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

[BlackAkuma]

‘Three second rule.’ Yeah, that was some bullshit. Army spat out another chunk before he spoke, getting it all out of his mouth, but the taste would be with him for hours. ”Yeah, fuck that.” He spat off to the side. [color=#8000000]”It’s a hotdog, it wasn’t ‘fine’ before it hit the floor.”[/color]

As gross as it was, he couldn't help but chuckle - as much as you could chuckle when two-hundred plus pounds of crazy goth was on your back, anyway. It was a far cry from the way they’d started this match out, with her treating him like he was just a speed bump for her to roll over. Respect? Maybe. She seemed to be having fun, at least, which was a good sign, even if it was at his expense.

Good. Tough matches were fine, but the last thing he wanted was a boring match, and that wasn’t this by any stretch of the imagination.

Silly as the hot-dog stunt was, it was giving him a moment to recover, and she didn’t seem to want him having that. He had only just started to try and push his way up when she came along and ‘helped’, forcing him up onto her shoulders and giving him a better view of the area than he wanted.

Army realized what she was about to do, but a moment after it was too late to do anything about it - he was sent careering through the air, arms flailing and came down for a rough landing on the hot dog cart. It was actually better than hitting the bare floor would’ve been, but still far from side, and his impact utterly demolished it - well, what was left of it from the first crash.

Army rolled over to the wall and used it for support as he tried to rise up to his feet. As much as he was hurting, he knew he needed to make some space between him and Marcella. She was starting to get a little too comfortable with this pace, and he desperately needed a moment to recoup.