Aya Al-Amari vs. Angela Belti - My Generation

[BlackAkuma]

Dizzy played videogames. She didn’t like to talk about it too much in public, because most of the people she tried to hang around with were women, particularly older women that she wanted to have relationships with, to varying degrees, and older women weren’t typically into videogames. But she got a PS5 for Christmas a couple years back, and she’d had a few systems before that. She wouldn’t say she was an avid gamer, but she booted them up every now and then. Specifically, she was big on the Uncharted games.

When she was younger, though, she was big into fighting games - probably more into the women in those games, now that she thought about it. But regardless, she’d played a lot of them and got sort of decent.

It was those fighting games that popped into her head as she watched her mother descend, and Aya rose up to meet her. Fighting games were all about timing, and the Gilded Grappler’s was on point. She rose from the floor at the right moment, just as her mother was falling with nowhere to go, no way to avoid the blow. Her fist shot up and connected on her mother’s chin, and for an instant her skull seemed to deform at the impact.

There was a terrible sound - a sharp, shrill crack - and her mother fell to her knees and crumpled from there, her chest hitting the floor with a dull clap. Dizzy yelped as the crowd cheered, mortified at the sight. [color=#ff80000]”Mom! Mom, can you hear me?”[/color]

She didn’t move.

[Delalily]

Aya’s chest heaved as she stood over Angela’s crumpled form, each breath heavier than the last. The uppercut had been clean, precise, and devastating, but she knew better than to celebrate prematurely. Angela was a warrior, a towering force of nature, and Aya wouldn’t underestimate her now. Not again. The match wasn’t over until it was over, and she intended to ensure her victory was undeniable.

Her sharp eyes scanned Angela’s motionless body, noting the strength of her muscles as her back moved up and down. She’s still breathing, Aya thought, her lips curling into a sly smirk. Which means she’s still dangerous. The memory of Angela’s bearhug and the suplex burned in her mind, fueling her determination to press her advantage while she had the chance.

With a swift motion, Aya dropped to her knees beside Angela, her fingers tangling in the larger woman’s hair. She gripped tightly, feeling the coarse strands against her skin as she yanked Angela upward, forcing her into a standing position. Angela’s head lolled limply, her eyes half-closed and unfocused, but Aya didn’t care. She wasn’t about to give her opponent a chance to recover.

Turning her gaze toward Dizzy, Aya’s voice cut through the crowd’s cheers like a blade. “Move,” she commanded, her tone cold and unwavering. There was no room for argument in her words, no hint of hesitation. She was in control now, and she would make Angela pay for every ounce of pain she’d inflicted.

With a firm grip on Angela’s hair, Aya began to move, her hips swaying with purpose as she dragged her opponent toward the barricade surrounding the ring. Aya’s strides were deliberate, her boots echoing against the floor as she closed the distance. She wanted Angela to feel every second of this, to know who had truly dominated this match.

When they reached the barricade, Aya’s grip tightened on Angela’s hair, her sharp eyes narrowing with intent. She didn’t hesitate—no, hesitation wasn’t in her nature, not now, not when she had the upper hand. With a sudden, explosive motion, Aya yanked Angela’s limp body forward, preparing to slam her into the unforgiving barricade.

[BlackAkuma]

What was it they said? ‘Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the mouth’? Right.

Angela hadn't been knocked unconscious by the blow, but she was fairly certain she was closer to it than she had liked to be. She still wasn’t wholly sure what happened. One moment, she was flying through the air, descending on her opponent from on high, over 200 pounds of motherly fury, and the next there was this flash and this deafening crack that she had trouble believing came from her own skull, and so, so much pain along with it.

She was on the floor. Somewhere, far away, Dizzy was calling out for her, but she didn’t move. Didn’t even respond.

Not until Aya grabbed her hair.

As a pro wrestler with a long head of hair, Angela had grown to accept that it was inevitable for her strands to be yanked, but that didn’t mean she had to like it. She took as much pride in her long, purple locks as she did with the rest of her body, and she suspected Aya felt much the same. Call it a pet peeve, but it always struck a nerve.

In this case, however, the pain served her well, bringing some clarity back to her brain, even as het foe forced her to rise. There wasn’t much she could do about that pain just now, but that would change in a few moments. She just needed to catch her second wind. Not that Aya would make such a thing easy for her, naturally. The woman marched her towards the barricade and rammed her chest hard into it, hitting with enough for to make the structure move a couple inches as the audience members in the first row jumped back. Angela bit back a cry as she leaned against the metal and glared Aya’s way, silently daring her to try that again.

All while the referee began her count. ”1!”

[Delalily]

"2!" "3!"

