Karen Gale vs Mateo Salinas

[Underdoggo]

There was a satisfying, dull smack as Karen's kneepad collided with Mateo's back, sending the Mexican crumpling forward onto his back. Grinning wolfishly, Karen stepped after the groaning Mexican as he rolled onto his side, clutching his back. "What, didn't think I'd be fast enough to dodge that?" she taunted. "That's your second mistake, mate. Your first was climbing into the ring with me!"

Not wanting to give Mateo the time to recover, Karen reached down, grabbing a handful of her male opponent's head to lift him unceremoniously to his feet, before wrapping both arms around his waist. With a grunt as she held her breath, she arched backwards, aiming to neatly German suplex Mateo head over heels and ram him, back-and-shoulders first, into the ring...and then, ideally hold him there, arching her body back to keep him folded in a pin...

[Parker]

“More of a hope you wouldn’t,” He answered honestly with a groan, a kick of his boot to the mat as he clutched his back. Before he started to rise himself, Karen grabbed hold of his head and he was brought up whether he was ready or not, wincing at the throbbing pain that gripped his spine. He slouched in her grip, reaching down with her arms, a bit too slow to try to pry them apart when he was hefted off the mat backwards.

The ring thudded violently as Mateo’s back met the canvas, the air exploding from his lungs in a single ragged gasp. For a moment, the world was a blur of lights and pain, his spine screamed again as it was folded over itself, his shoulders jarred against the mat, and the crowd’s cheer hit like static in his ears. Karen’s bridge was tight, textbook-perfect, her hips arched high as she kept him folded awkwardly beneath her.

The ref dropped beside them, hand slapping the mat.

“ONE!”

Mateo’s body sagged, as relaxed as possible when bent head over heels upside down. He let Karen do the work, managing his weight to keep him balanced, by he conserved for the precious few seconds, blood running to his head from the position.

“TWO!”

Before the third slap could hit, his body surged. A hard buck of his hips, a twist of his shoulders, and he threw every ounce of strength he had into breaking the bridge. His back rolled, his legs snapping out to the side as he popped a shoulder off the mat, just enough to force the ref to halt the count. With a kick of his feet was all it took to topple the two of them sideways.

Karen’s weight shifted, still heavy, but just enough that he could feel air again. His back felt like it had been set on fire, but his pride burned hotter.

“Not… yet,” he hissed under his breath.

[Underdoggo]

Karen felt Mateo's firm body surged up under hers as he managed to kick out, getting a shoulder up just in time. Kneeling upright, Karen smiled wolfishly, allowing herself to conveniently forget the fact that Mateo had been firmly in control for at least the first minute or so of this match.

"Come on mate, no time to lie down. I'm just getting started!" Grabbing a handful of Mateo's hair, Karen would move to yank the Mexican to his feet before pulling him over towards the corner post. Laying his arms across the top rope, Karen would waste no time in delivering a forearm chop to the man's chest while he was stuck in the corner, aiming to soften him up a little further before she tried for a pinfall again.

[Parker]

Mateo groaned as Karen’s fingers tangled in his hair, yanking him up off the mat. His boots scraped against the canvas as she hauled him upright, his body still protesting from the German suplex that had dumped him just moments earlier. His back was tight, lungs burning, and the moment he found his footing, she was already dragging him toward the corner like a prize she wasn’t done beating the shine off of.

He slumped against the turnbuckles, arms draped over the top rope for balance as he tried to catch his breath. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple, his chest heaving with every inhale.

"Tch… easy, chica… not everyone’s built like a damn tank," he muttered between breaths, though the words barely carried before-

THWACK!

Her chop came crashing across his chest, the sound snapping through the air and echoing into the cheap seats. The sting bloomed hot and red across his skin, forcing a sharp grunt out of him as his body jolted from the impact. He sagged back against the corner again, hand gripping the top rope, head hanging low as he hissed through his teeth.

"…hahh-damn…" He breathed out, voice low and hoarse. The blow had cleared his head, sure, but it hadn’t done his body any favors. His chest throbbed where she’d hit him, every heartbeat a reminder of her strength. Normally he’d fire back immediately, show the crowd some flair with a challenge of blows. Karen was desceptively strong, something he had already found out once, but every time she reminded him it left him reeling. For now, all he could do was stay put-swaying slightly in the corner, trying to steady his breathing and find that one second to pull himself back together before she came swinging again.

[Underdoggo]

Karen raised an eyebrow at Mateo's comment even as she unceremoniously lifted him off his feet and draped him across the ropes. Even at this point in the match, it would have been all too easy for Mateo to start trash talking her, to get serious with his banter. Instead, not only was his conversation remaining lighthearted and respectful, but he wasn't even losing his temper. Not even as Karen delivered a brutal forearm chop to his chest.

"Like a tank? Why thanks mate, I'll take whatever compliment I can get," Karen said with a smile, one hand briefly going onto her hip as she allowed Mateo a fraction of a second to admire her physique. But only a fraction of a second. "Not that you'll win this match with flattery." Grabbing Mateo's hair, Karen would drag him out of the corner and guide his head between her powerful thighs, before hooking her arms around his, aiming to lift him off his feet and slam him down again in a quick but effective pedigree!

[Parker]

“Just hoped it’d buy me a moment.” He croaked, the sarcasm apparent in his voice even as it strained.Mateo’s breath hitched as Karen yanked him out of the corner, her grip like iron in his hair. Despite being half-staggered, he could feel the raw power behind her movements, every pull deliberate, every step of hers heavy and sure. She wasn’t just strong; she carried herself like someone who was used to throwing that power around. He’d have to do something about that before she got too much momentum.

