina. Honestly, if there was at least a little showmanship and flash with the ambush. Maybe a little staged misdirection, it could have been a little more exciting and thematic than whatever Rina did.

What was it? Oh yeah, just walk up and grab her hair. So original.

Then suddenly Rina wanted to show off how gross she could be. ”Could you not?” Morgan snapped watching in disgusted horror as Rina mined for gold all up in her nose. She swore she was picking at her brain too by how deep that finger plunged.

”Don’t you dare.” Morgan threatened as Rina turned her finger down towards her. With a sense of urgency, the blonde pushed and kicked just enough to shift the chair but never unseat it. ”Ew! Eeewww!” Morgan screamed as that dirty digit pushed and rubbed against her cheek.

Of course now Rina started going off on something. Morgan was still wiping her cheek along her bare shoulder to really pay attention. ”Did you have to do that?” She whined, sticking her tongue and making an exaggerated barf noise.

This wasn’t how Morgan had been expecting her day to go. It should have been Morgan getting in the ring and then Rina after. She’d spend the first five to ten minutes playing around, pulling out all the cheeky tricks. Probably flirt because that seemed like a useful thing to do to trick people all the time in the ring. But no. Rina had to go and ruin that.

Rina pushed herself up off the chair, half turning to put her boot on its edge and give it a hard shove, sending it clattering down the ramp. She wasn’t all that generous though because offering Morgan escape came at the cost of a boot stomp down between her shoulders. The young punk would reach down to try to drag hold of Morgan, gripping to top to try and drag her along towards the stage, regardless of if she rose to her feet to follow or was literally dragged

There was a shift as Rina stood up. The chair now weightless on top of Morgan. The blonde would start to push herself up but a bit of violence enacted by Rina on the chair caused it to crash along down the ramp. Any opportunity Morgan had to escape, if any, was swiftly dashed with a boot to the back.

”Uugh!” Morgan grunted as she flattened against the ramp for the upteenth time. She had lost count. Though she was picked up by Rina thereafter. Her top stretched slightly from the sag of Morgan’s weight and Rina’s weight but nothing that would be permanent.

”Hey!” Morgan yelped, scampering to her feet but still feeling off balance that she was hunched forward. She unwittingly complied with Rina as she lead them up the ramp and to the stage entrance.

”Where are we even going?? The ring is that way!” She waved her hands and started to flail about trying to make Rina’s attempted transportation difficult.

[Parker]

Rina’s expression was a perfect storm of disbelief and attitude, brows knit tight, jaw set, and eyes wide in the kind of “you can’t be serious” glare that could melt steel. Her voice came out in a rough bark, dripping sarcasm from the very first word.

"What the… are you kidding me?!" she snapped, throwing both hands up as if to physically catch the nonsense flying out of Morgan’s mouth. "Guess the Magic part of your name’s about mushrooms, ‘cause you must be high outta your damn mind right now!"

The punk didn’t just scoff once, she did it twice, loud and exaggerated. She raked fingers back through her hair, the motion left her bangs sticking up just a little, making her look even more unhinged.

"Uh, hello? You ever read The Art of War?" Rina jabbed a finger toward her opponent like she was teaching a class. "Pretty sure that guy wrote the damn book on strategy, and ambushes are- I dunno… probably in there somewhere!"

"And exciting? How about death-defying? Your stupid flashy pyro nearly barbecued me!" She gestured down the ramp toward where Morgan’s entrance fireworks had gone off, the memory alone enough to make her shoulders flinch. "Why do you even have that stuff, huh? Shouldn’t you be, I dunno, shitting doves or somethin’?!"

Her tirade faltered for a second as she tried to find her words, then stubbornly kept going. "Also- also- ambushes are just surprising! That’s sub… subvent…? Sub-something expectations!" Her hand waved in the air as if that would help her fish the right term out of her brain. "Which is exciting! I’m exciting! I’m like a wild card!"

By now, Rina’s rant had lost most of its bite and turned into a strange mix of defensive pride and wounded ego. She was still glaring, but her lower lip was doing that slight pout thing that made her look more flustered than furious.

Tossing the chair aside, when she finally hauled Morgan up, it was with a stiff jaw and a chip the size of a boulder on her shoulder. She dragged the blonde along by the top of her gear like a leash, ignoring every squirm and protest until Morgan found enough footing to make it difficult. Then Rina’s patience snapped.

"Oh boo-hoo, Ms. Not-Exciting-Enough wants to go back to the ring!" she barked, spinning around and grabbing for whatever she could get , an arm, a handful of hair, anything that would give her leverage. "Sorry, sweetheart, but we’re takin’ the scenic route! I’ll show ya just how exciting this shit can get!"

