Blaise Cameron vs. Aaliyah Jackson - Best 2 of 3 Falls

[BlackAkuma]

Once more, Aaliyah tried to use her body as a living weapon, and once more, that gamble paid off, as she came crashing down into Blaise from on high. It was hardly the most pleasant experience for, either - he was a pretty well-built man, not a lot of give on him. But he clearly took the worst of it, and an opening was made.

Her first thought was to go for the pinfall, and she even slipped back to grab his leg with that in mind. But halfway through the motion, she realized that wasn’t likely to get her anywhere. No, she needed something a little more effective — and painful. To be honest, she was still a wee bit sore over that submission, figuratively and literally.

She kept her hold on the leg, then stood up and used it to flip him over onto his chest, then tucked his ankle tight between her legs. With it secured, she fell on his back, pulled his chin up, and tried to lock in a STF, forcing his neck back as far as she could, all while she used his body like a mattress. ”Gotta say, you’re real comfy. Think I might just lie here a while.”

[CyanDimitrik]

Blaise needed a moment. A few moments, probably. He's used to a lot of focus on the abdominal region; his training kept him balanced in style, but he still leans towards an aerialist's approach. Meaning splashes. Lots of splashes in his career. He's tough, but not impervious. And Aaliyah's body doesn't have much give, either. He'd never describe her as masculine, but the girl's got some tight muscletone in her core, and having that land across him is punishing.

She hooks his leg and the referee is dropping down to begin the pinfall, hand raised. Only she seems to change her mind and rolls Blaise over onto his front. He doesn't do much other than start to rouse and squirm, not enough to buck free of the setup. His knee is trapped, she locks on the chinlock, and he suddenly finds himself strained backwards!

"Aagh--!"

He'd totally have a comeback for that, if he could talk! But instead, the audience is treated to the sight of Aaliyah laying into him - figuratively and literally - while straining his body taut. He alternates between reaching for the ropes and grabbing for her arms, desperate to try to loosen her hold on him.

"Do you give up!? Do you tap!?," demands the referee, hovering nearby.

The only lucidity Blaise can manage is a choked, "Nng, no!," in protest before another pained cry is wrenched from him.

[BlackAkuma]

There we go, back, back, back, a little more…

Perfect. Aaliyah had been in this hold plenty of times, more than cared to count, so she knew how painful it could be to endure. Having your spine compressed in such a way was a small terror by itself, but then you threw in the weight on your back, the grip on your chin, and the pain in your leg making it hard to focus on anything. For a move that left three out of four limbs completely free, it could do some excellent damage, and she was more than happy to reap the benefits.

But, no surprise, Blaise wasn’t tapping, wasn’t about to give her that pleasure when the final count was on the line. She had to admire the gumption, if nothing else. She liked to think she would be just as stubborn if the roles were reversed.

No a problem, though - if his brain wouldn’t give up, she’d just make his body do it for him. ”Won’t tap, huh?” She gave his chin a good wrenching. ”How about a nap?”

Aaliyah switched her grip up, letting go of his chin only to bring her arm underneath his throat and put the squeeze on, transition from an STF to an STS - a Stepover Toehold Sleeper.

[CyanDimitrik]

Feeling Aaliyah cling to him in this way, it's a rush in so many ways. Blaise's adrenaline is going strong, keeping him pushing through the pain and strain, with just enough mental wherewithal to know where the ropes are and how to say no. But each twist backwards, each tilt is a fresh urge to give in and ease the pain. Fortunately for Blaise, the one thing he has consistently had going for him from the moment he launched his career was staying power. Perhaps stupid, self-destructive staying power. But staying power that made his matches drag on, and made his opponents work for their victories no matter the mis-match.

"Gnhh--!"

His arms begin to focus purely on sliding across the ring, dragging himself bit by bit closer to the ring's edge. The cameras flash, the audience shouts mixed encouragement for both wrestlers, everyone on the edge of their seat. This could be the end of their long bout, right here. Right now.

