Aya Al-Amari vs. Angela Belti - My Generation

[BlackAkuma]

”Ooof.”

Dizzy watched and cringed as Aya was sent careering through the air, her mother picking up no small amount of hangtime as she flung the woman. While the Gilded Grappler didn’t look all that heavy to begin with, it was still a spectacular through, way higher than she usually got with that suplex. As near as Dizzy could figure, she’d put a little extra pepper in the throw. Whether that was out of disdain or respect, she couldn't guess, but she suspected it wouldn’t make much difference to Aya’s back.

When Dizzy was younger, she often thought that the ring was like a bouncy castle, that the floor was soft and that landing on it wasn’t all that bad. She’d lost that delusion the first time she’d had a full training session, and her back hurt so bad that she’d had to go to sleep face-down for an entire week. She could sympathize with Aya when she came crashing down on the canvas, hitting with an impact that you wouldn’t have expected from a smaller body.

She was left there, splayed and vulnerable, looking out of it for the moment. Enough to be pinned. Doubtful, precious few wrestling matches in history had ever been won with a belly-to-belly suplex. Still, Angela was an old-school sort of wrestler, and she’d trained to pin her foes often - at best, you could get a surprise win every now and then, and at worse your opponent was forced to waste energy escaping.

She moved in, scrambling on her knees towards Aya, and pressed her forearm on the woman’s chest. From there, she reached down to grab her leg, pulled it up, and cradled her tight for a pinfall.

Dizzy raised her fist and counted along with the audience.

”1…!”

[Delalily]

”2…!”

*THUMP*

The sound was sharp, abrupt, and loud enough to echo through the arena. Aya’s leg shot up with explosive force, slamming back down onto the mat with a loud thud that resonated through the ring. The impact was so intense that the canvas shook beneath them, the ropes trembling from the sheer power of her kickout. The crowd gasped, their energy spiking as Aya fought to keep herself in the match.

Kimi and Kuni’s eyes widened in unison, their usual composure slipping for a moment. “Damn,” Kimi muttered under her breath, leaning forward in her seat. “That was intense.” Kuni nodded, her expression a mix of relief and awe. “She’s not done yet,” she replied, though her tone carried a hint of uncertainty. Though Aya had solidly kicked out way before the three, it was clear that she needed some respite.

Aya lay sprawled on the mat, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. Her body felt like it was on fire, every muscle screaming in protest. The kickout had taken a lot out of her, and she knew she needed a moment to recover. Her sleek gold outfit clung to her skin, damp with sweat, and her arms lay limp at her sides, her fingers twitching weakly against the canvas. Her legs, still spread wide, felt like chains, the exhaustion weighing her down.

But even as she rested, Aya’s mind was racing. She could feel the sting of humiliation lingering in the back of her mind, the memory of Angela’s bearhug and the suplex that followed still fresh. She wouldn’t let it end like this. Her pride wouldn’t allow it. Slowly, deliberately, she began to move, her hips shifting slightly as she tried to muster the strength to get back into the fight. Her breathing was ragged, her chest rising and falling in uneven bursts, but the fire in her eyes burned brighter than ever. She wasn’t done. Not yet.

[BlackAkuma]

And a kickout at two.

Not too surprising, really. Dizzy wasn’t exactly an expert on Aya, but she would’ve been greatly surprised if that was enough to put her down for a full three-count, especially with all the fanfare she’d come into that match with. You didn’t come into a match with that much steam without having the ability to back it up to some degree. If she knew that, her mother would know it, too. It was all about keeping up the pressure.

”No, not yet.” Dizzy folded her arms, finding some more confidence as her mother hit her stride. ”Mom’s a tough train to stop once she gets going, though.”

You only had to look at her to tell that much. After Aya kicked out, she was already getting back to business, shaking off her rust as she rose back to her feet. Angela clasped her opponent’s head tight as she stood, holding it like a basketball and forcing her to stand as well, though she wouldn’t be on her feet for long if she had her way with.

As soon as they were both up, Angela dipped down, pulled Aya over her shoulder, and attempted to stand with the woman in a fireman’s carry, effortlessly keeping her aloft on her broad, muscular shoulders. One hand would grab her cheek, the other would slip between her legs, and she would pull down from there, stretching her out with a with a torture rack, bending her spine in a direction it was never designed to go.

[Delalily]

Aya’s scalp tingled sharply as Angela’s powerful fingers dug into her skull, forcing her to rise alongside her opponent. Her body felt like a ragdoll, her muscles still buzzing from the brutal suplex that had left her sprawled across the mat. As Angela dipped to hoist her onto her shoulders, Aya’s stomach dropped—she knew what was coming next. The fireman’s carry was seamless, Angela’s broad shoulders swallowing her frame effortlessly as she lifted her into the air, her position precarious and painful.

