The Cocky and the Cruel: "Pretty Boy" Blake vs Esma Martin

[Weonna]

His arm had moved on instinct. Blake felt the impact. The jolt. The snap of bone and momentum.

Then—nothing.

He hit the mat with a hard thud, staring up at the ceiling lights through half-lidded eyes, his jaw throbbing, his body refusing to move.

“THREE!”

The ref’s voice echoed in the distance, muffled and distant, like it came from underwater.

Blake’s fingers twitched. One knee bent slightly. He tried to push up—

Only to collapse right back down with a grunt, forehead smacking lightly against the mat as he groaned.

“FIVE!”

[Dwrites]

Esma sat up still clutching her throbbing head just in time to see Blake collapse from his attempt to stand up. Esma let out a chuckle seeing the her cocky opponent be reduced to unable to stand before hearing the ref shout out “Six!”. Her eyes went wide as she realized the situation and what it meant, desperate to avoid a tie or worse loss Esma quickly attempted to get her feet under her only to find out her legs had been reduce to jelly unable to handle her weight as she fell flat on her face. Letting out a frustrated growl she started crawling to the ropes hoping to use them to help her get to her feet and avoid in her opinion the worse case scenario just as the ref shouted “Seven!”

[Weonna]

Blake could hear her scrambling.
The frantic shuffling of knees against the canvas. The soft grunt each time she pulled herself an inch closer to salvation.

But he wasn’t moving.

Not because he didn’t want to—but because his body flat-out refused.

“EIGHT!”

A low groan escaped him, his eyes were half-shut, vision spinning.

“NINE!”

He stayed flat, jaw clenched, muscles screaming at him to rise, but nothing responded.

“TEN!”

Whether Esma made it in time or not… Blake was still down.

[Dwrites]

Esma was just a inch away from the ropes, just one inch away from getting back in control of the match and avoiding the worst case scenerio just ne-“TEN” *bell ringing* . Upon hearing the ref shout the ten count and the bell ringing Esma’s eyes became as wide as dinner plates and her jaw almost hit the floor as she processed the fact that the match had ended…in a draw. After taking a few more moments to process this fact Esma could only say one word “fuck”

[Weonna]

Flat on his back, Blake’s chest rose and fell like a hammer, sweat and blood pooling beneath him. His eyes blinked half-shut, the lights above blurring into a haze he couldn’t focus on.

He hadn’t even heard the bell. All he knew was the ref wasn’t counting anymore.

The crowd filled in the rest.

Boos. Loud. Relentless.
Not for him, not for her—
but for the fact there was no winner.

“This can’t end like this!”

someone shouted ringside.

Blake’s fingers twitched against the canvas. He tried to push himself up. His forearms trembled as he got an inch off the mat, but his body gave out and he collapsed again, forehead against the canvas.

The bloodied grin that sometimes marked his matches was gone.

For now—Blake was just another body on the mat.

[Dwrites]

The crowd’s boos and complaints were suddenly stopped by the loud *THUD* of Esma landing outside the ring face first. The crowd and ref began getting concerned as esma laid face down and motionless for a minute before much to everyone’s relief she moved her head off the floor and crawled to the barricade. After reaching the barricade Esma’s hands latched onto it like she was a drowning sailor and it was a life raft as she pulled herself up with it’s help. As she limped up the ramp hugging the barricade the entire time plans began forming in her mind to make Blake pay for this humiliating start to her career at law. But first she needed to get out of here and probably take a ice bath. Esma stumbled through the curtains leaving the crowd mildly concerned for her and Blake still down on the mat.

[Weonna]

END OF THREAD

RESULT: NO CONTEST!