Troy Mikkelsen vs Alex Iwasaki-Jacobson: Destruction Derby

[OverlordofYaoiness]

Alex began to moan, almost sobbing from the pain Troy was causing him with his hammerlock. Alex managed to ask, "Gir...l?" Tears were already welling up on Alex's face, as he felt Troy's muscles constricting his body. He would have been glad to give in already; he couldn't lose to some straight guy? Never.

"I... didn't think I... had... a girlfriend... you... were so... attractive... for... a guy," Alex managed to finish, feeling the pressure mounting with each passing minute. Those bulging muscles of Troy's were haunting him, but he had to win. This time, for sure.

Feeling his leg, Alex somehow twisted free and delivered a sharp kick to Troy's nose. Troy fell back, but Alex quickly stood up and decided to perform his tornado kick. Punch, twist, punch, twist—the adrenaline and excitement so energized Alex that he landed at least six similar punches, battering Troy's arms and body. As his arms dropped from the tornado kick, Alex decided to perform his "Triple Ball Breaker"—he kicked Troy in the defenseless groin with a powerful kick to the knee. Troy looked sideways, but Alex didn't linger. He grabbed him, tossed him into the air, and landed with him, simultaneously slamming Troy's groin onto his knee. But that wasn't the end—Alex abruptly pushed Troy onto his back and then drove his knee into Troy's balls. With that done, Alex stood up, walked away from Troy, and punched him in the left shoulder, then assumed a jab stance.

[Delalily]

Troy’s grip faltered as Alex’s mention of a girlfriend sparked sudden concern— Nix. His mind raced, wondering if Alex had something planned for her, something that could distract or hurt her. The thought sent a jolt of panic through him, breaking his focus for a split second. Was Alex trying to bring Nix into this? The hesitation, fleeting as it was, was all Alex needed.

In a flash, Alex kicked Troy's nose and wrenched free from his hold. Unrelenting; Alex drove his knee straight into Troy’s groin with brutal precision. The impact was immediate and excruciating, forcing Troy to stagger back, his hand instinctively flying to his crotch as a sharp groan escaped his lips. His vision blurred for a moment, the pain radiating through his body like a shockwave.

“Damn it,” Troy muttered through gritted teeth, his mind still clouded by the unexpected thought of Nix in danger. He shook his head, trying to clear the distraction, but Alex wasn’t about to let him recover as he was hit with another groin shot.

A choked gasp tore from Troy’s throat as pain exploded through his body, his legs buckling instantly. He crumpled onto the mat, clutching himself, his vision swimming. The crowd’s roar faded into a distant buzz as he curled onto his side, teeth gritted against the nausea rolling through him.

However, Troy would not stay down. If Nix was in danger, then he sure as hell wouldn’t lose to anyone who would hurt her. Groaning, he forced himself onto one knee, his body trembling with the effort. His body felt like it was held together by sheer willpower alone, but he didn’t care. If Alex wanted to take him out, he’d have to earn it.

His ribs ached, his head pounded, and every muscle in his body screamed for him to stay down. But he couldn’t. Not with Nix in danger. Not with Alex still standing. Troy barked, his voice hoarse but steady.

“Let’s finish this.”

[OverlordofYaoiness]

"Honestly, I don't give a damn about your girlfriend. Firstly, I'm into guys, and secondly, I just don't like women. And even if, God forbid, Nyx wanted to fight me, I'd simply destroy her. What can I do, I can barely stand women. But guys... that's another matter... Their muscles, chest, abs, their demeanor—they're perfect!" Alex screamed, loud enough for the ring to hear. A disgruntled roar came from the female audience, but Alex just shrugged.

"Women... what can you do... Hey, Troy, have you considered joining the guy-loving camp? Why do you need Nyx? She's... damn, if she had a dick, she'd be a great man. But as it is, she's a nasty woman."

Alex assumed a defensive stance, expecting a response. He was completely sincere in his judgment. He enjoyed fighting Troy, maybe he liked Troy himself—but he didn't like the fact that he was straight. Alex, however, was ready to tear Troy to pieces. He rarely fought guys, and at the club where Alex trained, almost every girl was taken away in an ambulance—and here he had a chance to prolong the pleasure of the fight.

