Stancil 'Storm' Jordan vs. Luong Chun - He Who Hesitates

[BlackAkuma]

”Referee!” Lee called out from ringside, filling the arena with her shrill voice. ”This is clear cheating! Do something!”

As much as Luong appreciated her translator's boundless enthusiasm, she knew the complaints were based on nothing - her own careless mistake had led her here, nothing more. Storm was proving to be a slightly more canny foe than she had anticipated, cutting off her offense and anticipating her move. It would be a simple enough thing to rectify, provided she got out of this corner to do so. An easier thing said than done, given the pain she was going through.

Sagely, Storm was already moving in, looking to continue the onslaught. She stood and faced him as he neared, gripping the ropes tight, and she put her escape plan into motion as her lunged her way. Gripping the ropes tight, she pulled her way up and shot her legs out towards his chest, striking with both feet, using her superior reach to cut off his knee before it could connect. ”물러나 다!”

[Crossedes]

The temptation to say something to Miss Translater hit him as he closed in on her superior. Storm had never fully understood the whole management bit - he just felt more distracted when someone barked observations and orders at him. He supposed the struggle might have come from so many coaches who would as soon be heard as provide something of value. But, whatever, the other woman didn't matter. Unless she came into the ring and risked getting caught in the crossfire, she could yell whatever nonsense she wished.

He expected her to try right or left. He hadn't expected her to go vertical. Seeing her lift, he tried to pull his knee up short and do something to defend himself, but it wouldn't happen. Legs with the strength of Luong's could do plenty of work even in such a small space, and Storm's rush turned into a forced retreat as the kick nearly made him double back and fall. Ultimately, he staggered and stumbled back, only catching on his palm to keep himself from falling over entirely.

His narrowed eyes shot back over her figure. Okay, alright, fine. She had held him at bay - but he wouldn't let her out of that corner. And come to think of it... maybe she had the right of things. He gauged the distance between them and figured that risks had become a moot point. His safe strategy hadn't accomplished more than one lucky catch so far. Storm exploded from his stagger-crouch, hating that the one she had sniped still ached, and took two steps, one long and one short, before leaving his feet. He tilted his body, tucked his knees, and then those legs shot out from him again as he looked to dropkick her up against the turnbuckle.

[BlackAkuma]

Luong needed to get out of this corner.

It was here that her lack of experience in the wrestling ring showed the most. She was used to fighting on the mats, where you had free range to maneuver, with no angles to trap you in. Here, in this ring, there were four traps she had to avoid at all times and to make matters worse, she could tell that Storm knew this. He was too eager to move in for the kill, seeing this as his only chance to take victory.

She had hoped her feet in his chest would dissuade him and give her some room to breathe. It succeeded in the latter but not in the former.

Luong had only taken a few steps out of the corner when he struck, moving in with a decisive step to close the distance. She scarcely had time to get her arms up in defense, a move that took away some of the damage but not nearly enough. It still had enough impact to send her flying back into the turnbuckle, this time hitting with an impact that left her bones aching.

Sensing a need to retreat, Luong grabbed the ropes and pulled her way out onto the floor, stumbling away to catch her composure, hopefully before Storm could press his advantage.

[Crossedes]

Bang. Winning a thirty-minute ironman match could have scarcely given him more satisfaction than finally getting a clean, quality hit on Luong. It wasn't as clean or quality as he would have hoped since she had wisely protected herself, but as he fell to the canvas, he saw her ping off the turnbuckle in a way her lithe, agile frame probably did not appreciate. His landing couldn't be called pleasant since she had hit him in six different spots already, and each spot cried for mercy from the jostling. Didn't matter. He had her on the ropes - literally.

Or not. She ducked out. "Damn. She is running," he muttered to himself. Having never liked leaving the confines of the ring since his style relied on positioning and direct application of force, he didn't want to follow her out, but he didn't exactly have a choice and was too his feet before he even thought through his next plan of attack. Some wrestlers did suicide dives or jumped from the turnbuckle to the outside, but he wouldn't be going that far just to keep up the pressure. Instead, he cleanly slid underneath the ropes, marching her way in hot pursuit and forcing the ref into a fresh count before she had even started the one for Luong.

