'Thunder' Storm MacIntosh vs. Wendy Winston - The War Below

[BlackAkuma]

Wendy wanted a damn drink. She didn’t even care what it was, so long as it was heavy with alcohol. Both to calm her nerves and so she could get the taste of Storm’s ass off her tongue. Fuck.

That was the second time the bitch had knocked her out with a facesit, the second goddamn time in as many weeks, and she couldn't say for sure if she hated it worse than the first. At least, during the first time, it had been in relative privacy, not in front of millions of people worldwide. At least then, she hadn't had to look up and see the bitch lording over her. At least then she hadn't had to go on and fight her at full blast. That last one was a big deal, too - while her rage and adrenaline was helping her to fill in some of the gaps, the truth was that Wendy hadn't recovered 100% yet, and nothing less than 100% would do against Storm.

That woman came in like her namesake, slamming her hard into for the tie-up, their flesh slapping together, muscle and mass meeting in a muddled mess. Wendy was able to hold her own for about two second before her fatigue body gave in, giving up one step to her opponent, then another, then three and four and five in rapid succession, until she was backed all the way into the corner with her fulsome foe pressed against her.

Being cornered wasn’t the same as being defenseless, though, and if Storm thought it was, Wendy proved her wrong as she raised up and lashed out. Her arms and legs were occupied, but her head was still free, and she brought it crashing into the Scotswoman’s face with a vicious headbutt. She jerked back and threw another quick one right after, though that was about all her own head could take before it needed a break.

[hamish1024]

Storm’s thinking largely held true – as the big, muscular, bikini-clad beauties collided in a test of strength, the balance tipped toward the brunette. Wendy’s fatigue from getting a faceful of butt betrayed her, and the white-haired woman was quickly forced back in what would otherwise have been an even battle. Storm gave a grunt of satisfaction as their bodies bumped into the corner, with Wendy now trapped between her and the turnbuckle.

It wasn’t – couldn’t – going to be that easy, though. True enough, the bite of the Backstage Bully that Storm had been bracing for soon emerged, although the first Storm knew of the snap headbutt was the blunt pain in her nose, and eye-watering pain spreading across her face. Storm was tough, and no stranger to hits like this, but her attack stalled as she stood there, dumbly blinking in shock. Wide open for the second headbutt.

Storm really felt that one, and she groaned and staggered back a step. She instinctively brought the back of her hand up, dabbing at her bruised nose to check for blood. Thankfully dry. Shock and pain swirled round her synapses, but the Scot stood firm, and fixed her opponent with an angry snarl. The positional advantage was still hers.

With Wendy’s back to the turnbuckle, Storm tried to use the small gap that had opened between them, with a hefty side kick, blasting her bare foot at Wendy’s chest, hoping to soften up the Southerner as a prelude to a barrage of punches in the corner.

[BlackAkuma]

”Back the fuck off!”

As much as Wendy loathed to admit it, she had to give Storm credit for bringing the fight like this. While it wasn’t the first time she’d had trouble with an opponent, most of the time her problems stemmed from wrestlers who were either too fast for her to catch or too skilled for her to overpower. While she wasn’t the strongest woman in LAW by a longshot, she was still in the top 5%, and one of the best brawlers on the roster. When it came to straight up slugfests, there weren’t too many around who could give her as good as she dished it out.

But fuck, was Storm holding her own. This was probably as close as Wendy would ever get to fighting a clone of herself - someone just as strong, as viscous, as outright driven to demolish her as she was them. It made her respect the woman, even like her, which made her hate her even more.

Wendy shook her head after landing the second headbutt, doing her best to clear the fog, and locked eyes on her foe as she backed away. While she wasn’t fully recovered, she couldn't let the opportunity slip away. She pushed out of the corner, charged hard towards her foe, looking to tackle her to the canvas and take a top position

Instead, she wound up eating a foot to the chest, driving her right back into the corner and knocking the wind out of her. Storm was quick to close the gap, letting loose with a berserker’s barrage of blow, forcing Wnedy to raise her arms up in a feeble attempt at defense.

She needed to get out of the corner, now, before things went from bad to worse. ”I said…” She shoved Storm away, then lashed out with wild haymaker, through a sloppy, heavy punch at her foe’s face and putting all she had into the hellish blow. ”...back off!”

