Oscar Orelash's open challenge!! (Featuring Monsy)

[MappleMan7]

Oscar was covered in his far share of scratches thanks to Vorona's efforts to keep out of his grasp- but if anything, that only seemed to only fire the Barbarian Prince up. With his gazed locked in on his desired target, Oscar would charge toward the stuck Vorona and attempt to spear her midsection- crushing her torso between 225lbs of solid Canadian muscle AND the padded ring post! Should the move connect, Oscar would roll off to the side for a moment and rub his shoulder- still feeling some of the impact even with all the cushioning in place!

[Monsy]

"HUUUUGGGGKKKKKK!" Vorona's throat felt like it could tear within from the air forced out. The feeling was searing. Her gut immediately felt swelling. She felt her spine quite vividly. A section of it, pushed so hard into this turnbuckle pad that her stomach went inside out. Her body went limp. And this relaxation, coupled with the force of his spear shaking the ropes, pads and post, was what she needed to come loose. She crumpled down onto her neck and back of her head, arms flat and folded over her head. Her hips cast a shadow over them, curved ever-so-slightly. Her knees dangled partially folded over by her shoulders, spread, the toes touching the ground in a V going outward. "ghh...hnnghh..." The Artist wheezed in and out, fainter, and with clear struggle like her lungs were squeaky bag pipes. Her stare fluttered vacantly, a scowl still present, but without the cadence to stop a bit of drool from seeping. And her eyes from leaking eyeliner, down under her ask and shallowly present around the undercurves of her mask.

[MappleMan7]

Oscar would crawl over to an absolutely devastated Vorona and grab onto her, forcing her head to look at the canvas as he stood up with his arms locked around her body and her legs likely draped limply over his shoulders. Marching with Vorona to the center of the ring, Oscar would take a moment to steady himself before leaping upward and spiking Vorona's head into the canvas with his signature Magma Dunk Piledriver!

[Monsy]

Her eyes bulged the moment of impact. A tremendous throbbing encompassed her entire skull. The sensation reverberated from the top, to her face, to her nape, then down the rest like ripples. Her legs seized, convulsed, then again she went deadweight. Her eyelids drooped. Both legs folded towards one shoulder, and her arms splayed in both directions straight. Her hips curved over again, and if he would let go, she'd surely tumble onto her side.

[MappleMan7]

Oscar silently released Vorona after the piledriver, letting the battered challenger fall onto her side before pushing her onto her back- laying his body on top of Vorona's as he grabbed her wrists and pinned them over her head while laying his full weight down onto her. Pins like this weren't something Oscar did often, but admittedly it was to ensure that trapping Vorona under 200+ pounds of solid Canadian muscle was the best way to keep her down for the extended count. Well, that, and he felt a little humbling was something Vorona could use with how much she was running her mouth. The ref slid in and started the count- fans sitting on the edge of their seats to see if Vorona was staying down or not!

[Monsy]

"ONE!" "TWO!" "THREE!"

Vorona's corpse didn't much move. Her head squeezed with an accelerating throb. Her neck felt pinched. Her spine felt warm. Much of the rest, her muscles, her conscious, her train of thought were on the precipice of slipping into deeper rest that the majority of her fight was spent thinking loudly to stay awake. Her feet moved, swaying left-right with her ankle on the ground.

"FOUR!..." "FIVE!..." "SIX!..."

Her eyelids fluttered. She gained a little momentum in assessing her spot. Bad. Very bad. She could not move her wrists, her hips or chest. His set of muscles had her pancaked and she became accustomed to a sweaty aroma that wasn't her own. She swung her leg out, putting it down when nothing was reachable. Too far. It was too far. There was nothing left to do..

"SEVEN!..." "EIGHT!..." "NINE!..."

Except to make one big push. Using her leg, she flexed the muscle at maximum effort along with digging a shoulder into his chest. Her face scrunched and turned red. She wished herself to become a wedge underneath, using the hair's worth of freedom in her shoulders to attempt to turn towards her side. Even a partial success is all she needed. An inch. A centimetre. Anything to stop this nearly completed fall.

[MappleMan7]

Despite the odds looking good for Oscar, the Barbarian Prince knew better than to let his guard down- even for a second. He held his breath- waiting and hoping that this was enough to keep Vorona down. Every second ticking by, every count from the ref, made Oscar's guts tighten with anticipation- easily feeling like the longest ten seconds of his life. Just before the ref count hit the ten count, they suddenly called a break- making Oscar get off of Vorona with a shocked look on his face. Based on what he saw from the jumbotron, it seemed that Vorona had JUST made enough of gap with her struggle to count as her breaking the fall.

The Barbarian Prince ran a hand through his hair, taking a long and deep breath as he looked at Vorona- looking at her current state on the canvas before standing back up. Oscar respected Vorona's resilience- but this match was important to him. Too important to let her get back up. Nodding his head in respect to Vorona, Oscar turned around and would dash to the nearest ring post- climbing up to the top rope and steadying himself as the crowd cried out in anticipation for what was to come. With another deep breath from Oscar, the Barbarian Prince would take a flying leap backwards off of the post- soaring through the air with a backflip as he attempted to crash down onto Vorona with a massive moonsault! Should the high-flying finisher make it's mark, Oscar would hook Vorona's leg and try once more to pin her!

