Storm v The Morrigan – Bar Brawl Hardcore Match

[hamish1024]

Suffering the opening spinebuster seemed to have left Storm with a desire to over-compensate. She remained in all-out attack, leaping forward and clotheslining the Morrigan, who seemed somewhat taken aback by the Scot’s desire to prove herself up to the challenge of a hardcore match.

Morrigan was also literally taken back, surging forwards just at the wrong time to get hit with the full force of the flying clothesline. Storm felt the reassuring smack on flesh of a successful move, followed by the slightly unexpected crunch into the table.

Which exploded into a shower of debris beneath Morrigan’s back.

The heavyweights thudded down to the hard floor together, in a shower of splinters. Fortunately for Storm, she had Morrigan beneath her to cushion the fall, which took the edge off the jarring impact.

“Shit, I broke another table? I’m going to get a reputation,” she quipped, allowing herself a smile as she maneuvered herself into a domineering straddle atop her downed opponent.

Storm considered her repertoire of ground holds, but remembered this was a brawl, not a bout. Respecting this fact, the ascendent Scotswoman held Morrigan’s head down, with a push to her lightly-bloodied brow, took a seat on her chest, and started firing down targeted face punches with her balled right fist.

[BlackAkuma]

Credit to Storm, she’d turned this around in a hurry. When the match had started off, Morrigan had been afraid - okay, not ‘afraid’, but concerned - that she would steamroll the woman throughout the match without much trouble. The Morrigan had fought enough big bitches to know that they tended to fold when they came up against a bigger bitch, and she was about as big of a bitch as they came. She would still wipe the floor with Storm without regrets, but she was hoping to get some challenge out of it.

Not even two minutes later and she was on the floor, bleeding from her forehead, putting through a table, with a raging Scotswoman on top of her. How was that for a challenge?

It probably said a lot about the instinct she’d built up as a wrestler that she half-expected her opponent to go for some fancy submission move next. Yeah, this was a bar brawl, but it wasn’t like there was a rule against it. Sabine certainly would.

No, Storm had something a little more straightforward in mind. The Morrigan grunted as he her head was held down, and here came the punches - sharp, heavy, hammering blows to her skull, each one ramming her skull against the floor. Her body jerked about with each hit, and the damage was mounting fast. She needed an out.

There was only way she could see, and that was with brute force. After taking the third - maybe fourth? - shot to the face, Morrigan planted her heels, bridged up hard, and tried to hurl Storm off with an explosive burst, trying to send her rolling away so she could create space.

[hamish1024]

If ‘bar brawls’ were a gap on Storm’s CV, she certainly seemed to be making up for lost time, enthusiastically straddling the floored Morrigan and starting a series of mounted punches.

Having that muscular body down between her thighs felt good. Storm blinked, and tried not to get distracted at the thought, throwing down another hard punch to that pretty face, almost as if to push it out of her mind.

“Enjoying the dance, love?” Storm couldn’t help but quip between blows. She could feel the influence of the whisky on her aggressive actions now. The brunette could handle her booze, and she wasn’t exactly drunk, but coupling spirits with scrapping was somewhat new for her, and she hadn’t expected it to hit her as quickly, as the spike of adrenaline pushed the alcohol round her system, leading to a much faster buzz than she had bargained for. As a result, her punches were harder and less focused, though this was largely a problem for Morrigan right now; Storm was breaking into a sweat as she managed several unanswered attacks.

Unsurprisingly, the Irish woman soon tired of this treatment. Her counter was strong and smart; Storm was almost impressed as she found herself thrust off of her, pitched forwards in a clumsy roll by Morrigan’s powerful bridge.

“Ow!” Storm complained as her shoulders thudded onto the floor, strewn with the wreckage of the table. Maybe she should have gone for a tighter submission move, although given the mess of fragmented wood on the floor, that would have increased the risk of splinters.

“In my defence, I did not expect the table to break like that…” she mused, clambering back to her feet. She turned to grab a rough hold of Morrigan’s dark hair, harshly ‘helping’ her opponent up in payback for the earlier hair pull.