First Bell, First Clue? - Laxia(D) vs. Bandita

[Letta]

Laxia still lay sprawled across the mat, dazed by the impact of the Látigo Bandolera, her limbs heavy and the overhead lights reduced to pale, unfocused smears. A shadow passed over them, and her half-lidded eyes opened a little wider as Bandita appeared upside down in her hazy vision, flushed and breathing hard. The luchadora lowered herself until their breasts met, warmth spreading through their sweat-slick skin as their bodies shifted apart with each inhale and settled together again with every exhale. Bandita’s heartbeat seeped into Laxia’s clouded senses, fast and ragged like her own. She was merely taking the shortest, most efficient route to complete the pin, Laxia told herself, though the thought grew harder to hold onto as Bandita slid farther upward, her breasts brushing beneath Laxia’s before her taut, glistening abdomen descended over the noblewoman’s face, warm skin covering her eyes and pressing softly over her nose and lips.

“Mmph...!”

Laxia’s groan sounded dull and muffled against Bandita’s stomach. At the same time, Bandita’s face settled against Laxia’s abdomen. Her lips and chin brushed the damp skin first before she turned her head, pressing her cheek firmly into the center of Laxia’s stomach. Her uneven breath spread warmly across Laxia’s abs. The sensation sent a faint tremor through the noblewoman’s body, her abdomen tightening almost imperceptibly of its own accord. The small tension that formed beneath Bandita’s cheek passed unmistakably through their joined skin. One woman’s breath and the other’s subtle muscular reactions traveled back and forth through their bodies, silently revealing their condition to one another. “Hhmmph....” The sound that escaped her was once again swallowed by Bandita’s body and reduced to a faint, distorted murmur. But Bandita did not stop there.

Keeping hold of Laxia’s hips, she pushed against the mat with her knees and dragged herself farther upward. The cheek pressing into Laxia’s stomach slid higher, moving dangerously close to the noblewoman’s intimate area, while Bandita’s hips soon settled firmly against her face. The contact made Laxia blush in embarrassment. Bandita’s left arm wrapped around Laxia’s left thigh, while the other reached for the inner side of her right. Her palm pressed into the sweat-dampened skin, fingers slowly closing around the firm muscle beneath it as though kneading it..

“Hhmmffmph......!!”

Laxia’s right thigh tightened beneath Bandita’s hand. A moment later, the reaction spread throughout her body and caused her to jerk briefly against the mat. A heated moan burst between the lips pinned beneath Bandita’s hips, but the sound remained trapped between their bodies, escaping only as a low, distorted vibration. At that moment, Laxia found herself almost grateful that Bandita’s body concealed her completely. Otherwise, both the audience and the cameras would have seen her flushed face and realized exactly what kind of sound had just escaped her lips. At the same time, the pressure of the fingers gripping her inner thigh spread along her exhausted leg, awakening sensations she had thought had already gone numb. It should have been humiliating. Her disheveled hair and sweat-soaked body. Her face hidden beneath Bandita and her helpless position beneath the cameras. Laxia, who had always guarded her composure and dignity, had never been left in such complete disarray. And yet it was not entirely unpleasant. With both dignity and restraint cast aside, the unfamiliar sense of liberation flowing through her body felt strangely vivid.

Bandita arched her back downward and pressed herself more firmly against Laxia. Her knees spread wider to secure the position. Then Bandita raised her head and pulled back with her left arm. Only then did Laxia’s left leg rise high from the mat. Her thigh was drawn into the space between Bandita’s neck and shoulder, while the luchadora tilted her head and pressed her cheek softly against the sweat-slick skin of its inner side. Her hot, ragged breath tickled Laxia’s thigh. Bandita’s fingers still held the firm muscle along the inside of her right thigh. One leg was raised high and trapped between the luchadora’s arm and cheek, while the other remained pinned beneath her palm. Laxia’s back was pressed completely flat against the mat. The referee’s hand descended.

“ONE!”

The vibration of the referee’s hand traveled through Laxia’s back and shoulders, drawing her scattered sensations into focus. Her left leg was raised high, her back flattened beneath Bandita, and the luchadora’s body rose and fell over her with every breath. The heat against her face and the hand gripping her inner thigh continued to stir her clouded consciousness, tempting her to simply close her eyes and let the third count pass. She could no longer tell whether that would be a conscious acceptance of defeat or merely surrender to the sensations surrounding her. But that uncertainty was precisely why she could not allow the match to end. Bandita’s earlier words resurfaced through the haze, and frustration flared within her. Bandita had once again surpassed her expectations, bringing her down with a flawless technique and pinning her beneath the cameras with the full weight of her body.