[hamish1024]

The headbutt rattled Storm but hadn’t de-railed her – after all, a Glasgow Kiss was a staple of scrapping in her native land – and the brunette had instinctively re-joined battle, nailing Wendy with a wicked kick, before firing several hard punches into the cornered girl’s body. Storm grit her teeth as she put real effort into the blows, knuckles smashing into Wendy’s chest, ribs, stomach, feeling the give in her target’s flesh as she flailed against the ring post. Pleasant reminders of last week’s ambush, where Wendy had helplessly suffered as the Brit’s punching bag.

Storm was playing with fire, though. She might have enjoyed pummelling Wendy, but that didn’t mean it was a strategically sound idea. The Backstage Bully was a first-class fistfighter, and Storm realised the consequence of going toe-to-toe with her as her face suddenly exploded in pain.

“Hnghff!!” Storm gasped as the hard, leaping punch struck her cheek, whipping her head sideways, as Wendy violently uncurled from her defensive posture. Storm half-turned and lost her balance, sent sprawling by the strong, spiteful blow. She rubbed her face and quickly pushed up onto one knee, grimacing. Wendy had emphatically forced her way out of the corner, meaning Storm had lost her advantage, and the staggering Scot tried to rally and get back to a fighting stance before she lost anything else.

[BlackAkuma]

Wendy’s blow was a wild, desperate move, born from necessity, the last gasp she had to escape from the corner before Storm pummeling her into oblivion. She was only just now starting to recover from getting knocked out, regaining enough strength to approach her full power, but she needed to create some space so she could do something with it. Space that Storm wasn’t letting her have - true to her name, she came like a hurricane, raining down blows and battering against the ropes, ruthless and reckless.

Thankfully, Wendy wasn’t too bad in this department herself. She only landed one blow, but one good blow was worth ten whiffed one, cracking her foe clean and sending her back a few steps. She sagged out of the corner and nearly dropped to her knees, but managed to stay up right with a quick grip on the ropes. Still in the fight, with a target in sigh.

”Heh.”

Wendy wasn’t the most agile fighter, but she could pull off a dropkick. Not a good one, could rarely get above hip height with it, especially at this range…but with Storm on her knees, that would be more than high enough.

She took a big step out of the corner, leaped up, and shot her both of her legs out as she flew, attempting to drive her heels directly into the Scotswoman’s face.

[hamish1024]

The haymaker had knocked Storm to her knees, where the Scotswoman stayed for a couple of seconds, shaking her head, trying to clear the cobwebs. A risky luxury, but one she thought she could afford; with Wendy slowed and staggering out of the corner, a brief break in the battle seemed possible.

Storm was wrong. The bile-fuelled Bully pulled a showy dropkick out of the bag, leaping and launching her feet into Storm’s face. She felt those hard, bare-footed heels smash into her features, a bruising blow on her already-sore face. The kneeling brunette was knocked awkwardly backwards, sprawling across the canvas with a thud. She lay still for a second before groggily rubbing her head. Her fall hadn’t been too horrific, and she was glad Wendy had forgone boots (taking the sting out of the dropkick), but Storm had still suffered two solid blows in succession now, and was somewhat glassy-eyed as she lay sprawling, trying to recover.

[BlackAkuma]

It wasn’t pretty - in fact, Wendy was reasonably sure it was one of the worst dropkicks ever executed in a wrestling ring - but that didn’t matter. It hit what it needed to, struck its target, and brought her crashing to the canvas all at once, with the wind sufficiently knocked out of her. It wasn’t much, but considering the way things were going, it was the momentum shift she needed.

Wendy scrambled to her feet, nearly falling back over in the process, and might’ve done so if she hadn't caught her back up against the ropes. Her first instinct was to move in and started bashing Storm’s face in, and while she would definitely get back to that in a moment, a quick glance at the corner gave her a different, wilder idea.

Doing something she didn’t normally do with the dropkick worked well for her. Maybe she should go two-for-two?

”Fuck it.” Wendy stepped through the ropes and onto the apron, then hurriedly made her way up the turnbuckle, nearly falling off as she ascended. The moment she was up top, she took aim, then launched herself into the air, kicked her legs and arms out, and attempted to come crashing down on her fellow heavyweight with a Frog Splash.

