Blaise Cameron vs Makie Akamatsu

[Underdoggo]

Makie felt her leg slam home against Blaise's face, causing the crowd to collectively wince as the blow sent the boy rolling in pain, writhing from the impact. All in all, a much better result than she had expected. Kneeling upright, she crawled after her stunned male opponent. "Where are you going, huh?" she taunted. "We aren't done yet!"

Catching up with Blaise, she would try to slide her smoothe legs around his head, locking her ankles as she tried to squeeze him in a head scissor! She knew she couldn't win by knocking Blaise out, but if she could weaken him enough for a long pinfall, it would be worth it!

[CyanDimitrik]

How had he lost control of the match so thoroughly? That's the thought running through Blaise's mind as Makie taunts him, feeling her presence creeping closer to him. 'We aren't done yet'. Something about that irks him; she isn't taking him seriously. And isn't that the whole point of his resurgence, aside from actually turning his career around? To be taken seriously? To not be laughed out of arenas, mocked, or ridiculed?

Her legs seize around his head, and his hands immediately grip onto her thighs. The pressure mounts, and the resistance first begins with his legs - a squirm here, a twist there. And then, his hands plant on the mat instead of her legs. His legs thrust upwards, pulling his body into a vertical arc, and curling inwards. He's prepared for either way this might go - either he'll naturally slip from the scissor, he'll finish his rotation and tilt her weight onto her back in a reversed pin, or the more interesting option; the one he mostly expects her to do. To try to stop his momentum by bracing a hand or two against his abdominals, giving him the support he needs to launch a kick aimed for the top of her head.

[Underdoggo]

Makie was grinning now as she managed to clamp her legs around Blaise's head, her thighs compressing around him tightly as she tried to squeeze the air and life out of him. True to form, though, Blaise didn't take it lying down: he began to squirm and twist in the head scissor, as could only be expected from a man who had suddenly found himself unable to breathe. Makie held on, not wanting to make this easy for Blaise at all. After the punishment that Blaise had inflicted on her so far in this match, Makie was not going to give him the luxury of an easy escape.

Blaise seemed to recognize this, and shifted tactics, pressing his boots against the mat to try to force Makie backwards. Cursing under her breath, Makie leaned forwards, pressing her palms against Blaise's chest to force him back down, inadvertently bringing her own chest closer to his face in the process--

WHAM

Blaise's boot collided with the top of Makie's head, and her vision at that point went white. With a wordless cry, she tumbled onto her back, completely releasing Blaise as she clutched her forehead, kicking dizzily at the mat. The crowd nearly lost their minds as Blaise pulled off a very effective, and very devastating, escape.

[CyanDimitrik]

The gambit wasn't guaranteed. His encyclopedic knowledge of wrestling holds and slams were his greatest asset back before his rebranding - that, and his durability. But only one of those things really made a difference in his matches then. Now, with the complete refocusing of his wrestling training, it's coming to bear more prominently. It's starting to see some real use. This, in itself, wouldn't have been a textbook counter. This was purely a Blaise special, like the modified dragon sleeper and abdominal claw combo.

Her legs releasing, the agile male finishes his tilt-over and ends on his feet. One hand braces to the ropes at his side, while the other rubs against the side of his head, soothing away the hazing daze. But seeing Makie sprawled back, stunned, inspires him to keep going. To make use of something else new: a killer instinct. Something he lacked before. The very thing that was his greatest downfall.

The Phoenix won't have those hangups. The Phoenix can't have those hangups.

When the officials booked this match, no doubt they expected it to be to his humiliation. Thinking he had the dumb durability to take a beating from this new girl and always kick out of the pin while they milk the ratings. And that thought earns a small scowl; not directed at Makie. It's not her fault. Not her doing. All things being equal, she's just fighting to make the best showing she can. She's talented and skilled, spunky, spirited. He likes her. But he needs to embarrass the bookers tonight. And he needs to astonish this crowd.

Departing the ropes, he closes in on her and leans down. A hand hooks behind her head, fingers sifting through her sweat-dampened hair, while the other hand takes her beneath the chin to guide her up to her feet. But once standing, he suddenly thrusts a knee upwards, aiming to drive it into the pit of her stomach, relying on that submission hold earlier to make it extra nasty.

[Underdoggo]

Makie lay on her back, her head shaking from left to right as she groaned, trying to get her bearings straight. That last blow from Blaise had been a telling one, leaving her lying dazed on her back and utterly out of it. A part of her was dimly aware of just how bad the situation was, and just how vulnerable she was to a pinfall, and so, tossing and turning, she tried to get back to her feet. The swimming world around her and her body's sluggish response, however, worked very much against her.

She was still struggling to rise to her feet when she felt Blaise's hand grabbing the back of her head, yanking her unsteadily upwards. Her logs wobbled as she found herself standing again, guided by Blaise's hand cupping her chin...until Blaise's knee exploded upwards into her midsection. A wordless gasp erupted from her lungs, spittle dry heaving outwards as her knees buckled; unless Blaise retained his grip on Makie's chin, the girl would tumble forwards, collapsing against her male opponent in a half-hearted clinch as she desperately fought to stay upright.

[CyanDimitrik]

Feeling Makie's body lurch with the blasting impact of his knee into her gut, followed by the limp posture of the girl afterwards? It tells Blaise he's going in the right direction. He needs to keep the pressure on. He has to. A simple three-count pin won't do it tonight. He has to remember the pinfall tonight will only count if he can hold her down on the mat for ten full seconds.

