Jiao Jocelyn vs. Iggy Skelly: Clash of Tigers

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Match Type: Standard
Winning Condition: Pinfall, Submission or Knockout

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The arena was kept all dark and hush-like while a [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QKIocZ3WbgE:106bo6lb]dolorous Celt's crooning[/url:106bo6lb] hung over the far end of the ring's runway:

While on the road to sweet Athy,
(hurroo, hurroo)...
While on the road to sweet Athy,
(hurroo, hurroo)...
While on the road to sweet Athy
A stick in me hand and a tear in me eye
A doleful damsel I heard cry,
Johnny I hardly knew ye!

It wasn't every wrestler who entered the ring under the auspices of an Irish anti-war ballad. There probably weren't many in the audience to appreciate the irony; Ignatius Skelly certainly wasn't one of them. She wasn't what you'd call an educated type, although she knew her way around. All she knew was that the prologue of her number left the folks watching feeling leery and uncomfortable, and once they set to squirming, that's when the electric guitar cut in--and that, Iggy thought, was the most blood-thirsty battle-roar any band had ever put to smoking-hot metal.

When the music set to screaming and the lights burst up pink and blue, Iggy charged in with the three-beats-a-second pace, beaming for all the world with an open-mouthed, fangs-bared grin like a Jack O'Lantern.

Was she happy? Fuck yes she was happy. This was the AFW, the public-access venue for the closest thing this rotten world had left to gladiatorial combat. She'd fought and bit and ripped and broken and feasted all her life, and loved every bloody moment, but this was the real show where she'd find the alphas and queen bees of the woman's fighting world.

She lept into the ring and immediately assumed a perch on the turnbuckle opposite her entrance, her hungry hungry eyes locked on the sedate runway and curtain obscuring her enemy.

As her music went mute, she slapped her chest and yelled over the crowd:

[size=111:106bo6lb]"Send in the fuckin' opposition!"

Jocelyn had not been in a very good mood lately. She tried to vent some anger during the first round of the Friction World Cup tournament and things were going good but even THAT was interrupted. two matches in a row where some wanker thought they could butt in. She was having enough. She wished that she was about to get into a cage so she could bust the idiot who decided to face off against her up in peace, but she'd have to make do. She was GOING to bust someone up though, come hell or high water.

When Jocelyn's [url=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g5l5xcO7AVU:1c10x4gx]music[/url:1c10x4gx] began to play, she emerged from the ramp and scowled int he direction of the ring. The crowd booed. She didn't even notice. She didn't even notice the hardcore fans that tried to cheer over the loud boos.

Jocelyn slipped into the ring and hopped on her feet. She was wearing a pair of sneakers, black track pants and a black tank top that showed off a bit of her tight fitting sports bra. Stretched and then finally acknowledged her opponent. She snarled at the girl.

"What a fuckin shame." She said, her voice a thick and undeniable Australian accent set against her stunning Chinese frame. "Looks like I won't be able to beat you any uglier than you already are." She smiled cruelly. "Sure as shite will try though, mate."

Skeleton grin never wavering, Iggy laughed, crossed her arms and crossed her legs while she made a judicial bench of the turnbuckle. In her school-girl uniform, with the piercings, hole-y socks and arm-wraps--not to mention her technicolored 'do--she looked highschool if not pre-pubescent next to this seductive woman. If she noticed, it only made her grin wider and run her tongue over her teeth with a sharper predatory edge.

"Shut the fuck up and spare the bitching, tramp. If you're going to get your claws messed in my inner lovelies, then dig in and start fuckin' cutting." She leaned back and closed one eye in a sleepy, prolonged little wink. "But if you're just here to compare panties, you better start running. I'll dye yours red, and then let's see who wants to play the old in-and-out with the little miss."

And without even a pause for the beat on her castigation, she slid from her perch and circled around to her corner, where she curled up like a stalking-cat and got her fists out in boxing-position. Maybe the crowd cheered her; she'd like that OK. Maybe Joc's fans booed her; she'd like that even better, especially when she got the chance to splash some of their idol's insides on them. But in any case, she wasn't paying any of them much mind at all. She was ready for the bell.

What the hell? What was this girl saying? Jocelyn heard the words and she wanted nothing more than to start ripping her apart with more insults. But she found herself... smiling. She couldn't believe that she had found someone to fight against that she might actually LIKE. The way the girl dressed reminded her of herself a few years ago when she was especially in the habit of pissing off daddy. She didn't go punk school girl but she did what she could. Short, boyish hair spiked up. Tattoos everywhere. That stuff was still around. She still hated her dad, but she'd have other things to occupy her mind today.

Jocelyn stepped forward as Iggy slithered off her turnbuckle. Her hands were low as she took her wu shu stance. "Goodonya, ya scungy twat. I'll tear ya to chunder without another word. "Just don't cry like a pup to yer gammer after I'm through with ya."

