Mina Piper vs. Jeanne Le Pen

[SwordSavior1]

Beat the mummy zombie vampire and celebrate with some victory pancakes. Her built up appetite motivated more erratic actions from the punchy pinkette. Thanks to recent string of moves, Mina forced her opponent into a state of moving slower than the undead itself. Now it was time to bust a few heads or spleen, believing there was no risk of being bitten. In overdramatic fashion, she manoeuvred her entire body like a hamster wheel preparing the senton. Before Jeanne could be crushed into dust, she somehow gained a third eye (or simply glanced at the right angle) thus leading to Mina dealing more damage to herself instead. "AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" She should have knew this to be the obvious result, knowing there were so many pages left. The false sense of hope like most horror flicks led to the ninja being temporary paralysed, legs hanging upwards towards the apron. Grasped by those bony hands, Mina was dragged into the abyss. "NO!....NOT YET....NOT YET!"

Jeanne didn't pull any breaks as the middleweight let out another strained groan from landing on the hard metal floor. Not leaving anytime soon, Mina gasped and inhaled repeatedly while swaying side to side as a coping mechanism. "Get up!" "Mina!" Watchers clamouring for her to fight against the darkness, only for these chants to sound like demon roars thanks to slightly muffled hearing. This was only the first level of burning and Mina would experience the next soon enough. Unable to regain the energy in time, her empty stomach caved in from the impending weight leading to wails flying out of Mina's mouth, becoming less prone to move having lost more soul in the process.

[Monsy]

Through Liona’s bandaged countenance, many truths became smeared. One such thing was her expression. Everyone knew this woman felt pain. But, Liona's actual state remained concealed. Through lumbering their limbs across the mat, Liona’s weakness convinced everyone. Right until Mina’s senton, the crowd egged on the assault, then, she found nothing but canvas. Liona exploded to life, finding the might and dragging their opponent with one quick yank, likely with supernatural strength! ( Or just good leverage ). Pain jarred her stomach after the moonsault. The harsh landing of the mat and seeping adrenaline caused her wind to pop. She needed rest. As Mina likely fared worse, she pushed off and wobbled into the apron. Here she took a few leisurely seconds before standing tall, shaking her head wildly. A growl rumbled in her throat.

As her back arched, she filled the heavens with another high-pitched laugh, declaring her renewed vigour. The crowd’s earlier chants turned silent. They weren’t just watching a match, but the Restless Maiden’s asylum. Mina’s safety was now in dire straits as Liona prowled closer. Now to begin. She tried delving her hand into Mina’s hair, grabbing a fistful before towing them to their feet. If successful, she’d drive her knee into their gut. Then gripping their wrist, she tried weaving herself underneath, twisting the limb behind their back. A second hand placed itself between Mina’s shoulder-blades before they’d march them forward.

Just where were they going? Straight towards the ring post, seeking to smash their face right into steel!

[SwordSavior1]

No longer in the ring's comfort, Mina was dragged into depths of unknown being 15ft away. She had a better understanding of Jeanne's reaction but even without masks, people hid their feelings quite deeply. Just as she was about to land the senton, the spectators and Mina thought they were finally going to break the shell, but the match suddenly swerved in matter of seconds. The only truly balanced matter was the state of her back and stomach after being caved in by the moonsault. Even if there were far more devastating moves, it didn't stop the word from hurting like hell. Perhaps she ventured into the next level. Her face contorted to what personified suffering, scrunched up facial features and gritted teeth, accompanied by swaying to the side.

Her awareness returned after hearing that maniacal laugh, sending chills down her spine. Was Mina unfortunate enough to be forced into a bloodbath, even if Jeanne was just expressing joy? How does a jokester fare in this environment?

The clump of cotton candy was knotted up, causing Mina to grovel with every inch she was raised "OWWWW...can the next one not involve hard objects?" Her eyes widened and tone sounding awfully brittle. After the recent array of hits, she couldn't simply run away to freedom, apparently the fall turned off her leg batteries.

Jeanne guided them a little journey to a little journey called Steel Post Street with a broken nose being price for a toll. Her heart thumping like she was in a marathon. It was crush or be crushed here. A sin must be performed if Mina wished to not perish. Before she could be tossed in front, the pinkette tried regain feeling in both arms, freeing and curling them around to grab Jeanne's own wrist. Currently anchored down, a look of regret donned on her face. "I am really sorry about this" Before trying to toss the masked marauder instead towards the steel.

[Monsy]

Were they really asking for a modicum of mercy? From a woman who shrieked, laughed and growled. Not that it mattered. They were going for the steel. But no. Liona had underestimated the survival instinct that sparked when danged prowled, turning the situation against her in mere moments. Her arm cried out. The woman underneath the wraps bit her lip and hissed. Anger and pain, while mild, something much worse loomed ahead—the pole. Understandably, the Restless Maiden writhed. Feet jutted foot, resisting the advance. Her head thrust back, and her free arm reached and clawed at their shoulder. But forward they went. The pitter-patter of her heart exploded right as her face collided into the cold, hardened steel. The thunk was like an echo. Knees like unsupported clumps of sludge folded inward, jittering as her arm reached and grabbed the base, scratching at the metal. Groans slipped. Rumblings of bitter pain and a shaky breath seeped through the bandages. Everything spun. Faster and faster. Then, her head rolled back, arching as her body sought to fold against the outside canvas. Should Mina allow her to fall, her body would splay-out with one arm across her chest, the other overhead. Legs knitted together, one foot over the other as the expressionless creature stared skyward.

