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

[BlackAkuma]

If the right one doesn’t get you, the left one will.

Props to Marcella, she actually did much better against his combination than he would’ve guessed, actually managing a decent block against his first hook. It might not have seemed like much, but in his experience so far, most people in LAW were the best strikers, an advantage he was happy to employ over them in situations like this. He was honestly curious where she’d trained and how she got into wrestling in the first place - she definitely had the form to do damage in different rings, if she wanted. Carmen would’ve loved her in the gym. Probably would’ve loved her for a few different reasons, honestly…

But, while, she wasn’t bad with the strikes, she wasn’t good enough to avoid the followup, and that body shot tore straight through her. Army felt the ribs on his impact, knew it had to hurt like fire on the bones, and her cry confirmed it. She would be feeling that one for days, he could tell her from experience.

But that didn’t keep her from giving as good as she got. A solid shot slammed on Army’s upper back - a slow, sloppy hit, but enough to knock a grunt out of him. More importantly, it was enough to keep him low for the hit she undoubtedly wanted more, as she brought her leg up and drove her knee into his stomach.

Army clenched his teeth hard, keeping his own cry of pain stifled, but there was no ignoring the pain running through him, as it felt like someone had thrown a brick into his abs. He stayed standing, but with considerably less wind than he would’ve liked, and no time to summon much more. He needed to press this, needed to keep hammering her before she could capitalize.

Instead of pulling away, Army reached out and wrapped his arm around her body, pulling her against him, tight with his head against the side of her chest. He planted his feet, then drove forward, full speed, as he attempted to smash her back up against the nearest railing.

[ADarlingDucky]

It seemed that after the match had broken down into a series of explosively powerful offense, being delivered to both wrestlers, they had almost returned to something closer resembling the beginning of this bout, as they now swung back and forth, heavy strikes being delivered in quick succession. His swing to her ribs hurt, quite a bit in fact, but her answer of a knee to his midsection would leave him doubled over, and given the heavy exhale she had heard, Marcella was well aware that she had hurt him just as bad, if not worse, than he had hurt her. Unfortunately, it wasn’t bad enough to stop him outright, and while Marcella and him were still close together, he’d suddenly lean into her, arms wrapping around her waist as he suddenly begin to push her back, Marcella forced backwards until she was stopped by a metal railing that would hit her square in the back, and as one might imagine, cause quite a bit of pain.

“NNGH! Fucker!” Marcella hissed through gritted teeth as the cold metal pressed against her already-aching back, Army still lowered against her as he kept her pinned for the moment. She was willing to bet that in addition to shoving her into the railing, he was attempting to get a moment to recover from her knee, and as nice as it would have been to indulge in a little rest, Marcella wasn’t about to let go of the momentum here.

No, she was quite ready to return to the more destructive offense now.

Glancing over her shoulder, she’d observe what was on the other side of the railing, a brief drop before some tables were set up, several pieces of small audio equipment on them, some sheets of paper, probably some kind of auxiliary announcer setup. But not anymore.

“Buckle up Army. This ends here!” Marcella leaned forwards, and after pressing herself into Army’s back, she would wrap her arms around his waist, hooking them in deep before she straightened up fully, attempting to heave Army up and onto her shoulders, high above the ground, and even higher above her intended target. Once she had him up, she’d turn, reaching down to his waistband before grabbing that and heaving him just that extra bit higher. And then, with one last motion, she’d fling him over the railing, hurtling him towards the table set up below with a last ride powerbomb, perhaps the single most dangerous one that had ever been performed within LAW!

[BlackAkuma]

Three words you don’t want to hear from your opponent in a wrestling match: ‘This ends here’. Odds are, whatever’s coming next isn’t going to be fun for someone. Probably you.

So, when Marcella said that, right after he’s slammed into her, he was a little worried. He was a little more worried when he figured out what she was looking at, and realized how high up they were, and what seemed to be directly below them.

Oh, fuck.

While he knew this could potentially go poorly, he hadn't imagined just how bad it was about to go. That was because he was a big guy, and big guys don’t often imagine that women - even extremely big women like Marcella - were capable of lifting them and throwing them. It wasn’t exactly an everyday occurrence.