Rina let out a low growl from her throat, raw and feral, before planting her boot hard against the ramp and whipping Morgan by the arm. The punk pivoted on her heel, using every bit of momentum to send the blonde flying back through the entrance curtain with an Irish whip. If luck (or karma) played nice, Morgan would crash straight into the folding tables and loose equipment backstage, the sound techs barely jumping out of the way as the chaos followed them through.

Rina didn’t even bother brushing her hair out of her face as she stomped after her, a wicked grin curling on her lips. "Still think I’m not exciting now, Magic Mindy?!" she jeered, ready to keep the fight, and the noise, going.

[3ho]

All this talk of The Art of War and subsequent whining about pyrotechnics had made Morgan think as she was staggering about trying to keep up with Rina's ushering her forward. It wasn't anything profound though. No more insightful than Rina's attempted explanation of herself. It was simply that Morgan did not like Rina. Revolutionary.

"Oh wow, I'm losing braincells listening to you." The Magician slipped in as Rina prattled on. It was a momentary victory, something Morgan could feel good about before it would all go bottoms up. Again.

They weren't going to the ring. Instead, Rina had apparently other plans that involved anywhere but the ring. Fair in a sense as Morgan, too, had plans, but she would have preferred setting them on her terms. Not Rina's.

"Auh!" Another cry came from Morgan's lips as her hair was grabbed, yanked as she was lifted into a spin for the leverage. They circled with Rina shifting her grip to one of Morgan's arms and then increasing the momentum to swing and project the blonde in an Irish Whip that sent her barreling towards the curtains of the entry stage. There was no stopping this hundred pound train as it barreled through the black curtains and just beyond there was a table with various equipment scattered about. The blonde careened into it in a display of carnage. The neatly coiled cables scattered, a boom mic fell with a projected crash the sound screeching on the speakers, the table flipped onto its side as Morgan rolled over it and collapsed into another heap on the other side.

Morgan was face down, the turned over table between her and Rina as she came stomping in. Morgan used the table to climb delicately back to her knees, her head peaking over the edge of the table at Rina like a seasick sailor about to hurl.

"Unnh... Ow." She uttered, but she had just about enough of the throwing. It was time to try and get ahead and she would use up one of her tricks here and now. "Wanna... see a magic trick?" She panted, lifting her head to meet Rina's satisfied gaze. Yet unbeknownst to Rina, Morgan had 52 cards folded under her wristband with enough elastic momentum to shoot out in a shuffled flurry like a dealer shuffling cards through the air. As Rina approached, Morgan would peel her wristband back suddenly and let the cards shoot out in a distracting blizzard right at the fighter's face!

Distracted, Morgan would reach down and grab the boom mic and bring it around to try and club Rina along the side of the head, knocking her sideways and into the projection of the speakers that were still connected!

[Parker]

Rina stomped through the curtain after her quarry, looking very much like she thought she was a Terminator even though she moved more like an irritated raccoon who’d just been sprayed by a hose. Every cable, crate, and wayward road case in the backstage maze suddenly felt like a personal insult, and she shouldered past them with exaggerated purpose, which mostly meant bumping her shin twice and kicking a box that absolutely did not deserve it.

"Where’d you scamper off to, you little..." she growled, scanning around with her fists balled like she was expecting Morgan to leap out of a ceiling vent.

Then she spotted her.

Morgan, draped over an overturned production table like a dying Victorian heroine, head barely peeking up. Pathetic. Ruined. An easy target. Rina’s lips curled smugly as she marched right toward her, chin tilted up like she owned the building and absolutely had not just tripped on a cable thirty seconds ago.

Morgan’s raspy, pained voice cut the air with her inquiry and Rina’s eyes lit up for half a second, pure reflex, like a child hearing someone ask if they want candy.

"Y-" She froze, her face twisting into a stubborn, pouty scowl mid-syllable.

"...No." she snapped, folding her arms as if she had just won something by refusing whimsy. "Magic is stu- HGYEEE!"

A high-pitched, absolutely un-punk girlie shriek burst from her as a hurricane of cards exploded directly into her face. Cards slapped her cheeks, stuck in her hair, one slid down her shirt, and she windmilled her arms like an affronted goose.

"WHATTHEFUCKWHATTHEFUCK?!" she sputtered, batting at the airborne deck as if they were aggressive butterflies.

And then-

WHACK!

The boom mic cracked against her skull, sending her tumbling sideways in an undignified flail. She staggered, legs skittering on a coiled cable, then crashed shoulder-first into a standing speaker stack, the equipment rattling violently.

