Laxia von Roswell vs. Sheila Morgan - Lightning in a Bottle

[BlackAkuma]

…coward?

Something about that two-syllabled word let a small fire in Sheila’s brain. It was hard to properly hear the woman through all the chaos of the crowd and the match, but she was fairly sure she heard that word come out of this blueblood’s mouth, and it made her pause for a moment. Sheila Morgan had been called many, many things in her life. Pretty much every curse that the English language ever created, and no small amount of names in other languages, too.

But coward? That was new.

It was still in her brain as she landed the knees and rolled off of Laxia’s body, scoring a perfect Meteora. She rolled over to her feet and popped straight up, standing tall and looking over her shoulder at her fallen foe. The smart thing to do here, would be to press the advantage, keep this woman down while the moment was still on her side.

And she would. But first, she wanted to get some questions answered.

Sheila took a slight detour to the timekeeper’s area, where she reached over and grabbed a chair, scaring the hell out of the ring announcer in the process. She brought it over to Laxia’s downed form, as the woman rolled about. She planted her foot on her chest to keep her still, then opened the chair up, dropped it on top of Laxia’s chest, and roughly sat down on it, pinning the woman beneath the unforgiving metal as Sheila glared down.

With both feet resting beside Laxia’s head, Sheila leaned forward, her wild mane dangling about her face. ”Oy. Pro Wrestler Barbie.” Her eyes narrowed. ”D’you just call me a coward? Is that what I heard come out of your dumbfuck mouth?”

[Letta]

Sheila looked down at Laxia writhing on the floor, then, for some reason, turned and walked away instead of continuing her attack. Laxia did not understand why. All she knew was that she finally had a brief chance to catch her breath. As she lay on the cold floor and steadied her breathing, the dizziness slowly began to subside. Her eyes still stung, but the blurred outlines of her surroundings were gradually coming back into focus. She could not stay down like this. Gritting her teeth, Laxia tried to prop herself up on her elbows. Just then, Sheila’s foot pressed down on her chest.

“Aaaaghn...!!”

She had barely begun to sit up before Sheila’s foot forced her flat again. Under the pressure on her already-battered chest, her scream mingled with a faint moan. Laxia let out a trembling breath and struggled to look up along the leg pinning her down. Through her gradually clearing vision, she saw a metal chair being unfolded.

“Ah... what...?”

Before she could understand what it was for, the foot on her chest withdrew, and the chair took its place. Then Sheila dropped heavily into the seat, driving the metal frame mercilessly against Laxia’s generous rack. Her upper body was pinned beneath it, her shoulders and back pressed flat against the floor. Even when she twisted, the metal frame across her chest left her no room to slip free.

“AAAAAAH...!!!”

Laxia’s scream rang out around ringside. Every attempt to draw breath sharpened the pain in her breasts. She kicked her feet frantically, beating them against the floor. As Laxia shook her head in pain, Sheila’s feet settled on either side of her face. Then her opponent leaned forward, her wild mane hanging close enough to almost brush against her. Laxia could hear Sheila’s words. She knew how humiliating it was to be pinned beneath her while the woman demanded an answer. She wanted to snap back at Sheila, to tell her that she had heard correctly. But when she opened her mouth to protest, all she could manage was a strained groan.

“Nnngh... get...*pant*... this off...! Nnngh...!”

Laxia reached out with both hands and grabbed Sheila’s ankles beside her head. She tried to push them aside, but shoving at her ankles did nothing to relieve the weight on her chest. Finally releasing them, she moved her hands to the metal chair pinning her down. She gripped the cold frame with both hands and strained to lift it, her arms trembling with the effort. Even a little would do. If she could just ease the pressure on her compressed chest and make enough room to draw breath.

“And you... call this wrestling...?!”

Her face contorted in pain as she continued to push against the unyielding frame. Both of her wrestling boots squeaked against the floor as she struggled. The relentless pain in her chest made her sapphire eyes glisten, but she refused to look away, glaring defiantly into Sheila’s blue ones.