Dasher Challenge : Part 2 - Like Fine Wine

[killcarrion]

Dasher found that reminiscing about old times tends to come quite frequently these days, especially whenever he was in the distinguished company of close comrades and former colleagues. Memories ranging from the excitement of sold out arenas showering them with adulation to rambunctious nights on the town that they could never fully disclose to those outside their social circles. Unfortunately, all Dasher was being reminded of tonight was the titanic levels of strength that Angela had at her disposal as she bulldozed the bowl-cutted veteran into the corner turnbuckle. Dasher only beginning to catch his breath when Angela's charge was accompanied by his chin angled backward and the searing flames of a slicing knife-edge chop delivered against his prodigious pectorals. "HRRG..." Dasher snarled whilst arched over towards the side with a hand clasping his burnt chest...but sprung back to life while standing upright with an enraged zeal. Dasher grasping both of his mammoth hands behind Angela's head and deftly swirling them in place for a change of positions. The cornered Italiana having her own chin crocked backward to a puffed swell of her bosom, a visual that this time Dasher took to enjoy, before attempting to paint it red with none other than one of his own heralded chops…

[BlackAkuma]

Taking on Dasher was a gamble for Angela. Not because she thought she would lose, mind you - she was confident in her abilities, believed she had enough to take him on his best day. No, she worried the opposite, that there was a chance he might let nostalgia get to his head and hold back some measure of himself. She didn’t want a weak, watered-down version of the man she’d once known and admired. She wanted Dasher Inoba: the terror, the wrecker, the breaker of foes.

Any worry that this might be the case was erased when she saw that fire flicker in Dasher’s eyes. The man moved with a speed that belied his sized, reaching to grab her and swap places in an instant. The returning fire came a moment later, as he lashed out and set her chest on fire with a blazing chop that sent her rocking against the pads. She bounced back, her hair went flying, and the impact echoed throughout the stand.

But she was smiling. ”Good.”

Her turn, again. She reached out as he’d done a moment prior, grasped him by the neck, and abruptly spun them around to swap places once more. This time, she brought her arms up, then leaped forward and let both hands slice across his chest, using her weight todrive them down and deliver a hellish Mongolian Chop.

[killcarrion]

Certain unwritten rules became firmly established within whatever backstage locker-rooms became occupied by the legendary bowl-cut aficionado throughout his storied career. Veterans were to be shown due respect at all times, all manner of pranks and/or tomfoolery were strictly forbidden, personal fraternizing was best reserved for after hours, and voluntarily entering into a chop competition with Dasher should only attempted by those willing to accept the dire consequences. Striking the veterans empowered pectorals leaving it's mark in more ways than one. Aside from the stinging aftereffects and crimson-hued indentation in the shape of Angela's right hand, an emblazoned inferno became stoked within Dasher as if the match had officially commenced now that all preambles were concluded. Whatever manner of kid gloves were officially cast aside via Dasher reciprocating with a levied thunderclap against his old flame's abundance, Dasher wiggling his fingers towards himself to goad Angela into further showing him what she's got. What she had becoming another swift reversal of their positions once again with a Mongolian Chop blistered into his prodigious pectorals. A pained grimace accompanying Dasher being hunched over to the side, shaking his head before smiling to himself. "Like old times..." Dasher uttered before abruptly raising his arms skyward before the hands of God came striking down upon Angela's supple softness with Dasher's own Mongolian Chop...

[BlackAkuma]

There he was. There was the Dasher that Angela had known well, the fierce competitor who left bodies crumpled in agony. He was older now, worn and ravaged by time, as they all were. But when she landed the chop, she could see the fire burning behind those eyes, raging as hot as ever, and she knew that he would give her everything she had given and more on top.

She wasn’t wrong. Up went his arms and down they came, slashing her chest with a thunderous impact, blistering her on both sides of her chest. Angela’s legs weakened and her knees buckling as the damage ran its course, and she had to fight the urge to fall, barely getting her senses together at the last second. She managed, she endured, and she looked up at him with a wide smile.

”There we are.”

Angela rose up, swift and sure, grasped Dasher around the neck, and spun him about, throwing him in the corner and pushing his back against it. With hardly a pause, she stepped in and lashed out with a furious flurry of chops, drilling him in the chest, one after the other. Each one was weaker than a full strike, but this was a case of quantity over quality, as she sought to overwhelm with the buffeting blows.

[killcarrion]

Considering the rather intimate details of their past encounters, Dasher was thoroughly aware of how Angela possessed a specific knack for reigniting certain fires within the hardened grapplers psyche. Whether they were inside the traditional confines of a wrestling ring or behind bedroom doors after a night of celebratory sake drinking. The mammoth strongman she recalled from their erstwhile years beginning to reemerge after a dormant slumber, but whose lashed out Mongolian Chop was replied with a frenetic frenzy of knife-edge chops against his burly pecs. Beginning to show signs of crimson painted handprints as the torrential downpour continued, Dasher grimaced as the searing pain ignited his senses. But in an abrupt disruption would begin marching towards the middle of the ring. "Come, show me what you got!!!" Dasher bellowed as he turned towards Angela, beckoning her into laying on the best chop she can muster. But once stricken and after several seconds spent breathing the fire out of his lungs, Dasher would swipe her with another of his best blistering palm strikes.

[BlackAkuma]

Getting into a chopping game with Dasher Inoba was a fool’s game, about as smart as trying to beat an eighteen-wheeler in a game of chicken, and yet here she was, going for it regardless. Call it hubris, with Dasher always bringing out the competitor in her, making her strive to be the best and meet his challenge. Call it nostalgia, a desire to engage him with that old-school flavor. Call it outright stubbornness, with her always wanting to be the one on top between them - figuratively and quite literally.

