Alicia Soto vs. Angela Belti - Lost In Hollywood

[BlackAkuma]

This couldn't be real. Alicia hadn't kicked out of her finisher. This was a fluke, it had to be.

Granted, it wouldn’t be the first time someone escaped the Last Dance, but Angela could count all the people who’d pulled it off on one hand, and they’d all had a few things in common. They’d been people more or just as experienced as her, ones just as strong if not stronger, and most of the time it happened around the halfway point. Inferno, half of them had been bigger men. Alicia pulling this off, after such a grueling match…it wasn’t real. An aberration.

That was why she went for a second pinfall after the second one failed, despite that not working even once in the entire history of wrestling. And, sure enough, Alicia kicked out, with her own brand of defiance on top of it. Angela sat there, stone-faced and silent, as the crowd roared around them, the significance of the moment not lost on them.

Angela pushed Alicia away, almost in reflex, and took a moment to bring her legs up and think. Contemplating, breathing, focusing. This was a big setback, yes, but it wasn’t insurmountable. Alicia was tough, but she wasn’t invincible. If she hit this woman enough, hit her hard enough, she would go down, no question. It was just a matter of upping the ante.

It was time for the nuclear option. But first, she needed to make sure her opponent would be compliant.

Angela wiped her mouth of, crawled over to Alicia’s downed form and proceeded to straddle her waist. Without any warning, she reached out, gripped her hair tight, and proceeded to threw hard elbows straight into the Hollywood Siren’s face. Brutal, clubbing blows, far from the finesse and style she preferred. Not because she was angry or out of vengence, but because they were just about all she had the energy for at this point.

Well, this and one other move. But she was saving for that.

[HotWheels]

The Latina rested once more on her side, almost exactly mirroring her first escape from the pin. Her chest heaved; she barely moved more than she had before. An acute observer, however, could see the slightly better signs as the seconds ticked onward. And Siren could feel it; there was something left in her. Her body slowly settled, relaxed. Her eyes stayed open, though she squinted them shut again when a particularly bad pang hit her again. For all of her pain, she could still tell everything could function. Didn't make her want to fuckin' move any faster, but she could see a chance, grasp at it with a white-knuckle grip.

With the way she hurt again when Mama shoved her aside, onto her stomach at first, made that chance feel a little less damn likely, but the Hollywood hottie was given seconds. She listened to the crowd's cries, listened to her body, ignoring the parts that screamed "give the fuck up, you lunatic." After a couple more seconds, the Siren had rolled herself over onto her back, and she thought she might even try to sit up. Willing herself to do so, she started with her elbows.

Mama crushed her back down. Siren gave her the dirtiest look as she sat down on her waist, though a sprinkle of minxy satisfaction crept in when she realized just how much she must have pissed the big fuckin' Italian off with her stubbornness. The look might have earned her what came next. Siren took one elbow flush against her cheekbone before she even had much of a chance to get her arms up to defend herself, and her arms weren't fast enough to block them all. Every single one rattled both her face and the worst parts of her back, and Siren almost slipped into an out-and-out trance, surviving the assault her only real option.

But again the fire within stirred, and the Hollywood hottie let loose with one more battle cry as she let one blow hit her squarely while she lashed out to smack her hand across Angela's face. The hit she ignored just about flattened her out, though, and she promptly curled back up and turned as best she could in an effort to completely cover her head.

[BlackAkuma]

Despite all their differences, Dizzy loved her mother. She was a kind, sweet, passionate woman, and if she were being 100% honest, she gave her far more shit than she should’ve had to deal with. She knew that her mother often lamented about her worth as a single parent, but Dizzy never felt she was lacking anything growing up without a father. Angela Belti covered all the angles.

But, that being said, her mother had a stern side, too. While she’d never laid a hand on her - not counting sparring - she had this intimidating way about her when she needed to lay down the law, and it didn’t just come from the height difference.When pushed in the right kind of wrong way, that kind, sweet, passionate woman could turn into an Italian wrecking machine, and judging by the no holds barred beatdown going on in the ring, Alicia just had the misfortune of turning that mode on.

Dizzy looked on as her mother brought a brutal beatdown on the Hollywood Siren, bashing her with hammering blows to the face. She did her best to defend herself, but more hits were slipping through than anything else, and they were taking a toll. One landed, then another, and another on top, and her mother was striking at will from there.