Laxia could not deny that Bandita might already have earned her respect, but respect and surrender were not the same. She had yet to give her own answer, and she refused to let this helpless image become her final one. That thought sparked life in her dulled consciousness just as Bandita’s fingers tightened again around her right inner thigh. The warm pressure sent a tremor through the exhausted muscle, awakening sensations Laxia would once have tried to suppress in shame. This time, she seized them. Bandita had used the turnbuckles and Laxia’s own body to complete her technique; Laxia could likewise turn the sensations coursing through her into the strength to move. She tried to twist free, but Bandita had her pinned from head to waist, her left leg securely trapped and her shoulders too weak to rise. Only her right leg remained free as the referee’s hand struck the mat a second time.

"TWO..!!"

At the second count, Laxia’s right heel weakly scraped across the canvas. Only a few inches, and it touched nothing, but the leg had moved. The tension awakened beneath Bandita’s hand traveled from her thigh through her knee and calf to the tips of her toes. Rather than suppress the warm, almost guilty thrill, Laxia seized it and turned it into motion. Her boot slid across the mat again while Bandita’s cheek remained pressed to the inside of her raised left thigh, each labored breath making the trapped muscle tremble faintly. As the referee raised a hand for the third count, Laxia’s free foot searched once more and finally brushed against something rough and taut. The rope. Just... a little farther... Unable to lift her leg, Laxia pushed one last time with her heel. Her boot slipped beneath the rope, and her ankle barely settled across it. That was all. Neither her shoulders nor her hips had moved, and Bandita remained sealed tightly over her. Laxia had not escaped the pin; she had only used the sensations awakened by the luchadora’s touch to delay the end of the match.

[CyanDimitrik]

Each tremor, each quake, is Bandita's to experience. No one else in the arena will know about them. No one else in the arena will feel them; the way Laxia's body seems to react to the pressure. Whether it's the aftershocks of the impact with the mat or something else is, at first, a mystery. But not when she feels the buzzing vibrations of Laxia's vocalizations, first against her belly, then lower, lower still, until directly against her hips. That was practically unmistakable as a moan; drawn out, throaty, humming against the girl's base. It elicits a new tension, both electrical and hot at the same time, and threatens to override Bandita's senses in the pin. Everything in her wants to press in tighter, to feel that again, and more deeply. What she can't suppress is the private shudder it causes in her, easily felt against Laxia's face and chest. It runs through Bandita's body all the way to her breath as she turns her face discreetly tighter into Laxia's inner thigh - as the shuddered breath beats against her skin.

It's confusing everything, when the only thing she wants to think about is pinning Laxia and finishing things. She'd already lost out on anything more coming from this entanglement, she's convinced herself of that. But that doesn't erase the desire for more to come of it, and it's from that latent desire that the rogue cannot suppress. That spurs her to press herself just a little more assertively against Laxia's body, to feel the warmth against herself, the other woman's curves, her skin. Every flex of the thigh muscles brings her to squeeze her fingers against them a little tighter, to press her face into it a little more like a nuzzle.

"TWO..!"

It's almost over. She doesn't want it to be over. She wants to keep wrestling with her. She wants to erase all semblances of doubt from Laxia's mind, she wants to make her acknowledge her, she wants - against all rationality - to fix what was broken, and the only way she knows to keep her here is in the ring. Wrestling her. Beating her. Breaking her body down and pinning her. If the bell rings, it all comes to an end!

But there's no releasing her now. She's not that person who'll continue beating up someone who's unable to answer a three-count. The audience would hate it. Laxia would hate it for multiple reasons. And Bandita would hate it, herself. She's not that cruel person. This is the end for them--

"ROPE BREAK!," shouts the referee suddenly.

Bandita's face turns sharply, eyes wide and cheeks visibly flushed. It's not the leg that she has captive, couldn't be! Is it an arm? Does she have Dhalsim arms!? ..No, no, that's crazy! It's--

The other leg. She felt it tensing, shifting under her hand and assumed it was over the touches. Was she projecting that onto the aristocrat lying beneath her? Maybe. But.. those vibrations, the shudders, the humming buzz of her lips beneath her hips, those were undeniable...

"She has the rope, let go! One! Two!"

"Ah!," panics Bandita, suddenly and sharply rearing back from Laxia to break contact. Despite her namesake, breaking rules is something she basically never does! Certainly not on her own for want of convenience or easy wins!