[Delalily]

As soon as Alex finished talking, Troy saw red. The statement echoed in his mind, igniting a firestorm of rage that obliterated any lingering pain or exhaustion. He’d never lose to this asshole. Not now, not ever. The thought of Alex harming Nix—his Nix—was enough to push Troy over the edge.

With a vicious roar, Troy lunged forward, his body driven by pure rage and adrenaline. Before Alex could even react, Troy closed the distance in a flash, grabbing him by the shoulders and slamming him down with a brutal takedown. Alex’s back hit the mat hard, the air rushing out of his lungs as Troy straddled him, pinning him in place.

Troy’s fists came down like a hammer, one after another, each punch landing with sickening force. His knuckles cracked against Alex’s skull, the sound echoing through the arena as blood splattered across the mat.

“You don’t touch her!” Troy snarled, his voice raw with fury as he drove another punch into Alex’s head. “You don’t even fucking think about touching her!”

Troy wasn’t just fighting to win anymore—he was fighting to protect. Every punch was fueled by the image of Nix, her safety, her smile. Alex tried to resist, blood trickling from his nose and mouth, but Troy didn’t let up.

“You wanna talk about Nix?” Troy growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Let’s talk about how I’m gonna make sure you never get near her.”

Troy kept punching long after Alex stopped fighting back, his fists rising and falling until Alex’s face was reduced to a bloody pulp on the mat. The referee tried to stop him, but Troy was relentless.

If he had his way, Alex would never open his eyes again.

[OverlordofYaoiness]

Alex lay on the ring floor, trying to recover. His head was practically swimming in blood, his nose was badly bruised, but his jaw was miraculously intact—Troy had given him quite a beating.

But somehow Alex got to his feet and, swaying, delivered a dropkick to Troy's abs. Troy fell from the blow, and Alex threw himself into the dropkick with more force than ever. Realizing he had to finish the job quickly, Alex quickly mounted the prone Troy, who began to retaliate with his fists, quickly and brutally. The blows rained down on everyone, even more painful than Troy had received. He savagely and brutally pummeled Troy, sparing neither him nor his own fists.

But the execution didn't end there. Having thoroughly battered his face, Alex rose, then grabbed Troy by the shoulders, and, lifting him, began driving knees into Troy's stomach and head. He punched him in the back of the head, twice pierced his liver, and punched him in the kidneys. Troy fell under the blows, only for Alex to kick him in the head, driving it into the ring floor, and then be raised again for another beating.

But Alex decided to break his opponent even further. He grabbed the fallen and nearly exhausted Troy by the chest, lifted him above the ring—only to slam his head into the mat with all his might. He lifted and lowered him, and Alex did this with all his might about five times, fortunately, Troy was heavier and easier to hit this way.

The places where Alex had hit Troy were already covered in blood—it was dripping from the edges of the ring. But Alex pounded, pounded, pounded Troy, never stopping. He alternated beatings with chokes, weakening him and not allowing him to recover for a second. The surge of energy was wild, and the desire to kill awakened within Alex. The crowd roared and begged the referee to stop the bloodshed, but Alex wasn't satisfied—he wanted to obliterate Troy, and he did everything in his power to achieve that.

After thoroughly beating Troy, Alex decided to apply two painful holds: one on his arm and one on his leg. Fortunately, Alex thought his arms and legs were broken after that.

[Delalily]

Troy summoned every ounce of strength he had left, his body trembling with the effort. Alex’s holds were brutal, but they weren’t enough to break him—not while Nix was still on his mind. Not while this guy threatened her. Troy twisted his body violently, his muscles screaming in protest as he wrenched his arm free from Alex’s grip.

Alex’s eyes widened in shock as Troy broke free, his expression a mix of fear and disbelief. Before Alex could react, Troy surged forward with a force fueled by pure rage. He grabbed Alex by the neck and hurled him toward the ropes, sending him crashing out of the ring in a heap.

Troy staggered to his feet, blood dripping from his split lip, his chest heaving as he glared down at his battered opponent. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing crimson across his cheek, before pointing a shaking finger at Alex.

