Mic Chick vs. Angelina Tarrant

[Dubski]

Mic Chick was feeling herself as she went for the Beat Drop, being able to summon her strength to spring off the middle rope and come back to fire that kick directly towards Angelina's head, hoping for a kill shot right there. However, when she swung her boot, she hit nothing, gasping as her eyes shot open in shock. She landed on the mat, fearful knowing that Tarrant had managed to avoid her attack. Gritting her teeth, Mic's muscles tensed when she landed, locking up for just a moment before she doubled over.

Then, all of a sudden, Mic Chick's head was grasped, and in a moment later, it met the mat. The rest of Mic's body shot out as she bucked in pain, holding the back of her head and neck with both hands. She rolled over onto her front, then her back again, trying to find any position that could soothe her pain now. The abrupt impact just killed her. Eventually, she moved to her front again, keeping her hands behind her head. It stung in her neck and made the rest of her body tingle from the feeling right now. It was a wicked maneuver that she knew would keep lasting throughout the remainder of this match.

"Shit..." muttered Chick, lightly kicking her one foot behind her, hoping that this move had taken enough out of Angelina that she couldn't immediately come after her, knowing that she didn't have the strength in her to strike back just yet.

[Monsy]

Angelina splattered on the canvas and her arms fell-out in a T-shape. She heaved while looking up, the world having re-aligned into this clear image, but every movement still weighed a hundred pounds more. One shoulder creeped up and she was on her side, finding her opponent with a slow and foggy head-turn, gasping and wheezing in quiet fashion. She turned on her front but propped a hand down to catch. The limb shook at the elbow. She slowly eased the knee up, then the other, and finally, the final hand to mount all fours.

“So… this… is… what … Po felt… climbing up… those stairs… haahhh… ho…”

She planted one foot, and her face tightened, groaning. Both hands piled on a knee and she leveraged to her feet, dragging them to scoot to her opponent. Her noodle arms dipped as she bent over and reached underneath their chin to ease them up until they looked at her.

“Time for our encore, now, beeawtch!”

One fist cocked back while the other cupped, tightened until it quaked, then the fist hurled itself towards Mic Chick’s cheek. The impact, whether hit or miss, would see Angelina collapse onto one knee, lost for wind and balance, and any strength like a spent stamina bar. “Haaah…. aaaoo…”

[Dubski]

Mic Chick was struggling and groaning on the mat through barred teeth, face pressed into the mat. Moving her head at all was an absolute punishment each time she attempted it, but the rocker was still fighting through it, beginning to push herself and noticing Angelina was beating her back to her feet.

"Haaaah...." huffed out Mic in painful exertion, about to take another effort to push herself up fully, but Tarrant had grabbed her by the chin, lifting her up and forcing that. "Grrrr..." growled Chick, her body in serious pain just trying to stand.

And as soon as she was up, she was struck with a fist to the face, teetering for a moment as the shock waved through her body, and her head whipped out to the side. "Ahng..." she uttered as her body shook, feeling weaker until she had fallen forward, her face landing on Angelina's shoulder, limply. And then, she slid right off of her again and fell onto her side before rolling into the back. The punch was devastating and she was left laying on the mat, head ringing and just attempting to focus, the pain in the side of her face now overtaking the rest of her pain in her body. For now, she wasn't even able to muster the strength to attempt pushing herself up.

[Monsy]

She sank to her knee after that punch. Swelling was pulsing inside her knuckles. The redness flexed and the slow bruising flared when she tightened that hand. Her left eye stung after a blink, the eyelids having been moistened by sweat, and she wiped it with a curled index. “Ok…” Angelina mumbled, leaning over to grab two handfuls of their shirt collar, dragging them along and trying to seat them in the corner.

“Hey, dork-stick.” She gave them little slaps to their head, more-so flicks with four fingers to see if she can gain just a little eye-contact. “Hey. Ya. You. Don’t go beddy-bye on me yet. I want ya awake for this one.” She straightened up and walked the ropes to their right. Both hands pushed into her lower-spine, trying to iron out all the kinks from that Spanish fly. Then she reset her jaw again. Talking was just asking for a painful numbing. Oh well… She’ll live.

When she reached the corner, she turned again and started to hurry into a brisk jog, now more fluid with a slight pep in her step. She came to the next corner, now diagonal from them and grabbed each rope on opposite sides, putting her foot on the middle turnbuckle-pad, taking a deep breath, then she ran. Panting kicked in but so did adrenaline. A full-blown sprint with whatever fumes she had was a thrill. She closed in at no-time at all, then jumped, packed both feet together and shot them for their chest for a running corner dropkick!

[Dubski]

Mic Chick struggled on the mat, hand moving to her throbbing face. Wincing as she struggled next to Angelina, she let out a soft groan. Her adrenaline she was running on completely shot by that punch to the cheek, leaving her unable to fight back right now. Even as Tarrant grabbed hold of her and started dragging her to the corner, Chick's mind continued to rattle inside her head.

Suddenly, Mic felt a few slaps to her already rocked head and squinted at her, scowling. She groaned in response, louder this time to make her displeasure known. Taking deep breaths, the rocker continued to try focusing, hoping to get her body to react well with her brain. It wouldn't, and she watched as Angelina ran directly at her, trying to push out from the corner with effort, muscles tightened.

And then, Mic Chick was blasted in the chest with those double boots, slamming her right into the turnbuckle pads as she yelled out. "Aggggggh...!" Mic's body jerked back again, thrashing as she held her chest now. With gritted teeth, Mic's head hung back in pain as she tried to suck in air, having a hard time even dealing with the pain as well as the air blasted from her lungs.