Her frame loomed close as she forced him upright, broad shoulders flexing. Sweat caught the light along her biceps as she moved, her back rolling like a coiled spring about to snap. Even through the haze of pain, Mateo caught flashes of the compact muscle along her abdomen, the solid thickness of her thighs, thighs that, a heartbeat later, trapped his head between them like a vice.

"Nn-hah… so about that moment fiera…" he rasped, forcing air between clenched teeth as he twisted, trying to wrench his arms free. His spine bowed, the muscles along his back tensing as he tried to lift her, but she planted her boots, dropping her weight perfectly. Her body barely shifted under the strain. For a moment, they were locked in a taut, breathless struggle, Mateo fighting against her leverage, Karen’s arms locked firm beneath his, her torso pressing tight to keep him where she wanted him. Then she moved.

A sharp pull, a shift of hips, and the canvas rose up to meet him.

THUD!

The impact jarred his entire frame, his body jolted and sprawled flat as she dropped him clean with the pedigree. His arms slipped free, useless and slack against the mat. The crowd’s reaction hit almost as hard as the move,half winces, half cheers for the sheer authority of it. Mateo lay still, his chest rising in ragged rhythm. A low groan escaped him as he stared at the mat.

[Underdoggo]

For the second time in a row now, the ring shook as Karen introduced Mateo to it in a fairly direct and fairly brutal fashion. The handsome Mexican was now sprawled facedown on the mat, utterly stunned by Karen's pedigree, looking fairly out of it after that stunning move. It would have been easy to go for a pinfall, here and now. Very easy. But Karen had seen just how fast this well-mannered Mexican could be when he was in his element, and wanted to hammer him even further.

Shoving Mateo over onto his back, Karen began to climb up the turnbuckle, clapping to the audience to signal that she was going for something big. She was not much of a high-flyer-- in fact the last thing you could call her was aerodynamic-- but she knew how powerful a tool gravity could be, and she took that to heart as she turned and launched herself off the ropes, aiming a brutal leg drop down across Mateo's chest while he was stunned!

[Parker]

The world swayed above him, lights swimming in blurred circles as Karen’s rolled him onto his back. Mateo’s body followed like dead weight, a low groan rumbling out of his chest as his shoulders hit the canvas. His face twisted, the pain of that last pedigree still echoing through his skull. He lifted his head slightly, instinct telling him to rise, but his neck gave out halfway, dropping him back to the mat with a dull thud.

The ceiling lights burned down at him, harsh and distant. For a moment, he looked every bit done, sprawled flat, chest rising in uneven bursts, one arm twitching faintly at his side.

Then the crowd’s noise shifted.

Through the haze, Mateo caught the sound of clapping, the rhythm sharp, deliberate. Karen’s boots echoed on the turnbuckles with the creak of the fastenings. He blinked hard, vision trying to refocus through the fog. When his eyes found her perched above, he saw that confident posture, the crowd urging her on. And somewhere in the blur, something in him clicked.

Move!

The second she jumped, instinct took over. Mateo rolled hard to his side, not graceful, not even fast, but just enough. The shadow of Karen’s descent cut across his peripheral as her leg crashed into the mat where his ribs had been a heartbeat before. The impact sent a sharp tremor through the ring, her own momentum betraying her as the audience gasped.

Mateo came to rest on his stomach, arm draped weakly over the ropes. His eyes flickered open wider now, clearer, sharper. There’d been more awareness behind them than he’d let on, a thin layer of fight hiding beneath all the exhaustion. He didn’t rise right away. His breathing was still ragged, muscles trembling from that hard sequence she put him through. "Close one, fiera," he muttered under his breath. “Just returning the favor.”

[Underdoggo]

Karen was feeling pretty confident as she climbed the turnbuckle: after a shaky start to this match, she was now firmly in the driver's seat, hammering Mateo hard and giving him a nice feeling of just how strong she actually was. Glancing down as she climbed, she saw Mateo still lying there, staring up glassy eyed at the ceiling.

Which was why, as she leapt off, it came as an incredibly rude surprise when Mateo simply rolled out of the way.

Pain shot through her leg as it impact against the mat, briefly hyperextending it, causing her to cry out as she bounced and rolled sideways. "Fucking.. goddam...sonova..." she cursed, clutching her hurting thigh as she rolled, trying to put some distance between them...

[Parker]

Mateo blinked up at the lights for a beat, the stars fading from his vision as he pushed himself upright. The pedigree had knocked the wind out of him, but there was enough of that stubborn spark left to keep him moving. He flexed one hand, testing the sting across his shoulder, then rolled to his feet in one steady motion, no theatrics, just the slow, controlled climb of someone who never lost his head for long.

He watched Karen clutch at her thigh and smiled, not smug so much as pointedly calm. A new target presented itself and he was going to be sure to work that angle. He crossed the ring with compact, economical steps, closing the distance until he could reach out and hook the back of her neck with one hand and slide his other arm under her near side, an old, practical lift. He hauled her partway up, letting her feel the weight of him, then shifted his grip in a single smooth change: fingertip to wrist, wrist to elbow, snatching a solid hold on her arm.

A quick pivot, a step back, and he sent her stumbling toward the far ropes with a clean Irish whip. If she took off running, he matched her tempo, jogging at a measured pace until she hit the ropes and sprang back. That was the moment he wanted, he accelerated, timing his approach with the rebound. As she launched herself to close distance, Mateo dipped and snapped his leg out hard, a low, stinging knee aimed square at her thigh to catch her lower body off-guard with a kitchen sink, looking to keep the pressure hot on her newest sore spot while getting her back to the mat.