Mic Chick vs. Angelina Tarrant

[Dubski]

It was a crapshoot, and there was a big chance that Mic Chick could have completely duffed this, but it was time for a desperate attack. And fortunately, it paid off in a big way, as she felt a small release of relief when she felt her boot connect with Angelina's skull, meaning her gambit paid off. She landed on her back, spread-eagle with her limbs held out... and then a moment later she felt Angelina fall back too, glancing over at her briefly with a small smile on her face.

And then Mic laughed a hoarse laugh, closing her eyes as she laid there, soaking in that she managed to hit Angelina and stop more of her brutal attack. Her body jerked up twice, coughing as it hurt to laugh. "Gotchuuuuu..." sang Mic, laying back again and grimacing in pain.

ONE!

The referee started to count both girls out now, which prompted Mic to take action.

TWO!

THREE!

FOUR!

She groaned before rolling onto her front and then grabbing hold of the bottom rope, throwing her arm over it. She needed to get herself up before Angelina at this point, but her body felt beyond spent at this point, with her every muscle shaking.

FIVE!

SIX!

Chick would then start to pull herself up, grabbing that middle rope and dragging her body off the mat.

SEVEN!

EIGHT!

And then, Mic Chick would grasp that top rope, letting out a loud yell of pain as she used it to bring herself back up to her feet. She wasn't paying attention to Angelina quite yet. She needed to focus on herself now. But she hoped that maybe she had hit her hard enough that she could have knocked her out and win the damn thing. What was most important was that she was up. And if she beat Angelina to the count, she could get another chance to take her down.

[Monsy]

Sudden turns of events are a real bitch sometimes.
Angelina wasn’t a stranger to them, and ate another. This one sent her strengthless to the canvas, sprawled and gambling to find which way was up. Her chest heaved, almost doubling in size with each hack. Her stomach moved like it was her pulse, licked by a layer of sweat glimmering underneath the light. She groaned periodically, working up her fingers to curl and flex again, then fold her forearm up and lay them over her face. “Shut uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.” Retorted Angelina in a sing-song tone as well. It drifted off into continuing groans… “Buhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…. Yaaaaowww. My whittle head is dead…”

Angelina wasn’t too keen on moving just yet when the count started. She much preferred lifting her knees up, rubbing her eyes to weed off the cobwebs, then kick the canvas in small and brief intervals to move just a few inches. Her arms threw themselves above her head. The count was already at four. She was closer to the ropes, but still not near enough. So she kept kicking, sliding, her back eating up her hair and forcing her head to crane back. It forced her to turn one way and bend to one side so she could keep moving. When her hands finally touched those ropes, it was already six. Whatever movements after was just pure instinct. Her conditioning with parkour allowed some strength and flexibility to use her hands to climb the ropes, from bottle to middle, then to top. “Byyyy the powa’ invested in me. Ya can hereby go fuuuuck yaself.” Angelina’s head dipped down. She stood for about a second and was walking on buckling knees. Her arms were draping in front of her like some zombie, then she fell back and slumped into the ropes, grumbling and looking anywhere but her opponent. The stars still filled her eyes and she was blowing some raspberries all the while.

[Dubski]

Mic's trembling body watched as Angelina had somehow ripped herself back up to her feet. She slumped over, letting out a loud groan of annoyance. She really would have loved it if the redhead would have stayed down. "Come on, dumbass..." she said in a frustrated yell. She took a few more deep breaths before pushing herself off the ropes and taking a few more breaths. She wiped her sweaty brow, her light hair stuck to her forehead as her lip quirked into a hook, eyeing down her opponent. She needed to push herself more to finally take Angelina out now.

"Alright... eat it!" screamed Mic Chick, just wanting to obliterate Angelina now before she could recover too fast. She then found it in her to make a mad sprint right towards Tarrant, shocking herself actually. She half expected her legs to give way and the rest of her body to slowly fall apart after it, but it appeared she was able to push herself to further ends. She ran and then let out a war cry and threw her boot up, attempting to hit Angelina with a Helluva Kick. She'd try to absolutely bash her in the mush and continue to work on that originally pretty face of Tarrant's and beat her down further with a distinct advantage. It was shocking she could even fire her leg high enough, but adrenaline surged inside her to make it happen. This big hit could be the precursor for what she needed to try finishing Angelina off, should she hit!

[Monsy]

Angelina was dangling on spaghetti legs and a spineless back that slouched into the ropes. The sweat was in free fall. It stung her eyes and made little droplets on her eyebrows, some more coursed down her cheek in little streams. Parts of her face were red. Everything was still pounding in her head, with little room for thought than to process the continuance of time, and to glance at things to ground herself. The world really rang in her ears and reverberated like some tunnel.

The boot to her face was a total surprise. It sent her head reeling back, and she spat with a loud shout, “MMGUH!” Her body sunk into the ropes, the shoulders arching over the top and she rebounded with a small spiral. Both feet tripped over the other and she tipped, and landed back-first onto the canvas, sprawled out, the arms outward shoulder-height, and the legs bounced before they settled, slightly apart. She looked up, the sweat having stung her eyes again, so she closed them, then clenched the lids into wrinkles and she hissed, gritting teeth and breathing heavily through them.