"You listen here, you misogynistic little freak," Troy snarled, his voice raw but dripping with venom. "You wanna talk shit about women? About Nix? Newsflash—your obsession with men doesn’t make you better than anyone. It just makes you a pathetic, one-track-minded creep who can’t see past his own damn fetish."

"You think you’re some kind of warrior because you beat up girls in your little club? That just makes you a coward. And let me tell you something—" Troy’s voice dropped to a dangerous growl, "if you ever lay a finger on Nix, I won’t just break your arms. I’ll make sure you never walk again."

[OverlordofYaoiness]

"Oh, man, I don't give a damn about women—I beat them with contempt in my own gym..." Alex croaked. "I fight both men and women. I just get more pleasure from men..."

Alex approached Troy again and somehow assumed a defensive stance, preparing to block his punches. As Troy slowly approached Alex and swung at him, he let Troy's fist slip off Alex's body. Iwasaki struck Troy's right rib, dealing him a particularly hard blow—Alex felt it crack. But Alex wasn't done with the fight. He punched Troy in the stomach again, then hit him twice more in the groin. Troy fell to the ring and tried to get up, but Alex pinned him with his foot.

"Now for the camel clutch!" "Alex yelled this and, sitting on Troy's back, began to pull him up by the neck with his hands. He pulled painfully and hard, Troy screamed in pain, and Alex felt every muscle in his opponent literally tear under his grip.

"Now... I'll definitely... finish... this... fight." Alex performed a camel clutch with one hand and battered Alex's head with the other. Troy's head was fractured in two places and cut open. A horrific sight appeared on the screens – they weren't fighters anymore, they were two bloody masses of flesh. Alex put all his strength into every punch, every swing, to ensure Troy's defeat.

[Delalily]

Troy twisted his body violently, breaking free from Alex’s camel clutch. The pain was excruciating, but adrenaline pushed him forward. He spun around, his movements fueled by pure instinct, and locked his arm around Alex’s neck from behind. The rear-naked choke was tight and unrelenting, his forearm pressing hard against Alex’s windpipe.

Alex thrashed wildly, clawing at Troy’s arm, but Troy held firm. His grip was ironclad, every ounce of his remaining energy focused on keeping Alex in place. Blood dripped from Troy’s face onto Alex’s shoulders, mixing with the sweat and grime that covered them both.

“You’re done,” Troy growled, his voice hoarse but dripping with venom. “You’re fucking done.”

Alex’s struggles grew weaker, his movements sluggish as his oxygen ran out. The crowd roared in a chaotic mix of cheers and gasps, the intensity of the moment palpable. Troy tightened the choke, his muscles burning, his vision swimming. He wouldn’t stop—not until Alex was out cold or the ref called it.

[OverlordofYaoiness]

Alex’s vision flickered at the edges, the pressure on his neck turning every heartbeat into a thunderclap. He stopped thrashing — panic wouldn’t help. Heat from Troy’s chest burned against his back, every muscle in the man’s forearm like a steel cable digging into his throat.
Alex’s hands found Troy’s choking arm. Not yanking — feeling. He dragged his chin down, scraping skin against skin until it wedged over Troy’s wrist. A shallow breath slipped through. Barely enough. His right hand clamped over Troy’s bicep, his left over Troy’s wrist, anchoring the arm that threatened to end it.

With a grunt, Alex rolled his right shoulder toward the crook of Troy’s elbow — the weak side. Troy adjusted, tightening — Alex’s world dimmed. He pressed his heels to the mat and bridged, arching just enough to lift Troy’s weight for half a second. Then he twisted sharply toward the elbow, forcing Troy’s forearm to slide higher across his chin instead of his throat.

Gasp. Air. A crack in the noose.

He forced his hips toward Troy’s choking arm, peeling one of the hooks off his waist with his free hand. Troy cursed, shifted to re-hook, but Alex kept moving — turning, grinding, forcing his back flat to the mat instead of exposed. Another twist, and his shoulder popped free under Troy’s chest. Their limbs tangled like wires, slick with sweat and blood.
Troy tried to follow, but Alex rolled into his guard, forehead pressing against Troy’s sternum, breath hissing through clenched teeth. The choke was gone. His neck burned raw — but he was still breathing.

