Vanessa I. Price vs. Angelina Tarrant - Torture Rack Match (Apex Qualifier)

[Dubski]

As Vanessa planted her knee into Angelina's gut, she felt a sense of satisfaction impaling the girl with her limb. A small taste. A bit of payback. There would be oh, so much more to come for that redheaded abomination of fashion. Sneering happily, she was ready to follow up when she heard Tarrant's retort. VIP's eyes widened and she immediately stepped back in a panic before falling down onto her behind. It wasn't her most graceful dodge, but she was very much not looking to have to deal with another one of those strikes. She had picked up that much about Angelina by now to know she didn't want to deal with that.

But Price instinctually knew she both couldn't stay down like that and that a dodge, no matter how frantic it was, would open her opponent up. "Oh, you'll be a believe yet!" shouted VIP before she sprung forward, attempting to clip Angelina's nearest leg with a wide blow of her arm, wanting to see if she could do some damage to one of her limbs early.

[Monsy]

SHEESH. Really coming at her hard. Just a gut feeling. An -- actual -- gut feeling. One that back around, spinning and swung. Her knuckles had a nice payload ready for our dear fashionista. Missed. Sucked, but it was probably for the best with her bare hands. Got a KILLER sight of VIP smacking on her butt, though. It made her choke up, snickering, “Ya real gracef--”

She came back like a damn bullet. Took a bite out of her knee, right on the upper tendon. Angelina’s leg swung out with VIP’s momentum. Her other leg slipped and she came crashing on her front. “OOF!--” The sting settled in on her kneecap and a hand settled there. She scrambled nonetheless, recovering to a knee, reaching to grab VIP’s ankle, then yanking before she could stand up, hopefully. “Don't leave so soon!” All in hopes to tackle her down, lunge herself on top and work to get that mount. Front or back.

[Dubski]

VIP's blow to Angelina's knee hit her hard and the cruel fashionista took a moment to sigh in relief as Tarrant fell onto her front. It was a good place to focus on, at the very least. She couldn't make a powerful strike like that again without having a good plant leg. Price would then turn to get back up, only to feel that redhead grab onto her leg again. Gritting her teeth, Vanessa began to scramble as well, keeping moving as Angelina kept coming at her. "You--Get your filthy hands--Stop!" yelled Vanessa furiously as she crawled away, Angelina keeping pace and grabbing ahold of her at every inch.

Eventually, Price found the torture rack, grabbing ahold of the one leg of it as she hooked her entire arm around it, kicking her feet towards Angelina, but she almost got atop her. But Vanessa turned to face her and lifted a knee, keeping her from finding a dominant position. "Get! Off!" shrieked VIP furiously, looking quite annoyed at the persistence of her opponent as she took her other leg, firing it hard towards Tarrant's face in an attempt to get her off of her and cease her attempts, if only for a moment.

[Monsy]

Get over here you little shit. This ain’t no tenth round, they can crawl for laps around this ring to getcha. “Quit bitchin’ dork-chicken! I’m gonna mess YOU up!” It’s a cluttering mess of slipping and scrambling. She can thunder on her knee, sucked like ASS but she had to keep rolling. Seemed like she had her at the torture rack. That little prized gold she clung to. It gave her the stage to grab, two hands on one ankle, shuffle close and bring her midriff over that knee. Promptly blocked. “NO! I WILL--AAGH!!” Fucking came out of nowhere. Boot to the face to make her teeter back with grace. Her arms windmilled and her legs folded, slapping down on her back, feeling the ring of her rocked brain, the numbness of her smashed nose and the headache of her skull already nibbling. She grabbed her face with two hands, knocked and saw double. VIP got her moment. Perhaps a few.

[Dubski]

The boot of Vanessa went directly into Angelina's face, her hands slowly slipping and dropping off the leg of the torture rack, sighing in relief. Her opponent had ceased getting into a dominant position and VIP would have a second to catch her breath. And slowly, she smirked, satisfied with her position. "I will hear no more of this whining from you!" yelled Vanessa as she pushed herself up and stalked over towards Angelina.

Price would then grab the leg she had originally targeted and then laid it flat before leaping up and landing a knee drop directly towards it! She wanted to continue to punish that limb and make it harder for Tarrant to fight like this. The girl was an idiot--simple-minded. There was no possible way she could account for how to compete with only one working leg. It would be the perfect strategy to ensure a simple path to victory, VIP thought.