Alicia only managed a quick hit to the face as retaliation, and that hit earned her a solid strike back as retaliation, one that laid her out. Her mother dropped a couple more bombs for good measure, and then - and only then - did she finally let up, leaving the wrecked woman beneath her.

She stood up, breathing and sweating and looking like she could pass out at any second. After taking a second to collect herself, she took a deep breath and stepped over her opponent, making her way out through the ropes and onto the apron. From there, she went over to the corner, grabbed the top rope, and began to climb her way up, one unsteady step at a time.

[HotWheels]

Ow.

Siren's attempt to curl up did dull the last couple of elbow swings, but the damage was done. To go along with her meat-slab back and her meat-slab chest, the Hollywood hottie would be sporting plentiful bruises and cuts on her face for the next couple of weeks. The blows were nothing like the hit her back had taken off the drop or the kicks from before, but they pissed her off all the same. If she could have gotten an inch of space, she would have blasted Mama's face with every ounce of energy left in her body. Wasn't a lot, no, but her frustration would have made it that much fuckin' worse.

In time, the blows ended, and Alicia, with all the same splotchy redness covering her face as a boxer after a particularly long round, started to shoot up. She was left staring daggers at the Italian as she should. Of course she was fucking leaving so the Latina couldn't try to bash her back. Maybe that was for the best: after that initial surge with the hits subsiding, the pain truly set in. The big beauty had only made it so far as to raise her shoulders before she was wincing, hugging herself, and teetering onto her back again; fuck, it was almost better to avoid thinking about it by way of Mama's immediate threat.

Shit. She just needed...something. Some second boost of adrenaline. That was all that was keeping her going now, and she could feel it petering out as the seconds drew on. With a soft groan, she started to swipe both hands over her sore face, but Angela's stepping into her space again made her tense up. But the woman walked on past, leaving Siren to a few dangerously peaceful seconds to question whether she could pull herself together enough to get up.

When she peered over her head to see Angela climbing the turnbuckle, the half-Latin beauty had her answer. "Hell no you're not," she muttered to herself, and she let her disgust at seeing the Italian starting to rise be as good of a damn motivator as she needed. The Latina clinched her teeth, wishing she had something to bite down on rather than her own enamel, and willed herself first onto her side, then her stomach, then up onto her knees, and finally, all the way up in one painful, groaning swoop.

She felt like hell, but it didn't fucking matter. Getting hit by whatever Mama had planned and losing would feel a thousand times worse. By the time she rose, Mama had reached the top.

With stiff, jagged steps, Siren marched to the turnbuckle herself. After a hiss, knowing how her back was going to feel during this climb, she started up, only giving Mama a warning shot to the ribs once she had dragged herself up as far as the second rope.

[BlackAkuma]

Angela was going to do a Shooting Star Press.

It might not have seemed like a big deal, since everyone and their mother did crazier things in wrestling these days. For the Italian bruiser, though, it was a major decision - after all, this was the first time she’d gone up top in nine years. Even in her best years, she hadn't done it all that often, saving the high flying moves as a way to end big and do some heavy damage in a flashy way, but she’d sworn off them completely in her last visit to the doctor. He hadn't wanted her to stick with wrestling at all, but he’d been pretty clear that, if she was going to do it, she needed to stay away from the high-risk moves, only do things that put her opponent’s body in harm’s way.

Good advice for an aging woman, and she’d stuck with it. Until now.

Now, she was all about putting Alicia away in the most definite, destructive, death-defying manner possible, and she didn’t care if she shaved off some time on her career in the process. She was going to end this on her terms. That was the plan, at least, but reality seemed to disagree.

She had only just reached the top when she noticed why the audience was getting louder - her target had managed to make her way up, by some freakish miracle. Angela looked on from her perilous position as the Hollywood Siren marched over to join her, giving her a stiff shot in the ribs as a welcoming present.

Angela cried from the blow, in equal parts from pain and surprise, but she was only stunned for a second before the rage overrode it. ”Sei fuori...really?” She gritted her teeth and threw out a punch. ”Will you please just stay!” Another punch. ”The hell!” And a headbutt to cap it all off. ”Down!”