One step at a time. He grasped for an arm once he caught up, trying to spin her back toward him... without a foot flying precariously through the air this time, thank God. He wouldn't try to get cute with the match just because of a thirty-second run of successes. Sticking to his roots, he kept hold of the arm and yanked it back toward her chin, pulled it tight, and wound his other arm beneath hers until he could apply pressure to the neck - a cobra clutch pretty enough for a painting. He finished it off by jabbing a foot toward the back of her knee, hoping to take those long legs away from her long enough to muscle her back into the ring.

[BlackAkuma]

”You are doing excellent, my lady! Ignore the crowd.”

”I know, Lee.”

”It was only a momentary lapse, you can recover with no trouble.”

”I know.

Luong took a much-needed sabbatical outside the ring, catching her breath as Lee wildly fanned her with some papers she’d stolen off the announce desk. Though her servant could be overly enthusiastic at times, she appreciated it in this instance - she did need the moment to lick her wounds. She would be fine in a moment, she was sure, she only needed to-

”Look out!”

At the last second, Luong only realized the danger as Storm swooped, grabbed her by the arm, and pulled her into some strange sort of hold, choking her while she held her arm captive. A stream of Korean curses flew from both her and Lee’s mouth as she was hauled back, and she cried out when the back of her leg was struck - a deliberate attack to cripple her.

She was flung back into the ring and rolled her way to the middle, where she tried to push her way back up as fast as she could. It was slower than she would’ve liked, however - his kick to her leg had done some damage.

[Crossedes]

Storm didn't know of many wrestlers who pulled out the cobra clutch anymore. Most considered it antiquated, overly complicated, pointless when an armbar or similarly simple hold would have similar effects. Storm enjoyed it for the same reason. At this point, how many people knew how to properly counter the hold? Certianly not a taekwondo practitioner, he bet. That he could still maneuver her in the hold benefitted him, too, and he kept it yanked tight until he had gripped and grunted and shoved her back toward the ring apron. He had bet right, and after all the trouble she had put him through, he couldn't resist even a droll, if bland, comment. "Gonna have to cut... conference time short." She wisely finished the job herself, with Storm close on her heels.

Always planning ahead, Storm didn't hesitate as he shuffled back up to his own feet behind her. All that speed, agility - he made another bet with his fates, this time that a hold more devastating than the clutch would do wonders for wearing her down or forcing her to tap altogether. And he knew exactly what he should target. Expertly, he dove into the space she left as she worked to stand, throwing out his arms to catch one leg and keep a frantic hold on it as he continued moving to get behind her.

He could target the head, arms, body. All might have been weaker than the leg he had kicked, but if she squirted free, he knew one good kick to the skull could end him. His back and knee both still hurt, and he needed those long - and admittedly lovely - gams weakened. So he yanked at the leg until he could nearly fall on his butt and secure it between his own legs, in search of the STF.

[BlackAkuma]

Luong face grew red as she tried to rise, growing increasingly unable to hide her frustration. How dare this boar of a man handle her like this? It wasn’t enough that he put his grimy, uncleansed hands on her, but he had the nerve to hurl her around like some common ruffian. It was an appalling amount of gall, and she would make him suffer for the indignity of blemishing her debut - whatever humiliation she suffered during the match, she would revisit him twofold after she claimed victory.

But that moment would not be coming soon, at least not as soon as she would’ve liked, a sad fact she learned as her leg was snared and her efforts to retreat were brought to a halt. She squirmed as her leg was caught between his, and his oafish arms trapped her head, pulling it back and completing a fiendish STF.

The strategy spoke for itself - he sought to weaken her best weapons and would do just that if she didn’t move to stop him. Like this, her options were limited, with her most straightforward one being simply dragging herself to the ropes. But that would be difficult with such a great weight on her back. Time-consuming. Energy-consuming. Most importantly, she hated dragging herself along the mat like a snail.

But there was a more direct approach. ”심판의 주의를 분산시키다!”

Lee immediately nodded, ran to the opposite side of the ring, hopped up on the apron, and started to call towards the referee. ”Referee! Referee! I refuse to sit idly by and suffer your biased officiating! Look at me when I speak!”

It would only draw the referee’s attention for a couple of seconds, but that was all the time Luong needed to reach up behind her, find Storm’s face, and rake her fingers across his face, trying to catch him in the eye with her nails.

