Standard Match: Oscar Orelash vs Spectre — Princes and Ninjas

[Monsy]

There was no way in Ninja hell that Spectre could really fight this grip.

Though she can hear him hiss. The noises of a pain sensitive little prince, flinching from just the use of claws.

She’ll have to remember that. For now, though! Things were very bugged against her. She was tugged along and made to stumble. Her feet hurried to keep underneath. Then, just when it seemed like she might get somewhere, the grip on the back of her head and run was a hard fucking reality check.

She seemed like a stuffed animal in comparison. Suddenly, her legs whipped up behind her, face angled down sharply until.

SPLAT

“bugh!-”

Her mask, face and front pinged off the mat. Her legs came overhead like a Scorpion’s tail and flipped her over so she faced the lights with half her limbs straight and the other spread out. Her ninja-brain was inverted, giving her a scrambled sense of direction and control. When she commanded herself to sit up, all she managed was to arch her back and stick her belly into the air, and get her heels to scrape the mat.

Once. Twice.

“nngh…”

[MappleMan7]

Another pop came out from the crowd as Oscar landed the running bulldog on Spectre- the Barbarian Prince rolling away as his opponent could only arch her back and drag her heels along the canvas. It was clear to Oscar that the move REALLY did a number on Spectre- more damage than he expected it to do if he had to be honest with himself. Perhaps it had something to do with the size difference? Or perhaps her mask wasn't padded for impacts? Questions for later- there was still a match going on!

As early as it was to try and put an end to things, it looked like Spectre was having some trouble getting back up after the bulldog. To just pick someone up and slamming them over and over could get repetitive- so Oscar figured he might as well show off a move he's been practicing as he ascended a set of ropes and did a back flip off of them. If all went well, Spectre might find herself getting squashed by a moonsault from Oscar!!

[Monsy]

Spectre’s systems were uncalibrated and beginning its reboot process when Oscar went for the ropes. The crowd clapped to a hastening rhythm as he did. It cast a shadow back on the confused Cyberninja, who’s latex tummy was still arched into the air.

Someone shouted… “Get her, Oscar!” A female fan shouted, standing between two pairs of fans holding Oscar signs. Black-hair, brown eyes. Big white smile. Hands held together over her chest. Full of admiration. As no one has seen The Malevolent Virus under this situation. Not this fast or early. Hell. Not at all. It filled the crowd with an appetite and sense of reverence. A smile and hope.

The type of feeling that gave Spectre a sense of disgust, finally focusing to see the shadow bearing down on her. She gasped. Eyes gone wide.

In what could only be equated to a hammer on sugar glass, her tummy was squashed into a paste by Barbarian muscle. Her spine was crushed until she felt each and every disk. Her thin dainty legs snapped up and convulsed as if electrocuted before falling back down into a spread, and added a small jiggle on landing.

“KAAAAAAoooughhhhh…!!” Her girly shriek was so high-pitch, not even her voice modulator corrected it. Her lungs emptied like a balloon pop, rendering her scream raspy and short-lived. Her health bar, if she had one, was shattered into a liquid that flooded her lungs that kept her unable to catch her breath.

Every nerve in her torso attacked with pins and needles. More like knives and daggers. Her body felt hot. Her belly was sizzling and quivered. She started to sweat with the strain of half a marathon. And while no one knew it, the moonsault shot a mouthful of spittle all over the inside of her mask, wetting her lower face as it was twisted into a slack-jawed canvas of writhing agony.

Her eyes were wide for the whole time. Then after a second post-impact, when she could feel a pulse grow in her throat, she felt a sleepiness that coaxed her hands to open and lay gently, face-up. Eyelids slipped low into little slits, tears at the corner from the pain. And ultimately, she found it hard to move much beyond her uncontrollable chest, which was rapidly rising and falling.

Her whole body involuntarily convulsed on her exhales. Short breaths. Head turned to touch the canvas with her red cheek. "...a---.... agh...ah."

[MappleMan7]

Oscar's moonsault would connect against Spectre- causing the entire ring to shake from the devastating impact! Oscar bounced off of his opponent and looked back at Spectre as she (along with everyone in the ring and possibly people across the street) let out a high pitched squeal that definitely didn't match the whole edgy cyberpunk theme she had going on. Once again, Spectre was out here having the worst reaction to tsking a hit Oscar had ever seen. At this point, it felt like bullying to continue with the matchvafter that- so Oscar went ahead and slid his body across Spectre and hook her quivering leg into the air for a classic pinfall attempt. The ref would slide in and start counting with the crowd counting along!

