The Cocky and the Cruel: "Pretty Boy" Blake vs Esma Martin

[Weonna]

Blake’s head recoiled slightly as spit smacked his face, mixing with the blood already running down his cheek.

The crowd gasped. He froze. One eye twitched.

“You bitch—!”

He reared back and swung hard, his fist connecting with her shoulder and knocking her down.

Esma collapsed to her knees, looking half-broken, drained, done.

But then—

WHAM.

Her fist slammed up between his legs, right into the groin!

His whole body seized. Eyes wide. Mouth open—no sound came out.

He dropped to his knees with a thud, both hands clutching his midsection as he doubled over, breath gone, soul nearly stolen.

“Ghh… y-you…”

The crowd roared with shock and disbelief as Blake collapsed forward, forehead pressed to the mat, teeth clenched so hard his jaw trembled.

Esma had cut him down, and this time—it hurt everywhere.

[Dwrites]

Esma’s act had succeeded in bringing Blake down but it came at a price. “goddammit that really hurt” esma muttered as she rubbed the shoulder Blake hit while she slowly and painfully got back up. It was clear that Blake’s punches had taken their toll on her as she stumbled forward towards Blake’s body still in pain from Esma’s low blow. Esma would grab Blake’s hair and force him to face her before with venom lacing every word saying “I think its time we end this”. Esma would step back a couple steps before attempting to super kick Blake square in the face with her good leg looking to knock him out and get a pinfall victory.

[Weonna]

Still on his knees, Blake breathed in shallow gasps. The pain between his legs throbbed like fire, sweat and blood mixing on his face, dripping onto the mat beneath him.

Then—fingers in his hair.

Esma yanked his head up with spite, forcing him to look at her.

"I think it’s time we end this.”

Blake didn’t speak. He just glared up at her, chest rising and falling. She stepped back. He knew what was coming. But he couldn’t move in time.

CRACK!

Her boot blasted across his jaw with a sickening snap.

His head whipped to the side, body jerking, and he crashed to the canvas flat on his back.

The crowd gasped! Esma dropped down for the cover, hooking his leg with everything she had left.

“ONE!”

Blake didn’t move.

“TWO!”

Still down.

“TH—”

KICKOUT!

At the last possible heartbeat, Blake’s body jolted—shoulder up!

The arena popped. Gasps. Cheers. Boos. All at once.

Blake rolled to his side, dazed, bloodied, barely aware—but still in it.

[Dwrites]

Esma thought she had him, her kick had landed perfectly and he looked dead to the world, all she had to do was pin him and it would all be over…not. Somehow he had kicked out somehow he still could fight. Esma got on her knees looking absolutely dumbfounded at this revelation surly the referee was mistaken surly she had won right? She looked to the referee and asked if they were sure it wasn’t three. When the referee confirmed it was 2 she got up and began arguing with them allowing Blake time to rest and recoup.

[Weonna]

Flat on the mat, chest heaving, blood still trailing down his face, Blake heard her voice—

She was losing it. Good.

He rolled to his side slowly, arms trembling, lungs burning—but eyes locked on her. She was up now, barking at the ref. Too focused on the count and
too distracted. This would be her big mistake as Blake surged to his feet behind her like a machine shaking off rust.

Before Esma could realize the danger, he lunged in—

CLAMP.

His arms snapped under hers and locked behind her neck, pulling her into a tight, punishing Full Nelson.

Spoiler

“You talk too much…”

His voice was low, breath hot against her ear as he jerked her body side to side, wrenching the hold in deep.

“Now scream for real.”

[Dwrites]

Esma clenched her teeth determined to not give Blake the satisfaction of her screams of pain. Anger boiled in Esma at Blake for his continued resistance and herself for letting him get back in the fight. As Blake jerked her from side to side esma tried to devise a plan of escape “the ref is staring right at me so an illegal move is out of the question, and I can’t hope for a rope break when my opponent has more muscle than me so that leaves me with on option” mere seconds after finishing the thought Esma put her hands on the top of Blake’s head before jumping up and falling down on her butt looking to perform a modified neckbreaker on Blake.

[Weonna]

Blake cranked the Full Nelson tighter, feeling her body writhe against his grip, the sweat between them, the tension in every muscle. But she wasn’t screaming.

She was fighting.

And then—she jumped.

Her hands grabbed the top of his head and she dropped fast, dragging him down with her!

His chin slammed down against the top of her skull as she hit the canvas, the force jarring his neck and stunning him.

“Nnngh—!”

The Full Nelson broke.

Blake stumbled forward, arms swinging loose, head low, shoulders heaving.

He didn’t fall… but he wasn’t fully upright either.

He leaned forward—off balance—ripe for something big… or for collapse.

[Dwrites]

Now free from Blake’s sleeper hold Esma crawled to the nearest corner and sat on the bottom turnbuckle trying to get her thoughts in order and get some rest as the long and hard bout had taken its toll on her. While she was catching her breath she began strategizing her next move “I need to end this match soon or else I’m going to run out of gas. Probably the best way to do that is with a big move or combo.”. Her mind made up she slowly got up from the turnbuckle and circling Blake at slow pace looking for any openings to launch a attack from but also on the lookout for any attempts from Blake to launch a attack of his own. If he did try to launch a attack Esma will face it head on and try to land another super kick on Blake.

[Weonna]

His vision blurred. Muscles screamed. But he saw her—Esma—circling like a vulture, waiting to pounce.

He knew she had one more big shot in her. She lunged and so did he.

CRACK!

Her superkick fired up, lightning fast, smashing across Blake’s jaw.

But in that same second—

THWACK!

Blake’s right arm swung out, a massive lariat-style clothesline, connecting square with Esma’s chest and shoulder.

Both strikes landed.

THUD.

Flat on his back. He didn't move.

[Dwrites]

Esma landed her super kick on Blake’s jaw like she had wanted but before she could gloat or think of a follow up attack Blake’s massive clothesline connected sending Esma down to the mat HARD. Esma’s vision went white and her body flop on the ground before laying motionless for a few seconds before she began groaning and her tired arms clutched her head loosely as she tried to clear the fog that consumed her brain not at all concerned about the ref who had began a double KO count that was currently at three.