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

Blossom watched as Serona went flying overhead - she got the distinct impression that the crimson fighter was trying to do something in particular from the way her hands were going. Unless it involved purposefully falling right on top of her like a bag of wet leaves, though, it didn't seem to work. Somehow, Blossom doubted it did.

Blossom almost, almost felt bad for her - it looked like a really nasty wipeout, and even the audience winced at it...before they broke out into laughter, anyway. Blossom wasn't going to waste her time doing the same, eve if she did think it was a little funny - she had the momentum, now, and she wanted to run away with it, full stop.

Moving to Serona, she grabbed her by the leg and dragged her to the center of the ring while she was coming out of the stupor. With a quick twist of the ankle, Blossom put her on her stomach, grabbed one of her legs and tucked it under her arm, then sat down for one of her favorite moves - the single-leg boston crab. Always a crowd pleaser.

Serona came to her senses supine. To say her back was in agony would be an exaggeration; it hurt. It sank into her back icy and sharp, where the vertebrae felt themselves threatened by a body-fatal snap. But she'd been there before in training, with her jujutsu teachers, who made a near-religion out of grappling and submissions.

But her head was ringing now with a headache that would not leave her for the rest of the match, and she was eating the mat. Too quiet for anyone in the audience to hear, a whine came guttering out of her throat; she clawed painfully at the ground, getting no where.

And there was that teenager again--right in front of her field of vision, with all the gangly guy-friends and girl-friends around him she'd never really noted before. She couldn't hear a thing they were saying over the general turmoil of the room, which was boiling over with excitement. But they were on their feet, jumping at the ring-side barriers, applauding and calling--no doubt, Ser, dearie--for Blossom to finish this heel off. And as Serona's face burned hot and the angry tears came to her eyes, she became cognizant that beside this group of kids, frothing at the mouth for her head, there was another set of fans and vets beside them, and more beside them, and on and on and on throughout the whole damned arena.

(Well of course! It's the perfect story, what the people want--a so-called jobber-going-face takes some humiliation from a high-moxie heel; but she's kind, she's virtuous, she works hard. She's the motherfucking underdog, and she comes out on top through sheer determination of the will, and the heel gets put in her rightful place. It's your fuckin' destiny honey.)

She shouldn't even have been thinking thoughts like this. She should've been engaged in the match--searching for the trick, the hold, the pinch, the bite, the sand-in-the-eyes that would get her out. But there just wasn't anything there; she was just helpless while old Bloss' held her in 'the position.'

And the longer that ox pressed her down, the deeper that helpless, bitter, boiling feeling dug itself into the one-time queen's skin.

It was kind of pathetic, really.

Blossom had the fortune of getting on the audience's good side from day one - they seemed to dig her style, even if she didn't win much...or often...or at all, really. Everyone loves to root for an underdog, even if the underdog tends to stay under, and Blossom certainly fit that bill to a T.

But she had been in a painful hold like this, before. She knew what it was like to be so close to submitting, dealing with the tremendous pain, wanting to just tap the mat and be done with. She could hear Serona's whining back there, feel the shiver - Blossom was close, too close, to do something she knew she'd regret.

She cranked on the hold a bit more and leaned back, making sure Serona could hear her. "Enough already - just give up. It's your first match, nobody's going to blame you." She gave it a bit of a twist, trying to emphasize the point.

Enough already - just give up.

And then things snapped into focus. She stopped clawing at the mat. For a moment, she looked over her shoulder at Blossom, breathing hard. There was no Smirk in her face anywhere.

Then, she planted an elbow on the mat, her fist clenched, and then the other. Her whole body clenched. Like someone overconfident on the bench press, she started to tremble as she pushed, hard, to get her body off the ground. It wasn't going to be a winning strategy. Blossom would just readjust her hold and reapply her strength and eventually her less-than-meaty arms and shoulders would give out.

But maybe old Bloss' would get distracted when she decided to apply that pressure; maybe she'd forget, when Serona had pressed herself through sheer determination as high off the ground as she could, that this was only a half-boston crab, and that Serona was much, much taller than her. To even apply this hold, Blossom had to bend Serona's back at a very low point, giving her a low center of gravity. That gave her long, free leg considerably more leverage than normal for this hold.

If Ser pressed herself high enough, it might be enough for her to swing that leg up and over as hard as she could and clog this girl in the head with her heavy leather boot.

Despite being a heel, Serona had seemed jovial enough. Mean, sure, but at least she didn't come off as overly cruel or vile...just a jerk. Blossom was used to jerk. Being short sort of required her to be, and the AFW had no shortage - Serona would feel right at home.

But the look Blossom saw when she looked back? Mirthless and merciless. Focused. Intense. The whining stopped, no more crying - it was like her opponent had switched in the blink of an eye, to someone far more invested. Off-putting. Dangerous.

