Revenge or Trophy? ( Killer King vs K.R.R )

[Monsy]

A lull sank in. With Killer King’s cranium plunging into the Limo’s metal shell, Karla didn't immediately capitalize. Sprawled beside him with one arm and leg dangling over the side. Her head turned away from the camera with hair swiped across her features. Her chest rose, then fell, but nothing more. Burnt adrenaline coarsed her body, leaving nothing but a bitter taste in each muscle that forced itself to move. The referee circled the vehicle, gauging their conditions the best possible. Was there going to be no contest? After everything? Steel chairs, glass, coffee, stanchions, cement, surfboards. From the traditional confines of the squared circle to the rows of automobiles cloaked in shadow. Two vicious heels, man and woman, breaking each other to get to this point.  

Then she revived, sitting up and slumping forward, nearly face-planting her own legs before thrusting a hand against the cold metal canvas. “You’re…” 

Her voice sounded low, interrupted by pants and hampered further by a croak in her throat. Once more, she wiped the blood from her cheek, gazing at her black palm with a growl - feeding off it. Anything would do. Anger was her fuel. When her body’s stamina ran dry: anger revived it like a drug. And now, she’d unleash said fury. But not by bludgeoning a downed soul or another volley of her verbal poison. No, something more decisive. 

She’d turn over onto her hands and knees, striking the canvas with her fist, again and again. That rage ignited into a yell, “Finished!!” Her voice trailed off into a laugh as she climbed to one knee, then stood. Standing tall, pain cusped her brain, and she nearly collapsed back to her knees. Again, anger helped her to stand. Even if aches riddled her body, close to passing out from all the times she spiked her head, she’d stand if only for a few seconds. 

With one foot, she planted it into his chest; the heel digging down while folding her arms. Finally, that menacing glare bore down on the referee who stood, baffled. “Count!”

And thus… the referee shuffled onto the Limo’s hood, positioned on his knees, his arm raised, and struck the hood. Now, only a few seconds mattered—three in particular.

“One!”

[KillerV]

King thought she is weaken enough that he can take her up for a big ride that would surely finishes the damn red head and claim his victory, and even better, enjoy her, but what he didnt expected is as soon he got her up things completely changed for a very few seconds that quickly changed the whole table and ended up head first wedged on the limo roof.

King actually blackout from the impact leaving his muscular large body hanging on the roof with Karla nearby. He doesnt know whats going on, he cannot tell or feel or anything even his limbs twitching and his chest rise and setting, the monster is out cold, didnt wake the beast while Karla planting her foot on his chest to pin him down like the hunter posing over her trophy.

Slowly, so slowly, King starting to come too, but when he barely recollecting his thoughts, first thing he hears is.... "Three!" and annoying bell dinging, King is too disoriented and have no clue whats going on, he knows his head hurt like fuck, and last thing he could recalled is having Karla up about to Muscle Buster finisher her for the win but everything went by too fast....

He vaguely hearing someone saying like.... "Karla..... winner..... via pinfall......" he can only groans on the spot, King is wiped out and just too tired to do much at all, just wanted to sleep.... knowing that he might of lost..... **Ngh fucking woman.... ugh....** his inner thoughts.

[Monsy]

Nothing stopped her now. She’d stand when he couldn’t lift a limb while he was struggling to muster a thought. Then she planted her boot like mounting a pendulum. The referee answered her demands like a peasant heeding to their empress. And without delay, they struck one, two and...

Three!

A bell’s chime was never so welcomed to the Reinhardt’s ears. She looked up, her shoulders slouching as she’d grin. Victory is grasped. No longer did that prowess make her body crumble. Now, she was that Empress. Standing upon a pendulum of flesh and muscle, she looked down, piling her weight onto a knee and folding her arms across the aforementioned limb, then sigh.

“Now, look who’s small.”Her laughter was dry - croaking through the stabbing pain in each limb. Every muscle pulsated, centred around her spine, neck and head. Lightheadedness swept her consciousness, making her clutch her temple and grumble. The referee offered their hand as she sat on the limo’s lip, panting.

“Don’t…” She snapped, “Even think about it.”Determined to leave on her own two feet, she pushed off, gasping as the fall made her collapse onto her knees. It took some time, but she slowly reclaimed her feet before raising her fist for the crowd to register their victor—the one and only, Karla Ray Reinhardt. Her celebration was short-lived. Then when she stepped back, her body thudded against the limo, her knees digging inward. Still, through the needles of red hair and the streak of blood and sweat down her cheek, she’d find the muster to bark her orders. “Leave us.”But, they’d only back-step. Too tired to care, she’d grab the limo’s handle and pull the door open, heaving herself onto the velvet backbench. Her limbs splayed, one arm across her forehead while one arm and leg dangling off the seat.

“Miss Reinhardt. Are you- “

“Just get me home.” She ordered, “I was going to ask about the broken mirror.”

But his question met no answer. Because once the adrenaline wore off, the reserves of rage that made her body soldier on, exhaustion finally laid claim to her. And thus, the limo’s engine roared to life, taking off as the wheels screeched like a banshee with Killer King in tow.

Winner by Pinfall: Karla "Ray" Reinhardt