[SwordSavior1]

Mina should really stop asking and take whatever she wished for herself now. Her pleas wouldn't reach that wrapped skull of Jeanne even if prodded for a microphone. Going for the more forceful approach, the pinkette started having a tug of war with her opponent over arms. "(Hissing too? Gorgon? She really is every monster...)" Mentally making note of what she heard to cope with the situation. While she tried seizing control, Mina yowled from the sudden clawing, the feeling caused her legs to wobble a bit like jelly. Barely shrugging off the pain and slight tear in her uniform, with a grunt of regret she threw Jeanne into the cornerpost, cringing from the impact.

To Mina, the metal thunk was like hearing a dozen balloons simultaneously pop after being just inflated, as if a lot of potential enjoyment was completely wasted? Why couldn't wrestling rings be soft and bouncy in every part?

No longer clinging onto the Restless Maiden, the lightweight fell down like a ton of bricks. Now taking the reigns due to being less injured, Mina could capitalise and punish Jeanne further or aim for the ring. However less injured didn't mean no injuries. Her legs giving up at around the same time as the other wrestler, the pinkette dropped to kneeling position, constantly panting like a canine while arms crossed over her chest. The match was brought to a slow due to the damage sustained among the two.

[Monsy]

Sprawled onto the mats like water, her limbs splaying out like channels of liquid. Sure, she could move, but she’d lost all sense of direction. No matter which direction she gazed, it felt like she dangled from a high ceiling. Left, right, even up. Weightlessness, a sweep of chills creeping up her spine. “Graahhh…” 

The Restless Maiden groaned. The first sign of life. Next, she shuffled. One bandaged limb hurled over her chest, its shoulder in tow. A grunt shoved through wrapped lips, heaving herself onto her stomach, the arm pinned underneath. Breathe, she told herself. It occupied her whole thoughts. Strategy, coherence all but popped when her cranium struck unforgiving metal. Yet, she still had an instinct. Her location, occupying a wrestling ring as they both jockeyed for recovery. And Liona is determined to strike first. Shoving her hand against the floor, she pushed, scrambling both knees and hands underneath. The barricade provided ample support for the swaying Maiden, who drowned in her own stupor while nudging forward inch by inch.

If Liona could reach her, she’d rake the barricade, asserting a grip that allowed her to stand. Here, she’d stare, the laboured breath clear through the rise and fall of her chest pushing against the red cloak. Now to strike. Her arm geared up, bending at the elbow and jutting across her chest before lashing like a whip. A chop aimed for Mina’s collar. Simply a bid for control or defiance, whatever destiny foretold.

[SwordSavior1]

Mina's kneeling stance with arms crossing resembled a sick person after tasting something rotten. Her physical condition was more ideal compared to Liona since any recent wounds were less concentrated. A mix of exhaustion and mental strain deluged Mina's mind, causing the pinkette to stay in such a posture

"(Cmon...think)" Shutting her eyes in an attempt to keep cool. All of this came from moving their game to outside the ring, perhaps this may be the appropriate to revert scenery back to normal and away from scary metal poles. Her body suddenly hurled forward, resembling a worm. Arms clutching the floor and legs folding at a rhythm, Mina swam across the outside area in a bid to reach the ring apron. It was also worth pointing out that the count out clock was building up. Somebody must climb out of this canyon or most would be left disappointed by a double elimination. Her own delusion caused the party lover that the ring was becoming further away when she was actually moving very slow.

Eventually she was only inches away, her eyes darted around slightly and noticed something was missing. The other half. The Restless Maiden. Her left arm outstretched and grazed the apron's edge. All she needed to do was just pull up, simple as that. Suddenly a blunt blade went to her collar. Like a tower of cards she suddenly collapsed to the floor flat, shrieking moderately. Perhaps she could have dealt with the demon before escaping the depths, now she was wrapped under Jeanne's fingers.

[Monsy]

Her hand slashed like the sharpened edge of a Katana against Mina’s collar. The momentum thrown into the slash unhinged her aching consciousness, causing a pulsating throb in her skull. She fell as weakness overcame, sprawling on top of Mina’s frame. Her bandaged head rested against Mina’s stomach. Midriff against the legs and chest aligned with the hips. Shrieks overshadowed Liona’s low groans, the laboured breaths and faded growls.

But Liona didn’t rest for long. She pushed her hand against the outside mats, forcing her back to arch upward. Looming above like a predator. Now, her other limbs shuffled, climbing to her knees. Two arms latched onto Mina’s arm and tugged, hoping to drag them both to their feet. Once upright, one arm released, folding inward and across her chest. One foot dialled back, parallel with her shoulder. Then, like pulling on a cord, she yanked Mina’s arm. The abrupt momentum hoped to collide with Liona’s razor-edged hand, slashing horizontally, aimed for their jaw. Should it land, Liona stepped through the action, relinquishing her grip and latching onto the apron.

