Alicia Soto vs. Angela Belti - Lost In Hollywood

[BlackAkuma]

Dizzy winced when her mother hit Alicia ‘s face the first time, cringed when she hit the second time, and nearly cried out the third time. It wasn’t just that this was starting to feel more like a demolition derby than a match, it was that she’d never seen this level of out-and-out brutality in the ring, much less from the kind, nurturing, polite woman that raised her. Her gentle demeanor had washed, and now there was just this ravaging she-bear of a wrestler, intent on demolishing Alicia.

It was kind of cool, in a way. She just wished it didn’t have to come at the expense of her friend’s face. ”Geez, Mom…”

Angela definitely caught that look of rage on the Hollywood Siren’s face, and it didn’t make her any less inclined to smash her boot across the woman’s face - quite the opposite, in fact. She drove the third one hardest of all, and put some extra pep in her step when she came in for the final smash.

Facewash Combo, a fan favorite, if the reactions were anything to go by. It was rare, but Angela had won a couple of matches with it before. No harm in giving it a shot, now.

She reached down, grabbed Alicia by the ankle, and proceeded to drag her away from the ropes, getting her just out of arm’s reach. Angela dropped down to her knees and grabbed one leg, only to stop when a better idea occurred to her. A favor she had to repay.

She wasn’t a fan of this particular pin, but it was a special day against a special opponent - if ever there was a time to show off, it was now. She lifted both of Alicia’s legs up, folded her in half, and went for a textbook matchbook pin, posting up with her own legs to keep it tight. She wasn’t sure it would work, but she was sure that the message it was meant to send would be heard loud and clear, regardless.

The referee slid over and started the count, slapping the mat hard with each hit. ”1…!”

[HotWheels]

With what little good sense the Hollywood hottie still had outside of trying to cope with the searing face pain and throbbing head pain, she recognized her headband on the floor below. If she had to wonder how hard she had gotten kicked, that made it clearer. She barely had the wherewithal to squint her eyes shut against the pangs in her head, at that, but it did not matter much anyway when she felt a grip on her foot and just enough instinct kicked in for her to rouse and try to stop herself from being dragged.

Her hands, strong though they were, only slid along the canvas, however, and after several blinks, Siren realized she was in the middle of the ring. And getting folded over. Groaning from the pain that having her legs shoved over her caused in her ailing back, Siren closed her eyes again only to open them and find her own feet over her head. She groaned another complaint in response, but a token attempt at thrusting them back down revealed that it wasn't going to be so easy...and the figure of the Italian over the top of her.

And it was seeing the veteran lording over her that got the Latina's head back in the game instead of half-removed from her shoulders. The big bitch almost looked smug. Having almost missed the one, Siren was roaring and throwing her legs out at the two, wrenching her figure hard enough to at least send Mama stumbling and rolling onto her stomach to end the count.

There she paused, propping on her fists and shaking her head out, before she started to rise with a malicious stubbornness. "Touch my fuckin' face again...", she said under her breath, like an oath to herself.

[BlackAkuma]

”Excuse me, excuse me, excuse me-”

Dizzy rushed around the ringside area, slipping through some fans and pushing past others, as she made her way to the area where Alicia’s headband had fallen. A few fans were already reaching over the barricade, trying to take it, and she knew there was a good chance its owner would never see it again if that happened. While she was sure that the Siren had one or two to spare, she wasn’t about to let this one get away if she could help it. And she could.

She weaved her way through the masses and hopped over the barricade, where security was waiting to meet her. They ever started to move in on her, before she realized who she was and backed off. Being immediately recognizeable was one of the few benefits to being one of the only two Italians in at least a fifty mile radius.

With the headband in hand, Dizzy moved over to the timekeepers area, figuring that was the best place to sit for the rest of the match. Not that it would be going on for too much longer, from the looks of it.