[hamish1024]

Storm and Wendy were skilled wrestlers, but if you’d just tuned in, you wouldn’t know it – both heavyweights were getting slow and sloppy, deep into their grudge match now, punch- and butt-drunk, mutual hatred keeping them going. With Storm walking straight into the latest wild, heavy dropkick, though, she seemed to be on the defensive. The sweaty Scot was stuck on her back, barely moving, as the Bully made her own groggy way up the turnbuckle.

Storm wasn’t out entirely, though. Tired and aching, she’d braced herself for a renewed assault, but sensed trouble at the ominous break in the action. She forced her leaden eyelids open, and glanced around to confirm her suspicions. A diligent student of her sport, Storm had done her research in the run-up to this match, and was fully aware that Wendy had an extravagant streak, the Bully often toying with her prey through aerial attacks, favouring high-risk high-reward, over sheer ruthlessness.

True enough, despite her unsteadiness, the white-haired wrestler was clambering up the ropes and shaping for a splash. Arrogant, Storm thought, but also extremely fucking deadly, if Wendy hit her with her full weight. The brunette was a sitting duck, far too tired to move out of the way. Instead, Storm would have to gamble herself, and rely on her ring instincts.

As she groggily watched the half-blurred shape of her opponent launch herself into the air, Storm tried to time it right, and pull her knees up sharply at the last second, aiming to give Wendy a painful landing. It’d still be a crunching impact, no matter what – and if the fatigued Storm got her judgement wrong, she would be absolutely creamed by the avalanche of Wendy’s aerial attack.

[BlackAkuma]

If Wendy was thinking clearly - or much at all, really - she likely wouldn’t have done this. Going highrisk was dangerous, and while she wasn’t exactly what anyone would call a safe wrestler, she’d made her bones in the ring by sticking to what she did best: grounded, rough, dirty fighting. She often made fun of the highflyers, and picked them out of the air when they were doing their Cirque Du Soleil shit was one of her favorite things to do. Let them break their necks jumping off turnbuckles, she’d stay on the ground, thank you very much. If she wanted to fly, she’d buy a plane ticket.

But desperate times called for desperate measures, and as she looked up at the clock…

13:32

…that desperation set in hard. One good move, then another, and she could go for the facesit and clench this. She was sure of it. She nodded, breathed deep and took flight, soaring through the air, a bringing down so much force on her fallen foe.

It would’ve been devastating if it hit, and it did hit…kind of. She landed on Storm’s prone body, but only after the bitch managed to get her legs up, giving her a less-than-pleasant surface to crash on. With all of her weight behind the move, that meant she was wound up taking a hard blow to the stomach, one that left her breathless and gasping. She wheezed and rolled away, clutching her stomach as she cursed. ”You shit! Absolute piece of…”

[hamish1024]

Running on instinct, Storm swung her knees up to meet the onrushing shape of Wendy… and timed it perfectly. Success, but with an awful lot of pain. The Southerner’s splash might have run aground on Storm’s upturned legs, but the force of it still hammered down onto the floored brunette, the immense blow running down her thighs and battering her back with the ring-shaking impact.

It hurt. Crucially, though, it hurt Wendy a lot more. That much was apparent as the white-haired wrestler rolled off to the side, cursing, agonised and angry. Yet again, there was an odd pause in the action, as both heavyweights lay on the mat, panting deeply, trying to recover from the latest exchange of hard blows.

With a grunt of effort, Storm hauled her head up, eager to see the effects of her shrewd counter. As expected, Wendy was in a bad way, clutching her gut, her own weight used against her in the painful crash-landing. Storm had to make a move if she were to capitalise on this good fortune. Sluggishly, the Scotswoman got to her knees and shuffled over to her downed opponent.

She had neither the energy nor inclination to try anything flashy. In keeping with a bout that had descended into a sour-tempered slugfest, the tired Storm would simply straddle Wendy, and then sit her ass down heavily on the floored girl’s bruised belly.

“Showoff,” Storm snarked, making her disdain known in as few words as possible. She snaked her fingers into Wendy’s white hair, using it as leverage to grip her head and bounce the back of her skull against the mat, whilst she shuffled forwards in the straddle. From her seat atop Wendy’s chest, Storm would sneer at her opponent and clench her fists, before beginning a barrage of mounted punches down on her enemy’s face.