She’d slump, her chest pressing into the canvas, arms folded by her head, scratching the aches until the pain burned more than the throbs. There was no solace or relief. Coming outside was a mistake. But she’d reap revenge. Perhaps there’s some comfort there. And so, marshalling her strength, she pressed down onto the apron, heaving her leg over the lip, then the other before rolling beneath the bottom rope. One arm sprawled across the mat, her gaze fixated on the lights.

[SwordSavior1]

The chop didn't cut hard enough to break through the skin or fabric, but still hurt like hell. She imagined herself being assassinated by an enemy clan member after failing to form a dramatic escape. Right after the two had a heated skirmish since both were lying in a mess. Sweat poured down Mina's face while lying on her back, a combination of fear and stress were the main culprit, worrying that Jeanne would spring to life and bite if she moved a single muscle, even if she was already depleted to move instantly either way.

She would witness the restless maiden creeping along. Mina considered playing dead herself, but the bandaged fighter already set sights on the laid body. Her body may as well have been in chains for how the Restless Maiden was pulling all the strings. Face can be summed off as broken while hair looked flattened and less puffy as if it correlated to her mood. Only when the hatchet was brought down, she realised the next step and tried rallying her body to flee for freedom but it was too late. A sharp blade grazed the pinkette's jaw, almost reaching the throat area and decapitating her entirely (a bit of an exaggeration). Only a microsecond after the collision, she plummeted into the backfirst a second time. Now the colour of her face was actually starting to match mood. Wheezing and huffing drowned by the roars. Only looking up at the lights, she wasn't aware of how Jeanne laid in a similar broken state, except there was a key difference. One was outside of the ring and eligble for counting.

4....5....6... How long were they being counted out exactly?

To be defeated was one thing, but in drawn out misery went against almost everything about Mina's lifestyle. A sense of emptiness and lack of fulfilment, what she spent years aiming to avoid. Just like a long day of delivery, she had to bottle everything up but keep progressing. The pinkette crossed one arm against her throat in a bid to counter the burning sensation. Her other arm twisted around, rolling Mina onto her stomach. Afterwards she clawed the mat, moving how a legless zombie would pursuing its prey, even if she was only progressing millimetre by millimetre.

"7....8"

Eventually her uncrossed arm scaled up the apron, pressing with enough force to levitate Mina enough. She just had to hold out for a bit until. "Ahhhhhh!" Stinging started to flare up leading to Mina slowly sliding off.

"9..."

Survival instincts ignited a spark in the front appendage, stretching out like it was elastic and seizing the bottom rope, thus leading to Mina being elevated once more until her body was lying on the apron. The match was still on and she promised to go out on a high note. "Defeat...before depression" She uttered towards Jeanne closeby before using the rope to slide along the mat. Recharging before the next count. was a current priority but if approached, Mina would try to swat off any advances even while sprawled out.

[Monsy]

Something deep within bellowed.
Exhaustion. Its decrepit fingers slipped over Jeanne’s ribs, squeezing every long breath she took. Her abdominals felt like a claw, her arms like they’re pinned towards the mat, legs too. Both combatants laid out everything for a show, now lay sprawled, side-to-side. When Mina spoke, Jeanne was still staring at the lights, the glint blinding her vision, yet unable to turn away.

Still, Jeanne’s head soon flopped, her cheek bounced against the mat, the twin abysses for eye-holes staring into Mina’s own eyes. A pause settled in. Then, laughter. It was high-pitched and childish. It carried through her quivering chest and shoulders and hands like claws that started scratching the canvas. Was she not hurting? Spent? At least, aching in any way? No one knew. Alas, the supernatural clutches of Liona sparked life into Jeanne’s mortal being, spurring power into every fibre that allowed Jeanne to suddenly kick-up to her feet.

Her body lurched forward, stumbling three steps before regaining balance. Laughter left her throat once more before twisting on-foot, her upper-half spinning just a bit further before recoiling upright.

Lumbering onward, her footing shadowed Mina’s ankles. One foot hoisted, then brought down upon Mina’s shin like a cannonball crashing against a palisade. Thus, the barrage began, from their legs, towards their stomach and against their chest. Five in total, then when it came to crash in the sixth upon their skull, the foot misdirected and above their head. There, the bandaged woman crouched as if she stalked them. A hand reached, digits like claws that sought to dig into their hair and claim a handful for herself. If applied, she’d jerk, tugging them upright, then, further until their soles found the canvas.

Jeanne’s pull now redirected, trying to place Mina’s head between her thighs. She laid flush across their back, arms weaving along their waistline, attempting to hook together on the front buckle. One final motion: a jump. Both thighs flexed, inaugurating by short bunny hops that snowballed her momentum. A great finishing jump attempted one last flip, tugging Mina for one hell of a spin, then, a crushing spike upon her head with a flipping piledriver, or: Fate’s End.