Alicia was on the way up, recovering from those big hits, and looking all kinds of pissed. It was a sight that would’ve frozen most wrestlers - but then, most wrestlers didn’t have a good four inches on the Hollywood Siren. Her mom didn’t look all that impressed, and she proved it when she gave Alicia a quick elbow to the face, hauled her back up to standing on her feet, then grabbed her wrist and sent her off running to the corner with an Irish Whip.

Her mother took off running a moment later, charging to the same corner Alicia was going, and she was coming with something heavy. As soon as she was in range, she brought her leg up and shot her foot out, looking to land one more hellish boot on Alicia’s pretty face - the worst one yet, by the looks of it.

[HotWheels]

The Hollywood Siren had acted before, though it hadn't been much of anything but some of the bullshit low-level stuff that wanted a fresh, pretty face hanging around. But as she stood, her face that of a Bruce Banner soon to become his green friend, she was acting. Her head ached. It almost ached worse than the backache at this point. A more cautious woman, being a little smarter, might have been worried about it. Siren couldn't afford that sort of hesitant bullshit, however, and if she needed to have the parts of her reassembled in the morning, fuck it, let it happen. Gone was her attitude that a good showing would be a win. She wanted to win after all Mama had put her through...after all she had put herself through, too. Getting beaten to hell and losing didn't cut it anymore.

And the Siren didn't want Mama thinking she felt like falling short, either.

As her head whipped to Mama once she was halfway to her feet and rolling her shoulders, she was met with an elbow for her trouble. It rattled the same rattles that had already been jolted by the kicks, and she would have stayed at least on her knee if it were not for Mama's lifting her the rest of the way. Siren almost started to resist, but seeing the corner as she was yanked, she saved her strength and careened toward the turnbuckle, adding a bit of her own speed to get their faster. At least her legs still worked right.

She turned and crashed into it with her shoulder rather than the parts of her still hurting so badly, and there, she stared through her hair at the onrushing Italian giantess like a savage beast caught in a cage. Thank God the big bitch was slower.

She waited. Waited. Waited. With a sudden shift that hurt like hell, jolting her body, Siren took a guess that turned out to pay off when the woman leveled a boot at her head, and she managed to duck under all but a scuff across the part of her skull above the ear. In the same motion as she ducked back up, she spun around on one foot while lifting the other up high to give Mama a clear and defiant response by way of a roundhouse kick aimed at the side of her face.

[BlackAkuma]

It was a risk, a big risk, and Angela knew that the moment she went running. This was the sort of thing she cautioned Dizzy against, throwing it all on hail marys when safer, more fundamental moves would’ve done trick more reliably, but from where she sat, there just wasn’t much choice in the matter. Yes, she could’ve just followed up with some punches in the corner. Yes, she could’ve pulled Alicia into a DDT. Yes, she could’ve gotten her down on the mat and went for some kind of sleeperhold, wear the Hollywood Siren down to the bone.

But it wouldn’t have worked. Not with Alicia, not with someone this strong, determined, and outright stubborn. It was time to either go big or go home, and Angela opted for the former option.

She moved in fast - as fast as she could - raised her boot, prepared for the impact, and…

Missed. Merda.

Her foot sailed over the top turnbuckle pad and nearly hit the post, putting her at an awkward angle, one that she couldn't get out of nearly in time. Her leg had only just came off when a fierce kicked collided with the side of her face, an impact that echoed throughout the arena. It took all the windout of Angela’s sails in one fell swoop, and she wound up falling flat on her upper back, leaning against the corner, her legs above her head, nearly folded up. It wasn’t the most flattering position, but that was the least of her worries at the moment.

[HotWheels]

Pop.

Siren had seen some wrestlers smack themselves in the leg to make a kick sound even louder when they hit. With her wrapped foot smacking against the bare skin of Mama's cheek, jaw, and neck, no extra noise was needed as it rattled out into the arena. The slap to the thigh thing looked dumb as hell, anyway: any idiot could see a bitch doing that. While her legs, her most dangerous feature, had been finding trouble getting involved in the match to any real degree, the Hollywood hottie had caught all of this swing, with even her own thigh trembling after the degree of impact before she brought it back down. That one felt good.