And then Aaliyah changes things up. The hold focuses less on pain and more on physical submission. The arms fold around his neck and head, feeling her conform more against his back than even before. And more importantly, the bloodflow is no longer meeting his adrenaline requirements. He desperately claws another inch. Another. But it's slowing down. His gaze is becoming unfocused and darkening. Until finally...

...he goes slack under her.

The referee girl quickly scrambles to take his left arm and raise it into the air. And after a couple seconds of keeping it aloft, she releases it, letting it limply fall to the mat. That's one fall...

[BlackAkuma]

If Aaliyah had her druthers, this wouldn’t be the way she ended things. She was a people pleaser at the end of the day, and while she strove for an effective fighting style, it was never enough just to win. She needed to do it in the most significant, most bombastic way possible, and that would typically involve her jumping off something high up and crashing down on him.

Winning this way, with a slow crawl, snuffing the life out of him bit by bit, was not her style. But screw it - a win was a win was a win was a win. If this was the only option available, she’d take it

Besides, it was working well enough. She tightened the grip on his throat and weighed him down like an anchor. She gripped tight with each movement, and soon she had the result she wanted. Blaise was fading. Fast.

Aaliyah watched the hand go up and watched it fall ”Nothing personal, handsome.”

[CyanDimitrik]

As the world grows dimmer and more hazy, Blaise finds the strength in his arms drained away. It's now a struggle of willpower, the urge to keep fighting versus the body saying it's time to shut down and conserve energy. And it looks like the latter has won, against Blaise's wishes.

It's a done deal. The audience can see it clearly. Aaliyah found an advantageous position, latched on a blood choke, and all she had to do is lay into her battered opponent. This struggle for dominance is over, with Aaliyah being the victor. Blaise rests limply beneath her, unresponsive with the first drop of the arm.

The referee holds up a finger, signaling the first fall. Then she raises the arm a second time, just as loose and unresponsive as the first. When she lets the wrist free, it falls unceremoniously to the mat a second time. The referee raises the deuce. She raises his wrist a third and final time, glancing towards Aaliyah briefly, before letting the limb go. It drops limply.

...and it halts it inches from the mat, a stiffness finding its way into the bicep and forearm.

'Nothing personal, handsome'. That's what she said. And that somehow cut through the haze in his mind, delivered with silky, if breathless feminine voice. Not in outrage. Not in anger. Not in insult.

This is personal. Wrestling always is. Always has been to him. He doesn't carry grudges and it's a long, hard road to get him angry at an opponent, but this is his life. His dream. His moment in front of the audience. Every loss he's taken, he knew on some level had a bad reflection on him. Made people, his own family, question life choices, open him to ridicule, land him in the unenviable position of laughingstock but for some die-hard fans of the underdog. And now, after so much time and effort has been put into him by people who truly believed he could be more than he was, the matches mean even more. It's not only a reflection on him. It's a reflection on those people. He's no longer just letting himself down with defeats. He's letting the people who believed in him enough to make those sacrifices down.

He may have lost some of the joy in wrestling, but it's still his time in the ring. His dream. His audience. Fighting to go from laughingstock to serious contender, to change the minds of everyone out there. Perhaps especially his opponent.

It's personal. It has to be. And that triggers a survival instinct, a brief but strong burst of adrenaline. And that keeps his arm from falling.

The referee blinks along with the collective gasp from the audience. "No fall! Match goes on!," she declares, waving her arms.

And with a sudden burst of effort, Blaise lunges forward with his Yoda-pack of beautiful mocha-skinned wrestler on his back, and hooks his left forearm over the bottom rope!

[BlackAkuma]

As far as Aaliyah was concerned, the match was over. Sure, the bell hadn't rung yet, but she knew how this was supposed to go. She’d never choked anyone out before, especially not with this move, but it was compelling enough and she’d done a good job of applying it, so much so that the result was inevitable. She did mean it when she said it wasn’t personal. While she was a wee bit ticked about the tapping earlier, she didn’t hold grudges in matches, and she liked Blaise. Maybe a little more than she should, from a professional perspective.

