Blossom vs. Serona - If, at first, you don't succeed...

Serona was a tall glass of water, but not a particularly heavy one - she weighed more than Blossom did, she could tell that much, but not nearly as much as you would have guessed a first glance. Blossom was the meatier of the two; if they had been the same height, Blossom would have her outweighed by at least a good thirty or so pounds. Feeling her now, getting close to her, was a good boon to Blossom's confidence - the girl had moxy, but maybe she didn't have the raw poundage to back it up.

But strength wasn't the only thing she had to deal with - the girl was tricky.

Getting spat on in the face was about the last thing Blossom expected, and that's probably why Serona did it. Blossom immediately recoiled in disgust. "Ew!" She cried out, wiping her face. "Why would you-"

The reason became apparent right away - it was to set up a headbutt, which Serona delivered with ruthless efficiency, smacking her right on the nose. Blossom moved back, stumbling, stunned, staggered for a solid moment.

Fuck!

She had, through it all, some sense that her dirty little trick had pumped some blood into the peanut gallery. But she didn't give two sous just then because the inside of her head had grown too big for her skull, and in its screeching outrage it had begun wobbling around in a red haze of throbbing pain.

It was a lesson she'd remember in later matches--making a dumb fucking move to please the birds in the seats still counts as a dumb fucking move.

(...Not that it wasn't...eminently pleasing to see that mortified look. The horror when the spittle dribbled down her face, followed by the pain and the confusion and the return to ever-appropriate helplessness)

Back in your place, you little cunt.

When Serona's haze had half-cleared, she was already half-way into revisiting that pain on the muscle-bound wannabe.

This time, she'd bring some of her training in grappling to bear. She would grab Blossom's head, jump, and bring her knee viciously into her face. There wouldn't be any short-stuff ducking of this one--and if the kitten wanted to grapple, well then. Blossom didn't know who she was playing with.

Blossom's head exploded into an electric purple haze, stumbling back as the blow shattered her equilibrium - she was dimly, vaguely, faintly aware of the booing around her, and she was sharing in the sentiment - she was getting flashbacks to her fight with Jamie. Serona seemed to be a dirty little cheater, too, but unlike Jamie she had some skill to back it up. A real, straight up heel, in the classic sense.

Problematic. Very problematic.

She was just staring to get her senses back when it seemed that Serona was quicker on the draw; the taller girl grabbed hold of Blossom's head, shot her knee straight up and struck her clear in the center. The metallic smell of blood instantly filled her nostrils, and she fell back into a perfect arch, landing hard on her back, and rolling around while she covered her face to stop the bleeding.

Desperate to keep Serona off her for a few moment, she peeked enough to kick out her legs, trying to hit her in the shin.

Her senses finally more or less intact, a slight headache notwithstanding, Serona made a point of skipping cheerfully around that kick. While she choked on her blood, Blossom was easy to keep at a distance.

"Aw, darling, was that a swat? Were you trying to smack me, trying give this bad little girl some grade-school discipline? D'aw, don't sell yourself so short, you can do better, Blossom. Come on--we all believe in you." She threw up her arms at the crowd while she circled the ring. "Don't we, people?!"

Their response was thunderous, and Serona reveled in it.

"Fuck you!" The queen happened to catch the one who shouted that--it was the same grease-ball teenager she'd enamored on her way in. He was all in a flush now. "FUCK YOU!" Right back atcha, sweetheart, Serena thought with a grin and a wink.

Then she turned back on her opponent, and her grin fell away. No. No, darling, a jobber like you doesn't get to manhandle me without getting punished.

Blossom by now had probably recovered from the shock of the knee-strike. Serona circled her with her arms crossed--although she held her back stiff, ready to jerk away at any sign of an attack.

"But seriously, bitch. You're pathetic. The day they signed your contract was fuckin' criminal, and you should spare us all the pain of having to watch you go through this. Just get down on your knees and--"

If Blossom let her get that far, this was when Serona would launch with a speed-burst of her own. She'd leap; she'd pounce. A dodge or counter notwithstanding, she'd catch Blossom's arm and twist her around into a flying armlock.

"--submit!"

She had to get up. She had to put her feet under her. Make a solid offense. Do something. Fight.

She tried to push herself as Serona paraded around the rest, wiping the blood from her nose - it hurt to inhale, not pleasant in the least. She shook her head, trying to make sense of things. It was just the height difference that was a problem, here; it was the sneakiness. That was the real trick - just like with Jamie, she would have to find a way to deal with an opponent who bent the rules as far as the could go.

