Alicia Soto vs. Angela Belti - Lost In Hollywood

[BlackAkuma]

Oh, Angela was quite satisfied with the way that chop landed. Good timing, really hit it dead center, managed to make the skin sizzle despite the fabric getting in her way. She’d spent decades perfecting her chops, and the results spoke for themselves. Top tier, effective, the sort of hits that could leave an opponent howling, and she was oh-so glad that Alicia was the one who she’d got to debut them on in LAW.

To her opponent’s credit, she took this one better than before, despite the increased impact. But when she came in and launched her response, Angela’s first thought was that she must be feeling the fatigue. The chop came in light, little more than a slap against her breasts. Dizzy’s were better.

Then came the second impact.

This one hit Angela dead on, right in the middle of her chest. She didn't shriek this time, but her eyes widened and she let out a hoarse gasp, and her hands came up to massage the tender area. She spun about in a circle and turned back to Alicia with a fiery, feral glare.

”Watch!” She brought her arms to the side.

”Your!” She raised them up above her head.

”Language!” Angela brought both hands down at once as she lunged forward, hitting both of Alicia’s breasts at once with a vicious Mongolian Chop.

Meanwhile, Dizzy looked on and wondered if the two most important (and only) women in her life were certifiably insane.

[HotWheels]

Even the back of Siren's hand hurt after the chops. Damn Angela for being built like the Coliseum. That hurt went along with her back, her chest. All took their toll. Adrenaline and vitriol were the only two substances still driving the Hollywood Hottie forward at this point, and she had put a great deal of the second into that extra chop. But Mama still stood. Siren had to again focus on getting her feet beneath her, but she did the same, squaring up like an avenging angel against the big Italian.

Siren was ready to pop her in the head: chop off Mama in the neck first. But as soon as she had her feet under her again, the Italian rocked her once more. Siren tried to throw her arms between the two of them, but there was a sluggish tiredness to their movements. She didn't expect both hands, either. They cracked against her chest, and this time, the big Latina crumbled, collapsing to a knee in front of the big Italian and holding both arms over the top of her chest where the blows had accumulated.

She hated it, but her body couldn't keep her up.

[BlackAkuma]

After Angela landed the dual chops, there were a great many things she could’ve done. She could’ve hefted the younger wrestler up and slammed her again. She couldn't throw her down and caught her with a debilitating submission. She could’ve battered her into the mat, beaten her with an endless, merciless barrage until her arms grew tired.

There were a great many options, all viable, as her opponent kneeled before her.

She went for none of them.

Instead, she stood there, breathing heavy, chest heaving, beads of sweats running down her reddened chest. She looked down at her aching foe with a slight crease in her brow - pity, disappointment, anger? She wasn’t sure which one applied the most right now. But she was certain that she was not satisfied. Not yet. Not by this.

The crowd were chanting now, demanding ‘one more time’, and Angela was inclined to agree. But she didn’t intend on being the one to do it.

She leaned over and put her forehead against Alicia’s, headband to headband, locking eyes before she spoke. ”Get up, bambina.” She huffed, blowing hot breath like a raging bull. ”One more. Show me your best.”

[HotWheels]

Shoulders rolling with equal parts pained breaths and fury, Siren put every ounce of remaining energy and willpower into staying as upright as she did. She fuckin' hated hitting anything close to a limitation with her body. Her mind fired off a million different things she wanted to do to lay the big bitch out from here to the stage for those chops. But everything decided it had to hurt, and it made her legs feel like jelly. It was both the most invigorating and the most infuriating thing she had experienced yet in the ring, and as she weighed her pains and listened to the crowd, she tried to find her next window to make this her show, her moment.

Angela gave it to her, leaving the half-Latin beauty staring daggers through her. Of all the shitty things the big veteran could have done, not hitting the Latina was the worst of them. Asking more of her was the worst of them. Siren knew one thing about herself, the whole Hollywood hottie thing being an act or not. No one should ask her for more, for her best, like she was falling short, or she was gonna take it the same as if they spit in her face. It was a character flaw.

And she remembered one other thing: who the fuck said she had to play Angela's game?