Watching Mama collapse felt better. Siren gave her that long, daring stare as she folded up against the turnbuckle, and she couldn't resist a quick, fangless stomp on the older woman's thigh right below her ass, just to remind her who had knocked her down. But a girl could only have so much fun, and finishing this would be far more entertainment in the long run. After throwing Mama's folded legs down, the Latina went for the hair what she hoped would have to be the last time this match, using her grip and a shove of Mama's chest to make her stand up against the turnbuckle.

Once she had her there, she hopped up onto the middle ropes, leaving her hips in Mama's face. There was only a quick sweep over the crowd, earning their cheers as she acknowledged them with the same dirty look she had been giving the Italian for the last two minutes, before she looked down at the veteran and began. One punch from above. A second punch. A third punch. But that was not all she wanted; she needed to end this. Punches wouldn't cut it.

She had only pulled this off twice in training, so now seemed like the perfect time to fuck it up.

After a steadying breath, Siren bounced on the middle rope to give herself a little elevation. Then, she hopped, trying to get just enough forward momentum to throw her legs around Mama's head...with plans to flip backward and pull her down with the hurricanrana.

[BlackAkuma]

At this point, Angela couldn't say whether she was more annoyed or impressed with Alicia, but she was definitely both to some degree. Was this the hardest fight of her career? No, she’d been wrestling for far too long to just hand out that honor off the cuff. But she could say that she couldn't remember a more difficult standard match against anyone, and that wasn’t simply because getting kicked in the head affected her long term memory recall. Alicia had all the tools a wrestler could ask for - grit, determination, no shortage of skill, with the right amount of flair on top. It made aher a tough package to deal with.

But Angela would deal with it.

”Cagna!” She blurted out the curse at Alicia’s spiteful kick to her thigh, seething at the pain, but knowing that it wasn’t even close to the real threat, here. No, that would be coming next, as Alicia grabbed her hair - for what Angela swore would be the last time - and hauled her back to her feet. She threw a few punches to keep Angela rattled but those were only the appetizer to the main dish. Setting her up for something. Something big. Something impactful.

She could’ve guessed a thousand moves, but none of them would’ve involved the Hollywood Siren jumping off the middle rope like a cruiserweight, catching her around the neck with those thick legs and attempting to pull her over for a hurricanrana.

But that didn’t mean she wasn’t able to deal with it. Just as she was being pulled over, Angela slammed her foot down and braced herself, stopping all of Alicia’s momentum in an instant. She clutched her foe’s legs tight, jerked up, and pulled her back into the sitting position, keeping her aloft for one precarious moment.

With her perched up top, Angela took a second to gather her bearings, then gripped Alicia tight around by her hot pants. She lifted the Hollywood Siren up off her shoulder, hoisting her up as high as she could reached, then leaped forward and brought her crashing to the canvas all at once, kicking her legs out to ensure she hit the mat with all the force and momentum she could muster. It would for a thunderous resonating impact, one that would leave the entire stadium shaking, and for good reason - it was her finisher, after all.

The Last Dance. It was done.

The referee dropped down, started the count, and Angela waited for the inevitable. ”Good, but not good enough, bambina.”

”1…!”

[HotWheels]

Her plan could have gone freakishly wrong a million different ways, the Hollywood hottie knew, but as her thighs clamped beneath Angela's jawline and her body arced backward with just the right amount of momentum, it seemed like everything was going to go freakishly right. Better even than she might have bet on herself being able to hit this kind of shit. Her back still hurt, making her flip backward slower than usual, but she still had the right angle, the right torque, the attention of every single person in here who would have probably bet money that she couldn't have done this...and that she couldn't have beaten their perfect-ass Amazon of a champ from yesteryear.

Just as her hands might have touched the mat to make the follow through easier, her momentum stopped cold, and the backs of her hands flopped against the canvas. She felt Angela's hands and arms gripping at her thighs. With instinct taking hold and unknowingly doing her more harm than good, the Latina strained to pull herself back up to avoid landing on her head. Angela's pulling her made that far easier, even with the Siren's sore and tired spine. Only once the big Californian had gotten back up and had her bearings again did she realize that falling on her head would have been the better result. Fuck. Fuck. She had scouted this. Why the fuck had she forgotten?

