Ichika Rei vs Karla "Ray" Reinhardt - NHB

[Monsy]

After bridging her back, the lightweight threw Ichika into the turnbuckle, while Karla landed safely on her back. Followed by a lull, Karla hugged her belly, wheezing her peril as the move strained her already aching midsection, punished by multiple finishers and a table. Look at what she did to you, how they dared. Huff, huff. It seemed like Karla’s determination needed a spark, a single match to ignite the fumes in the aching brawler. Get up, lest you make a fool out of yourself. She cursed, again and again, adding insults to work up that vigour, tighten that frown and kick up her legs, folding her knees by her chest, putting her hands by her shoulders, and then-…

A kick up. Shot up like a rocket, Karla sighed heavily, hunching her shoulders as the brief adrenaline bit down in her chest. One hand grabbed at the abdominals, propping another on her thigh, hissing before she stood tall and proper, befitting of her sense of superiority. It came time to pursue Ichika, so she turned around and walked over, reaching down to grab a fistful of her blue hair, tangling them in her fingers. “Sure, companions.” She replied, referring to her earlier comment. With that, Karla sought to position Ichika’s neck over the lowest rope, untangling her hands afterward. If the intention wasn’t clear, Karla pressed her black heel into Ichika’s nake, spearing the muscles in-between the shoulders as seldom weight was applied.

“Ichika Rei - my first friend in this business. It's so nice to get past the bad blood finally.”

She grabbed the top rope with two hands, stretching out her elbows across them as she looked down, forming a wicked grin. Hops followed, two in total, before Karla stood, pulling the top rope up, while pushing Ichika’s windpipe across the bottom, lurching her upper half over to watch the agony unfold, the facial expressions, the slow drainage of consciousness - vengeance crystalized.

[Violet]

Ichika dished out everything she could but it was not enough to bring down Karla, someone as stubborn as her or might be even more. Her mind wanted to fight, to cling, to slug it out with her opponent for tonight but her body betrayed her as it just gave up after the devastating suplex!

Drowned in stupor, her mind rested in the clouds of fuzziness as she slowly ran off of steam. Head down trying to hide her spent look, her eyes fluttering as she slowly drips off, just wanting to give up to her urges to lay in sleep. Ichika whimpered as her hair was tugged. Her mouth forming a small O as the air goes in and out of her in wheezes and with her eyes half closed. Karla’s words sounded gibberish to her as if she’s underwater as her vision was spinning around too.

She didn’t know much about what was happening until she felt the ropes digging to her neck. Whimpers and cries came out of her as she couldn’t find a way out. Eyes contorted and bulged out as if they were gonna pop out, tongue lolling out as she couldn’t breathe Her legs started jerking and kicking around as pain and panic reigned over her. Her hands clasped the ropes as she tried to push herself up to fight Karla’s heel that’s crashing her down. She needs to find a way out of this! But how?

[Monsy]

Whimpers, cries, and squirms. Quite frankly, Karla found herself enthralled, bolstering a grin as she watched their eyes bulge, the legs kick, and the pitiful clasp against the ropes, trying to defy Karla’s hold. All seemed desperate, the last cries of someone she felt was prey, unable to mount a defence. “What’s wrong, Hundchen? Don’t you like my chokehold? It’s much more effective, and it actually hurts! This is how you apply real pain!”

Laughter erupted from her throat, cranking the ropes one last time—sadism at its finest. A few seconds longer and the strain in Karla’s arms recalled this maneuver, failing to put Ichika away, it seemed. Not one to slow down, Karla looked towards the turnbuckle and approached it, stepping on Ichika’s back in the process. One foot scaled the first turnbuckle, then the second. A pause, dipping her head, caught between long inhales, and shaky exhales. Mustering the strength, she grabbed both ropes, leaping and spinning around, seating the top. From there, she mounted with both soles knit together under her squatting frame. A wobble nearly sent her down to ringside. However, she managed to stand, glaring down at her tantalized foe, hopefully still easy prey for the looming K.R.R. She jumped, pledging faith into a jutted knee and coming down, hoping to drop it onto Ichika’s lower spine!

[Violet]

Strength slowly faded away from the rookie as the mean redhead only pushed her more to the ropes choking her. Panic overtaking her thinking as she found no way out. This is an NHB fight, no rules kept them from beating each other, there were no rope breaks to get an out and rest. Ichika realized this fully as she spent more and more time in that position slowly fading out.