Aya’s eyes locked onto Angela’s defiant glare, a silent challenge exchanged between the two warriors. The referee’s count continued in the background, but Aya paid it no mind—her focus was entirely on the towering woman she had bent but not yet broken. The first slam into the barricade had been a statement, but Angela’s resilience made it clear she wouldn’t fall so easily. She's still standing, she mused inwardly, but not for long. The first slam into the barricade had rattled both metal and flesh, yet Angela's stubborn pride refused to break—a quality Aya begrudgingly admired. This was no ordinary opponent, and Aya knew the satisfaction of victory would only come when she brought a giant like Angela to her knees.

Her fingers twitched instinctively, craving the familiar weight of Angela's hair tangled in their grasp. Every muscle coiled with anticipation, every breath measured for the perfect moment—this was where battles were truly won or lost: when pain blurred vision and instinct outweighed strategy. A wicked grin curled across Aya's lips as she envisioned the next impact—Angela's body crumpling further, those proud shoulders finally buckling under her relentless assault—but for now... she savored this fleeting pause.

Let her wonder, let her fear.

The referee's count faded into white noise; all that existed was this moment between them—the electric tension before violence.

[BlackAkuma]

Angela was not a fan of this ringside brawling stuff. Call her old-fashioned - her daughter certainly did - but she was a staunch believer that a wrestling match should stay in a wrestling ring. Too many matches these days devolved into glorified hardcore matches, where the referee turned a blind eye to shenanigans that would’ve gotten people disqualified in her day.

It was the changing times, she supposed. People liked to be close to the match. They wanted to be in the thick of it. The people in the front rows paid extra for that experience. It made sense, even if she had a disdain for that logic.

That being said, not enjoying something didn’t mean she couldn't do it and do it well. If Aya wanted to have a little street fight, she might get more than she could handle.

Angela’s head was still ringing after that uppercut, but luckily for her, Aya was taking a moment to press her attack, giving her an instant to recover. Maybe trying to intimidate, maybe trying to bait her in. Either way, the result would be the same.

She pushed off the barricade and lashed out, this coming from below as she swung her thick, powerful leg upwards, trying to drive the tip of her boot right into Aya’s stomach, leaping into the blow for some added force.

[Delalily]

Aya moved with the agility of a seasoned fighter, sidestepping Angela’s upward kick with ease. Her grin widened as she seized the opportunity, catching Angela’s leg mid-air. Before Angela could react, Aya twisted her body, flipping Angela onto her back with a fluid motion that showcased her precision.

With Angela’s leg firmly in her grasp, Aya wasted no time. She dropped to one knee, threading Angela’s ankle under her arm and locking it in place. Her hands gripped the larger woman’s foot, applying pressure to the joint as she leaned back, cranking the hold tighter. The crowd roared, sensing the shift in momentum as Aya methodically increased the strain on Angela’s ankle, her grin never faltering.

Aya shifted her weight, lifting Angela’s leg higher to maximize the torque and minimize any chance of escape. Her movements were calculated, her grip unrelenting, as she worked to immobilize Angela completely. The referee hovered nearby, watching closely but letting the action unfold—another nod to the chaotic style of modern wrestling.

Aya’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as she leaned further into the hold, her body language exuding confidence. This was her moment, and she was determined to make it count.

[BlackAkuma]

Dizzy kept her eyes tight on Aya as her Mom lashed out, taking note of the woman’s stance, the way she was poised, the spring in her step. While she trained with her Mom and didn’t regret it, someone like Aya was a lot closer to her own size, so seeing her work gave her better insights into her own style. It wasn’t like she could do half the things her Mom did, anyway.

Aya fought like a predator, picking her spots. A lot of wrestlers would’ve gone on the attack while her mother was reeling, but the Gilded Grappler was more measured, patient, and that paid off when she snagged the leg, holding it tight and securing it by the ankle. Before she could retaliate, she was being yanked off her feet, deposited on the floor, and her opponent was working on the joints and twisting her about at a bad angle.

Dizzy winced at the sound of her mother in pain, never an easy thing to hear, but she also took note of the way Aya worked the leg, how deliberate she was with the powerful limb, and how unbothered she was about the count. It wasn’t like she could get a win out here, even if her mother was about to submit, which certainly wasn’t about to happen. Still, she was building on the damage she'd done earlier. Investing in the leg.

Below, Angela twisted and writhed in the hold, but with no ropes to grab onto, her options were preciously limited. Worse yet, there was the chance that Aya could wait until the count was at nine, then just abandon the hold, leap into the ring, and take the countout win. She doubted the woman’s pride would allow such a victory, but then, she had only just met her…

It wasn’t a risk she was keen on taking. Instead, she tried to escape, as bad as the position was for it. She drew her freed leg in, tucked it tight, and shot it high, trying to drive the heel into Aya’s chest and knock her away.