[Monsy]

The dropkick was picture-perfect but the aftermath was atrocious. She sagged to the canvas and sprawled in a sweaty heap. Little bump or big jump didn’t matter; both took their ache with interest. Her shoulder came up after the three second mark, turning over to her stomach, propping her hands and knees, then crawling over to Mic Chick. Shoulders had a slight dip in each stretch forward until Angelina reared up on her knees and lunged to grab the top rope. Bit by bit she dragged her feet underneath and pushed up, stepping on the bottom rope.

“Ya wanna keep clingin’ to that spot? I’ll keep comin.”

One, two, one two… It took a couple hops to iron out the strain and commitment to put all her weight on that leg, but when she did, she outstretched her free foot and ought to pin it on Mic Chick’s throat. Now she leaned on that, crouching further into the rope assisted-choke!

[Dubski]

Mic Chick was holding her chest, head lulling forward in pain. Her chest ached from their battle badly enough anyway, but as she tried to suck in breath, that was the harder part. Every breath she took was draining her energy just by the sheer effort it was taking at this point. Exhaustion and her battered body was making it harder and harder to be in this match still.

And then, it became harder still when Mic felt the boot directly in her throat. Her whole body arched as she was buried deeper in the corner and her legs stretched out further, gasping and screaming and trying to push the boot off to no avail as it choked her! She struggled for air, as the referee counted to break the illegal move, trying to force Angelina off of the rocker, tears dripping from the corners of her eyes in the sheer desperation to breathe at this point.

And then, eventually, the boot was removed from her throat and she pushed out from the corner and then coughed and hacked, holding her red throat as she toppled onto her side, taking wheezing breaths and closing her eyes tight. She was out of the corner but in no shape for anything else now, just longing to get air in her lungs.

[Monsy]

Bending the rules just a little was relatively easy. Having this five-count was just asking for mischief. Angelina took full advantage and released at four, then hopped off with a spin to land facing them. She leaned forward, placing her hands on her knees to settle the panting… “Honestly… Why … the fuck … is that illegal? Ya can choke em … with ya arms, legs, ass cheeks… and pussy, like sum weirdos … but not … my fuckin’ boot sole… Wow.”

She straightened up, arching her back with hands on the lower spine to iron out more kinks. Her jaw still fidgeted from time to time, running on this constant numbness. But with them indisposed, it was just too tempting not to see them as an open treasure chest. One that had her grinning ear-to-ear as she loomed over them, standing at their side. “Well. Why don’t we make this more interestin’, Micster.”

A foot planted on their side and tried to manipulate them onto her stomach. She bent over and the weight piled on that foot. One hand grabbed the back of their jacket’s collar, and the other went for the arm to pull it back and straight. The tugs began on their coat, seeking to force an arm out from the sleeve. If she could manage that, she’d put both hands on the jacket itself and start pulling it to completely strip it from their person!

[Dubski]

Mic Chick was feeling the exhaustion setting in even more as she continued to hold her neck, forcing breaths of air into her chest once more. Angelina was relentless now, but she could tell her opponent was lethargic as well by the pace she was coming after her. Shew knew it would just be a matter of a few big hits to get a win still, but she was currently at a disadvantage. She had been on the receiving end and her breathing was now an issue. Without having air in her lungs, doing anything would be a serious struggle.

As the rocker laid there, she was forced onto her stomach with a loud groan. "Hnnng..." Chick was scrunching up her face in pain as she struggled to breath still. To her surprise, she felt her vest of all things being grabbed now. She didn't get why Angelina would even bother, even if it was quite a bitching jacket. She did enjoy it and loved to brawl in it too, since it made her stand out. But losing it was the least of her worries. She didn't make it easy, trying to make Angelina tug on it, preferably without ruining it. Mic wanted to use the time to catch her breath and will herself for another move.

She had an idea that she prayed would work and at least put them both on equal footing again. As Angelina went for more powerful pulls on her vest, she would just roll back as it was almost off of her, letting it fly back towards Tarrant and hopefully catch her off-guard. As Mic rolled back, she rolled to her feet, using that momentum to gut herself through a Pele Kick, looking to nail Angelina in the head with the flipping kick before falling back to the mat, spent from attempting the move.

[Monsy]

Prizes like these are worth the struggle. Even if no one understood, that was fine. This jacket was all she wanted right now, with them down and Angelina at least mounting her feet, it was ripe time for a bit of pirating with these strain-addled arms and lugging-boulders for shoulders and a tight back. Most of her yanks threw her weight into the equation, and sometimes she leaned onto her heels. “Just, give me it, you fuckin’ … dunce-bug.” Much of her thinking capacity was centred on taking it, and really, when they threw themselves into a roll, Angelina let go and went into a small stumble. Her shoulders lurched and her feet dragged, just a little behind. One stretch of her foot put her balance back on track and she straightened up to eat that pele kick, picture perfect.

It cracked off her skull which bobbed forward then back. There wasn’t so much as a scream. Her arm reached out. The world span around her, the floor broke up into cubes and lifted, descended, left and right until she didn’t know where to place her feet. Her spine gave up before anything, lulling back and slapping the canvas. It felt wet with her shirt pressing flush into her skin. Both arms splayed like her legs. A spread-eagle flop where a delayed tired moan crept from her voice, looking around like a bad drunk waking from their blackout. Her eyes were flickering in slow blinks, squinted but unable to make even the lights that shined above her.