Her head tilts to look down now at Laxia's face, her head framed neatly between her toned, tanned thighs. If those eyes were open, there'd be a moment of breathless eye contact, taking her in. Trying to read her, trying to gauge her ability to fight back. She dragged her boot into place, she has to still be in it. That means she gets more time with her. She won't waste it. She's going to eliminate any doubts in Laxia's mind that she thinks less of her, that she thinks she's some kind of charity, or looks down on her. And she's going to do that by going rough on her.

Just not with a submission.

Scooting back further on her knees, Bandita reaches down to hook her arms beneath Laxia's shoulders. "Unh," is the soft, feminine grunt of effort as she pulls her up to her feet, expecting to have to do most of the lifting. But once she's upright, those arms will relocate to wrapping around Laxia's midsection. Not to crush, but to squeeze her body back against her, reintroducing the back of Laxia's shoulders tot he softness of Bandita's breasts. She means to pull her along to the center of the ring, each exhale beating warmly against the nape of her neck.

"If I have to work for it.. all 'de better..," Bandita murmurs to her. "But I want it. You're gonna see.. just how hard.."

[Letta]

The tremor that had begun in Laxia’s body passed through Bandita before returning to her like an echo. The private shudder that swept through Bandita traveled clearly across Laxia’s face and chest. Her own trembling and the luchadora’s mingled between their joined bodies until it became difficult to tell where one ended and the other began. The cheek pressed against her left inner thigh, warm breath spreading over her skin. The pressure of the fingers gripping her right thigh. Ironically, the very sensations that held Laxia helplessly in place were what finally made her body move again.

The tip of her boot at last found the rope, and after one final push of her heel, her ankle barely settled across it. Until then, Laxia’s face had remained trapped beneath Bandita’s hips, her breath growing increasingly shallow as faint dizziness began to cloud her senses. As the referee continued the warning count, Bandita suddenly recoiled, breaking the contact between their bodies all at once. With the weight and heat abruptly removed, Laxia sucked in a sharp, desperate breath.

“Hahh....! Haa...”

Only after several short, ragged breaths did her blurred vision gradually begin to clear. Several strands of sweat-dampened orange hair clung to her flushed face. She looked anything but elegant or dignified. Even so, when her eyes met those of Bandita looking down at her, a faint smile spread across Laxia’s lips. The coldness with which she had pushed Bandita away earlier was nowhere to be found. In its place, the playful warmth she had briefly lost returned within that subtle smile.

“Trying to pin me right beside the ropes....*huff* you fool, chiquita...”

Her voice remained low and faint, her breathing not yet fully recovered. But the sharp wariness that had colored it before was gone. Only then could Laxia admit it. She loved this match. Throwing her opponent down and being thrown in return. Locking her body into holds and being caught in them herself. Every moment spent close enough to read each other’s breathing and trembling. The harder they fought, the more she felt herself coming to understand Bandita. The sincerity beneath her playful smile. The stubborn determination to prove her own worth. The intelligence that continued to find new answers even through exhaustion. And Laxia, in turn, had been answering all of it through her own body and choices. She wanted to know more. What other ways Bandita might find to surprise her, how she herself would respond. Even if it meant being placed at a disadvantage again, or being driven back onto the mat once more.

The thought had barely surfaced before Bandita’s arms slipped beneath Laxia’s shoulders. With a soft, feminine grunt of effort, Bandita pulled Laxia up from the mat. Laxia’s boots found the canvas, but her legs still lacked the strength to support her full weight. Her knees wavered as her body tilted backward, only for Bandita’s arms to wrap securely around her waist. Laxia’s back was drawn against Bandita’s body. Her sweat-dampened shoulders met the softness of Bandita’s breasts, and the luchadora’s rapid, labored heartbeat traveled through her back once again. Rather than crushing her, Bandita supported her from behind and slowly guided her toward the center of the ring. Their bodies bumped together with every unsteady step. Each time Bandita exhaled, her warm breath tickled the nape of Laxia’s neck and the edge of her ear.

Bandita's quiet words slipped into her ear. Laxia forced herself through another difficult step. Much of her weight still rested within Bandita’s arms. Even so, when she turned her head slightly, a haughty smile remained upon her lips. “For someone who wants it so badly... you seem to be having quite a bit of trouble getting me up.” Laxia allowed a little more of her weight to settle into Bandita’s embrace. Her shoulders trembled faintly beneath the ragged breath brushing her neck, but she pretended not to notice as she continued.