Alex was gasping for breath, but his brain was already working automatically. He felt Troy's breathing become hoarse—he was giving almost everything he had, trying to finish the choke. That was the key.
Without rising high, Alex pressed his weight against Troy's chest, maintaining pressure to keep him from sitting down. His left hand slipped under his opponent's elbow, diving for his wrist—control. His right palm landed on Troy's chin, slightly shifting his head to the side. A simple, yet devastatingly effective punishment for trying to maintain too much contact.
Troy tried to jerk into guard—too late. Alex spun along his body and settled into side control, pinning his near arm to the mat with his knee. The air trembled with tension; each of their breaths was short and convulsive.
Alex locked a grip under his head and armpit—a sliding transition into kesa-gatame. The pressure, the weight on the chest. In this position, even an experienced fighter suffocates from the compression of his ribs and the inability to turn.

Troy lunged, trying to throw him off, but Alex's arm instantly changed trajectory—he released the hold and switched to an armbar: he wrapped the key around Troy's wrist, trapping his elbow between his knees. A brief twist of the body—a crushing elbow lever.
The cracking of his joints barely drowned out the roar of the crowd. At the same moment, Alex locked the lever, not finishing—just waiting for the referee's signal.

"This... is the end... for you..." Sweat, blood, breathing, a split-second silence—and then the roar of the crowd, heavy and dense, like the roar of the sea. Alex slowly released his hand and retreated to his knees, looking through beads of sweat at Troy's body.

[Delalily]

Troy was suffocating beneath Alex’s crushing weight, the kesa gatame squeezing the air from his lungs like a vice. His ribs screamed under the pressure as every desperate attempt to breathe produced only shallow gasps. The adrenaline that had carried him this far was fading, leaving behind a body pushed past its limits. His arms trembled, his legs twitched—but there was no strength left to escape.

Alex’s heart hammered as he tightened the hold, pressing down harder, his fingers digging into Troy’s throat. Troy’s weak struggles slowed to faint twitches, his vision swimming as darkness crept in at the edges. The crowd’s roar turned to shocked gasps as the tension in the arena reached a breaking point.

Suddenly, a voice rang out. “Stop! You’re killing him!” It was Nix. She ran, grabbing Alex’s blood-streaked shoulders and trying to pull him off. Alex barely acknowledged her. With a sharp shrug he shook her off, sending her stumbling backward into the turnbuckle, where her head snapped against the padding.

The referee immediately called for help. Within seconds several officials rushed the ring, grabbing Alex and pulling with everything they had. For a moment he resisted, locked in place by pure fury—but their combined force finally dragged him away, leaving Troy’s battered body limp on the mat.

Nix knelt beside Troy’s battered body, her hands trembling as she cradled his bloodied face. “Troy! Troy, please, look at me,” she begged, tears streaming down her cheeks as her fingers brushed the deep gash on his forehead. His chest rose in shallow, ragged breaths, his body limp beneath her, and the sight of him like this—so strong, now broken—shattered something inside her. “Don’t you dare leave me,” she whispered, gripping his shoulders gently as the roaring crowd faded into the background. Resting her forehead against his, she pleaded softly but fiercely, “You’re not done. Get up, Troy. Fight. Fight for me.”

Her words lingered in the air, and after a moment Troy’s eyes fluttered open. “Nix,” he croaked weakly. Relief washed over her as she cupped his cheek. “Yeah, it’s me. I’m right here,” she said, trying to keep him still as he groaned and tried to sit up. “Not done yet,” he muttered stubbornly, gripping her hand. Torn but unable to deny him, she helped him sit up, his body trembling with the effort, his face bruised and bloodied but his eyes still burning with determination.

“You’re insane,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. A faint smirk tugged at his lips. “Yeah,” he rasped. “But I’m your insane.” Nix exhaled shakily, pressing her forehead briefly against his shoulder before helping him to his feet. The crowd erupted around them, but she barely noticed. All that mattered was that he was alive—and still fighting.