POW Apex Qualifier - Huan Lei Brightspring vs Angelina Tarrant

[Monsy]

Positively delicious. You hear that fuckin’ thud and it’s the biggest thrill thus far. Progress. Better yet, when Angelina stood over them, holding the hair, she saw blood. Purest fuckin’ crimson. THAT’S what this little thief can do. She wanted to say it, and screamed it on the inside. But not yet. Instead, she pulled on Huan’s hair to make her look up, putting in two hands. Angelina leaned further to meet Huan’s eyes, grinning like a cat. “Few more of those and ya will be mine, Huan. I have so many fuckin’ plans for ya, and it starts with a pink collah.”

After that, Angelina just let her go. This was a good start. But she needed this inside the ring. Make her words count. And waiting around for the ten count wasn’t ideal. But if Huan lost due to that… Heh. It would be the best thing this month. And that was all the convincing she needed to slip underneath the bottom rope, stand up and raise her arms to the crowd in a shrug. They booed all the while.

[ThatPolishDude]

Huan groaned as she was being held, just a second more and her opponent would get a taste of the meanest headbutt of her life but she let her go and slipped away. The nerve of that girl was infuriating to no end, first, she gets her ass beat, then cheats and starts talking big after just one solid move. No matter, that could be set straight, it just so happens it could involve some parts of the redhead bending in directions they certainly should not.

Getting to all fours and coughing, Huan would hear the count, wave at the ref as if to signal she was coming, not that it changed anything and then, plant her hand on the top of the apron, then another, pull to stand up. Her face was covered with blood, hair sticking to her skin as she wiped away the crimson and shook it off her hand only to be replaced by a new layer of gore which seemingly did not seem to bother her as she climbed the apron and got back inside the ring. She simply mad a come at me gesture to the little thief as she carefully watched her

[Monsy]

One moment, you’re the Marauder-In-Chief. Boots laced up, blood on your face, bruises on your belly. She looked sweaty. The kind of layer that gives her a certain sparkle. Clothes stick to her skin, and she’s more like the damp cloth than her clothes. Her hair is combed back. She leans on the opposite ropes, arms crossed over the top. Then the crowd murmurs. At first she’s lax, tired, sore, resting her chin on her forearms, tapping the ground with her boots’ toes. She mouthed the count, counted her bruises. Then it stopped.

Her brows furrowed.
She put a knuckle to her ear, wiggled it around and then cupped it. “Yo, ya playin’ paddy-cake over theeeeeerrrreeee---”

She looked over-shoulder.
Huan was there. Eye like the barrel of a gun, fists as knife tips. At first her teeth sunk into her cheeks. She peered down, sheepishly. “Aahhh…. Hah… Hah. This i-is a joke, right?” Angelina’s smile became wide, then dropped. Wide, then dropped. Smaller, then smaller, and her face colour bled and bled -- until she’s the white horsemen staring at death. “Ehe…h-hehe…”

Those muscles looked larger than before. Woman of steel, one-eyed, legs bigger than the Gustav, and she didn’t need anyone to fire off. She’s pure fucking artillery. Her lower lip started to shrivel and shake. You stumbled into fighting someone twice your size, and ten times the professional bouts. What now, Angie? Thought a flicker of someone deep inside.

She can only laugh, quietly, as her own choker suffocated her, with images flashing and her stealing heart tripping over a laser wire, sounding the alarm to slowly hyperventilate. Angelina reached the centre of the ring, appeared tired, dragging her limbs like sandbags. Her eyes unfocused and glassy. They started leaking. Two streams per eye on the corners, down over the small cheekbone and around the crease of her nose. Her teeth crammed into one set, and she took another step. Then collapsed.

All fours, head down, slinking back onto her knees where she hunched over, put her hands to pray to her new God and gave the eyes of an injured puppy, big, purple and cat-like, bloodied, sweaty, and clearly struggling to find her breath and her smile. “I---” Angelina choked, whimpering “--- I.. p-please. Not anotha r-round. I-I can h-hardly feel m-my gut…”

[ThatPolishDude]

Seeing all that bravado melt and fall to the floor was oddly satisfying. just seconds ago, she was all heat and bluster, now a squirming, grovelling mess begging not to get another beating. It was pitiful really, and maybe, just maybe, enough for the girl to actually figure out they were far beyond it being good for her health. And so Huan looked to the referee, who, keeping a safe distance did not do a thing.

"You want it to be over?" She asked slowly, coldly, then leaned down to grab Angie's chin and lift her up before turning her to the referee. "Just got to give up. And that's the last chance I'm gonna give you." Huan spoke, bot a threat and a promise, she hoped that Angie would stay down before but no her patience was running thin and truthfully, some part of her wanted the Marauder to pull some trick now, just give her a reason...

