L.A.W. - League of Anime Wrestling

"That's too bad. You're not the only company I have to keep."

Hiroyuki fired back before getting onto his feet. He rolled his shoulders to get himself back into gear. The snug shirt underneath the coat hugged the contours of his muscle as everything above and below his V-line flexed with the motion. He regarded the hard, blunt edge before trying to nail Micaela by reeling his arm back and sending it into her right kneecap with a straight throw. He disarmed himself, but he was hoping it was to bother her joint as a less lethal option. Plus, he was also hoping she would focus her attention onto it.

He started into a dash to cut the distance in only a few seconds. He aimed to leap forward and nail Micaela in the stomach with a mighty push kick. Combined with the boot, it wouldn't feel very good. Though, if she were fast enough to dodge, his boot would stomp into the shelf and make it creek from the strain.

Riled up, Hiroyuki shot for a double-leg takedown if he would be able to go low and wrap his arms around her thighs. This way, he could force her back into the wooden table where he'd thrown props at her before. Getting back into character, Hiroyuki's tone lacked the heat he could usually muster up. Those liver hits were stll bothering him. Even so, he decided to say a line about the federal agent trying to take back control of the situation despite Ada---or Mickey's---plans for him.

"Now, Ada---a-are we done here?"

A stutter. The effort made Hiroyuki slump into another clinch again, as if they were in a lovers' embrace. Though, this time, his heavy head was hanging over Mickey's collarbone. Short, minty pants splashed against her skin from the choke and aching liver. Plus, her earlier comments had made his cheeks fluster up. Nice and pink. God, this sucked. Oh well, he mused. All that mattered was staying in character to give the most realistic fight possible if Mickey didn't erode his resolve first.

Micaela pulled off the harness as she approached, tossing it aside with a casual flick. As much as she liked the aesthetic and the character of this match, she was getting in a good mood- her best fighting mood, and she wanted as little restriction as possible.

She had just started to charge in when he threw that…whatever-it-was at her, striking her in the knee, not exactly something she was expecting. It hit her right on the patella and left her hopping, which let him close the distance, stride her way, and drive that long leg of his into her like a battering ram. Mickey brought up a tight cross-arm block, but that was the thing with being tiny - you could brace and block all you want, but when big people threw their weight at you, you went flying, and there wasn’t much you could do about it.

She was knocked back, nearly crashed into the shelf again, and he didn’t give her a moment's respite. In her came, going low and seizing her legs, controlling her lower body with the double-leg. Taking away her options. Smart, effective. But she was hardly without tools, even like this.

”You want to get close, huh, Leon?” She brought her hand up and pushed against his face, creating just enough distance for her to work with. Her pale grey eyes met his, locking on with a wild spark. ”Alright.”

Miceala tried to bring her arm around his head as her other arm pressed in from, latching onto the wrist while she formed her spare hand into a tight fist. Her shoulder pressed against his neck, eliminating any of the remaining space, and if all went well?

An Ezekial Choke. Not as good as the Guillotine, in her opinion, but it would do in a pinch. This fucker was going to sleep, one way or another.

Hiroyuki's brows furrowed as her hand pushed on his face. Another blur of movement before he was forced to look into Micaela's eyes. Then the apprehension began to set in as Mickey worked her other arm underneath his throat. An Ezekiel. Quick little devil, wasn't she? Hiroyuki was reduced to sputtering as his vision momentarily blurred while she cranked the choke. The lightheadedness made Hiro lose his balance then lean off to the side, rolling them over as his back slammed into the floor. As one could imagine, it did wonders for the air exiting his lungs. That put Mickey on top as his boots scrapped against the floor like a particular scene from No Country for Old Men. In a way, Mickey using her grapples were preferable to the handcuffs.

Spoiler

His depleting brain functions figured that the best course of action was to thrust his fists into her side. Up---then chamber again---and repeat to sock her in the ribs. Once, twice, and maybe more if she didn't address it. The seconds were ticking onward, as his pupils and irises began to dilate. In Hiroyuki's vision, Mickey's face swirled into a mass of brown and black. Like a dream that he was struggling to catch the details of. The lack of air caused the brain to hallucinate, making every sensation that you feel become more intense. Hypoxia, they called it. Nasty stuff---as per another member of the federation.

