Jiao Jocelyn vs. Iggy Skelly: Clash of Tigers

It is a sweet and seemly thing to crush a flat-breasted Chinalady bitch under both the hard soles of one's boots. At the point of contact, Iggy closed her eyes.

She landed with her tongue lolling from out the corner of her skeleton-grin pecker, and she didn't even take the moment to hear Joc's adorable-like retorts. There was music on, baby, sweet and glorious physical music--'cause the fight was coming towards a conclusion with these two battered bodies, and now Jocelyn had not so much space to run in. The time for words, as the poet put it, was fuckin' past.

Iggy leaped forward, cupped her hands, and tried to slam them against both Jocelyn's ears. It was a trick she'd learned way back in the way back on the streets: compressing air against the ear holes leads to agony. And a certain kind of dizzy spinning sick-to-the-stomach-ness, if you hit the target juuuuust so.

As for the ref--well Iggy didn't give one shit about him! Not one shit.

Jocelyn watched as Iggy got up from her drop kick and approached. She was still leaning against the barricade, her arms wrapped over it as the referee counted.

She looked on as Iggy charged and Jocelyn sneered. When she was close, she lifted one foot up, using the barricade for support and tried to stuff the point of her foot in a place that would definitely look like Iggy's stomach to the ref but was probably more closer to Iggy's little girl parts to the brash punk. Two could play the "fuck the ref" approach.

But wasn't Iggy just musing over stomach-wise sickliness?

Instead of slamming the ears, Iggy's hands went down to the barricade, and the two of them bounced hard against it--just about toppling over, in fact--Joc's needle-toe foot pressed squarely in Ig's "stomach."

Iggy went a bit trembly, then--and red in the cheeks and forehead and throat--and not grinning-like at all. A growl came chopping (almost like a cough) out from her throat, and she made to wrap one hand up in Jocelyn's pretty black hair and give it a good wrench. With the other, she'd make to give her throat a good back-handed crack.

But it was... trembly, all of it. Under a bit of teeth-clenching pressure. And supported by equally trembly, rather weak legs.

Jocelyn felt the satisfying crunch as her toe went into Iggy's nethers, coolly escaping disqualification. However, she could not stop momentum and Iggy's body splashed against hers, Jocelyn grunting as their forms merged in a tangle.

When Iggy grabbed her short, spiky hair, Jocelyn did the same to Iggy and she thrust her hips forward against Iggy's to try and create some separation above the waist.

But when the throat chop came, Jocelyn coughed in Iggy's face, letting go of the wild hair as she brought her hands around Iggy's slender face and tried to fig her finger nails into the girl's eye. She had no problem getting catty if that's what Iggy wanted!

"Four!"

However, the referee seemed to keep them on the clock.

It stung, It stung! And it still burns, down in the stomach-pit...

Oh, but Jocelyn wasn't done there, she wanted to go for the lovely pink irises. She slashed and red welts erupted on the cheeks, and she dug in and the tears came rolling out hot and angry, and Iggy made a dying sort of cat sound, like an abused violin.

"Four!"

Iggy grabbed for Joc's arms to restrain them, to get them out of her fuckin' peepers, and then she made like to hook a leg under one of Joc's to trip her up. She was going to stomp on this ratfink's fuckin' spindly throat, stomp and squish, and then soccer-kick her porcupine head for all she was worth, and maybe sink her knees onto her non-breasts, and goddamn this China-lady pissant!

Jocelyn had expected the eye rake to get Iggy AWAY from her, not push her closer. When her wrist was grabbed and Iggy was trying to hook her, she fought against it, trying to keep them both pressed against the barricade while their bodies still mashed and rubbed together int he struggle.

"If she counts to ten... no one's gonna win, ya drongo!" Jocelyn spat as she finally crashed to the ground, wedged against the barrier with Iggy on top of her.

"If that happens, then fuck all, I'll make the fight so far look like a waltzin Matilda!"

"Six!" Shouted the referee.

There was a list of things Iggy cared about. It had until lately been topped by getting her knuckles nice and crusty-like in a hard-fought round; that had lately dropped just beneath making Joc's face crusty.

Winning...

Well. Yes'm, that was worth a few gray-cells of attention too.

With a four-count to go, that shouldn't be too hard a prize to pry out of this situation. All she needed was to send China-lady rolling, all dazed and drugged, so she could slip back into the ring just in the nick of time, so to speak.

So she grinned and tried for a head-butt against Joc's grounded skull.

"Guh!" Jocelyn felt Iggy's skull bashinto her own as her vision went white for the moment. He shoved Iggy away as she leaned against the barricade. What a bitch this girl was. For now she didn't care if she left, but she wasn't going to fight with her the whole way tot he ring. It was better if she just let Iggy go and save her strength for trying to beat the count.

She'd get back at Iggy soon enough and there was no way that Iggy wouldn't feel that headbutt too. Unless there really WAS nothing upstairs. The Chistralian ran her fingers through her hair, palming her forehead and feeling it slick with what she could only hope was sweat but smelled like iron.

Iggy stood up.

Get to the ring.

And she tried. But of course her head rung and spun from the cracking skull-to-skull blow, so it was more of a staggering, lurching crawl, almost tripping all the way, brushing her hand in front of her face in vain-like attempt to make all the fuzzy red star-spots fly away.

She'd planned to ascend the ropes, twirl around (swift and delicate like a dancer) and--if Jiao'd found the resources to stand and pursue her--plant a heel in the subtle girl's jaw. Well, but Ig's head wasn't allowing for anything like that, so she just slid far out into the middle of the ring and tried to get to her feet and to find her center as quick-like as the physics of the moment allowed.

Jocelyn watched as Iggy slithered into the ring. She pushed herself as soon as the girl was no longer paying attention to her and just managed to roll under the ring ropes when the count reached nine. However, for the moment, that was about all she was going to do as she laid on her back, outstretched and spread eagle, her chest heaving softly up and down as she tried to regain her strength.