Marcella Crowe vs. Armando 'Army' Rodriguez - Design In Malice

[BlackAkuma]

Note to self - executing suplexes out of the ring wasn’t the best idea. It required Army to fall backwards, and unlike the ring, there was no canvas to absorb some of the impact when he did, just a hard, stone floor. Army winced as the impact went through his entire spine and radiated from there, sending a wave of pain through his bone.

Yeah, that would suck in the morning. Not as much as it did for Marcella, though, he’d guess. Not if that sickening splat he’d just heard was any indication.

Grimacing, Army rolled over to his stomach and looked through the quickly dispersing crowd, giving them ample room. At first he thought she might’ve been out, and the referee started a count, but she began to rise soon enough. She was going to get up, for sure.

”Tough bitch, fuck.” Army grumbled under his breath as he pushed his way, leaned back to crack his spine, then soldiered forward. He made his way to the downed woman soon enough, reached down, and grabbed two handful of her thick, black mane, gripping them tight. ”Let me help you up, come on.”

Army yanked hard, pulling her up by her strands. As soon as she was back on her feet, he let go with one hand and began tugging her towards the concession stands. ”Let’s take a walk, you and me.”