"Please...I ca..I can't..no...ple..ase", begs escaped her mouth between chokes and whimpers as if a heel like Karla would heed her pleas. Ichika writhed on the mat as soon as she was freed. Both hands around her sore neck as she coughed ang wheezed.

Ichika let out a whimper as she felt the steel soles of Karla's heel sink into her aching spine. Eyes closed and teeth grit as she curled in pain. She didn't even notice Karla scale the turnbuckles, completely oblivious to the evil that would fall upon her moments later.

It felt like blades puncturing her spine as Ichika then let out a loud cry of pain. The jolts of pain traveled around her body like needles on her nerves. She writhed on the mat, sobbing in pain completely open for anything Karla would dare throw at her from now on.

[Monsy]

Times had flipped on Ichika Rei. The grind between blue and red, now solely in the latter’s hands. An emulation of violence carved with the prior choke, then reaching its crescendo with a diving knee drop. She somersaulted after the impact, rising to a knee where she gawked over her shoulder, combing back red strands over the ear. Were they crying? Before an audience? She couldn’t believe what she saw. Pathetic didn’t begin to describe what she thought. It became abundantly evident Ichika reached a breaking point, enough for Karla to stand and lord over their jerking body. Grabbing one shoulder to turn them over, she snatched a fistful of Ichika’s top and yanked, adding her second hand to hoist them near Karla’s look of sheer disapproval. 

“Is this all you possess? You get in my ring, hit me with your maneuver twice, once through a table, then have the nerve to cry like a broken sow? Tch.”

One hand outstretched, trying to weave a hand into Ichika’s hair, then yank it back.

“But don’t worry, I don’t mind. And we Reinhardts are generous, so I offer you one chance, if you can manage it. Hit me.”

She growled, “Hit me! Make your putrid Mother proud.”

[Violet]

The writing was already etched on the wall evident by the position each of them took in this deciding moment of the match, Ichika writhing in pain on the mat and Karla standing tall looming just behind her. She couldn’t do anything but beg in that choke as she was finally subdued, her defense nothing but faltered. So it wasn’t much of a surprise when Ichika shot up in pain and broke, crying out the pain that built inside her.

Ichika let out a whimper when she was turned around, expecting that the redhead would beat her more. Instead, her writhing body was hoisted up near Karla’s face. Eyes glassy and moist, mouth half open as air gushed in and out in hisses. It was evident how spent the bluenette already is. Expression in a mix-match of emotions: fear, frustration, pain and anger all pointed to her opponent who saw her clearly. Shoulder slumped, her legs folded and wobbling a little that a breeze would knock her right off if she was not dangling by her top that was held by her foe.

”H..how..dare..you!!!,Ichika’s eyes widened at the mention of her mother, calling her putrid of all things. She let out a low growl as her lips formed a snarl, eyebrows meeting together on her forehead. She raised one hand and balled it into a fist trying to hit Karla’s face, mustering all her strength and putting all of it behind that hit. She then smacked Karla’s cheek with a loud satisfying thump before that hand found the arm of Karla that was holding her up and gripped it tightly but still too weak to force her way out. ”Nobody talks to my mother like that!”

[Monsy]

She was having too much fun. Sure, she took some dings. Two finishers, chair shots, spiked on her head a few times, but was it not worth it? To finally see the resistance crumble. The pleasurable jolts, derived from control course down her nape and into the fingers that coiled into someone’s shirt, lifting them and seeing them slumping in your hold. Then they snarl, a dog-like response, spurred on by the words of Karla, who spoke blatantly, offering one more challenge to her adversary who put up a valiant struggle. A punch. It met Karla clean, swinging her face left with a resounding smack. Her tongue rolled in her mouth, tending to the gums as a particular taste lingered. After a few seconds, she locked eyes with Ichika again and spat in their face, discharging blood and saliva onto their cheek before smearing it with her gloved palm.

“Putrid mother made an even more putrid daughter. That’s just how it is.”

From there, that grip around the hair released, wrapping over Ichika’s neck and repositioning at her side. Her knee shot up, trying to strike Ichika’s spine to force a higher arch. The crowd drank up this display, holding their breath, waiting for the heroic comeback after such vehement disrespect. For Karla? She could only grin, dragging out the moment, allowing every opportunity. Left and right, she surveyed their faces, casually flipping back her hair and combing a hand through it. She executed the finishing jump after rolling her eyes, hoping to spike Ichika’s head with a Blackout.