[Crossedes]

Leg, secure. He probably shouldn't have admitted to how he enjoyed seeing it bent between his own. Once he had her that secure, the rest of the task gave him less of a challenge. He stretched forward, put some weight on her back to keep her from wriggling, and after some fumbling around at her neck, tracked down her chin. Like a practiced veteran, he pulled back, leaving her bent in the hold. It all seemed foolproof. She might reach the ropes, but she would have to spend time, spend energy, and all the while, he would have both her neck and her leg in his snare, wearing her down. As he peered at her long locks of hair, he thought he might have her. Considering the audacity it had taken for her to make her pre-match demands, he considered her circumstances deserved.

He forgot one thing, though. Just because his role in the hold made it foolproof didn't mean no fools were involved. What he hoped was Luong blabbering that she submitted turned out to be something else entirely - he could hear the translator chirping nearby. "Jesus." He suspected her to be trying something untoward, and he glanced to see the ref taking the bait. Few things he hated more than someone trying to discredit a legitimate match, and he called out. "Hey, match is over-"

Storm had been scratched before. He had been scratched in places no man wanted to be scratched. But he had never had a set of sharp, manicured nails drag across his features with such ferocity before. He yelped before one of them - her middle finger, maybe - came close enough to his eyeball that it sent a shrill, ear-ringing pain through his entire head. The Highlander obeyed his reflexes to abandon the face lock and rip her hand off of his face, and though he thought he could take the throbbing, he rocked onto his side with a hand clapped over the eye like he thought he needed to keep it held in his skull.

[BlackAkuma]

The crowd was already booing her antics, hurling insults in their brutish language, calling her all kinds of names - coward, cheater, several epithets that she would not even deign to repeat. It was all so much noise. She and many of her countrymen had low opinions of the Japanese, anyway, still sour feelings from before the Second World War, and she was starting to see where they stemmed from firsthand. They were an ignorant lot, concerned with such vague notions of honor.

Were her actions beyond the bounds of the rules? Yes. But a true martial artist used all the tools at her disposal most effectively. Lee was such a tool, and she worked to splendid effect.

Her scratch had the desired effect, forcing him to abandon his hold and flop away. Luong would have liked little more than to take this moment and recover, with her back and leg still aching, but she knew that would be a foolish notion - whatever damage she had done with her scratch, it would be superficial, at best. She needed to make the most of the window she had created, or it would shut, possibly never to open again.

She rolled after his, swung around, grabbed him by the head, and pulled him back in between her legs. Her ankles clasped together, and she powered down for a forward headscissors - one that wasn’t near as powerful as it could’ve been, thanks to her aching legs. Still, even half of her power would be enough to cause him considerable pain and harrass him, which was all she wanted now.

[Crossedes]

Storm could see through his good eye that the ref suddenly looked over him with all sorts of concern. Great. Griping wouldn't matter an ounce - he knew that if the ref in charge hadn't seen a backhanded move, it had never existed according to the rule books. He hated that. Few things upset him more than watching a cheater succeed, whether he was involved in the match or not. Having his own eye and chances suffering left him sending a frustrated roar toward the blinding arena lights. The only positive was that the crowd had not been as blind as the ref... and fans remembered these slights longer than most.

But that was little more than a moral comfort. He checked his hand, only finding a speck of blood that had probably come from his tear duct. No wonder the initial pain had rocked his entire skull. It still hurt like hell, but knowing no one in the ring would offer him any sort of pity, he started to push himself up. But he had only half-vision, the scuffed eye producing enough water to quench thirst, and while he could see her shifting toward him, he couldn't evade quickly enough nor judge where he should aim to knock her back.

She had his head. He tried to push away, but she had enough of a grip to yank him close. He didn't need two functioning eyes to watch her legs flying up, and she didn't need to be a mind-reader to see the concern on his face as her thighs closed around his head that doubled when she squeezed down. His hands immediately came up to paw at her thighs, but Storm knew better than to believe he would get out that way. She had him trapped, and as he could feel the muscles mounting in each thigh and pressing his head, he knew he had another predicament - his position was too intimate and his view of her outstretched body too close for him to avoid anything stirring.

He stifled it. "Cheater," he grunted, trying to get up onto his knees so he could force her legs up and relieve the pressure.