She’d make it up to the guy afterwards. Maybe get him to go out somewhere, eat out, something like that. It’d be nice to get to know someone in Japan besides Yo-Yo, couldn't hurt to build an actual social circle.

Just one more fall, one more and-

Aaliyah’s eyes shot wide as Blaise sprang forth with new life, shooting his arm up, rising from the dead to reach out and grasp the ropes. The crowd roared, appreciating his gumption, but all Aaliyah could do was look on in disbelief. What was it going to take?

Aaliyah wasn’t sure, but she fully intended to find out.

She let Blaise go at the referee’s insistence, pushed up to her feet, and immediately went over to the nearest turnbuckle. She scrambled up the pads, turned to face him, and perched there, watching him like a hawk watches its prey. Waiting for the moment to strike, waiting, waiting…

As soon as Blaise was halfway up, Aaliyah leaped through the air, rotated all the way around, and attempted come down with her knees right the back of his head, looking to tag him with a Shooting Star Knee Drop - or, as she called it, her Bass Drop.

[CyanDimitrik]

Blaise hangs on the bottom rope for several seconds, gasping, letting the bloodflow return to normal and thankful that Aaliyah, as it turns out, is a respectable girl. None of that hanging on and making the referee threaten a DQ. She wins some points with that, even in his hazy state of fire and adrenaline.

The referee-girl continues to hover, just to ensure she doesn't need to cancel the match for medical reasons. But as Blaise begins to collect himself, she eases back.

He makes it to hands and knees, head turning to look to the recently-rattled turnbuckle. And there, he spots Aaliyah perched on high just a half-second before she launches. Purely on impulse, Blaise throws himself to the side in a tumble, leaving nothing but the mat for Aaliyah's knees to impact in his absence!

[BlackAkuma]

This would work. Not a single doubt in Aaliyah’s mind.

Her only real worry was that it might work too well, if she were being honest. There was a reason she kept this move in the back pocket - it was effective, but dangerous, and she wouldn’t normally go for it and risk doing serious injury to her opponent. Her bringing it out was a testament to just how good Blaise was. She needed to resort to the nuclear option, scorched earth, or it just wasn’t happening.

She went through the motions, descended from on high, came crashing down towards him and-

Missed.

Aaliyah grunted her annoyance as she came down on the canvas, with Blaise pulling off a miracle dodge. She landed on her knees, rolled forward, popped to her feet and spun about on her heels, hoping she could lock in on Blaise before he pulled something out of his - admittedly cute - ass.

[CyanDimitrik]

The audience is roaring. And that road only gets louder and louder.

Watching Aaliyah climb the turnbuckle gives them the clear and abundant signal that this is it. She's going for the killshot. And Blaise looks like he's in the prime position to receive it. Lights out, the ebon beauty will claim her victory over his battered body.

But then he moved. A quick, sudden burst of energy sending him aside, leaving Aaliyah to find nothing but mat.

The roar grew louder. Just like that, in that flash of a moment, the momentum shifted. It's anyone's game. It would all come down to who landed the next decisive blow, wouldn't it? Which of them could seal the deal.

Blaise pushes himself to his feet, back turned to where Aaliyah landed. He spared just a moment to shoot a look behind his shoulder, seeing her roll forward to get a little more distance. And in a rush of reckless adrenaline, he pitches himself into a back handspring to reclose the distance, and the moment his feet touch the mat again, there's another spring.

A high arc, a backflip, left knee tucking the draw momentum and kinetic energy, with the right leg snapping up and over like a whip. The boot aims to collide with Aaliyah's head behind him in his signature pele kick, the Backdraft.

The motion will see Blaise drop to his knees at the completion of the flip, hands planted on the mat.