“Surely you aren’t going to claim.. that I’m too heavy, are you..? That would be rather rude..”

[CyanDimitrik]

The face was not what Bandita was expecting to see, but it strikes her like a hammer; hard enough to crack and break the shell she was forming around herself. The plucky rogue wears her heart on her sleeve, for better or worse - not whimsical, so much as at its mercy. The coldness with which she seemed to've been chastised earlier is gone, replaced with something she was far more interested in seeing: pleasure. Pleasure at looking back at her.

Just that quickly, as if shrugging off an overburdening boa, Bandita no longer feels the weight of guilt or regret pressing into her for enjoying that pin. In fact, seeing the face she'd been feeling intimately now smiling at her makes her want it more. Makes her want to pin her again. To stay like that, to let herself fully enjoy the final moments of their match together.

But there was still a match to wrestle. And that's easily half the thrill of the moment. The violent, forceful exchanges, feeling nothing but her rival's body contesting against hers as they struggle together for dominance. Couple it with someone she's taken a liking to, and it's enough to leave a girl breathless.

She was back to teasing her. Bandita loved that.

She didn't have a response to her in that moment. She was just happy to be hauling Laxia up to her feet and drawing her along with her, embracing her around her midsection, feeling her weight stumbling against her. The next tease earns a giggle, and Bandita tilts her head to briefly bury her face against the girl's shoulder, trying to hide it from the cameras. When it lifts again, her lips are angled just so at her ear. "Not my fault you're having trouble standing, princesa," she teases back. "But don't worry. I'll lead."

The two have found the center of the ring. And this is where Bandita has decided she's going to give Laxia her final moments in their match. Dead center. Admittedly, where the ring is at its most flexible and softest. But it would be a mistake to think this is some grand mercy - this is simply the most spectacular position to pin someone.

"You? Too heavy?" A soft little scoff follows. "It's time for 'de spin an' dip in our little dance!"

She frees a hand to press Laxia's shoulder and lead her into a forward bend, until she's fully bent over in front of her. She then reaches around her to manually direct Laxia's left arm between her legs, where she can snag it by the wrist with her right hand. Leaning herself over Laxia's sweat-glistening back, Bandita hooks her left arm around Laxia's right shoulder, setting her up in the classic pumphandle position. Pulling on the captive arm and shoulder, Bandita makes fully use of her mastery of body mechanics and their tangled position to let it unfurl beautifully in a smooth lift, spiraling Laxia's figure into a horizontal cradle at chest-height - only to plummet with her, dropping to a kneeling position. Laxia's lower back is directed with crushing force to collide with Bandita's upturned knee in a picture-perfect pumphandle backbreaker!

[Letta]

As Bandita leaned in to whisper close to her ear, Laxia’s eyes narrowed slightly at the tickle of her breath. “Then do try not to step on my toes...” Somewhere amid their unsteady steps, the two had reached the very center of the ring. With Bandita’s declaration, a hand pressed down against Laxia’s shoulder. Her weakened upper body folded forward, the pressure continuing until she was bent fully at the waist. Bandita’s other hand then reached around her body and guided Laxia’s left arm between her own toned thighs. The displaced hand briefly flailed through the air before Bandita’s right hand secured her firmly by the wrist.

At the same time, Bandita’s left arm hooked around Laxia’s right shoulder. Her body pressed close against Laxia’s sweat-slick back, pulling the captive arm and shoulder in opposite directions. Laxia instinctively tried to straighten her back and step one boot forward to recover her balance. But the arm trapped between her thighs could not move, and with her shoulder secured as well, her body had no way to escape the angle Bandita had created. Was this another submission meant to twist her abdomen? Before the thought could fully form, the direction of the force pulling on her wrist and shoulder suddenly changed. Laxia’s boots left the canvas.

“Aah...??”

Bandita was not trying to muscle her exhausted body upward through brute strength alone. She used the captured arm and shoulder as leverage, linking Laxia’s bent posture with the shift of her own weight. Once again, she was controlling Laxia’s body through angle and timing rather than raw power. Laxia’s restrained figure rotated smoothly with Bandita’s movement. Lifted horizontally, she soon found herself suspended at chest height, caught securely across Bandita’s body as though cradled in her arms. For one brief instant, she felt almost weightless. Then Bandita began to descend. Still holding Laxia tightly in place, she dropped with her while raising one knee beneath her.

“Ghhhaaaah....!!”