The moment Angela’s arm slid between her legs and her other hand gripped her jaw, Aya’s entire body tensed. The pain hit immediately, sharp and unrelenting, as Angela pulled back, bending her spine. Her body arched unnaturally, her hips thrusting upward as her back screamed in protest. The hold was excruciating, every inch of her frame straining against the pressure.

But Aya wasn’t one to suffer in silence. Fealty was not her strong suit, and that wouldn't change because of one woman. Even as her spine protested, her mind raced, searching for a way out. Her arms flailed at first, her fingers clawing at empty air as she desperately sought leverage. Then, with a surge of determination, she brought her elbow into play. Despite the pain, she began hammering her elbow into the meat of Angela’s shoulder, each strike a desperate attempt to weaken the hold. Her hips bucked sharply as she drove her elbow deeper, the dull thud of impact echoing through her body.

The pain in her back was relentless, her spine feeling like it was on the verge of snapping, but Aya refused to give in. Every strike of her elbow was a defiant act, her body writhing against the hold as she fought to regain control. Her sweat dripped down her forehead as she struggled against Angela’s iron grip. Her legs twitched, her body coiled like a spring as she focused on one thing: breaking free, no matter what it took.

[BlackAkuma]

Angela hoisted Aya up with relative ease, slipping the woman onto her shoulder in a single, fluid motion. The woman’s body was surprisingly light, more so than she would’ve guessed from an outside view. Not that she appeared to be in bad shape, mind you, but Angela knew as well as anyone how age had a way of throwing in some surprising weight.

But no, Aya was in remarkable shape, no small compliment coming from a former bodybuilder. She was half-tempted to ask the woman for tips after the match was through. Assuming the two of them left this ring on good terms.

That was probably dependent on how personal Aya took nearly being folded in half. Angela applied some serious pressure, digging her shoulders deep into the woman’s spine, hammering at her ribs, even bouncing the hold a bit to pile on the pain. While the move might not have been a technical wrestling hold, it was perfect for a woman like her, putting her upper body strength and size to good use. It wasn’t one of her ‘finishing moves’, but she’d won matches with this before.

It didn't seem like this would be one of those times, however. Aya might have been in pain, but the woman wasn’t going quietly or meekly, putting up a mounting fight even as Angela continued to bend her out of shape. Elbows rained down, one after the other, and while Angela could’ve endured one or two or even a few, they were coming too hard and fast.

She’d stopped counting by the time she had enough, and unceremoniously threw Aya off her shoulders, letting her have a rough fall to the canvas. Aching, she took a moment to stumble forward, rubbing her shoulder as she went, wincing at the pain.

[Delalily]

Aya gasped as Angela’s grip loosened, her body tumbling off the towering woman’s shoulders and crashing onto the mat with a loud thud. Angela’s height—a commanding 6’2—amplified the force of the fall, making the impact feel even more brutal than usual. Aya had faced taller opponents before, but few who could wield their size with such crushing efficiency. The canvas groaned beneath her as she landed in a heap, her body momentarily stunned from the sheer force of the fall.

Despite the jarring impact, a wave of relief washed over her. She was free. The torture rack was behind her, the unbearable pressure on her spine now just a lingering ache. Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath, her muscles trembling from the ordeal. Angela’s size had been a constant factor throughout the match, her height and strength making her a formidable opponent in ways Aya hadn’t fully anticipated.

Angela’s strength was undeniable, and Aya couldn’t help but acknowledge the woman’s skill, even if begrudgingly. But as she shifted slightly, testing the movement of her limbs, one thought dominated her mind: She needed to win. And she wasn’t about to let Angela’s brute strength dictate the match.

With a determined groan, Aya began to roll toward the ropes, her body moving sluggishly but with purpose. Each rotation brought her closer to her goal, her hands reaching out to grasp the bottom rope as soon as it was within reach. She hauled herself upright, using the ropes as leverage to pull herself to her feet. Her legs trembled slightly, the exhaustion evident, but she refused to let it show. Her hips swayed as she steadied herself, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the ring. This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. Aya gripped the ropes tightly, her knuckles whitening as she mentally prepared herself for the next phase of the match. Her pride was bruised, but her resolve was stronger than ever. She was still in this fight, and she intended to prove it.

[BlackAkuma]

The trouble with growing old - one of the many troubles, Angela was finding - was that everything hurt more. When she was younger, she could take all kinds of damage in a match and just sort of shrug it off. At the worst, it was nothing that a hot tub and a massage couldn't fix, and he was good to go for the next night. Now, though, when she took a hit, the pain just lingered, sometimes for days and weeks, and the marks would probably stay for just as long.

Worth it, though. Stuff like that was why God made muscle relaxers and makeup kits.

She rolled her shoulders, getting the feeling back in them as she zeroed back on Aya. One of the benefits of her tallness was that the simple act of dropping someone often did as much damage as any move, and it seemed like her opponent was reeling from that effect. All the same, she would be back on her in a moment, and this wasn’t an opportunity she was going to let slip by. She needed to press her attack.