Angela would just call it fun. Playing a game with an old friend she hadn't seen in years.

And he was still devilishly good at it, too. He took her barrage of chops well, holding his ground as the staccato strikes drilled into him, and even had the temerity to ask for more - a request she would happily fulfill. With a wide smirk, Angela stepped back, brought her around, and turned it into a living whip, striking deep into Dasher’s core with a hellish blow. The impact had enough force to give him pause, and Angela waited with baited breath, knowing the return fire would be appropriate.

She wasn’t wrong. Dasher’s palm strike came, hammering her in the chest with a cannonball shot that knocked her up against the ropes and forced her to lean on them for support. She started to push off, eager to throw another strike, but the pain forced her back down again. She needed a moment to recover. ”You…” She forced a smile out through her grimace. ”You’ve still got it.”

[killcarrion]

Online virality was unequivocally a matter which Dasher never concerned himself with. In spite of his publicists’ pleas when it came to brainstorming methods of rekindling popularity within the Dasher Inoba brand amongst a youthful demographic. Be that is it may and much to his chagrin, Dasher's training videos were leaked online once upon a time. Clips of the muscled grappler practicing his scorching chops against a tree until it eventually came to a timbering plummet earned him trending notoriety with his fearsome chops becoming a dreaded tool within his old-school repertoire. Except with Angela, Dasher noticed. The brash gladiatrix only became further enticed by the challenge and seemed eager to test her chest thwacking mettle against him whenever possible backstage. The dueling pair perpetually witnessed engaging in feats of musclebound/striking endurance whether in the wrestling arena's hallways or hotel bars late at night after several drinks. These bouts of friendly competition were perpetrated continuously with the win/loss record lost to time but continued onward in brutal fashion it seemed.

Meteoric impacts smashed against eachother like crashing waves until the wind thwacked from Angela's lungs decided the ultimate victor this glorious day. Dasher standing upright in huffed exhaustion with hands situated on his hips as he partook in a repose as well, volcanic scorches against his pectorals showcasing how this was a battle not easily won. However, the shared smile between the powerhouse compatriots showcased nothing more than an inflamed elation between fellow warriors. "...*pant*...Much like yourself, it seems. Ever the worthwhile challenger. Staunch. Unyielding. Deserving of my absolute best..." Dasher complimented on his way towards approaching the fatigued Angela. Guiding her back towards the middle of the ring with a brief embrace against his pectorals before being invited into the unenviable position of having her head affixed between his hulking thighs. Fan appreciation directed towards her well-rounded assets until Dasher's waistlock and heaving exertion situated Angela upon Dash's shoulders. Facials tucked against her muff in the preamble to an attempted powerbomb...

[BlackAkuma]

Going into a chopping war with Dasher Inoba was always going to be a losing proposition, but Angela had to try. Call it reconnaissance, trying to gauge just how much of the old war dog was left in that hulking body. She’d heard rumors, seen clips, but she needed to know for certain that he still had the fire, that he still had the goods and time had withered him.

Her aching, burning chest was proof positive, all she could’ve asked for - she was up against the real deal.

Good.

As such, there would be no soft selling, here, and no holding back. She only had a few seconds to recoup before he came and went on the offensive once more, tucking her head between his legs and gripping tight. Angela was treated to a rare sensation, as she was hefted up and put onto his shoulders, set up in the classic powerbomb position.

It had been a long, long time since anyone had tried that on her, but not so long that she had forgotten how to deal with it. She threw her body back hard, pulled her legs in, and tried to send her opponent flying away.

[killcarrion]

In order to maintain the peace and sanctity of the backstage area, certain unwritten locker room rules were perpetually in effect back when Dasher and Angela shared the same wrestling roster. Although there was nothing outside the norm aside from the severe penalties for anyone absconding with Dasher's hair gel, one cardinal rule which Dasher assumed still persisted to this day was to never mention Angela's weight in a teasing manner. Shattered windows and holes in walls being the ways Angela assisted any smack-talking co-workers in leaving the premises. Dasher was certainly inclined to abide by this rule himself, but the veteran was becoming sorely tempted to mention something in private after the hefting strength used in hauling his compatriot onto his shoulders was enough to even cause the Mighty Inoba to falter with a stuttered step. "OOF!!!" Dasher sputtering a tilted exhale when he was treated to a rare sensation as well, namely being chucked into a barreling tumble roll towards the ropes. A disoriented Dasher clambering up them one tether a time with dizzied eyesight and determined focus towards getting back into the match...

[BlackAkuma]

A hurricanrana. Angela had actually tried to show this move to Dizzy, figuring it would be a good move for her younger, much smaller daughter to get under her belt, and she eventually wound up needing to outsource the instruction to an old friend - one who was much smaller and more suited for the task. It wasn’t that she didn’t know how to do the move, far from it, but it wasn’t something she could pull off with most of her opponents, even the ones who were crazy enough to try powerbombing her in the first place.

Dasher was, of course, a rare exception, and she was quite glad that a lack of practice with the move hadn't’ put it beyond her reach. She was able to execute it with aplomb, and sent him careering to the ropes, where he was left to stumble up to his feet.

It was tempting to followup with the famous tiger feint kick, and in her younger days she might very well have been that bold. These days, though, she opted for more reliable attacks, and that was the case, here - she came rushing in Dasher made his way up, swung hard as he was just standing up, and tried to hit him with a stiff lariat, one with enough force to send him flipping out of the ring.