But Marcella could, in fact, lift him. She could even hoist him up to her shoulders, bring him over, and-

”Wait, wait, wait, fuck-”

Marcella did not wait, not a single second, as she hefted Army up, spun him about and sent him careering over the railing, leaving him wholly at the mercy of gravity. He made a wide variety of noises - screams, yells, curses in every language he knew - before he hit the tables with a deafening crash, smashing through them in a cacophony that was only drown out by the crowd.

”HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!”

Indeed. The referee was already rushing over, either to check and see if Army was still alive or start up the count. Maybe both. Only bits and pieces of Army’s body could be seen in the impact zone, but none of them were moving at the moment.

[ADarlingDucky]

Marcella was a big woman, packed with muscle and more than capable of using it, and anyone who had watched the heavyweight goth for more than a minute was well aware of what she was capable of in terms of feats of strength. Still, Army was just as big as she was, equally packed with muscle, and most likely just a bit more dense in terms of body mass, and so there was some amount of uncertainty on if Marcella would be able to get him up, not off of his feet, but all the way onto her shoulders, especially after the grueling match they'd had. Everyone except for Marcella, of course, as the goth would strain hard and yank Army up onto her shoulders all the same, turning and positioning him towards the railing, and the drop that followed. And then, with one motion, she'd send the the big man hurtling through the air, before he'd crash into the table below with an ungodly crunch of wood and and metal.

"Oof..." Even Marcella winced at the impact, to say nothing of the rest of the crowd, but unfortunately for poor Army, they were also quite impressed, and soon started a chant expressing their disbelief. Army might not appreciate it from his position, but Marcella's mouth shifted into a wide smile, as she grabbed the railing and swung herself up and over, dropping down and landing in a crouch.

That landing was a bit rough on the knees, so she could only imagine how Army felt. As of right now though, she'd have no idea. The big man stayed immobile, and Marcella would approach as the referee already began to count, reaching out and nudging him with her foot.

"THREE!"

"You alive down there big guy?" Marcella would poke at Army until she got a response, waiting for some kind of motion or twitch, and when she got it, she'd give a light smirk, stepping over her fallen foe. "Let's just wait out the count together, eh?" Marcella said, before lowering herself and taking a seat on Army's chest, making herself comfortable atop the male one more time, as the referee's count continued to climb!

"FIVE!"

[BlackAkuma]

Army was alive.

Alive-ish, at least.

It had taken him a moment to realize that, of course, what with him going unconscious a little bit after the impact, and all, but he was slowly coming back to reality, bit by bit. The pain hit him first, a massive wave of it all over his body. Something was broken, he was sure of that, but it was hard to work out exactly what. He just knew that the simple act of moving at all hurt like fuck. He swore, it even hurt to blink.

And then there was the counting. Army could scarcely pick out through the cacophonous crowd, but he was fairly sure the referee was counting nearby. He couldn't make out the exact number, but it didn’t much matter at this point. He needed to get up, needed to move, needed to…

He opened his straining eyes when he felt a tap at his side, and looked up to see Marcella looming over him with that wicked grin of hers. As much pain as he was in, he still found the energy to speak and throw a flat look up her way. ”I can’t believe you actually threw me over the goddamn railing.”

Translation: ‘I’m slightly miffed I didn’t do it to you first’.

He was in the process of making what likely would’ve been a failed attempt at rising when she came down and plopped her thick glutes on his chest, pinning him back down in the rubble. He let out a long, groaning exhale and flopped back down, though he had to admit, it wasn’t the worst sensation in the world to suffer through. ”Fucking hell, what is with you and sitting on me, huh? I’m that comfy?” He snickered and wiggled beneath her. ”Gonna start charging by the minute if you keep this up.”

”8!”

He looked up at Marcella - big and bold and, he had to admit, beautiful - above him, and shifted about in the wreckage, glad that it was covering the lower half of his body at the moment. He sighed, closed his eyes, and tried not to smile too much. ”You know I want a rematch, right?”