From the outside, Dizzy was having similar thoughts, seeing her mother’s best chance to take control of the match. She looked up, watching Aya from below, and finally worked up enough nerve to throw out a good cheer. ”Come on, Mom!” She threw her fist up, doing her best cheerleader impression. ”Stay on her, stay-”

Dizzy’s attempts at enthusiasm were cut short as her mother came rushing forward at a breakneck pace and swung lariat towards Aya’s upper body - a move that, if it connected, would send the woman tumbling over the ropes, down to the floor, where she was currently standing. Her brain connected all those dots and immediately went into overdrive, as she scrambled to get out of the way in time.

[Delalily]

Aya groaned as she pulled herself to her feet, her body still aching from Angela’s relentless punishment. She barely had time to steady herself before she saw the towering figure charging toward her, her long strides covering the distance in seconds. The lariat came fast and hard, Angela’s arm swinging like a sledgehammer aimed directly at her chest. Aya’s muscles screamed at her to dodge, but her body was too sluggish, too drained from the beating she’d already endured.

The impact was brutal. Angela’s arm collided with Aya’s chest with a loud smack, the force sending her body catapulting over the top rope. Aya’s arms flailed wildly as she flew through the air, her gold attire glinting under the arena lights. She landed with a heavy thud on the floor, her body sprawled out just inches away from her daughters, Kimi and Kuni. The twins gasped in unison, their usual composure shattered by the sight of their mother crashing down so violently.

Kimi and Kuni exchanged a quick glance, their eyes wide with concern. They took a step forward, instinctively reaching out to help Aya, but she raised a trembling hand to stop them. “No,” she hissed through gritted teeth, her voice strained but firm. “This is my fight. Do not interrupt me, this victory is mine and mine alone.” Her words were laced with defiance, a reminder of the pride that had carried her through countless matches.

The twins hesitated, their faces conflicted, but they nodded and stepped back, giving Aya the space she demanded. They watched as their mother slowly pushed herself up, her body trembling with effort but her resolve unshaken. She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling with determination, and turned her focus back to the ring. This wasn’t over Angela. Not by a long shot.

[BlackAkuma]

Angela saw Dizzy scrambling away, thankfully getting clear of the impact zone before she and Aya could have a rather nasty - and awkward collision. She breathed a small sigh of relief at that, glad that this match wouldn’t be ending with a sudden trip to the hospital. She’d been oddly fortunate with injuries since she came to LAW - despite her daughter being a newcomer to the ring, she was oddly resilient, and none of her matches had resulted in her being seriously hurt.

Angela suspected the same wouldn’t be said for her after this match was over, but she pushed that thought aside. She could hurt later. For now, she wanted to press her advantage.

She stepped through the ropes and out onto the apron, where she took a moment to warily eye the two Japanese women who’d accompanied Aya down to the ring. She’d only just now noticed that they and Dizzy were still on the same side of the ring, and while she was glad that hadn't resulted in any trouble from her daughter, the two of them seemed eager to involve themselves in some manner, only for Aya to wave them off. Curiouser and curiouser - were they her trainees, something akin to that? She doubted they were a stable, most people in groups like that tried to match outfits.

She shrugged and turned her focus back to Aya, who was trying to push her way up, making herself a prime target, one that Angela wasn’t about to pass up. She waited until she was almost all the way up, then suddenly leaped off the apron and descended on her foe with her hands raised and clasped together, looking to drop both of her fists down on Aya’s skull with an axe handle.

[Delalily]

Aya’s body still ached from the blow that had sent her tumbling out of the ring, her muscles protesting every movement as she struggled to regain her footing. Her vision blurred momentarily, the dizziness from the impact lingering as she forced herself to focus. The faint sound of boots hitting the apron drew her attention, and she quickly glanced up to see Angela launching herself off the ring, her arms raised high overhead, hands clasped together in a devastating axe handle strike.

The adrenaline surged through Aya’s veins as her instincts kicked in. She blinked away the lingering haze, her sharp eyes locking onto Angela’s descending form. She’s too slow, Aya thought, her mind racing as she analyzed the situation. The split-second decision was made almost instinctively. As Angela hurtled toward her, Aya planted her feet firmly on the ground as she seemingly prepared herself. With a sudden burst of energy, she sprang upward, her fist aiming to intercept Angela’s fall with a sharp uppercut. Her hips twisted slightly, adding extra force to the punch as she aimed to reverse the momentum of Angela’s attack.

The timing had to be perfect—too early, and she’d miss; too late, and Angela’s strike would land unopposed. But Aya’s reflexes were honed from years of experience, and she trusted them completely. She could feel the air rush past her as her fist shot upward, the air around her seemingly parting. The crowd held its breath as Aya’s counterattack unfolded in a heartbeat. Her focus was razor-sharp, her determination unwavering as she aimed to turn the tide of the match with a single, decisive move.