Career vs Ownership - All Steel Match - Killer King vs Karla "Ray" Reinhardt

[KillerV]

King taking his sick pleasure of destroying Karla nearly non stop as his blood pumping of excitement just toying her around so far and the worst has yet to come, not even putting her right down onto the ladder is even enough, he needed to be more vicious, needed to be more ruthless, needed to be so damn aggressive that she have no chance in hell to ever fight back and he would make her is personal bitch.

After he thrown her down hard onto the ladder to see her nearly bounces right off before finally draping over it, and seeing Karla just completely wasted, he chuckles from the looks of her all beaten up, nearly covered of blood all over thanks to his pummeling over her again and again until she spread it all over the place. The big bad beast confidentially walking over to the vulnerable red head as he stood over her body and hunch down nearly getting close to the face, moving her hair so he could clearly that face and he would start slapping her left and right fairly hard. "Quit slacking around, you can sleep and relax after you lose again!"

Eventually the monster standing up and backing up to turn around roaring with his arms up flexing and gloating his amazing handiworks by far, the crowd respond mostly boos than cheers, but they havent see his best work just yet and they will sooner or later, but first he wanted to really rattle her skull even more, just for kicks.....

King then turning around backing up against the metal ropes which unfortunately isnt elastic but it would do. He glaring far away at Karla as he crouches down, grabbing the top chain and measuring her, awaiting for her to start getting up at least her head out just perfect for him to go for the next move. When the opportunity presented to himself, King then rushes right for Karla as fast as his body of muscles can take him, tries to reel his right foot back and kick out, goes for a punt to her puny skull! "GRRRRRR!"

[Monsy]

She was a corpse, strewn across a beam of steel. Her spine curled over the humps, shoulders planted, legs parted and limped across the mats beyond, and weightless vessels of meat and bone splayed above, what the living might call arms. Breath trickled from her open mouth, slow and heavy, pain in each retraction and push.

Her fingertips pecked the canvas like poking a cloud as she turned over onto her stomach and the cold steel pushed against her suit. The sweat that lined the inner-bodysuit pressed warm-wet chills. She moved onto her arms and knees, then collapsed onto her face, waist skyward. Whimpers salvoed as her face tightened. A blood-soaked cheek meshed and smeared more blood onto the canvas like a paint roller. A swollen left eye hampered any sight. Frizz laced in her vision, which made everything a murky picture. Amiss was a long line of silver. A roll of solid cold that cupped her arm, though the strength to grip siphoned all she had left. Her free arm pushed, strain beckoned her bicep, and collapsed again. Face-first, hips up, a second whimper as the sights beyond became a mirage underneath the tyranny of mystery. So distant and unknown, the crowd, a jumbo of noise, now a rattle that quaked thousands of miles away.

The third attempt brought a stiff arm. Her head shook, hair frenzied as she coughed, red saliva that licked her throat and swelled her mouth. It grew numb with a swollen pulse that danced. A vision like haywire trickled over to King’s approach. Not if by noise, not if by sight, but sound that her arm pushed up and threw her body back into an arch. The kick flew by her visage; both arms windmilled not to teeter her whole body. Her loose arm swung with the long silver bar and collapsed onto the non-forward leg that tried to punt a tight metal onto the flank of his knee.

She punched a foot into the canvas, stationed a foot in front, and a moan leaked from the pounded strain. Her arms rallied to deliver an overhead metal strike against his nape. In any occurrence, she’d collapse again, head-first into the mat with only her knees that kept her waist sky-bound.

[KillerV]

King prepare to do some major damage to her precious skull, thinking after he complete the punt to the head he would soon bring the pathetic and weaken Karla up and execute another head injury move, rattling her enough to further even more beating to that fine body, the crowd will sure love it and he isnt going to stop enjoy dominating the hot red head, even with the blood all over the ring, the thrill of destroying her and having his revenge is just so damn sweet.

