Bengal vs. Betsy Lincoln - Red, White, and Blaze

[BengalTheBlazeTiger]

Bengal finished off her curb stomp by grinding her heel into the back of Betsy's skull, as if she was trying to squash a particularly stubborn cockroach. Then she shoved the toe of her boot under her opponent's ribs, flipping her onto her back. The All-American's blonde hair was matted with sweat, her bandana askew, her face a crimson mask. Most people would have flinched at a sight like that, but the Tiger's only reaction was a satisfied chuckle.

"See? I told you before. Red all over," she purred, dropping down to straddle the other fighter's midsection. "Here...let me give you some stripes!" She began licking the blood off Betsy's face, running her tongue from chin to forehead, leaving a thin trail of pale skin behind. She had been hoping to create a full American flag pattern, but the referee stopped her too soon. "That's enough, Bengal! Leave her alone! Let me do my job!"

Scowling, the Tiger backed off, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. "Do whatever you like, ref," she spat. "She's not getting up!" Despite her dismissive tone, the Tiger kept watching intently, as the official lifted and dropped Betsy's wrist. "One!"

[BengalTheBlazeTiger]

(Finishing the match, with permission from BlackAkuma)

Bengal had a tendency to overestimate the impact of her moves, but in this case, her prediction proved to be correct. Betsy didn’t move a muscle as the referee continued to lift and drop her arm. The All-American’s gloved hands splayed limply against the canvas, while her blue eyes stared out from underneath half-shut lids, dull and unfocused. “Two! Three! That’s it!” The official shouted, signaling to the announcer’s table. “She’s done!”

“I could have told you that,” the Tiger snarked, shoving the ref out of the way as she approached her defeated opponent. “Now…let me finish MY job!” The bell sounded a few moments later, but the Tiger didn’t even react. She was too busy completing her flag pattern, running her tongue across Betsy’s ravaged face five more times, while the crowd groaned in disgust. The end result was a blurry mess of red and white, with little resemblance to the actual Stars and Stripes. Of course, creating a respectful tribute had never been Bengal’s intention.

“C’mon Betsy…time to salute the flag!” she called, pulling the other fighter into a kneeling position, holding her up by a fistful of her blonde hair. Moving the smaller woman’s arms like a puppeteer, she forced Betsy’s right hand into a lurching parody of a salute. “Perfect!” the Tiger exclaimed, raising her voice to be heard over the growing chorus of boos from the crowd. “All we need now is for you to sing the anthem…whaddya say?” The All-American’s mouth dropped open, as if she was actually about to obey - but the only thing that came out was a thin trickle of bloody drool.

“Awww, too bad,” Bengal pouted, throwing Betsy back down to the mat. She landed face-first with a wet thud, unable to even lift her arms to break her fall. “Maybe next time, you’ll be feeling a bit more patriotic!”

With her opponent’s humiliation finally over, the Indian fighter rose to her feet, allowing the referee to grudgingly lift her arm. “Ladies and gentlemen, Betsy Lincoln is unable to continue! Here’s your winner, by knockout…THE BLAZE TIGER! BENGAL!”

Winner by Knockout: Bengal