She was just about halfway to a full stand when Serona moved in, leaping at Blossom and bring her back to the mat in a tumble - an impressive grapple, especially for someone so knew. Blossom might have clapped, if her arm wasn't busy getting snapped. And if she didn't dislike Serona so much.

Instead, she just let out a little shriek, then bit back the pain as she struggle, trying to wrench her arm free. She brought her other arm up and started to push on Serona's feet, trying to add to the pressure as she pulled. "Not...not to you!"

"Not to me, huh?" Serona crowed, "Not even if I break your arm, kitten...?"

Of course, she had no intention of pulling that one so soon. She wasn't near ready to force the end of things--not now that she had Blossom's arm between her legs and her face under her thigh. No, she'd toy with her. She'd elicit a shriek by twisting her elbow to the limit of its hyper-extension, then relax and just hold her prone--then jerk-jerk-jerk on her shoulder all erratic and vicious-like, smirking and jibing throughout.

Maybe it was the crowd, who finally seemed to be into her little show, or maybe she just liked seeing Blossom scream a little too much. But for the moment, she seemed to forget that she was dealing with someone much stronger than her.

Blossom shivered a little bit at the threat - not even so much because she was scared, but because she wasn't sure if it was full bluster. Did she have the strength for that? The resolve.

Speaking of which, Blossom needed to get out of this predicament as soon as humanly possible. Playing out not, Serona was seriously starting to twerk her arm, forcing some high pain.

When she started jerk-jerk-jerking, Blossom started move-move-moving, pulling with one of the stretches and trying to turn towards Serona, forcing her legs up and trapping her underneath. Not the best plan, or a good plan, but way better than just letting the crazy, carnal woman molest her even further. She had a bad feeling that she was only seeing the tip of the iceberg, here.

And so Serona jerk-jerk--...

But then Blossom pulled back, and Serona remembered she was dealing with an ox. She succeeded not simply in rolling over Serona, not only in getting Ser's legs under her arms, but in almost lifting her off the ground. Blossom practically mounted her, bending her back, rolling her up like a rug; the full pressure of her body was on the small of her neck, with Blossom standing over her. And once the cruelty of Serona's leverage was gone, freeing her arm was almost a non-issue for Blossom.

She flailed. Oh, did she flail. She didn't like this position one bit, and if her kicks and thrusts didn't make that obvious enough, the hissing and spitting that came out of her fast-reddening face would have put all questions on the matter to rest.

But the really horrifying thing--the thing that made her gut turn during the over-long pause?

She couldn't kick out. Struggle as she might. She must have had twelve inches on Blossom, and she was stuck in what was almost a standing pin because her freaking thighs couldn't outdo Blossom's back. She had to squirm and roll just to avoid the count. And someone in the crowd started laughing.

Laughing.

Then her hissing raised to a shrieking pitch: [size=125:18r8azju]"Ge'orff!!"

Blossom honestly hadn't even considered that this was a pin - her only thought had been in getting this crazy girl off her body. It only really occurred to her after the referee moved in and start throwing down the count - this wasn't a chance to just escape, but to win and put as much distance between herself and this crazy woman as possible. And maybe get a milkshake, too.

"1...!"

Serona started to roll and squirm and buck and scream, fighting the pin with everything she could muster and breaking it before the ref could even raise his hand a second time - Blossom could only succeed and keeping her down, and that was getting more difficult by the second - she would have to let go. But not without giving Serona a parting gift.

Blossom pulled her arm back and tried to grab Serona around her legs as she rose up to her, tucking each thigh under her pits. If she could get that locked in, and that was a big 'if' with the way Serona was thrashing - she would fall on her back and send the taller girl flying up and over, heading for the turnbuckle - a good 'heave-ho'.

Serona felt Blossom's alligator arms tighten like clamps around her thighs. It was just the leverage she'd been waiting for: Her abs went tight and she pulled herself into an aerial squat--ready to entrench herself around Ms. Field's throat with a choke-out vengeance, ready to watch her turn blue and purple--

But before she could lock in anything, Blossom launched her across the field. Her face went very pale, very fast, but her technician's instincts knew just what to do. Before the turn-buckle made pressed-sheet out of her face, she grabbed the top rope and flipped into the air, stiff-as-a-board, pulling out the old handspring. The momentum kept her going, so she released her hold on the left, rotated out around the turn-buckle...

And missed the hold on the next rope. Her velocity sunk to zero, and one hundred thirty five pounds pressed down on one sweaty hand; she slipped and crashed, head-first.

The next ten seconds or so of the match would forever have that fuzzy, black, vaguely deadly EXPUNGED feel to it--like an alcoholic blackout. From the crowd's (delighted) perspective, she had assumed something like a fetal position in the ring corner, where she lay clutching her head and bleeding out her snout.