Siren's one more became a surge and a violently rising knee, one aimed right at Angela's stomach, with an uncharacteristic scream. Almost before the big beauty had properly risen (and despite a stumble because of her haste), Siren's arm was reeling back to follow that knee with a backhanded chop and another scream, which she planned on following with another, then another, or any strike she could unleash on the woman before her until either she fell over from exhaustion, Angela was dropped, or Angela made her stop.

[BlackAkuma]

There it was. There was the fire. Angela had seen flickers of it here and there, sparks from the first moment she made this challenge to Alicia. It had been flaring up since the bell rang, crackling like the flames of a bonfire, coming out in bursts. But when Angela called her out, when she demanded better, that fire burst into a raging inferno, a wildfire that was as beautiful as it was dangerous.

And it was truly dangerous. Angela would learn that for certain in short order.

She had expected another chop - hard, stiff chop, but a chop all the same, and she was prepared for it. What she was not prepared for was the brutal blow that shot into her stomach, a stiff knee that folded her in half. The blow hit with enough force to launch her into the air, and when her feet touched the ground, a barrage of blows were waiting for her.

Chops? She got those. And punches. And backhands. It got to the point where Angela just saw blurs and felt pain, and she was buffeted backwards, step by step. She kept trying to raise her hand and get a blow in edgewise, but there was always something there to interrupt her, always something to continue the assault.

She would’ve fallen all the way back if not for the turnbuckle she found herself up against, pinned by the merciless onslaught. All she could do was raise her arms and try to weather the assault, waiting for the storm to pass.

[HotWheels]

Every shift and swing made something hurt. The knee made her back ache, but the way it made origami of Mama's looming form made it worth it. With each swing that followed that knee, and each chant from the crowd that accompanied it, the Latina's chest and shoulders burned. She chopped at a breast here, drove a fist into Angela's stomach there, knocked her head back with a forearm when it looked like the tank of a woman might have a chance to get her guard up. The screaming helped, somehow. Maybe she should be vocal more often, even if it wasn't her style. Maybe just yelling down the woman who seemed to have doubted her from the moment they had stood in this building together was cathartic.

No, it was probably beating the shit out of her that made this cathartic.

Even the Latina's own hands and arms were starting to sting once she flattened Angela against the turnbuckle with a chop and a quick boot to the big woman's abs. After a couple more forearms, the referee was butting herself in again, and this time, Siren did take one more swing in spite of the rules, giving Mama a spike to the chest before she backed off. But she did not back off to gloat this time. She shook her hands and arms out to stop the aches, yeah, but all the while, she paced several feet way from Mama before turning to line her up. Waiting wasn't gaining her anything at this point. She had taken too many hits already, and she was set on ending this with a blitz, her motivation courtesy of Mama's own words.

She took off, still looking like far too fine of an athlete for her size even with half of the visible skin above her shirt red and bruised and tired legs, and she leaped, twisting to the side in the air air, to slam all of her weight hips-first against Angela in the corner.

[BlackAkuma]

This wasn’t the easiest thing to watch for Dizzy, and not because her friend was currently beating the stuffing out of her Mom.

Not just because of that, anyway. Strange to say, but she’d grown accustomed to seeing her Mom getting smacked around, having to watch a lot of her matches on repeat for training. She’d long since gotten past the point where the mere sight of her in distress was enough to cause anxiety.

No, what really threw her off was just watching Alicia go off. She could always tell that the Hollywood Siren was capable of doing some real damage - underneath all those loveable curves was the machinery of a true tank, someone that could bulldoze most women without breaking a sweat. But she always seemed so cool and confident, so in control of every situation, that seeing her go off like a madwoman was more than a little scary.

…and maybe a little hot, too. Thoughts for another time.

As the one of the receiving end, Angela was apt to agree with the first part of that assessment, as Alicia unloaded a barrage of battering blows, driving her back and making her wither under the assault. It felt like they could go on forever, and the Latina might very well have tried if not for the referee separating them. Not before she took a parting shot in the chest, of course.

Breathing hard and heavy, Angela needed a moment to catch her breath - one that Alicia wasn’t apt to give her. The moment she collected herself was the moment her opponent came rushing in and used her body as a weapon, throwing her hips into the Italian’s chest and knocked out what little air she’d been able to regain. Angela croaked as her legs turned to jelly, and all she could do was drop flat on her butt and lean against the turnbuckle as she writhed.