She threw her whole body behind that last one, making a sound that echoed throug the arena like colliding coconuts. It left her dazed, but she could only imagine it was worse for Alicia. That had to be it.

It had to be.

[HotWheels]

"Really!"

The Hollywood hottie's voice didn't have its usual punch as she bit back, and her punch didn't have its usual punch, either. Whatever the fuck she managed to do to stop Angela from pulling off some titan-on-the-top rope bullshit, it was going to be raw, ugly, and happen exactly once. Throwing one hand out, Siren sought to just shove Angela in the shoulder and hopefully send her careening, but of course, the woman was too damn sturdy for that. And the second the Latina's hand made contact with the Italian, she got a blow to the jaw that stopped her cold. Both hands went to the top rope to keep her from teetering.

But they only carried her through one more punch. Her face was too sore, at the point of feeling like the skin was barely hanging over the bone. The big Californian started to roar out in frustration since her every bodily instinct told her to stop cooperating and give in, but she took the skull-to-skull blow before the rasp could leave her throat. Her feet slipped, her hands couldn't hold her up, and the big beauty tumbled down onto her devastated back again. All she could do was lie there and breathe and agonize and again bring both hands to her face.

No, no. It wasn't all she could do. One more fucking time. She had to make the big bitch kill her, but it wouldn't be with her lying down. Siren brought her arms back down, propping them up by the elbows and forming a fist so tightly that her nails almost dug into her palms. Those fists pounded the mat, and once Siren had drawn her legs in, dealing with the pain in her lower back as she did so, she smacked her palms across her thighs.

She reached for the ropes, and in one painful effort, she yanked herself up to her feet by way of her arms and her arms alone with a growl in her throat. No crawling up. Just made it hurt worse. The crowd tore into cheering at the sudden rise, and Siren, with one goal, peered up to see Mama all but in position.

The haggard-looking, stubborn Siren threw herself the couple of feet back toward the turnbuckle, made a daring hop to the second rope, and swung at Mama's chin with a raw uppercut as soon as she had even the smallest idea that she wouldn't fall off.

[BlackAkuma]

All right, Angela was woman enough to admit it - headbutting Alicia was, in all likelihood, a bad idea.

She was certain it hurt the Hollywood Siren worse than her, yes, but that didn’t mean it was all good on her end. The blow sent shockwaves through her body, head to toe, and she was certain it actually knocked her out for half of a second. When she came back, she was only just able to grab the rope and keep herself upright, saving herself from a nasty, match-ending crash. Her vision was blurry, her mind was a mess but that was okay - she’d come out on top of the exchange, so any pain she suffered would be well worth it. This hadn't gone to plan like she wanted, but she could salvage things. Maybe hit Alicia with a frankensteiner instead, really nail her into the mat and finish her from there, or-

Wait, why was the crowd cheering?

Angela’s thought train was promptly derailed, as she looked down and saw the impossible: Alicia, rising up, powering on despite all the hell she’d been put through. It was a superhuman act, one that left her gawking as she tried to process the sight before her. The Hollywood Siren wasn’t just surviving, she was rising, full of defiance and fire. She barely had time to process what was going on before she was given a receipt for her headbutt, taking a nasty uppercut right on the chin.

The worst blows to take were the ones you didn’t see coming, and Angela definitely didn’t expect this one. It took her wholly off guard, whipped her back and came close to knocking her off altogether. She stayed on her perch, but that was the only saving grace. She sat on the turnbuckle, stunned and wobbling, trying her best to shake off the mounting pain.

All the while, a sliver of fear slipped into the back of her mind. Something bad was coming.

[HotWheels]

Siren had her, and the...something, maybe that second dose of adrenaline, that coursed through her veins at that realization worked the same as having a needle jabbed into her arm. No, it was not an uppercut that would go into the record books; she didn't have it in her to make it more than solid and square. But Angela hadn't seen it coming. The way the big Italian wobbled and slumped told her that the blow had rocked her all the same, and Siren had what she needed to ignore her pains for a few. More. Seconds. She just needed this last chance. Just this.

With clenched teeth, the Hollywood hottie clambered her way that final step to join Angela on the top rope. Her legs wobbled, same as the ropes. She ignored every part of her brain telling her to worry about that. She ignored the parts telling her to watch out for a blow from Angela that never actually came her way, either. With short, choppy, intense breaths, the Siren steadied herself, trying to find a calm despite the manic screaming coming from around her. She didn't know if they were that invested in Siren herself pulling this off or had just enjoyed the match so much that they wanted to see a final act of carnage the same as the Romans at the Coliseum, but that didn't fuckin' matter, either. This time, Siren's motivation was all her own.