She started to push up and Blossom powered down on the hold, trying to put her body weight into keep the taller girl pinned. She still had the strength advantage, and even in the unlucky event that Serona managed to unseat her, she was in pretty bad shape - there probably wasn't anything she could do to stop Blossom from just locking in another hold. It was just a matter of staying on her toes.

She looked back as Serona kept coming up, but she should have looked forward - she might have seen the foot coming, might have dodged it, might not have wound up taking a hard blow right to the side of her head. Might, might, might - but that's exactly what happened, and Blossom released the hold and went reeling fall down right beside Serona as she clutched her head. "Ow. Ow. Seriously. Ow."

Of course the birds in the seats groaned. Of course Serona's head burned from whatever the fuck that fall had done to her.

In spite of her injuries, Ser moved on Blossom with quick, technical precision, like a mechanism in a rifle. If the girl failed to offer the appropriate resistance, the first thing she would do was to grab Blossom's leg and stuff her foot into Ser's armpit, with the crimson combatant's forearm held against the smaller girl's Achilles' tendon as a fulcrum. Then she would put her own legs into the ox's groin, extend her back and her hips, and press with all her might. The result, if successful, would be an Achilles' ankle lock that would have gotten her disqualified in a lower-ranked Brazillian jujutsu tournament: the hold was known to cause major injuries in the involved muscles and tendons, and the possibility of a break was very high.

This was no crowd-pleasing move: it would be excruciatingly painful. From the look on Serona's face, that's how she wanted it.

Blossom was familiar with many, many wrestling moves - she had followed the sports for years, studied it, lived it, worshiped. She knew pretty much all the moves by name, even if she couldn't do them herself - almost encyclopedic knowledge. Powerslams, toe holds, back breakers, piledrivers...all up there.

But she'd never seen a move like this before, she was sure of it. The screams would have stuck out to her. And oh, did Blossom scream.

It was excruciating - sheer, blinding pain like Blossom had never known before. It felt like her bones were just at the breaking point, just ready to snap, but not...quite...there. Ever second was searing agony, and she ran her hands through her hair, gripping it tight, anything to take her mind off the pain. "God, God, it hurts - oh, God, it - ah!"

Serona sighed and closed her eyes while she listened to the kitten wail into a suddenly (and probably momentarily) silent crowd.

That head-ache just wasn't going away. She'd have to practice her hand-springs and striking, she thought to herself. Over-specialization in grappling wouldn't cut it here.

She breathed in--her hips rose up and up--she breathed out--Bloss's ankle compressed more and more unnaturally against her arm--breathed in--and hyper-extended around the major joint--breathed out--and she could feel all the the little bones in this intricate little joint crunch together and tremble under the pressure.

Break, you fucking cunt.

Tap!

She couldn't - she had come so far. She'd dreamed of being here, of being a wrestler. It was all she wanted for so long. All those days in high school. Years preparing. So much blood, sweat, tears; so much time, energy and dedication.

Tap!

Why had it been like this? It wasn't at all like she planned, just one big failure after another. Just a lot of pain, a lot of humiliation - she'd become a jobber without even realizing it. Cannon fodder.

Tap!

No...no. She couldn't give up, couldn't let it end like this. She would pull out somehow, find a way to hang on, survive, and then she'd-

Blossom heard the snap before she felt the pain. It was as if her body needed a second to properly register it, or maybe it was just the adrenaline, slowing perception to a crawl. Whatever the case, Blossom had enough time to realize what had happened and absorb the gravity before the agony set in. That was the worst part.

Blossom shrieked at the top of lungs, a piercing wail that shouldn't have been possible from such a small body, as she fell back and thrashed like a live wire, brought to a frantic blubbering mess, incapable of forming even a solid word.

Serona opened her eyes and smiled.

She let Blossom roll off her. She sighed, planting her hands behind her back while she watched the smaller girl go epileptic on the mat. It was almost frightening, even in the circumstances, the way Blossom was choking on her own sobs, jerking with the tears pouring down and making nary a sound. It was something to be avoided, she reflected.

The ref stepped in to offer Serona his hand. She looked up at him.

"I'm sorry sir," she said, smiling up all sweetness and well-bred manners, "maybe I misunderstood. The victory conditions are submission, pinfall, and KO. Did I miss the line about the break DQ?"

His eyes met hers. Anywhere else but the AFW, he might have thrown her out then and there. But he just raised his hands and backed off. Then the crowd started shouting something furious--not even a boo, but real angry shouting.

And without standing, she slid back beside Blossom.

So many possibilities. So many painful ways to get the pin while exploiting the break; so many techniques she could use to ruin her nice-looking face and win the KO. But nah. She just put her lips by Blossom's ear and pressed one of the so-called Pint-Sized Powerhouse's hands into the mat.

"Tap, darling."