[Monsy]

Frickers. Why the face? Couldn’t she be someone of class and, like, shoot at her chest? Bleggh… Felt like smacking concrete. It’s a burning, almost numbing feeling. You felt gross after a few seconds. The impulse to lift your face up and spit out any asphalt when ya ate shit. Except it was just boot grime and dirt. “Ooooooh, ya will.” Said Angelina with a groan.

When she finally peeked, she saw her leg. All prim and pretty in its thigh-high, pulled straight out and held. She looked up, put her hands down on the mat and said, plainly, “Ahh--Shit--NGH!” Her face tightened up into knots, eyes squeezed, lips jammed, choking out a short yelp as she snapped upright, going to grab her leg. There’s bound to be a hell of a bruise. Her muscle got pushed to the bomb and almost squeezed till it popped. Had her breathing heavier. A pace she kept as she tried to tuck the leg and roll away.

[Dubski]

Vanessa I. Price had landed her knee sharply onto Angelina's knee, trying to cause even further damage to that limb. It seemed successful enough with the redhead's reaction, which was to curse and try to get away. "Now who's running away like a little coward, hmm?" asked VIP with venom dripping from her tone as she stalked after her foe. "Not so bold now when you can't use cheap maneuvers to gain an advantage? Because I would never!"

Price took delight in watching Angelina squirm now and struggle, watching her and analyzing the best line of attack. She was nothing but a pathetic, whimpering worm now. She would attack her as such. Rushing towards the opposite side of her hurt leg, going for the more open side, Vanessa would rear her leg back and throw it forward, aiming to give a hard punt right towards Tarrant's ribs with a prominent scowl across her face. She wanted Angelina to know her place now.

[Monsy]

“That would be me! And s-she’s crawlin’ -- not runnin’.” Replied Angelina, quick as ya like. Give it two rolls, then she was on her front. She landed on her hands and knees. Well, hands on knee. Took a second to shake the cobwebs, recalibrate to drag her sore knee along. But she resided to do little pushes on her toes when it got to that limb, looking down between her hands. She can see VIP's shadow. Bitch was stalking her. “Tch. Fuckin’ blow me. How’s that for bold?”

Still. When we talk about bold. Talk about the punt right into her ribs.
She squealed like a puppy. It’s a sharp, sudden and exploding pain. She could feel every rib. It was almost like it shook. The feeling dropped her, face-down, ass-up, both hands tucked to her kicked ribs, where she’s fated to short intakes and longer, shuddering exhales. Kick right on her small ribs. That shut her up fast.

[Dubski]

Glowering down at Angelina as that punt nailed the redhead right in the ribs, Vanessa I. Price felt the satisfaction that she had shut that mouthy brat up. Speaking in a higher pitched and rather poor impersonation of Tarrant, VIP bobbed her head. "Waaah. Fuckin' blow me," she mocked. Then, she gnashed her teeth, looking down at Angelina angrily. "Blow you!? You infant! You immature prat!" exclaimed Vanessa, grabbing those red locks of her opponent.

"Go on! Keep mouthing off to me! Your better! Your superior!" yelled the fashionista. She would then lift up and turn Angelina's head before readying her boot. Then she would stomp and attempt to scrape it down the side of her head. Her goal wasn't so much to bash her head into the mat, but more to roughly scrape her boot over her ear and cheek. She wanted to make Angelina Tarrant suffer, more than anything else. Vanessa wanted to put the mouthy redhead in a position to fear her. And she would do it by any means necessary.

[Monsy]

Kick in the ribs didn’t leave her with much speaking room. Just needed a minute or two to get herself back up to puffing. Right now she’s wheezing, mocked and grabbed by the hair. Her eyes are squeezed shut, except for one that peeks. “That’s me, alright.” Mumbled underneath her breath through a grunt. Both hands went up, grabbed hold of VIP’s wrist that clutched her hair whilst feeling the full VIP spray of venom.

“Oooh, I got one. What has blonde pigtails, dresses like a secretary and wears a pair of underwear for every boy at the party?--” Though with her head turned, she’s soon eating the rubber of VIP’s boot. It crunched her ear into a flaccid plethora of reddening folds, her cheek, grabbed by the rubber, pushed down her face. Her jaw and teeth ached, yelping like a little girl. “S-Son of a--”

She reached, trying to grab hold of that striking boot. If she got a clasp on that ankle, she’d turn on her hip, swing her leg out and try to sweep VIP’s balance.