PhDoom vs. Big Barda - Comic Book Women

Damn, missed on the clothesline. Doom was faster than Barda expected, and the talking wasn't he helping things - concentrate. She needed to concentrate and focus on the match.

But just because that was the smart thing to didn't mean she was going to do it. Nosiree.

"Yes, Superman is likable. I know that might be a foreign concept since everyone in the Marvel Universe is a different degree of jerk, but yes, it is possible to make characters that people like." She threw out a hand trying to reach Doom and missing her terribly. "And yeah, I guess I got them mixed up - Jenkins made the Sentry, Bendis ruined him. If only he had ONE MORE DAY to make it right." She cocked her head to the side. "What do you think, Doom? What could Bendis do with ONE MORE DAY? Not a whole lot of time to fix things, but who know what you could do with ONE. MORE. DAY."

Yeah. She went there. Throwing down the gauntlet.

"Maybe I like the way He-Man looks...so what?" She tried to fake Doom out by stepping to the right, then lunging to the left and trying to hit her with a surprise boot in the face as she jumped.

Ducking the clothesline, Doom's sneer only grew. Was she finally getting under the larger woman's skin? Obviously, the only way to tell if Doom had dug herself into a hole, was to dig a little deeper. “That was Stracynski and Quesada, nerd. Again, not Bendis.” Doom was certain to spit the words, making sure every ounce of vitriol and disdain in her voice clung to every syllable.

After the clothesline swung high of Doom's head, it seemed to Doom that Barda was forgetting about the match that the two of them had going on. “And as for He-Man, I suppose one such as you would be a 'big' fan, wouldn't you? Kind of a role model, was he? Little bit of 'He-Man' in there, if your pitiful mind can catch what Doom is saying? Hmm? Perhaps your He-Man figure could have been called 'Post-Opp!' Or is Doom going over your head like--”
That was the extent of Doom's offensive comments, however. While the clothesline Barda sent her way hadn't connected, Barda's boot certainly did, sending the smaller brawler tumbling. Forgetting, for the moment, where she was, Doom's vision disappeared into a spinning world of lights and sounds as the crowd got heavily behind Barda knocking the mouthy punk end-over-end.

"Geek! Not! Nerd!"

Honestly, why did so many people confuse the terms? They were quite simple and distinct, easy to tell apart.

Barda's clothesline missed and went wide, Doom dodging it by a mile as the fight - verbal and physical - raged on. "Bendis didn't write it, but he was involved in the development - he doesn't get away without at least some of the blame. But hey, cut me some slack - you guys have a crossover just about every other month, these day. It's getting hard to keep track of all the 'major, earth-shattering events'. Captain America is dead! No, wait, he's okay. Thor is dead! No, wait, he's okay. The Wasp is dead! No, wait, she's okay. Bucky is dead...again! No, wait, he's okay."

Barda's boot connected dead on and brought Doom down hard, the crowd roaring at the blow - and Barda immediately followed up with an elbow drop right onto her chest. A little meaner than she typically went for, but then, that Post-Opp comment struck a bit below the belt.

“I know, right? It's like they're all Batman, or something,” Doom said, with a sneer. "And how long has 'Forever Evil' been going? Hint: Less time than Doom is going to spend inflicting pain on you, 'Post-Opp,' but still way too damned long ..." However, catching the full of Barda's boot against her face, Doom was forced to acknowledge that perhaps this was not the best time for her to be focusing on snark. That time might have been better spent avoiding the blow. Finding herself lying flat on the mat, Doom decided that avoiding damage was for lesser competitors than Doom, for those that couldn't take a bit of punishment in the heat of competition.

That said, however, Doom was watching Barda's elbow coming down hard towards her prone figure. Twisting at her hip, Doom hoped she'd be able to roll her body out of the path of Barda's blow. It wasn't retreat, Doom told herself. It was using the mat the inflict pain on Barda's offending limb. Yes, that was a suitable explanation ...