"Ow—OW! Ow—who even maces people with…with cards?!" she yelped from the floor, half-buried in black curtains and XLR cables. One card drifted down and landed perfectly on her forehead, the king of swords.

She slapped it off immediately.

"This is stupid," she grumbled, dazed and indignant. "You’re stupid. Your magic trick is stupid. I am SO gonna kick your face in for that—!"

Somewhere in the dimly lit backstage area, someone snickered.

Rina whipped her head up, cheeks blazing. Were they laughing at her? "SHUT UP! It was tactical screaming!"

She tried to stand with dramatic menace, but her boot caught in a coil of cable and she pitched forward, falling face first to the floor again.

[3ho]

There was a reason Morgan liked card tricks. They were simple to do and understand but there were so many variations of tricks you can perform. They weren't exactly flashing but they still caught an audience's attention because everyone always wonders how did she do that? and suddenly the audience is now engaged in the act.

As Morgan watched the chaos of Rina's reaction unfolded, gloriously by the way, it attracted the attention of stagehands and audio techs as any brawl would but this one was Morgan's and she wouldn't let a limelight pass without a little performance. She lifted herself to her feet, the flipped table providing a foundation to do so as the blonde magician threw her hands out in a performative gesture.

"A round of applause for our tactical screamer for coming on stage. Now for my next trick..." Morgan announced her shoulders still rising and falling from the earlier exertion. She clapped her hands together before giving them a rub. The viewing audience she had were fully captivated wondering what else she had hidden with how little she dressed, but she wasn't going for anything fancy this time. With the table ahead, she hopped up on the edge, precariously balancing for a moment before leaping off and diving bombing, butt first with the intention of Rina's back being the perfect cushion to land on!

"Hyyyaaah!" Morgan hollered as her bum dropped onto Rina.

The landing wasn't exactly soft, feeling the impact rattle up her spine. She couldn't imagine what Rina felt. Yet that was the least of her concern as she spun and grabbed at Rina's ankles to seize them both, one for each hand, and then reel them back in an attempted Boston Crab. "How about this one?"

[Parker]

Rina hit the ground in a whirl of tangled limbs and bad luck.

Cables snared around her boots, a toppled lighting case blocked her knee, and a coil of XLR wire looped itself around her ankle like it was actively trying to sabotage her rise. She slapped a hand down on the concrete, trying to steady herself as she snarled through gritted teeth.

“You little rat magician. You planned this? Did you plan this?! These-stupid-cords-”

She tugged, kicked, pulled, finally one boot came free with a metallic snap and sent a microphone rolling across the floor with a clatter. Rina’s eyes flashed murder as she planted her palm and started to push herself upright, glaring daggers at where she had last seen Morgan through her swaying blue hair.

“Next time you try your card trick crap, I’m gonna-”

That’s when she heard it.

The whoosh of displaced air.

The shadow falling over her.

And Morgan’s dramatic declaration ringing out theatrically above her.

Hyyaaaah!

Rina barely tilted her head up before-

WHUMP.

Morgan’s ass came down like a meteor straight onto Rina’s spine.

The impact blasted the breath out of her lungs in a violent, ugly grunt. Her body pancaked flat against the concrete, limbs splaying out in every direction, boots skidding on loose coils of wire.

“HHRK!”

Her back arched involuntarily, then collapsed again. The pain radiated outward in a flash-fire wave, straight up her spine, into her shoulders, down her legs. For a moment her fingers curled helplessly against the floor, nails scraping against a dropped wrench as she tried to remember how breathing worked.

Morgan, of course, didn’t give her time.

The magician pivoted atop her like she was performing on a stage rather than a backstage hallway full of startled techs. Her hands snatched Rina’s ankles with effortless confidence, dragging her legs inward before the young punk even processed the movement.

Rina’s eyes snapped wide.

“No-no, you don’t-HEY-DON’T YOU-”
Morgan reclined, Rina’s torso lifted and her spine bent, pressing her stomach to the floor as Morgan sat deep into the hold, wrenching her into a Boston Crab atop an uncomfortable pile of backstage electronics. Rina’s furious howl echoed through the backstage corridor.

“ARE YOU KIDDING MEEEE?!”
Her fists pushed against the concrete as she grit her teeth, trying to keep up her tough girl act as her thighs burned and back stretched. Every pull Morgan gave twisted Rina’s already abused back, arching her closer and closer to the breaking point.
“Uuuurgh! I-I’m gonna fuck you up so friggin hard!”