[Delalily]

Aya’s grin faltered as Angela’s boot drove squarely into her chest, the impact sending her stumbling backward. The force rippled through her body, a sharp reminder of Angela’s raw power despite her earlier struggles. Aya’s hands instinctively flew to her sternum as she winced, her breath hitching for a split second. The crowd erupted into a mix of cheers and gasps, the sudden shift in momentum electrifying the arena.

At ringside, Kimi and Kuni lurched forward in unison as Aya reeled from the blow, their instincts screaming at them to jump in and protect her. Kimi’s hands gripped the apron tightly, knuckles whitening, while Kuni took a half-step forward before stopping herself, her muscles tightened with restraint. They exchanged a tense glance—both knowing full well that interfering would only make things worse, for Aya and for themselves. The referee’s count echoed loudly in the background, a stark reminder that this wasn’t their moment to act. Reluctantly, they steadied themselves, hearts pounding, forced to watch as the fight carried on.

Back in the fray, the lingering ache in Aya’s chest was quickly drowned out by a surge of adrenaline. This wasn’t the moment to hesitate—the referee’s count was nearing its limit, Angela was vulnerable, and Aya knew she had to capitalize. Without pause, she burst forward, cutting through the air with renewed intensity. Ignoring the pain, she launched herself upward, aiming to drive her boot into the back of Angela’s head—a brutal curb stomp meant to spike her opponent face-first into the mat. If she succeeded, Angela would surely be out, Aya could send her back into the ring and go for the pinfall victory. This wasn’t just offense; it was a statement, and Aya intended to make herself heard.

[BlackAkuma]

Dizzy caught the movement from Kuni and Kimi, and for half a heartbeat she moved forward as well. What she planned to do if they tried to interfere, she had absolutely no clue. Neither of the twins were exactly giants, but they, like 99% of the human population, were bigger than her, and if the way they talked about their mother was any indication, they had been training for far longer. She would probably be doing good if she could handle one of them, much less them both at the same time.

Lucky for her, then, that it didn’t come to that. Her mother still had life left in her enough to fend Aya off, if only for a little while. Some space was created between them, but she could already tell that the woman was looking to close that gap, moving in fast as her mother tried to rise. ”Mom, look-”

Angela didn’t need the warning, but it was much appreciated, all the same. With the referee’s count passing six, there was precious little time left to push her advantage before they had to move back in the ring, and she came at her with a sense of urgency, raising her foot for what looked like a curbstomp. Angela had no interest in finding out the hard way.

She threw herself back as Aya’s foot came down, giving the woman nothing but empty air to stomp. Instead of rising right away, she brought her head in between Aya’s leg, grabbed her thighs, and stood straight up, hoisting the smaller woman on her shoulders, giving her an involuntary piggyback ride.

She wouldn’t be up there for long, either, as Angela’s next move was to fall backwards, a path that would send the woman above her crashing, back-first, onto the apron of the ring, as she attempted to execute her signature move - the Tower of Pisa[/i].

[Delalily]

Aya cursed under her breath as her boot hit nothing but air, the momentum of her missed curb stomp leaving her momentarily off balance. The whiff echoed louder in her ears than it should have, a sharp reminder of how close she’d been to turning the tide. Before she could regain control however, she felt Angela’s head wedge itself between her legs, lifting her effortlessly onto her shoulders. Aya instinctively slapped at Angela’s head and face, her strikes fueled by frustration and a flicker of panic, but it was like trying to move a brick wall—Angela didn’t budge an inch. Her fingers scraped against hair and skin, each hit landing with diminishing effect, and for the first time in the exchange, Aya realized she wasn’t dictating the pace anymore—she was trapped in it.

The world tilted abruptly, and Aya’s stomach lurched as Angela leaned backward. The arena lights spun into a blur above her, disorienting and distant, as if she’d been ripped out of the moment entirely. Her heart raced, panic spiking as she realized what was coming. She barely had time to twist her body, instincts screaming at her to mitigate the damage, before her back slammed into the unforgiving edge of the ring apron with a sickening crack. The sound was as brutal as the impact itself, a hollow thud that seemed to silence the immediate ringside area for a split second. The impact reverberated through her spine, a sharp, searing pain radiating outward as she crumpled to the ground outside the ring. Her limbs felt dead, like the shock had briefly disconnected her from her own body.

"MOM!"

Kimi and Kuni gasped in unison, their hands instinctively reaching out as if they could somehow soften the blow from where they stood. Their expressions twisted with concern, eyes wide as they watched Aya fold in on herself. Aya’s body curled instinctively, her back arched in agony as she tried to nurse it, her palm holding her back in any way that could dull the pain. The referee’s count continued, the numbers echoing like a distant drumbeat, each one growing louder as the seconds ticked by, but for a moment, all Aya could focus on was the fire spreading through her lower back as she lay there, writhing in pain.