He could see Karla in the position just the way he likes it, now all he have to do and rushes right for her and give that head one hell of a football kick. He could see it and get his foot stomp down on the her blood and his other foot reeling back to swing right out for her face! But completely missed his shot! He growled in disappointment and was about to turn around to face her, wanted to get his hands on her hair but he was stopped when his knee takes a nasty hit, the loud thud of metal clank, he instantly shout out loud. "GAHH!"

That hit forces him to drop down on his knee, stunned from the painful hit as the big bad beast is wounded and not in a good position at all, he didnt have to nurse his leg but the natural instinct got him to do it, grabbing his leg to feel the pain and leaving his head wide open for her to swing back of his head, another loud metal slapping the monster and this time he didnt make a sound from it, instead he fell forward dropping on top of the mat and clutches his head with one hand.

King felt on the pool of Karla blood, just partial on his body while feeling both pains to his head and leg, just two lucky strikes from the redden woman, he growls from pain and anger, his mind grows more annoyed that she got him good thanks to the weapon in hands, if he could ever recover from this and he will eventually, Karla would be in a world of trouble and she would poor more blood and beatdown than she would ever become! "Nghhhh.... grrrrr..... fucking.... bitch, nghh!"

[Monsy]

To stand once again was a miracle. Balanced upon a mountain tip, the strike against his skull earned her fall as well. She collapsed onto her side; digits unfurled against the mats, and the pipe rolled away. Her cheek pressed into her blood-trickled cheek, mushed with drool and scarlet, presided over by whimpers and a million hangovers that drilled her sinuses and skull. One hand pushed and threw herself forward. She collapsed again, only to move once more and again. She threw her arm overhead on the fourth lunge, and her finger slapped the metal chain-ropes, where she gripped, turned face-down and groaned. The limb shook as she tugged herself close. It felt as though the mat weighed on her back. Soon, a second hand curled around the cold suspension, and together, she pulled herself near. Rattles crippled her arm as they flexed together. Her features squeezed as her upper half arched up, her knees fumbled to find a footing in what she could barely feel.

When her arms could take no more, she threw herself forward; armpits hooked over the middle chain. Her airways nestled into the cold metal, warmed only by her sweat and leather. Her knees shuffled up, a foot punched the canvas, and she pushed, yet rattled, in her efforts. She slung an arm underneath the top, hooked around and clutched her leather collar to leverage, where her second leg shuffled back further and further until her second hand pushed down on the top, and she stood heel to heel.

“Abfall…. Abfall…. Du abfall…”

Her weight slumped against the top, shoulders slumped, hair draped to hide the gaped vacant eyes and ajar sweat-lathered, lipstick-smothered lips that sucked in air, then breathed out with a quiver. The corner found her stumble, and she caught herself on the opposite rope. Once again, she pushed herself up, raised her foot and planted it on the middle turnbuckle. There she threw her weight onto the elevated foot, stood tall and gripped the cage to climb onto the third buckle.

“Du minderwertiger abfall…”

She turned around, slipped back into the cage’s corner and threw her arm up to beckon him. Once… twice… and thrice. Her arm rose and lumbered against her hour-glass side and waited for him to reach his hands and knees. If he did, then her next attack was in motion.

She gripped the cage on both flanks to support her; a venomous gaze dipped down to watch. Her feet shuffled forward, knees bent, and she leaped. Should he not move, her heels shall come down upon his skull and stomp him face-first into the metal canvas!

[KillerV]

The pain that the monster Killer King was nearly unbearable all because Karla was extremely lucky at the timing for slamming her weapon at his legs before hitting his head repeatedly taking the beating, she was trying to put the monster out but doesnt expect her to do it that easily after the beating he put her through. When the onslaughts finally stop, it takes him awhile to recover with his hands clutching on his skull, growling in pain, so rarely for anyone to see the muscular masked beast to be down and withering on the mat like that, but it would be clearly not over yet.