There was really only one answer. The big Latina leaned over beside Angela as they lingered atop the rope face-to-face, then side-to-side. One arm cinched around Angela's lower back and hugged her close. The other wrapped around the thigh of the closest leg, and with a groan and grunt and strain, she got Angela's ass of the turnbuckle just high enough for her to attempt what she had in mind.

She shared one brief look at the crowd before she roared, threw herself backward, and flipped Angela upside-down with what little strength she had left. Hollywood Overdose, off the top turnbuckle.

[BlackAkuma]

Dizzy had been holding her breath for the past ten or so seconds, and she was fairly sure that she wasn’t the only one. The audience had been whipped into a frenzy since the start of this match. They’d expected something good, seeing two big women duke it out for their amusement, but they hadn't imagined things would get this intense. While her understanding of Japanese was still on the weak side, she’d made out enough of the mumblings to get the general consensus of the people around her. They were all impressed, with some of them even questioning if this bout was for a title they hadn't heard of. You just didn’t see wrestlers go this wild on each other for nothing more than bragging rights.

If only they knew. Dizzy couldn't help but feel a little special.

Special, and unrestrained fear, as her two favorite women in the world battled it out on top of the turnbuckle, fighting with what little they had left like their lives depended on it. She’d nearly fallen off her seat when her mother delivered that headbutt, and she’d thought that would be it, but then Alicia came back with an insane fury. Where she got this energy from, Dizzy couldn't guess, but it was enough to stun La Donna Perfetta for a precious moment. This was it. This was her window. What would she do with it?

She got her answer soon enough, as Angela grabbed her mother around the waist, lifted her up and brought her crashing to the ground, hitting with a sound so cacophonous that it was enough to drown out the crowd, if only for an instant. Dizzy shrieked, an ear-shaking noise, as the woman who gave birth to her landed in the worst way and bounced away from the impact, looking like she’d just been hit with a shotgun. She rolled off and came to a stop at her side, an unmoving heap, utterly destroyed by the attack, more vulnerable than she had ever believed possible.

Dizzy’s hand covered her mouth - in part to conceal the shock on her face, in part to utter a silent prayer that this was it.

[HotWheels]

Siren barely processed the flight. It was brief, anyway, and her mind could do fuck-all but anticipate the landing. Angela hit first, like she was supposed to, but the Latina's ass and lower spine soon followed, and the Hollywood hottie promptly had to let the Italian free, forgoing her usual transition into a pin, because of the way her body and arms tensed up and spasmed at the landing. "Fuck. Fuck. Fucking hell...", she rattled, as a hand flew down to nurse the spot that had taken the brunt of the landing. Enough pain coursed through her to render her breathing a struggle.

But as she looked over at the Italian, she knew it was worth it. The woman lay, motionless, and the woman had tumbled over after the landing and release into the middle of the ring like some amused divine had seen this ridiculous match and deemed it worthy to finally end. To the Siren, the sight was a beautiful one. At the same time, her body took the sight as a cue that it could find some overdue rest, all the adrenaline that had pushed her to deliver the Overdose seemed to drain from each and every vein like someone had hooked her up to a machine. Siren rocked backward onto her elbows and nearly all the way to her back, feeling like she would pass out.

The crowd, however, pushed her. Willing a suitable end to the match, they rattled off like people gone mad, and fuck it, they were right. If she could do whatever the hell she had just done, she could crawl onto a half-dead body.

Siren slapped herself lightly against the side of the face before rolling onto her elbows and shoving herself over until she reached Angela's back, and she yanked the woman's arm. It took an unreasonable effort to even tug her over and onto her back, but seeing people rising to their feet like a wave made it a bit easier. Once she had her there, giving one stern look into the face of the woman who had doubted her, Siren went for the finish. There was no show, no carnalizing, no pageantry of any kind. She just threw her chest over Angela's, slapped one hand on the woman's shoulder, and listened to the ref falling into position.

"One!" the whole arena said in unison, and Siren's head bobbed with the sound of it.