Mic Chick vs. Angelina Tarrant

[Dubski]

Mic Chick had decided she should be a little more unorthodox in her attack and proceeded to go low rathw than go high. And thus, she had absolutely clapped those knees of Angelina, forcing her straight to the mat before she swung, kneeling and looking down at her redhead opponent with a grin. "Oh baby, I'm just getting started."

The rocker had hopped up to her feet, watching Tarrant even struggle to stand, the low dropkick being even more effective than she ever could have imagined. And the dirty blonde decided her next form of attack, wiping her boot on the mat for a moment before charging to the ropes.

On the rebound Mic Chick would keep an eye on her downed opponent and watch her, and as she ran forward, she would strike again. Seeing her opponent defenseless and pushing herself off the mat, she would attempt to leap on her back. "Check out this Ollie!"" shouted Mic. If successful, she would springboard directly off Angelina's back just so she could get impressive height to land over the back of her head with an impressive leg drop, hoping to punish her opponent!

[Monsy]

This new muddied world was something she waded with a stick. It wasn’t a traditional opponent, that’s for sure. Her limited experience didn’t allow her to cipher much from opponents than what they said. This woman would strike for oddities and flashy dives, she inferred. The moment’s respite let her look around, find their grin and she rolled her hazy eyes. “Well, yeah, the bell just rung.” Her tongue was doused in sass and dragged through groggy mud like she just woke up.

The canvas’s pitter-patter was the only prelude to when both feet perched on her back. She arched, as though water mended inside a container. Both eyes scrunched and she sucked in a hiss. Her hands squeezed into fists. Not a pleasant wake-up call. But one she needed as she heard their cue, and this looming sense scraped her nape and she rolled away from the impending leg-drop.

Her knees rolled towards her chest, and she used the momentum to turn herself. Putting her feet together, she aimed for their chest and thrust both legs like pistons in this fluent-agile motion. A stern rebuttal for a girl to not let herself slip too much in this match!

[Dubski]

Mic Chick had leaped right upon Angelina's back, hoping to spring off of it and land gracefully in a leg drop. And while she was able to use Angelina's back as a tremendous jumping board, Mic had quickly come to find that Angelina wasn't about to just let that happen.

As she went to land the leg drop was struck with both boots square in her chest! The rocker felt the boots compact her chest as she flopped onto her back, rolled over, and settled onto her front, one leg resting on the bottom rope.

She coughed and groaned, that hit coming out of nowhere and blasting her hard as she began to push her front off the mat. "Holy hell, lady..." said Mic, giving Tarrant a look of disbelief as she tried to catch her breath from that suffocating counter!

[Monsy]

Her actions are fluid and decisive.
Through the pain on her back and the clearing dizziness of her faceplant, she reacted with haste and velocity that struck them clean! The strike acted as this springboard that tossed Angelina onto her shoulders, backrolling and coming onto her knees. She flipped her hair back, punched the canvas with a fist, propped it there as she zoned her gaze on Mic. A slight weave in her shoulders as she began to breathe heavier, but her smile was wide and open. They were good. But she was better.

“Don’t be too surprised. We’re gonna go all out, yeah?”

Another hand planted, and she popped on the edges of her feet, then sprang forward into a sprinting burst. Her arm stretched out like a straight sword, and she leaned to one side, fell and swung that limb in hopes to strike across their collar with a clothesline!

[Dubski]

Mic Chick started to stand, a hand on her chest as she looked back at Angelina, a smile cracking on her face as well despite the pain and aching in her chest. "Oh, you better believe we're going all out..." said the rocker, licking her lips as she watched her opponent. She couldn't help but love this chick's style, both personality-wise and in the ring. It always made these kind of matches a lot more fun.

This time though, Tarrant made a quick charge at her. Mic knew she couldn't just let this girl keep on her offense like this. Letting a girl like Angelina get any kind of momentum would spell her doom. Taking a deep breath, which caused a tinge of pain, Mic Chick would make her move. "Bring it, baby!"

Running forward to meet Angelina, she would duck under the clothesline swiftly. Then, she would attempt to grab hold of Angelina's outstretched arm, twirl and swing around her, then tried to grab her by the head and bring her down in an Arm Trap Neckbreaker, wanting to take her down to the mat and snap that neck down to try to get Angelina down on that mat so she could properly recover!

[Monsy]

That’s fuckin’ right. All out or nothin.
Angelina ran so fast, her feet should outrun her body. Every offence carried one-hundred percent commitment, and that arm was as strong as metaphorical iron. It almost hurt when she missed, the tug and whiplash of the grab. Her eyes grew wide as her arm moulded to their will, then wider as the twist torqued into her shoulder, forcing her to give her back to Mic Chick. The grab at her head was as enigmatic as tomorrow. A quickly answered facade as Angelina arched back and her feet rammed together from stopped momentum, almost kicking as they brought her down and spanked the canvas neck-first.