[Dubski]

With a burst of energy and power, Mic Chick had charged forward and nailed Angelina with her big boot, cracking loudly into the crowd! As Tarrant toppled over, the rocker had her leg hung over on the top rope as she slumped on top of it, eyes closed tight as the crowd cheered her on. She grit her teeth and let out a loud groan, picking her head up and ripping her leg away from the top rope, looking like she was trying to fight through the pain and exhaustion before throwing up the horns for her fans.

With effort, she ducked through the ropes and onto the apron, looking down at the motionless redhead below her and knew what she had to do. Mic knew she had to go for broke as she started limping towards the turnbuckle. She grabbed onto the top rope, then began to climb up onto it. Her throat burned as she tried to get air back into her lungs, and her body was quivering as it was stretched far past her breaking point, but she wasn't about to stop there. The thrill of the crowd, the adrenaline drilling into her body to keep her going. She just couldn't stop.

Chick eventually stood up high on the top rope. Body heaving forward with each breath, she looked down at her target. While her muscles were so stiff, she still managed it. Then, she flew right into the sky performing a front flip and grabbing hold of her feet with both hands, flying high in an absolutely gorgeous Shooting Star Press she called Rock N' Roll Revolution! She knew if she landed this on top of her prone opponent, this would seal the match for her for sure.

[Monsy]

The woman slapped the canvas with a heap and sunk into it. All her muscle unravelled and spilled across the white. She breathed in until her chest expanded to its maximum capacity, then it eased out. There was so much discomfort, so many focal points that she couldn't scale with just one number. Her legs were about a two, numb and tired. Her stomach and chest were a six, back a nine, and right now, her head was a ten. It swam and danced around like being spun on a rollercoaster. Even when Mic went high, Angelina kept the dilliance between dead and alive. Their shadow, it got bigger, and bigger, and almost swallowed her whole. The bit she did see through her eyes was magical.

That’s when an itch grabbed her shoulder. It was strength. One of Angelina’s last strings of it, to turn and peel that half of her body off the canvas and flop onto her stomach, out of harm’s way.

[Dubski]

Mic Chick went flying into the air, her slim body soaring in a gorgeous Rock N' Roll Revolution, performing the full rotation like an all-star as the crowd went wild. And then suddenly, she crashed directly on the mat. The beautiful maneuver crashing and burning entirely. This maneuver had taken all of her power to even perform, and the landing was unceremonious. She just splatted on the mat when Angelina moved away, her body laying flat on the mat, motionless.

The rocker's breathing was shallow as her flattened body was just completely beaten down, struggling to even take in air. The rest of her body curled up under her, knees raising up as she stayed laying on her front, letting out a wheezing whine as her arms wrapped under her chest and stomach. She was spent, as much as she wanted to get up immediately and just beat the hell out of her opponent, she was just not able to do anything now, just absolutely crushed by Angelina avoiding her maneuver.

[Monsy]

All Angelina heard was that grotesque splat. It sounded like a bag of rocks that dropped from the ceiling. Angelina peeked with one eye and saw them crumpled, then laughed weakly. “Dumb biiiiiiitch.”

This itch of opportunity was motivation that she solely needed. One hand placed down, then a second. She began to peel her upper-body off, her face dipped down, followed by a curtain of hair on all sides. She pushed it back when she reached her knees, sitting back on her shins and combing it. Deep ragged breaths spiralled out, the glint of sweat shimmered in the overhead light. A foot jutted and she piled her hands on her knee. Her face wrinkled when she pushed on it, wobbling and stumbling back a few steps when she reached her feet. Now she dialled back her left leg, standing bladed, half a ring away from Mic’s exhausted corpse. She put a hand on her front knee, still puffing but now… stalking.

The back leg bounced, “Come on…” She muttered in a breathy tone.
She bent the knees and started to beckon them up… In truth, she just needed their head to inch off the mat, just a little and offer themselves onto the altar. And once they had, Angelina sparked into a short sprint. Her leg swung and she aimed to take a bite out of their temple with her patent punt kick - Call of The Unconscious!

[Dubski]

Mic Chick was struggling on the mat as she whooped and gasped for breath, feeling like she was in agonizing pain. Her body flattened on the mat had just taken everything out of her that was left. She wasn't sure what was even going on around her, where Angelina was, or anything else. She just knew that she needed to get up and do something. She needed to try to get up and stop her or anything.

With a loud yell of pain, Mic pushed one hand on the mat, then a second hand on the mat, and then she whined out loud and groaned through gritted teeth, trying to push her knees under her. And then, she felt pain in the side of her head. A stinging, awful pain, and then nothing. Her body flopped over after getting nailed by the punt and her body rested on the mat, limp, as she was sprawled out. Mic Chick was out, not moving aside from the breathing in her chest.

[Monsy]

Call of the Unconscious deemed itself true. Angelina ran through the whole motion, then stumbled and tripped onto her knees. She came to all fours, looking down at her hands that looked like the ground was moving them in a circle. Then she looked over-shoulder. Now was it. Quickly. Angelina first needed to drag her eyes, then her head, shoulders and hands before her knees lumbered. She scampered a few shuffles to reach her unconscious foe, placing a hand on their shoulder, throwing a leg over to straddle their stomach, then applying the second hand to pin them down. Her expression was still empty and a little lost in the gaze. She hadn’t taken time to register, but moved with her instinct and vapours of strength.

But the referee knew it all. And once Angelina mounted Mic Chick, they were there to drop down and count the pinfall. “ONE!”