[Monsy]

A pyrrhic victory.

Her body willed itself to exist a little longer. Her conscious worked overdrive and dug into its deepest reserves to keep the machine running. The muscles in her leg ran sore and she couldn't quite catch her breath. There was comfort lying here. Comfort she hated, comfort she knew the meaning of and despised. Her arm threw itself over to start the process but getting off her back was like being stuck in tar. She was being sucked to the floor by her own vessel's lack of... something. Just a general malaise she couldn't shake. It was in her disoriented look, her shuffling feet and her pitiful scratches against the mat.

Where had Oscar went?

The cheers told her. And in the moment she caught his shadow, she clenched her toes, made fists and squealed from fright before his body crushed her own. "BWAAGGGHHH!!!" Her legs became stiff and lifted off the mat. Her head whiplashed forward alongside her shoulders before snapping back into the mat. A wad of spittle flew and it contained her soul. She hit the mat with a raging pant, blowing out hot hair with her eyes turned towards her skull. Groans from her hanging maw continued. Whines, shivers, grunts as he shifted. Her sweaty leg was hooked, folding over to clamp his strong hand limply.

"N-No..."

The referee dropped down and began the count.

"ONE!" "TWO!" "THREE!"
"T-This...c-can't..."
"FOUR!" "FIVE!" "SIX!"
"b-b...b-beee..."
"SEVEN!" "EIGHT!" "NINE!"
Vorona's pant became quiet. She had finally lost to her disorientation, going unconscious underneath him with a final whimper.
"TEN!"

And the bell would ring: DING-DING-DING

[MappleMan7]

The second time Oscar went to cover Vorona, time seemed to move at a normal pace for him- the Barbarian Prince more confident that the moonsault he just pulled off was more than enough to put Vorona away- and with the signal of the bell, he would be correct! Oscar's theme started playing over the speakers as he pushed himself off of Vorona, looking down at his practicality squished opponent- noticing she was unconscious. Hoping she could still hear him, Oscar gently smiled and patted Vorona's head as he spoke to her softly.

"Thanks for accepting my challenge. Hope you feel better soon, Vorona"

Despite Vorona's rudeness, Oscar had no had feelings toward her for them. The crowd's cheers caught the Barbarian Prince's attention next, Oscar standing back up and leaving Vorona to recover on the canvas as he was handed his belt back- raising it high with a might big grin as he successfully won his first title defense! A sense of pride in himself washing over him as he hoped he had achieved what he was looking form: showing the LAW roster that this would be a belt worth fighting for!

[Monsy]

The Titantron went black. The crowd continued to show Oscar their love, going higher than before and daring to elevate. But like a creeping parasite, a few signs take hold. More eyes hold to the Titantron and feel a presence. Vorona’s eyelids flutter with a swaying watered-down look that fades in and out of consciousness. Still, they praised Oscar. They praised the Division! Its footing could now be established; hearts and minds could now dream and ponder the greater density of opportunity. No doubt, future destinies are proclaimed in hearts on the cusp of joining the ugly sport, and more plotted their journeys years in advance, then another plotted their return. What zeal! What strength! What speed! What athletes!

What…
VIRAL OVERRIDE:

His theme stops abruptly. Her face manifests on the Titantron screen, front and centre cropped around her head and neck. A choker with an ovalish purple stone inside a silver fitting. Her lower-lip was purple; her upper being black. Eyes of a snake stared at Oscar. A black mask hugged them, then filling in the gaps was purple. “Bahhh, Bahhh, Bahhh, Bahhh…” Said Spectre, quickly becoming inescapable in all sound systems around the arena as usual. An annoyed sigh, a shriek of trauma, a tear and a growl come from audience members in assorted patterns, turned from their joy and unto booing. First, just a section of them, then a growing number until more than half accepted the new reality. “I hear a special someone has cheated themselves another victory. First the tournament, then this. And yet you cheer?" They did on cue, spiting her to try and make her smug fade while supporting their Champion. It didn't work, but a muscle did visibly tent on her collar. "Tch. In any case, there's only one proper way to congratulate this newly-crowned Champion off his first and only win. First and only man to ever win anything.” She raised her brow, taking a moment suck in air, rolling her eyes and shoulders before spreading her arms and beginning to gesture.

“Three jeers to the new King packin' the Triple Ds of the Dire Dumpster Division!... Osssscar! Orrrre-lash!” The crowd didn’t feed into it as she pointed to Oscar. They booed in response, but she cackled in her trick, filling in the void and purposefully boosted over her detractors. “And to my testing operative, just nap it off. You did great! Good enough to show this guy at his worst, that is, look!” Her feed became a smaller box as another spawned, becoming split-view with the right-side box having the replay of their match after the bell. It was zoomed in, noting the pat on the head. “What was it, you think? A little bit of spite? Ego corruption? Kiiiiiindness?” The head-pat was replayed over and over in its few seconds of binding. “Who knew a barbarian could be so declawed, it's disgusting! ... But I certainly did, and you do too, don't you, Os-car?”