Laxia’s lower back crashed squarely across the upturned knee. Her body arched violently over the solid point of impact, her upper body and legs recoiling in opposite directions. Pain exploded through her lower back before surging into her abdomen and chest, forcing what little breath remained in her lungs out alongside the scream. Cries and cheers erupted from the audience at once. Every camera aimed toward the center of the ring captured the sight of Laxia’s body folding dramatically over Bandita’s knee. Laxia remained draped across the knee for only a moment before her body slipped limply aside and fell to the mat. She clutched her lower back with both hands and tried to curl inward, but her thoroughly exhausted limbs barely obeyed her.

After writhing weakly through the pain, Laxia finally rolled onto her back. Her arms and legs fell loosely apart. Only her chest still moved, rising and falling rapidly. “Haa... haa....” No answer or taunt escaped her lips now, only one strained, pain-laced breath after another.

[CyanDimitrik]

Bandita had no intention of moving to disrupt that beautiful moment, Laxia's body bowed spectacularly over her knee. That would be another one for the highlight reel, for her personal collection. The way those crystal blue eyes would shoot open wide, the way her supple body arches, that feel of her weight impacting that unyielding knee; it felt powerful. Euphoric. A unique kind of high only a wrestler could understand.

The ginger rolls off the knee and to the mat. And in short order, Laxia is lying splayed before her. Bandita leans forward, crossing a forearm over her thigh. Her shoulders rise and fall heavily with each labored pant, her bangs clinging wetly against her brow, the jet-black hair shining with sweat. Her gaze dips, traveling over her figure - she means it to be subtle. But it isn't. Bandita is looking her over, openly admiring her. The corners of her lips tick upwards, smile brightening her dusky face.

"Not yet..," she says. "You.. deserve better. My best."

She leans in to take Laxia's wrists into her hands, pulling to first sit her up. She pauses there, left hand still holding her wrist while the right hand travels up her arm to her shoulder, then behind her neck to try to coax her to look up at her.

"If I give you.. my best.. you won't hold it against me.. will you?," she asks between breaths. At this proximity, every exhale is a wave of warmth lapping against Laxia's lips. Her eyes try to search hers, those earnest hazel-greens conveying all the sincerity of her heart. She wants to give Laxia her all. But she doesn't want to beat up a girl who's already finished. She's yearning for that spark, that indication that she can take it. One more thing. Just one more.

While holding her there, the hand shifts. It's subtle, lost beneath the mane of orange hair and invisible to the audience. But Laxia would certainly feel it - the gently strokes of Bandita's hand against her neck, fingers gingerly grazing skin. Is it even something she's consciously doing at this point? It may be difficult to tell, with the way she's transfixed on her aristocratic rival. But the touch is undeniably affectionate and fond.

[Letta]

Laxia lay sprawled at the center of the ring, her arms and legs spread across the canvas. Her lower back still throbbed from being driven across Bandita’s knee, and every breath sent the pain radiating along her spine and into her abdomen and sides. She wanted to curl inward and shield herself from it, but her thoroughly exhausted limbs barely obeyed her. Even through her blurred vision, she could make out the hazel-green eyes slowly traveling over her and the smile spreading across Bandita’s face. Earlier, that openly admiring gaze might have earned irritation before anything else. But this time, Laxia did not look away.

Fully aware of how Bandita was taking in her disheveled state, she simply met the luchadora’s gaze while drawing one labored breath after another. There was no longer any reason to doubt that the look held no mockery. “Not yet.. You.. deserve better. My best.” Bandita leaned down and took both of Laxia’s wrists into her hands. There was almost no strength left in Laxia’s arms, and her body followed Bandita’s pull as she was drawn up from the mat. The moment her waist folded, a sharp burst of pain shot through her again, drawing a short groan from between her lips.

“Ngh……”

She barely managed to remain seated, her upper body swaying as though it might collapse again at any moment. Bandita kept hold of one wrist while slowly guiding her other hand up Laxia’s arm. It passed over her shoulder before settling behind her neck, the palm gently supporting and lifting her head. Laxia’s eyelids fluttered faintly as Bandita’s fingers brushed along the nape of her neck. The touch felt less like an attack than a careful attempt to confirm something. Hidden beneath the curtain of orange hair, the movement was invisible to both the crowd and the cameras. But the sudden beat of Laxia’s pulse beneath those fingertips was something Bandita could surely feel.