“MM!!” Her lips were welded tight to bare. It pinched as a dozen crayfish latched onto her nape and feasted on the skin, muscle and spine underneath. Both hands rallied and nursed as she bounced off the canvas and ultimately turned on her side, curling her body inward slightly to hiss and groan. But should she be left for long, she’d already take one arm, reach out and paw the mat, slowly turning on her stomach, then propping her upper half off and inching her knees underneath, bit by bit like a slug. “Uuuugghhhh, you watch Kung Fu Panda too?”

[Dubski]

With grace and elegance, Mic Chick had moved in another dance with Angelina. Only this time, it ended with her accenting it with a neckbreaker, snapping her to the mat! When Mic landed, she laid there too, trying to recover as she held her chest again, groaning softly before she rolled over away from Angelina. It still hurt to breathe a little bit, but Mic knew she'd be alright. She'd performed in the ring and on the stage with worse injuries.

She watched Tarrant struggle on the mat, slowly facing her before the redhead was now facing her. Mic grinned at her, shrugging. "Cool flick," remarked Chick before sending a forehand chop towards Angelina's face, hoping to rattle her. "Kinda have a thing for Jack Black," added Mic before sending a second forehand chop towards Angelina's face while the two were barely sitting up on the mat, but it seemed like Mic was still having a great time regardless.

[Monsy]

Elegance yeah. Neck pain was real graceful.
For a turn, it felt like her neck morphed into a two-by-four. Stiff and stern, any tweak was stopped almost subconsciously, so her movements were careful, slow but deliberate, pawing the canvas to see just how she could lift her shoulders without doing what replicated pinching a nerve. They were just so eager to deliver that tasty smack once she presented her face, and found their eyes. “TCH!” An eye flinched, her head turned. It stung like a high-altitude belly-flop. One arm lifted off, teetering, but she reclaimed, and pushed up, standing on her knees, then sitting back on her shins. “Right?…”

She had this drunken nod, “Seen school of rock? TCHH!!”

Again, her head veered. Her corresponding shoulder lifted, her head craned towards the opposite and she leaned into the forehand slap’s influence, putting a hand down to stop her teetering. One hand wiped the reddened swath of skin, and she glanced between her index and middle, miffed, but also bemused. “You’re hitting me with pussy-smacks. You gotta mean it, girl!” Her arm stretched over, then she straightened, the arm swung in tandem like a sock filled with butter, aiming to crash against their cheeks with a whipped backhand!

[Dubski]

With the first forehand chop to Angelina's face, Mic couldn't help but grin and shrug. "Yeah, good film too." And then the second chop rang out against Tarrant's face, whipping her slightly less than the first. When the redhead critiqued her blows, she let out a small laugh until a backhand smashed into the side of her face! Mic Check's body whipped and rocked back, nearly falling over before righting herself as she rubbed her cheek, moving her tongue around to make sure she didn't bite the inside of her mouth anywhere.

But then, she smiled back at Angelina, lowering her hand from her reddened cheek. "Baby, if you want me to mean it, then I can mean it," she said, eyes lighting up at the idea of a challenge. Chick scooted back, and the rocker took a kneeling position, lifting her body slightly as she eyed up her opponent with a big grin. Then, she propelled herself forward in a spin before firing off a wicked forearm shot directly to Angelina's face before catching herself from falling with her free hand. If this babe wanted a real hit, Mic Chick had plenty of those waiting and then some. But she didn't doubt for a moment that Tarrant had an arsenal of her own.

[Monsy]

Wasn’t this just relaxing? A chat about movies, fetishes over actors, and hard knocks to the face. Was there any better way to spend a Tuesday? Nah. Angelina kept ready after her swing, licking her top lip as she watched them rock and whip like a rowboat. “I wan’ ya to hit me like I’mma’ bad-bad ex ya always wanted to strangle.” Her tongue clicked after that, topped by a finger-gun, “No laws for consequences in here, girl! So gimme it all!” She tended to invite the strike, wildly beckoning them with her arms and animated hands. Grinning ear-to-ear, Angelina leaned forward to eat the strike…

And struck clean. Like running into a metal pole, her body whipped back. Her shoulders slapped the canvas, and the momentum made her fold her neck, her lower back curling up, over her head, and she crashed onto her belly. “Guhhh…” This nagging feeling she just woke up from a twelve-hour nap. Barrings yet to be captured, slipped for a moment and actions became fuzzy instinct. She moaned through her groggy pain, but put a hand down nonetheless, then her other to prop up, shaking out the cobwebs. Angelina looked forward and reached with both hands to clutch handfuls of their leather jacket. “Ya got me. Ya got me good…”

If Mic Chick allowed, she’d drag her feet like ball and chain underneath her, one-by-one, then standing upright with slumped shoulders. She looked up, still with that shit-eating grin, “But now it’s my turn…” It seemed like a snap’s notice when she dialled her gloved fist and shoulder back, the pump to load the chamber, then shot forward, aimed to deliver a payload right for the solar plexus in what was Angelina’s shotgun punch!