Setting a Pattern: Spectre vs Yuri Yoshika & Natsuki Muramoto

[Malkavia]

The world had become waterlogged. Bleary, so that it was hard for Monika to see the ring. How long had Monika been crying? She was used to tears of emotion. These seemed simply to be a leak, streaming constantly down her cheeks.

God. Oh God.

She could no longer feel the individual places Spectre's knee had crushed her stomach. The hurt had spread into one hot burn. It felt as though the muscle had frayed, and each pump of blood through her body rekindled the burn.

"Oh. O-ok..."

Sayo...

Which blur was her best friend? She wiped her eyes with the one hand not cradling her stomach. Sayori was ringside. She was picking up Natsuki, heaving her in both arms, the way one might complete a barbell squat.

Why?

Why did Spectre even want Natsuki in the ring?

Monika would never find out. Sayori never intended to give up her sub-100 pound friend. Instead, she whipped an about face and began to sprint down the entrance ramp towards the exit—Natsuki in her arms.

[Monsy]

Oh for fuck sake.

That wasn't so entirely in the script then she pictured.

Didn't Natsuki WANT to come fight?

Did they not BELIEVE in each other?

At least from the sum of everyone present, she expected Sayori to encourage and get Natsuki readying up to box.
This made her brows bounce. Brave, perhaps. Cowardly courage!

Spectre rolled around the thoughts on her tongue like a jaw-breaker. Then once the humour of audacity finally took its one-way ticket to goneville, she stood up properly on the top turnbuckle pads, then walked them like a tightrope. Arms loose down her sides. Eyes fixed at the running duo. She let them have a proper run at it towards the stage itself.

Run, rabbit, run.

So when they got there, Spectre, with her hands still at her side, snapped her fingers to mark the smoke machines all firing at once. From the scaffolding above to the stage's lip blowing clouds to the floor, their path would be blocked by mystery.

[Malkavia]

Running away from Spectre was the kinda thing that miiiiight make people think Sayori was the not-so-smart Doki. Where was she gonna get to, huh, with a Nat in her arms and a monster at her back? But, here's the secret—sometimes there aren't any smart moves. You just gotta GO and hope your dumb butt is lucky.

So Sayori ran. She ran hard, so she could feel every fall of her boot against the concrete rattle her shoulders, and pretty soon she was huffing and puffing and sweating and it HURT...But Spectre did start to recede behind her.

"H-hey Nat! Hey girl..." Gasping, she shook the smaller doki.

"Nnngh?"

Oh thank goodness. "Huh....heeeeey!" Sayori managed between gulps of air. "Uuuhm soooo..."

A waterfall of thick purple smoke erupted downstream of the ramp.

...Annnnd something solid was moving inside that wall of smoke.

When Sayori tried to stop, her knees were too shaky. Her weight kept going, and she kinda just...collapsed on her knees. Natsuki's tailbone, between her arms, smacked the concrete in front of her.

"O-ow! What the hhheck... Sayori..."

Crap. Crap crap craaaaap—

Sayori didn't have time for saying sorry (for hurting Nat and for all the ways she was a screwup and lazy and weak), because right then, the thing in the fog—which turned out to be a WOMAN...or a robot...or a ROBO-WOMAN—was loping down the ramp.

Ribbons of smoke curled around Sayori's knees and ankles. Sayori tried to squaaaaat back to standing, but before she could get herself and Natsuki all the way up, the robo-woman was on top of her.

The first thing Sayori really noticed was the gleaming black helmet, which had a big kitty cat face on its front—a kind of glowing neon emoji. It was smiling, which should have been cute. Except it wasn't, because mostly it made Sayori feel like a mouse.

"H-hi..."

The robo-woman tilted her head. Then, it offered her a hand. Let me help you up! Friendly, she wanted to think.

But Sayori glanced behind her. Spectre was just...waiting. Sayori really, super, duper, very wanted to keep thinking Friendly. Except, she wasn't actually the stupid Doki—and the second thing Sayori noticed was the neon-pink, metal baseball bat resting on robo-girl's shoulder.

Sayori tried to dash off the ramp into the crowd. The robo-woman grabbed her hair and yanked her back.

"Ow!"

Flick and fwick. The woman kicked Sayori's ankles in oposite directions so her legs spread out like a big tent. Cool air rushed under her skirt between her bare thighs.

In a last bout of desperation, Sayori hurled Natsuki as hard as she could towards the audience. If she could just get her over the barricade, maybe the audience could—

CLANK!

The pain that erupted between Sayori's legs was so fast and so absolute that she almost swallowed her tongue. She didn't—couldn't make a sound. Her eyes turned straight up into her head, while her gut rolled itself up like knotted spaghetti.

She fell on her face. She moaned and felt something she'd never thought about with sports before—queasy. She was queasy and limp and drooling, and then to make it worse, the robo-girl's boot came to rest on the back of her neck.

"Ugggh..."

Natsuki's moan was...way too close. Through bleary, tear-filled eyes, Sayori peered over the edge of the entrance ramp. Natsuki was on the ground, on the wrong side of the barricade, clutching her head. Sayori's throat went painfully tight.

"I'm so sorry Nat...!"

[Monsy]

"So damn greedy." Said Spectre, walking over to the ropes to let her arms fold over-top. "First blood on my pet. That's animal abuse, Dot."

But what followed was a cackle. She couldn't deny. Sayori in this way was getting her heart thumping. Such sights filled her face till it was warm and her stomach fluttered with butterflies. It would be the type of face she could stroke. Pokable eyes that could make tears if you just yelled at her. Her neck crushed like clay till she'd turn to a berry.

The toes inside her boots were curling with those thoughts.

'That's my footrest! You better have cleaned those boot Dot!'
'I bet her neck softer than a cloud.'
'I can step on her better of course. She'll hate-loathe it MORE, yes-yes.'

And that gut was still unmarked....

So what about the immediate? Dot handled it perfectly. Cruelty was always a plus, no matter the wording she placed it. Her smile was only growing with certainty. And now? With eyes on Monika, an idea sparked. She'd exit the ring and hop down to ringside. Her stride took her right up to the ring leader where she grabbed by the hair with two hands and drag.

DRAG... As much as her size allowed. But fully by the hair, clawing knots into all that brunette abundance. They headed for the start of the rampway. If they reached, Spectre walked around with Monika raised to her knees.

"Lets go, you. Show me how a leader cures a coward. Rally them! Call for them!"

And then she'd deliver a slap across the face with one hand still holding the hair. Then a backhand.

Not just one round. But continuous. Whatever number moved the faces of the dokis. And if she was winning the lottery, she expected someone to make a plea...