Even so, Laxia did not push the hand away. Instead, she entrusted a little more of her neck to Bandita’s palm and slowly raised her head to meet the hazel-green eyes before her. Each warm exhale from Bandita brushed across her lips. Her body was already near its limit, but the defiant light within those blue eyes had not disappeared. “You call it your best... yet you’re asking for my permission first?” Her voice was faint beneath her ragged breathing, but a trace of haughty playfulness had returned to its edge.

Laxia pressed one hand against the canvas. Her arm immediately began to tremble, and another pulse of pain surged through her lower back, but she refused to surrender her full weight to Bandita. She pushed herself a little farther upright through her own strength, then lightly took hold of Bandita’s forearm with her other hand. Not to push her away. Only to steady her wavering body and show that she was not finished yet. What Bandita wanted was not merely permission. She wanted proof that Laxia still possessed the will to fight. A sign that she could endure one more thing.

Laxia gave her that answer with her body. With her neck still cradled in Bandita’s palm, she raised her chin slightly and met the earnest gaze before her without wavering. There was no need to say it aloud. Bandita could feel the answer in the faint pressure of Laxia’s fingers around her forearm, in the pulse still beating beneath her touch, and in the defiant light that refused to leave those crystal-blue eyes. If this was truly Bandita’s best, then Laxia would meet it without looking away.

[CyanDimitrik]

Bandita's eyes widen when Laxia starts to lift herself, her knee-jerk impulse being to help her. Never before has she been so instantly concerned for the well-being of an opponent, much less wanting to help them to their feet in the middle of a match! But something about Laxia's natural air of sophistication and poise made her seem all at once regal and delicate - commanding the air around her, but in a vulnerable state that makes the heart bleed. But when she felt the pressure on her forearm, she stilled the impulse and understood. Then she steeled the arm, to make it a stable support for her.

Laxia meant to stand on her own. She needed to stand on her own.

And with that, Bandita rose to stand before her. They'd stood like this before, at the start of the match. Before their bodies were battered and bent, broken and beaten. Now, they stand much closer, enough so that the curvature of Bandita's breasts lightly brushes against Laxia's, every inhale between them causing them to press together. The luchadora's eyes remain steadily upon Laxia's, taking her in.

She's more beautiful now than she was when fresh and pristine. She earned that beaten look. And she's earned the right to stand tall now.

Bandita's heart is leaping in her chest, and it's all she can do to try to subdue the smitten look in her eyes. But she has to admit to herself that this moment is perfect. Both panting. One defiant. One measured. Bandita draws her bottom lip between her teeth, falling into a moment of silence as she audience watches on.

It's clear to them that Laxia is barely standing. But it's also just as clear that the look on Bandita's face is nothing short of admiration.

"Estás impresionante...," she half-murmurs, half-purrs in Spanish. She inhales sharply through the nose, willing her mind to focus. "Here goes."

Bandita takes a step back. Then suddenly pivots at the hip, launching a quick, harrying kick against Laxia's outer thigh from the right! Popping her balance to the opposite foot, a second kick snaps against Laxia's opposite thigh from the left! Both meant to batter her without taking her legs out from under her. Normally, a third kick would follow - but Bandita opts out of colliding the sole of her boot to Laxia's midsection, and instead dramatically lunges in with a low straight punch from the right to sink into the aristocrat's exposed belly.

That shot is the roughest of the three, launching her full strength into the effort to crush the abdominal muscles surrounding her navel. But she doesn't linger long enough to risk letting Laxia collapse. Instead, she pushes to her full height and, fully expecting Laxia to be doubled over around her fist, uses her free hand to seize her beneath the chin and manually force her body upright again.

The perky Bandita shoots her a radiant smile and wink for that brief second of eye contact - or even if her eyes remain shut! And she leaves her, turning to rush the ropes. The luchadora throws herself forward into a handstand with the momentum, her back hitting the cables while inverted and effortlessly ricocheting the girl back onto her feet - into a backwards handspring directly aimed to collide her inverted body with Laxia's. She perks her upper-body, balancing her waist on Laxia's shoulder before whirling herself to the aristocrat's opposite shoulder and snagging her head beneath her arm in a guillotine. Her lower body sweeps seamlessly over to swing beneath Laxia's arm, creating nothing but profound backwards momentum.

All in a single, fluid motion. All under three seconds. And as Bandita's back hits the mat at the culmination of her swinging momentum, the focal point of the impact is the top of Laxia's head against the mat in the completion of a satellite DDT.

"DELITO CALIENTEEEEEE!," is barely audible from the commentators amidst the arena-shaking roar of the audience.