He can smell it, the blood on the mat was poured by Karla from his own hands, adding the intense metal vape into his mask, but felt inside his head that something warm flowing over his face, nearly blocking his right eye and realized that it must be his blood, her repeated attacks to the head must of finally break his skin and now bleeding, it wasnt much he thinks but surely Karla indeed got a crack on him for sure.

It feel like eternity for the monster to start getting back up, but have to get on all fours, humiliating position for him, both hands on the metal mats and knees too, he nearly felt breathless and lack of energy... his knee still hurt from her attack and even worst for his head, he couldnt figure out where Karla is, wanted to bust that bitch so badly, by the time he stay still on all fours while recuperating, he felt something chilling down his spine.

He didnt get a chance to look up, but like in slow motion, his head got stomp down by the weight of Karla, the sharp pain of her heels and follow by his beastly mask slamming onto the cold metal mat and that moment his human face takes the nasty impact, all happening in a matter of second. The sound of his face hitting the metal is much different than the steel chair connected his skull, King is flatten on the mat and he barely moving, a brief twitching on his legs, his own blood pouring out of his mask, but not as much as Karla though. The big beast still awake just more stunned and yet, he couldnt budge at all, he wanted to move but cannot. "Gr..... ngh......"

[Monsy]

She found herself spilled onto the canvas nearby; her feet could almost nix him if they kicked, and her face rested inside folded arms. An elbow shuffled underneath her chest, pushed up and joined by the second, pressed together that propped her head off the mat, where her chin tapped the collar and hair curtained everything but ahead. The chains that made the ropes, tight enough that when her hand gripped it, it hardly moved at all. Her arms dragged the weighted sandbags that were her lower two limbs, scaled up, and an arm hooked the middle chain to tug her knees beneath her, then the opposite arm threw itself over the top chain.

“You know… There are… three things that I demand from my enemies.” Laboured breath patterned her speech as her feet came underneath, and she trudged along the chains, moving so one foot positioned itself at both sides of his head.

“One… That they don’t insult me by holding back. For that, I’am thankful.” Her hands delved as she bent over to grip the hem of his leopard mask and tug, shoulders invested; breath tightened as those arms wound tight like metal cables, trying to bring his body up onto its knees at least, where she could bury his head between two leather-clad thighs.

“Two…” She paused, looked over her shoulder and stepped back, so her heel hooked the middle chain. “Two…” Sputtered out through a hazed look, shaken up as she huffed a shaky breath and wiped her wet cheek. “Two… That they lay everyone on the line for me. It makes it… Exciting.”

A smile peaked as she lifted her other foot off the canvas and suffocated his head with leather. She leaned back until her shoulders kissed the cage; spine curved over the top chain as she reached to hook an arm, then the second, arresting them both onto his upper back. All was secure. Should he not answer her whims, she’d explode from the middle rope and descend to the canvas knee-first, and his face will find the canvas for what is the PEDIGREE.

[KillerV]

King nearly blackout from getting his whole face smash onto the steel mat but he is barely conscious thanks to the whiff of the real strong smell of blood soaked inside of his beastly mask, his mind nearly blank and tries to recover after that nasty impact, he is sure that Karla is very tired too after what he have putting her through in so far.

Passing through his mask and blood, he can hear Karla saying something, he wishes to not listen to her as it sound shes tired or at least he felt tired too, but with her words running off her mouth, he felt his mask getting a hold of and pulled on, his body reacts with her movement, going along with her where he drag himself by her commands and he didnt want to but rather not get his mask pulled out off his head. "Ngh......... f-..... fuc......k....."

He get his head pulled under between her shapely tight legs that the leathery suit rubbing against his mask, still on his knees as he barely have the strength to get up nor even attempt to pull himself out, even send her soaring in the air... but he couldnt do that, just getting pulled along with Karla whatever she got plan for him, doesnt think she can do the piledriver on him nor the powerbomb, what the bitch is up to....?