"Ash---ley..." He strained out as a hushed murmur. Since Mickey was choking him out, it could either be an attempt at Leon's concern over his mission or a soon-to-be dream about the fictional Miss Graham and/or the woman mounted on top of him after he had fallen over. She wasn't a telepath. Perhaps it was both?

Since he would need something more convincing to let him go, Hiroyuki would abandon the punches to try and push her supporting arm---the one she wasn't using to wrap around the back of his neck---off to his right side to relieve some of the pressure. Like before, yanking the choking arm wouldn't do anything. With their mounds running flush against each other, his hips would writhe and squirm beneath Mickey. Partially due to panic from a starving brain. Partially due to trying to bridge. With her ankles still locked around his back, it was particularly hard to dislodge her. The best he could manage for this exact moment was teetering over onto either side of his body.

Being short and tiny was a mixed bag on the best days - it didn’t suck as much as people thought, but Micaela would be lying if she said there weren’t time she wished she could just magically be taller, if only so she could avoid the embarrassment of asking people to reach on high shelves for her, or so she could ride roller coasters, or so cops would stop assuming she was a kid and ask where her parents were. That last one had even put her in a jail cell a couple of times.

But one of the advantages, at least in combat, was that her arms, small as they were, fit really well around her neck, a fact that Hiroyuki currently knew better than most. It was like she was a living garotte. Gravity took it from here, and the two of them fell to the floor with her on top and him writhing between her legs. Pleasant sensations.

The punch, however, were not.

She’d expected they would be coming, which helped a bit, but they were still strong, stiff shots to the ribs, delivered at point blank. She held on as best as she could, but they took their toll, leaving her gasp after every one.

”Oh, Leon.” She chuckled in between her grunts. ”We have got to stop meeting like this.”

Of course, there was a good reason why Micaela hadn't worked this move into her signature rotation, one that Hiroyuki demonstrated when his persistence paid off, pushing at her arms and earning him some space. It wasn’t enough for him to escape, but it killed the effectiveness. He could breathe.

Fine.

Mickey eased off the hold, released him, then plants her hands on his chest and pushed up to her feet. She didn’t stay there for long, however, as her next move was to jump straight up, tuck her legs in, and shoot them downwards to deliver a double stomp to his gut, driving all of her weight into him.

Hiroyuki got his wish. He was free. However, it was a tad---too easy. She had unwrapped herself from around him with the gusto of having a plan in mind.

"Wha-"

He raised a brow up while his hands remained in front of his chest. What was she doing? Then, Micaela jumped. She kicked her feet out---right where his stomach was. 120 pounds of weight caved his abs inward. And there was a particular organ that laid behind them. Hiro's intestines. The stomp went past the muscle and he could've sworn he felt them touch his organs. The shock of it overpowered his tolerance, leaving Hiroyuki to let loose a rampant cough as he hugged his belly and involuntarily rolled onto his side. His stomach felt like it was on fire, combined with the tender liver. That was going to make him hurl up acid if it was done repeatedly. At least he had the sense to avoid a big meal beforehand to not trigger a gag reflex and vomit. Still, Mickey's stomp was heavy.

Stunned, Hiroyuki almost cursed at himself over the pain. His mind wandered over to something else. A weapon. He needed a weapon to damage her. Or some kicks. He had to get up for either choice though. His midsection was getting to be in bad shape. If she reset herself instead of continuing to stomp him out, then he'd let himself fall onto his belly and go for the kitchen table's chair next to where his 'double leg' had sent the both of them. His movements were slower and his middle protested with every stretch that asked too much. A dark possibility of Mickey simply intercepting him did cross his mind due to how slow he was moving. He had to pace. He had to get up. He attempted to get a handle on the edge of said chair and pull himself onto his feet. Every so often, his gaze would flick back to see if Micaela was inching closer or not. Offense could come later. This felt like he was facing a 'Stalker Enemy' from one of the games. At least he had battered her forearms...