She clinches against his waist, and Blaise loops his left arm around her neck to transition it into a front guillotine. Pressing her cheek against his ribs, he pulls her along to the center of the ring. He can be patient, to the point where he's not potentially injuring her neck by pulling on her, but the tug is insistent and demanding. He wants her off-balance. He wants her struggling to catch up.

And once they've found their destination, they'll finally come to a pause. Keeping his left arm secured tight around her neck, his right hand raises high, signaling to the audience with a confident smile. The dark landscape surrounding them flashes and glimmers with myriad cameras, immortalizing the moment - some hoping to catch what comes next mid-action. Suddenly, the arm drops and his body torques sharply with her! The pair whirl over in a half-spiral, before the momentum comes to a crashing halt with Makie's back slamming into the mat, her neck cradled in his arm.

The audience pops, a noticeable crescendo in cheer at the violent neckbreaker. The commentators are shouting the signature move's name with breathless enthusiasm: the Burnado.

[Underdoggo]

"Ahh...nnnaaahh..." Makie was panting against Blaise's abdomen now as she slumped over against him, instinctively wrapping her arms around his waist in a cinch. Partly, this was just to stabilize herself, but a part of her also just wanted to keep fighting, to try to stay in this match for as long as possible. Unfortunately for her, Blaise quickly took advantage of her position and and clamped an arm around her head, and the next thing Makie knew her head was being squeezed tightly against those iron-hard abs. "Unnnssssssh!" she gagged, pawing at the encircling arm, weakly trying to free herself.

She continued to squirm and struggle even as Blaise walked them over to the center of the ring...and then the blood suddenly came rushing to her head. Makie was conscious only of herself tilting vertically, sharply, before she slammed back-first into the ring. The impact was enough to make the audience wince, and it left Makie lying sprawled on the mat, eyes closed after that brutal impact and barely moving aside from the soft rise and fall of her chest as she breathed...

[CyanDimitrik]

The landing is a brutal one by design, impactful enough to potentially earn the pinfall in a normal match. But this isn't a normal match. This one demands absolute domination - that the other be so wrought that they can't answer a count of ten. And if Makie has convinced Blaise of anything in this match, it's that she's resilient and determined.

As he sits up and turns onto hands and knees to look down at her; her eyes closed, her lips parted, the rise and fall of her chest, her trim body... she's an attractive girl, and fiery to boot. Just the kind he tends to get heart-eyed over. The impulse to pin her on the spot is a strong one, but- she's tough. She's like a pitbull when he relaxes the offense. He can't afford to do that. He has to finish her.

A hand moves to her biceps to pull her arms up over her head, leaving her body stretched taut along the mat. Then, he's rushing to his full height, hands in the air and rotating, indicating to the audience they're in for some good, classic, fireworks-grade flippy business. He departs Makie's downed form to race away from her, boots thumping against the mat before launching at the ropes! His heels plant against the middle rope, stretching it hard before it snaps back, launching his body backwards into a high arc! Arms and legs draw back, pulling his own body taut with a focus on his chiseled midsection - which comes crashing down across Makie's bare, unprotected stomach in a follow-up signature, the Solar Flare!

Sleek abdominals smash against the girl's midsection, skin hot against skin, muscle crushing muscle, and he remains in place across her body! His left forearm props against the mat while the right arm reaches back to hook her thigh, pulling it snug against his ribs. "Count it!"

[Underdoggo]

To say Makie was now in trouble was quite the understatement. The Japanese girl was now sprawled on the mat, her back throbbing with pain as she tried, and failed, to will herself to move. Blaise's superior strength and stamina was starting to show through now, as he now started to hit her with slam after slam, power move after power move. It was all she could do to remain conscious, let alone fighting. She cursed as she again tried to will her body to move, and felt it barely respond. Damn it...I need to fight back...

Even as she thought this, she forced one eye open...just in time to see Blaise's chiseled, perfect form coming down on her from the top rope.

There was an impact of Blaise's midsection on hers, causing her body to jolt violently on impact...and then she flopped back down again, visibly breathing hard. As Blaise hooked her thigh, the ref was immediately starting the countdown.

"One...two...three..."

[CyanDimitrik]

The landing was picture perfect. The moment of impact, Blaise could feel her smaller body buck inwards. He could feel the point of her abdominal muscle trying to protect her, trying to brace against the force of his weight splashing across her. And there was something intrinsically exciting about it, the sensation of her toned, athletic body coming to rest beneath his; defeated, possibly conquered. The ten-count would confirm it.

Her hard breaths cause her body to swell against his in a rhythmic flow, his own labored breathing mirroring. But he doesn't shy away from the pressure, from riding the feel of her struggling to hang on - he leans into it. Knees push out a little further, pressuring his sleek abdominals into her stomach, unrelenting. He wants this. Badly. And every shift of his body lying across hers, every flex of his muscles squeezing her thigh against his side screams it.

Each slap of the referee's hand to the mat is met with a sharp nod, his heart racing. Were it a normal match, she might've pinned him already. But it wasn't. And for as much as he's wanting to relish hearing the count of three from this position, he has to remind himself of that. Ten. It has to be ten. Someone is going home tonight knowing they were physically dominated in the ring; something he can't say he's ever done to anyone before.

"Four... five... six...!"