He felt her moving and to the point that he doesnt see her feet and suspecting that shes getting on something which guessing the chain or turnbuckle, but then something worries him is when his limp arms getting pulled behind his back, like his finisher...... **FUCK!** he thought worrying that he knows whats shes going to do, use his own move on him! He couldnt pull himself out the hold and doesnt take long that Karla droves his head and face first hitting the mat once again by his own finisher the Pedigree! Bounces as his body and arms limps again, his whole body shut down, he is actually knocked out underneath her thighs.

[Monsy]

Two bodies sown together found their way to the steel sea below. His face came first, then her knees and the rest. Pain was a droplet compared to the rainstorm of adrenaline that kept her from collapse. It poured out in every breath. She released his arms and slumped with hands on her thighs, taking in another galloon of oxygen, only to feel a millimetre of strength reign back in. Her head shook, and she rose to a knee that shivered when she leaned on it. Both hands grabbed his shoulders and pulled; the weight made her collapse to mat him back-first onto the mat. She propped up on her side with an elbow, swiped back velvet hair, now blood-smeared as she heaved out again, then rallied onto her knees, shuffled over and threw a leg over his body to straggle his chest.

“Three… I want… hah... to see their face when they… hah… fail..”

The referee dropped by them; his hand raised to count the pinfall.

“ONE!”

Meanwhile, Karla grabbed two handfuls of his mask, jutted elbows on either side to mount some leverage, and she leaned in to gaze upon the eyelids.

“And that’s the one thing we’re missing, aren’t we, Killer King?! Hahaha...” Her hand hoisted to pat the snout. “In time… I’ll take it...”

“TWO!” The referee slammed his hand again, and now they were only seconds away from the third and final round.

[KillerV]

King just blacked out by his own finisher done by Karla as he just laying there underneath her body while his arms going limp in her hold, which she releases it and let it flop onto the mat, his body is breathing slowly but even with his large muscular body so heavy deadweights, he soon find himself rolled over facing up and get pinned down while he isnt aware whats going on, but the referee hitting the mat counting down, Karla running her mouth.

By the time the final count of THREE, signaling the bell declaring the second round is over, awaiting for the third and final round to get start it, would give the two wrestlers a few minutes to recover and thats when King finally waking up, seeing Karla pinning him down, he is still worn out from the beating to the head and panting hard too, he slowly raising up his right hand to flip a finger at her. "Grrr..... ngh..... you wont.... defeat me.... you ..... you bitch!.... ugh...."

He would sock her if he could but rather laying on his back taking a long breather, takes all the energy he can get it back into him before the third round could get start it. "Why dont... you get the fuck.... off me?"

[Monsy]

The bell has never been so delightful. Revenge was all but served, an eye for an eye, just as they had delivered before. Both Killer and Karla had pinned the other twice in the trilogy of matches, and the next would be their last. She sat there on his chest, scoffed, rolled her eyes and stood, “Hahahah, you still have growl. But are you sure you have any bite left?” She made a cup with her hand, leaned over and waved before she turned and headed for the opposite corner. There was a drag in her feet, escalated until she fell onto a knee. The turnbuckle ahead span, as did the grids of the cage, her hands which she gazed upon and the ground that quaked.

“Gggh…”

Finger-tips reached to pad the mat, lurched and pushed back to her feet. A palm stayed pressed against her forehead, covered an eye as a throb savaged her skull like cancer. She crashed her shoulder against the turnbuckle, put her feet together and leaned her weight into it, then peered up and was blinded by the overhead lights, so she recoiled and nearly fell along the metal ropes until a hand reached and caught herself.

“Noch eine Runde.. One… more… round.”

She murmured between the laboured breath and snapped her gaze onto the turnbuckle again, where it finally stopped spinning into a united truth. She’d pursue it, using her body to block the view and reach over to start undoing its fastens as the minutes wound on, then lean her back against it to wait for the final round.