[Violet]

She tried her best and pushed her body to the limit . Sure, mentally she’s stubborn as hell, she could dish out punishments after punishments after getting beaten up herself...if her body allows it. But the limitations of her body were unveiled in this match, she just took too much damage in the ringside than what she intended. Now, she’s nothing but helpless in Karla’s grasp, her adrenaline that kept her going through the match slowly drained in these lulls. Not even able to protect her mother’s image that she idolized more than any other people against Karla’s insult that was totally uncalled for.

She let out a whimper as Karla spat on her face, too weak to even wipe it off or swipe Karla’s hand off, tears started to build around the corner of her eyes. ”Don’t call my mother that.”, the tone still demanding with a tinge of frustration as she can’t bring her body to back up those words. She then yelped as Karla slid beside her and captured her neck. She tried to squirm out of it, pumping her leftover strength in short bursts, scraping the barrel for that untapped perseverance to try to fight back. The crowd at the edge of their seats, their fists clenched tightly, waiting for that comeback. But nothing came, the knee on her back nailed her in that move eliciting a short cry from the blue haired fighter.

Ichika’s breathing was heavy as she painfully waited for the inevitable, her eyes darted places as Karla took her time. It felt like longer than what it actually was for her tormenting her even more. Silence then engulfed her as her head was spiked to the mat, her body bounced off the mat before dropping completely limp. Her vision turned pitch black as her head fell to the side, her cheek kissing the mat on an ocean of her blue hair, spread eagled and lights out!!

[Monsy]

Imprisoned in her clasp was a defiant woman, bent under her arm, helpless, the seconds drizzled by like minutes. A show, no, a display, like holding a trophy. Another defeated competitor. After sustaining knots that suffocated her spine, paired with splitting headaches and a murky vision that twisted and swayed, she earned some time to gloat. Once more, an insult, venomous and personal. All a game to remind them of their failures to fight back, fuelling a toothy grin. Sick pleasure. Then, the drop. A thud, then silence. She’d sit up, holding her forehead before letting her hands fall into her lap. Hard breathes left loose brims, hunching forward, pushing on the canvas until she stood. Her hands nursed her lower-back, taking a limping step towards the crown of Ichika’s body.

“Then fight harder.” She replied coldly. A solemn groan filled the audience: disapproval, grievance for the fallen wrestler. The spread-eagle position, still as a sun-bleached field, trampled upon the black-laden redhead who pressed her right foot into their cheek, applying modest weight on the heel. Supplementing the display, she’d cross her arms, puffing out her chest and glancing at the referee who ushered themselves over and got into their knees, raising their hand, striking once, twice…

[Violet]

Her defeat was a foregone conclusion as soon as she couldn’t fight her way out of Karla’s grasp. Everybody knew it but clung on hope still. Even herself did as being displayed that way hurt her pride, and her late mother that was suddenly brought up just for her foe to rub her wounds. It was like a lull before the dramatic end, peace before the looming storm as she was held captive by those lithe arms of her domitor that took her time

Then the inevitable struck. Everything faded for Ichika in a flash. Her legs fell and splayed onto the mat like weights. Limp arms rested beside her head, lying on an ocean of her azure hair. Peaceful and quiet. Her expression was serene, as if she wasn’t just in a brutal fight seconds earlier. She didn’t feel the cold boot that rested on her cheek nor the warmth of the mat that kissed the other.

“1…”The ref smacked the mat, almost unwillingly. The rise of her hand was slow, and the strike hard and loud as if trying to wake Ichika. ‘’Come on!! Come on!!”, muffled encouragement to the downed fighter. “2…” The crowd was still on the edge of their seats. Some shouted at her to raise her shoulders. Some threw curses at Karla. And “3…” The bell finally rang signalling Karla’s victory over her. It pierced through the utter silence of the arena. It was eerie and quiet. The vibe carried for seconds until feeble sounds of palms clapping together loomed from a distance. It was light at first before it slowly built up its pace in both rhythm and loudness as more members from the crowd piled up on it. It was a standing ovation. Thunderous claps, cheers and whistles shook the arena. Not for the victor, no, but for the vanquished for putting up a great fight and never cowering in fear against such an adversary. This was a loss and no one could deny it. But also a victory for capturing the hearts of the people that would rally behind her from now on!!