[HotWheels]

Oh, it hurt landing against a sturdy body reinforced by the turnbuckle after all the Siren had already been through. She herself had to stifle a yelp as the side of her hip, and by extension, most of her thigh and side up to the triceps, collided with the dazed Italian giantess. The rebound was not overly smooth, as the Hollywood hottie had to scuffle her feet on the canvas to keep her footing when she landed back a couple feet from the bigger woman, but as Siren had decided earlier in the night and only forgotten because of all the shit her back had gone through, fuck it. A glance told her that she had just dropped the big, bad bitch-breaker with that onslaught. Point made.

Her pace wheeled slower again, though not nearly as slow as before. Powering through her aches, the Siren rolled her shoulders, and her usual cool crept back in as she took one brief strut, just far enough to take her the last step back to Angela, with a hand on her hip and her eyes drinking in the crowd. But her face spoke her remaining business with Angela. She could smell possibility of Angela's giving into her, and she needed to get there with how many hits she had already taken.

That meant the ass to the face was out.

She also didn't trust her own strikes enough to think Angela was wiped and would sink into her finisher. But she did need something big. After a quick stomp to the thigh, Siren again grabbed the Italian by the hair, a little less gentle this time around. Pulling her partially to her feet, the Latina tried to secure an arm over the back of Angela's neck to tuck her against a sweaty, bare midriff. Once she did, the plan was set in motion, and Siren tried to leap so that her feet hit the bottom ropes to add momentum to what she planned to turn into a DDT. Easy on her body, bad on the veteran's head.

[BlackAkuma]

As Angela reeled in the corner, she tried to take stock and see where, exactly, she’d gone wrong in all this. She kept coming back to a simple conclusion: Making Alicia angry.

The Hollywood Siren clearly hadn't gotten that name by not being a prideful woman. Angela had expected as much when she taunted her, figuring that would be a good way to light a fire in her soul, and she’d been successful. She only underestimated just how successful she could be. She had been expecting the woman to come back with another chop and continue their battle for dominance. Instead, she was greeted with an overwhelming bombardment, one that was too much for her to handle. It left her gasping, a withered mess in the corner.

Be careful what you wish for. ”Merda santa…”

Alicia was smart enough to not leave her alone for too long, either, as she moved in with a kick to the thigh, getting a sharp hiss out of Angela before she seized her hair and raised her up with a tight grip. Still reeling from the blows, there was little she could do but go along with it, helpless to stop whatever was coming next.

She wouldn’t be in the dark for long, either. Alicia made her intentions clear when she secured her with the front facelock, the telltale opener for a DDT. It was a move that Angela could’ve countered with ease, if she had been in a decent state. Which she wasn’t. Not even close.

As such, she was going for a ride. A rough ride. A ride that her skull spiking on the mat, sent her rolling over, and left her flat on her back, looking up at the lights.

[HotWheels]

Mama looked out of it. The stomp brought back enough life to give Siren enough of her head to grab, but there was nothing that came the big Latina's way. It was far from the prettiest or most textbook of DDTs that she executed; after this back-and-forth, pretty had gone out the window. But she got her bounce to drag Angela a couple feet further from the turnbuckle and add that drop of extra momentum to the spike of the Italian's head, enough that Siren could see and feel the big woman rumble the mat as she flipped fully over.

Okay, that was something to follow, she knew, as she sat up and peered over her shoulder at the fallen Italian. Siren had learned to never wait too long to force the other bitch to prove she could still go, and Angela had already tried her once at her weakest moment. After peeling up, over, and back onto her feet, the Hollywood hottie threw up one hand to lift the already-loud audience higher after that onslaught before dropping back down at Angela's side. "Don't test me, Mama. Kay?"

They were big ladies, both of them, and Siren wanted to make sure any attempt to get up took something out of the veteran. She reached for not one, but two of Mama's powerful calves to lift them up and fold them back over the woman's body. As the anticipating ref rushed into position, Siren, face stoic with focus and determination, stacked her own heavy body on top of those legs, the same as she had done to Dizzy during their training, with her chest and arms weighing down on Mama's doubled-over form. Impatient, she flicked her finger at the already-counting ref. "One!"