"ONE..!"

[Monsy]

Having over two hundred pounds lay on top of her was painful. Like she was a blob of stress ball being squished into a new shape, with his body acting the squeezing fist. As for his actual hand, that was hooking her leg, which picked up as if it weighed nothing. Her calf folded over the top of his knuckles until the thigh was perpendicular with her main body. Past that, with her knee nearly touching her belly and back of her thigh face-up, the bottom of her black boot pointed to the ceiling. The black side of her lopsided skirt rolled up the thigh in a flop to unveil the high-cut black latex leotard underneath.

She hardly kicked at all. Her captured leg simmered in his grip.

“TWO!...”

With the crowd at the edge of their seats for a delicious squash, Spectre made a distressed whine from trying to force her body to act. Her back attempted to arch. Her spine pinched, and nothing happened. Her fists tried to tighten. Flickered, then opened again. Her eyes scrunched until the lids were a bundle of folds and…

“TWO! JUST TWO.” The referee stopped the count to point.

Spectre’s leg was on the rope, causing disappointed groan to stir amongst the crowd.. As out of breath may be underneath him. Pancaked. And now starting to become sweaty.

Unbeaten was still true.

[MappleMan7]

Oscar blinked as the ref called for only a two count on the pin attempt, looking around and soon spotting Spectre's foot secured on his rope. The Barbarian Prince tilted his head a bit as he processed what happened- not really conveying any emotion on his face as he respected the rope break and got off of Spectre. As Oscar did this, he would take hold of his opponent's arms and start hauling her to her feet. It was clear that Spectre still had some fight left in her and as much as Oscar rather not put any more hurt on someone than he had to- this was a wrestling match. The big fella was going to have to stuff those concerns away for now and do what he loved the most: put a show on for the crowd!

Assuming there were no hicups while peeling his opponent off the canvas, Oscar would attempt to get Spectre to her feet and Irish whip her over to the furthest turnbuckle from where they were standing as he prepared to follow up on his masked opponent!

[Monsy]

Mmghh.

Spectre had to reboot her systems bit by bit. Get her jaw closed. Get herself breathing. Get her pain under control. Ignore it, if she can. And stop wincing. Make a fist. Lift her knee to start the recovery process. And re-calibrate her bearings from the sensory overload of Oscar’s moonsault.

Oscar wasn’t about to let her stand on her own. Her shoulders came off first. It was like she was a sticky worm on the ground; so very flexible that she almost seemed spineless. And at the moment where her feet could touch and Oscar was still hunched over, she took her black painted nails, all ten, and clawed into his hairline. Then raked it down.

If she managed to stun him for just a second, she would follow this up with a kick to the inside of his knee!

[MappleMan7]

Oscar let out a sharp yelp as Spectre struck back for the first time in the match since it started- raking her pointy nails directly down the top of his head before a solid kick connected with the inside of his knee. Oscar's hands rose to cover his head on instinct and his leg wobbled a little but it didn't seem quiet enough to take him down- only getting him to make sure his scalp wasn't cut in the rake attack. Once Oscar was sure that there was no blood drawn, he would take an arm and attempt to swat at his masked opponent with a backhanded swing- just trying to get Spectre to back away from him and give him some breathing room. Of course, if he would up smacking Spectre in the face as well then that would just be an added bonus!

[Monsy]

Now this was more her element. The momentum slipped into her hands and, like most battles, she knew how to apply pressure. When he swung for her, backhand style, she used two hands to catch it. With both applied, she weaved underneath and applied an arm wringer so his elbow and palm faced the ceiling. She positioned herself on his flank, facing where he pointed. Then with both hands on his singular, she targeted his fingers, index and ring, and slowly bent them back towards his body. And to add onto it, she attempted to step on the back of his knee, leaning against him in a clear attempt to do one thing:

Make him lay on his belly.

[MappleMan7]

Oscar made another sharp yelp as Spectre twisted his arm behind his back- pointing his elbow and hand toward the stadium ceiling in a very awkward position and even went as far as to bend his fingers backward to boot. With Spectre planting her foot on the back of his knee, Oscar was forced to take said knee to the canvas- but was being stubborn about being forced to the ground. Despite the pain, Oscar simply grit his teeth and squirmed in Spectre's grip- trying to resist and make things awkward for his opponent regarding her grip on him. Adding onto that, Oscar tried to flex his fingers against Spectre's hand- trying to push back against the force with his raw strength with the possible hope that he could reverse the situation and crush Spectre's hand in his iron grip!