Feeling Angela's grip tighten, the half-Latin beauty, with an admirable determination, started to swing down, but Angela lifted her first. Siren still fought with a quick kick of her legs as the crowd dwindled beneath her, but there was nothing to do. Without a sound, she just squinted her eyes shut. They always said not to tense in these situations. It was fucking hard.

When she hit the canvas, it was like her back tried to split open. The roar she did her absolute best to bottle in her throat, even though anyone in the second row could have still heard it, but she was not fooling anyone with the anguish that her face and body betrayed. She arched, or she would have, if there had been any room for her to do so without Angela's pin. Veins bulged. Hands clenched. It wasn't even that sort of pain that dulled by leaving her rattled. It chewed at her like a rabid dog.

But that couldn't just...do it, could it? She couldn't just jump into the fucking oversized, cocky, self-righteous bitch's arms and hand this to her.

Through the sirens of pain going off in her head, she could hear the one. The two and three sounded like they would come all too soon. But what felt like far too long passed before she heard the two, and Alicia spent the whole time talking herself into it. She didn't have to fucking get up. She just had to move one damned shoulder.

After another internal eternity, Alicia roared from the anticipated pain and threw out one arm to get the shoulder off the mat just before the referee's hand fell for three.

[BlackAkuma]

This was a good match. Maybe the best she’d had in a long while. Not to take anything away from her match with Alaina, but this had been a more brutal, grueling affair, taking on someone so raw, young, and talented. It did wonders for Angela, was strong proof that she had all the tools she needed to succeed in this modern age of wrestling, was exactly the sort of crucible she had needed.

More importantly than anything, it showed her what sort of woman this Alicia was. She had talked a good game back at the gym, clearly had some confidence to her, but Angela knew that the true test had to come in the ring. She wasn’t sure where her and Dizzy were as far as…extracurricular activities went, but there were many things about the Hollywood Siren that she wished would rub off on her daughter. Dizzy had found a good sparring partner.

Thoroughly satisfied, Angela breathed easy, glad that this had come to a good end.

Only it hadn't.

Angela jumped at Alicia’s roar, looked over, and yes - she’d managed to get her shoulder up. The Italian looked over for a moment, gobsmacked, as if her eyes were deceiving her. That had to be some kind of weird reflex. That couldn't have just happened. This had to be over, it had to be.

Her brow furrowed, teeth clenched, and she leaned forward once again to press Alicia’s shoulders to the mat and start the pinfall again. ”Stay down.” She spoke it like a warning, but a sliver of desperation found its way through.

[HotWheels]

Holy hell.

Her shoulder rose, but that was it. Alicia remained exactly where she was, on her hip and armpit, looking like a bitch in need of a nap. Fuck, as if she could have slept with the pain still reverberating through her back. It stung her pride to look so look so damned pathetic lying there like Angela had paralyzed her, but she took pleasure in one thing: Angela's pride would be plenty stung too for Alicia's daring to kick out of that pin. To risk more pain. To dare her, to force her, to hit her again, after even that.

She was shoved down again and groaned in complaint. Her eyes cracked open enough to see the Italian over the top of her, looking none too pleased. It was the furthest representation from what she actually felt, but the Siren smirked at her. The smirk didn't last, however. Her shoulders were already pinned to the mat again. Breaking free a second would fucking suck, every bit as much as the first. But she was completely resolved now to do it, if only to continue to chip away at that perfect armor.

She breathed, gathered. The breathing hurt, too. And as the one fell and Mama commanded her to stay down, the beauty didn't hesitate. "Fuck no," she said, through tired lips, and after the referee dropped for two, she cried out again, sending another jolt of pain through her back as she wrenched off in the other direction, needing to summon more strength to squirt out from beneath Mama this second time. But a little more of that strength, she was able to find.