Joc was ready for the bell and when it rang, she shot forward towards Iggy. She bent her knees and at the last moment pivoted on her foot and threw herself forward, launching her hips upward at the schoolgirl punk, hoping to hip check her to disorient Iggy while the Chistralian attempted to drive her elbow downward with a follow up strike if her ploy worked.

Iggy charged forward at the same break-neck speed at the same break-neck time as her rival, fully ready to engage Joc with a good one-two to the face; but she never saw her rival's trick coming. She planted her fist--only to find herself landing the strike just when the Asian's slender body slipped and pivoted out of the way. Then the hip caught her in the stomach, and she staggered off her balanced stance--just in time to get her cheek chipped by an elbow. It was like charging into a primed machine set to automatically counter and harass.

She had to beat a quick retreat, hopping back and away with her fists up and defensive. For the first time that match, her grin faded

"...Heh..."

And then it was back. All the more blatant for the reddening welt under one eye.

She slowed down and started to circle--cautious like. It wasn't really her style, but then neither was this woman. She'd been in plenty of fights, sure--but always with lugs and brutes given to hard and heavy styles, hard on the striking, low on the maneuver and technical-like precision. This wu shu grace was something she needed to chew on for a bit before she went back to full-on fangs-and-blood.

So she circled. She ducked. She dodged. She did all the little moves she'd trained but never loved, waiting to see what Jocelyn would do when she got the first move.

Jocelyn was pleased when she was able to catch Iggy off guard with her hip check. Even better, she managed to catch the brat with an elbow. But Iggy was quicker than Jocelyn expected and she growled as the girl scurried away. Jocelyn bounced on her heels as Iggy took up her stance. She looked the girl over. She held herself like a boxer but the Chistralian wondered how real her training was. Either way, she was going to test the waters again.

Jocelyn charged again and came at Iggy again in a similar fashion as before. She was couched like she was going to come close for another hip check but as she neared, she did not swing out her hips but instead, she lashed out her foot and kicked at Iggy's knee, looking to buckle it with a sharp kick so she could, once again, follow up with another hard elbow strike if she connected.

Ye, now that you mention it—Iggy would realize a few moments later—her trainers had mentioned something here or there about these types who got wicked with their legs, these Muay-Thai and Kickboxing beasts. And what happened when they got their claws into conventional boxers.

But then Iggy wasn't a conventional anything, thank you very much.

Iggy acted like a boxer, light on her feet and weaving around the ring. But when she saw Jocelyn coming in on the approach, she got down and heavy, gave a real crowd-shaker of a cackling shout, and charged in. She'd catch this pixie-fighter around her pixie-hips and show her to the mat. Then they could get into the glorious ground-violence, and Iggy was craving to see how the miss would stand up to that.

Except, of course, Jocelyn didn't offer Iggy a hip. Being tricky, she was going to strike out with a knee-biter of a blow, and seeing the circumstances, there wasn't much chance she would miss. Maybe the takedown would transition nicely, and she'd grab the leg and continue on with her roaring freight-train momentum—but then again, maybe not.

Jocelyn's foot collided with Iggy's knee. She fooled the hyper active girl good, except she could not fool momentum. She changed Iggy's course but she was shoved out of the way and thrown off balance onto her butt next to Iggy, unable to follow up with the elbow or, anything at all as she skidded away from the punk girl.

She narrowed her eyes intent on hopping back up quickly and rushing at Iggy with a swinging elbow, this time not trying to precede it with any sort of set up maneuver.

When the second elbow of the night crushed Iggy's ear, she started laughing even as she skipped back--again, into the worthless circling routine.

"...Damn, but you can dance, miss!"

She was starting to get a bit on the beat-up side, Iggy, what with the now-bruise under her eye and the way her ear was ringing like radio white-noise. Was it bleeding? It was bleeding.

"Here, there!" Iggy hopped and skipped with the words. "They taught me guarding, those twits in the gym, but what kind of guard is there for a China-lady, I ask you? Absolutely none."

She couldn't have sounded more delighted.

Jocelyn was feeling good. Even if the crazy bitch was just getting taking down and getting off on it, she didn't care. She was crazy enough in her own right, circumstances alone made it impossible to deny.

However, there was no denying what Iggy called her. She called her China-lady. Jocelyn froze and blinked, staring at iggy. Her cheeks flushed a bit and her guard lowered ever so slightly. "What... the fuck?" She muttered. Jocelyn tilted her head. "What did you say?" She asked for Iggy to repeat it. What the hell was wrong with this punk? How could she be someone that Jocelyn actually liked? And not in the way she liked Allison, who she also hated. Or Lan, who she also also hated. She loved them and hated them both and it was complicated and stupid. She WANTED to hate Iggy, but the stupid girl was making it difficult and Jocelyn couldn't understand that one bit.

Jocelyn shook her head and charged again, throwing a kick at Iggy's midsection to try and put her to the mat.