Marcella Crowe vs. Armando 'Army' Rodriguez - Design In Malice

[BlackAkuma]

Note to self - executing suplexes out of the ring wasn’t the best idea. It required Army to fall backwards, and unlike the ring, there was no canvas to absorb some of the impact when he did, just a hard, stone floor. Army winced as the impact went through his entire spine and radiated from there, sending a wave of pain through his bone.

Yeah, that would suck in the morning. Not as much as it did for Marcella, though, he’d guess. Not if that sickening splat he’d just heard was any indication.

Grimacing, Army rolled over to his stomach and looked through the quickly dispersing crowd, giving them ample room. At first he thought she might’ve been out, and the referee started a count, but she began to rise soon enough. She was going to get up, for sure.

”Tough bitch, fuck.” Army grumbled under his breath as he pushed his way, leaned back to crack his spine, then soldiered forward. He made his way to the downed woman soon enough, reached down, and grabbed two handful of her thick, black mane, gripping them tight. ”Let me help you up, come on.”

Army yanked hard, pulling her up by her strands. As soon as she was back on her feet, he let go with one hand and began tugging her towards the concession stands. ”Let’s take a walk, you and me.”

[ADarlingDucky]

Over the past few moments, Marcella found that her expectations for Army had been far below what the muscled male was actually able to provide, as time and time again, he managed to thwart her efforts to crush him quick and easy. Much as she would have liked otherwise, the heavyweight goth woman would need to take him seriously, as being smacked with a chair had certainly managed to scramble her thoughts, leaving her angry and booting his chair away, while being all too open to retaliation. And so she currently found herself downed on the floor outside of the ring, having been dropped hard with a german suplex, and as she pushed her way back up to her feet, Army was already doing the same, rising far quicker. Quick enough to snatch two handfuls of Marcella's black locks, before hoisting her the rest of the way up, onto her feet!

"Nnngh! Easy on the hair..." The big goth grunted as she was forced up, but Army's grip had left her doubled over, attempting to reach and pry his hands off of her head before she could move away. When he began to walk, she was forced to follow, unable to get him off without removing a generous chunk of her hair in the process, something she was most certainly not willing to do.

"Uuugh... would you let go?!" Marcella groaned, trying to reach out to grab hold of Army's wrists, getting a grip on them, before attempting to pull him free. She wished to get his hands untangled with her hair as best that she could, though she would be forced to continue along with him as she fought to get free, twisting this way and that as they approached the concessions!