[Monsy]

Not that she lied. Her abdomen was frozen grapes.
Didn’t need to force anything about the breathing either. Just let the pain be noticed, and all becomes unglued like the planks that make the vessel. She continues to heave, and hell, lets her weight rest somewhat when she’s grabbed by the chin, and directed. The shame upon the proposition made her face burn bright red.

“Q—Quit?” She asked, having stuttered six times before the word squeaked. Fingertaps padded the canvas and she looked to step down, once, pile her hands on that knee and slowly stand. She had a massive slouch, arm across her stomach. Peering at the official, then to the ramp and finally at Huan. She gulped. “C—Can I just leave? Y-Ya get the victory. A-And I-I get e-everything else. K? K.”

And she started to move towards the ropes in a slow pace that dragged her feet. Sandbag legs, with feet of wet cement.

[ThatPolishDude]

At this point, blood on Huan's face began to cese up, changing the vibrant red flow dripping on the mat to a thin layer of congealed gore. It cracked a little as she squinted at Alnelina's words. Angelina wanted a POW, she stole Huan's property for it and she was yet to pay up.

She would grab the Marauder's shoulder, rigging her fingers into her skin before pushing a foot to the back of her knee to force her down again. "You don't get to do all you did and just leave, girl." She said looming over her foe. "Time to pay your dues."

[Monsy]

Fingers bite her slender shoulder, push her down. She’s down to one, then rests on two. It's a full-body shiver. Trembling that can be seen. Hair had fallen to curtain her eyes for the most part. She panted, faster and faster. The bruises, cuts and blood hurt more, as if someone squeezed them. “O-Owwwie…” All kinds of fucked. Popsy stick broke and brain freeze kinda fucked. Pay your dues.

She’s almost on all fours, slumped, a slick fingertip painting the canvas with sweat. “Y-Yeah.”

A shoulder dipped so her palm could press flat, and a knee slid underneath until the kneecap was parallel with the shoulder. Painful-dimples prodded like pitchforks into her face. Achey, strained, with eyes starting to wander, collect and then focus. She croaked a quiet defeated laugh, then breathed in deep… And when she let it out, she said, “Pass.”

Then blasted her foot back for Huan’s shin, just under the knee. If that worked, her shoulder would jerk, an added attempt to get free where the runner’s start was taken, and she exploded into a sprint. Faster and faster, until the knees hurt and the feet couldn’t keep up. To the corner, she went, at an angle, coming in where she jumped high to touch on the top turnbuckle pad, and soar with a big hurrah. Her face cast a fury, with clenched teeth and cat-eye crazed purple, scarlet hair and sharp horns. The foot whipped like her greatsword, aimed and fired at Huan’s chin. An Off the Wall -- Showtime KICK!

[ThatPolishDude]

She really couldn't blame anyone but herself, trying to end it without more violence, opening herself as she did, it really was a perfect moment to strike for the Marauder and she did just that. The first kick knocked her out of balance and Angelina was quick, darting out of her grip and towards the corner. There was no way Huan would be able to catch her before she got her and by the time she got her footing back entirely, her opponent was already executing her plan.

It was too late to dodge, trying would at best not do anything, at worst, make the coming kick even more devastating. but this attack did one thing in Huan's favour, opening up Angelina's body and elevating her so any blow to her would come with an added bite of the fall and so she would gather all her strength and throw a vicious right hook to the side of her belly, hoping to strike liver once more and then bounce the redhead off the mat in the process. Whether it succeded, she couldn't tell as before it all resolved, she felt a sharp pain through her pain and then... darkness.

[Monsy]

It happened a nanosecond ago. That’s how she registered being hit. Deep into her side, with something of a dark-red spot. Nerve-endings pulled out like loose wires, exposed, knotted, dunked in water then punched with the most conductive thing out there. The pain seared, and had her tearing in two, unable to breathe. She hit the canvas, having spun twice mid-air before smacking— a far leg flung and flattened like a wet towel, waist height while her second was straight down. Her body curled slightly towards her liver. Arms splayed like they got helicoptered. Her rib looked bruised—a fist crater. She gasped repeatedly—arched towards her shoulder blades.

“F—F—F….—uh….—…nn…—”

The eyes had slipped belly-up in a pool of leaking glass. Purple gone to whites as she started to drool with her head turning slightly to one side. She went flat. The referee counted the dual knockdown and so did the crowd.

“..ONE!
…TWO!
…THREE!
…….FOUR!
…..FIVE!”

[ThatPolishDude]

"Six!"

Huan would twitch, as if a jolt of electricity passed through her body, subtle but noticeable to a keen observer. Her fingers would curl, running on the mat before clenching into fists

"Seven!"

She rolled over groaning in pain as the image in her eyes began to clear but still not quite enough to stand up.

"Eight!"

She rose to all fours, gasping, one hand going up before crashing down onto the mat, nearly shaking the ring.

"Nine!"

Finally, she pushed up to her knee and with a shaky step, got back up to her feet, beating the count and looking down at her opponent.