Veronika Váradi vs. Armando 'Army' Rodriguez - Cause and Effect

[BlackAkuma]

Army didn’t know what this move was called, couldn't even begin to guess. He could definitely say he’d never been in this move before - he was pretty sure he would remember a pain like this. It was hard to forget being torn apart like Laffy Taffy.

He didn’t want to panic, he’d been in submission holds before, and this shouldn’t have been anything new to him. He couldn't see any way to counter it, not that he was good with that sort of thing in the first place, but this move was tricky in particular. No leverage, nothing to work with, no way to push towards the ropes. Her body was effectively an anchor, holding him in place and erasing any chance he had of escape.

All he could do was sit and suffer. He was helpless.

But that wasn’t going to stop her from trying, anyway. He groaned, cursed under his breath, and squirmed in his hold, twisting this way and that, desperately searching for some release, some escape, anything to get out of this or at least lesson the pain

So far, he wasn’t having much luck.

[Weonna]

The she-spider felt every strained breath, every desperate twist beneath her—and it only deepened her confidence.

She didn’t even look down at him right away. Instead, she turned her head toward the nearest camera, that familiar, wicked smirk curling across her lips. One eyebrow arched as if she were letting the audience in on a secret.

She tightened the Spider Twist just a fraction more—not enough to snap anything, just enough to remind him there was nowhere to go.

“See?”

she murmured, half to the camera, half to herself.

“This is what happens when you fight the inevitable.”

Her legs stayed locked, her grip precise, adjusting with every squirm he made. Each movement he tried only earned a subtle counter, a shift of her hips, a deeper torque that stole a little more strength from him.

She finally looked down at him, calm and patient, like someone waiting out a storm she knew would pass.

“Take your time,”

Veronika said softly, almost kindly.

“So long as you need.”

Then she leaned back again, settling in, certain that sooner or later the struggle would fade and the submission would come.

[BlackAkuma]

Army found himself at the crux of a bad choice—a dilemma. A bad one, too.

On the one hand, he didn't want to give up and give Veronika the satisfaction of a tap. This was supposed to be his big comeback moment. Beat her at her own game, payback for the ambush, etc. The fighter in him still had that never-say-die sort of attitude. On top of that, she was being so fucking smug about it, he would’ve just loved to find some way out of this, some way he could turn this around take her down and leave her shook in the middle of the ring.

…but that wasn’t happening. No matter what he did in this hold, his situation only worsened. He could feel the sinews stretching, the tendons being tested. Something was going to give, sooner or later, and there was no way to know if it was something that could easily heal. She was toying with him for now, but that didn’t mean she couldn't - or wouldn’t - do something permanent-like. He didn’t like these odds.

Stay and suffer, or tap and live?

Wasn’t really a choice, was it? ”Fuck.”

He struggled a bit more, squirmed more out of obligation than anything, but it was more to be a stubborn bastard than anything substantial. They both knew where this was going, and it was just a matter of time. His only chance would’ve been to bore her into letting him go, and he strongly doubted that was even possible.

A deep sigh. A groan. One final wriggling. Then a tap.

[Weonna]

The moment Army’s hand slapped the mat, the referee didn’t hesitate.

“He taps! He taps!”

The bell rang sharp and loud, echoing through the arena.

Veronika heard it.

She just didn’t care.

She held the Spider Twist for a heartbeat longer—just long enough to feel his resistance finally melt, just long enough to savor the end of the fight. Then the referee was on her, hands on her shoulder, shouting at her to break it.

Reluctantly, with a low chuckle, she released the hold and rose to her feet, letting Army collapse flat to the canvas behind her.

She stood over him for a moment, hands on her hips, chest rising slowly as she caught her breath. Then she laughed—soft at first, then louder—as the referee grabbed her wrist and raised her arm.

“Here is your winner… VERONIKA VÁRADI!”

Boos poured down from every side of the arena.

Veronika soaked them in.

She leaned down just enough to look back at Army, still sprawled on the mat, and gave him a slow, mocking clap before blowing him a kiss. Then she slid out of the ring, backing up the ramp while laughing, arms spread wide, encouraging the crowd’s hatred.

She pointed to the ring once more—her web—then turned and disappeared behind the curtain to a wall of boos, leaving Army alone on the canvas with the lesson burned in deep.

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