"As of right now? Just as long as Civil War, not as long as Secret Invasion, and nowhere near as long as Dark Reign. So there."a

Barda was looking to flatten Doom right into the mat, drive that elbow down and knocked the wind out of her, but she was a lot tougher than she would have guessed - she managed to roll away, letting Barda's elbow hit the bare mat. She grunted, half out of pain and half out of annoyance. "Ugh. And by the way, the post-op thing was a lame taunt when I heard it in the 9th grade, and it's lame now. Grow up."

Back on her hands and knees, Doom was relieved to have been able to get out of the way of all that had been coming down on top of her. Watching the grunt of pain and annoyance on Barda's face gave Doom no small bit of satisfaction, as her lip curled again into her trademark sneer. "Doom has grown up," she said with a smirk. "It's just that, for Doom, this didn't involve testosterone injections ..."

As rallied as she was at the moment, however, Doom knew she couldn't get away with immediately launching a counter offensive on the much larger cosplayer. Instead, Doom opted to continue to roll, taking herself outside of the ring. Landing flat on her feet, Doom would immediately lift the apron to begin scrambling for whatever sort of weapon she could find. While doing so, she decided to keep tweaking her foe. "All of those stories eventually came to an end, however," Doom said, as she wrapped her fingers around the leg of a steel folding chair, stashed beneath the ring. "Just like your run here at AFW, will ..."

Barda just huffed, sitting back as she rubbed her elbow. "It's called 'puberty'. One day it might happen to you, too."

She looked over to Doom as she rolled out of the ring, going under the apron - what was she doing? Getting weapons? Why would she - oh, right. Hardcore match. Barda had almost completely forgotten about that, with their back and forth.

Crawling forward, she tried to keep quiet as she made her way over to the apron where Doom was digging - stealth wasn't her specialty by any stretch of the imagination, but she was making a go at it. The minute Doom popped her pretty little head up, Barda would reach over and give her a good punch right in the face, looking to take her by surprise before she had the chance to switch things around.

"The girl who is so defensive about comic books now dares to lecture Doom about maturation ... Of course ..." Doom was only paying half of her attention to the banter going on, however, as she surveyed the underside of the ring. Doom was more than eager to get the violence underway, but she found herself suddenly paralyzed with all of the options at her disposal.

With a smirk, Doom realized that her opponent was trying to crawl across the ring towards her. She could hear the heavier woman sliding across the frame of the ring, the sliding sound of skin and fabric against the mat more than enough to give her away. Hunkering down even lower, Doom opted to play with the bimbo-like Big Barda a bit, hoping that she could lure her into a trap. "Doom is quite sure that you've shared the experience of many young men, Barda. Tumblr is alight with such tales ..." Doom sneered, right before she took the chair she had just grabbed from beneath the ring and shoved it up towards the ring apron, like a maliciously-intended muppet made of cheap steel.

Barda opened her mouth to retort, when she remembered that she was supposed to be stealthy. Quiet as a mouse. A really, really big mouse.

Doom was taking an abnormally long time down there, Barda couldn't help but notice. She'd never under there before, but she imagined that the stuff wouldn't all that had to get a hold of. What was she-

A sharp pain lanced into Barda's face as she was struck through the apron of all thing, the impact knocking her up and putting her on her back as she crawled her jaw and rolled from side to side with the pain - right on the bone, nothing but pain there.

PHDoom emerged from beneath the ring, steel chair held aloft in one hand, middle finger extended from the other. Doom soaked in the jeers of the audience, obviously displeased with her cheap shot to Barda, a grin reaching from ear to ear across the punk's face. This was the first time she'd gotten to (legally) hit someone with a chair, and Doom planned to savor every minute of it.

Turning her focus back to the ring, and to Barda, Doom grinned as she watcher her foe rolling on the mat in pain. “Well,” Doom said, as she took hold of the bottom rope, “it seems that Doom has found your kryptonite, you overmuscled hussy. Doom's keen perceptions and agile mind have determined that you are quite susceptible to getting your ass kicked. Obvious, in hindsight ...”

Doom pulled herself back into the ring, never letting go of the chair. Instead, practically licking her lips in anticipation, Doom took her weapon with one hand on each leg, the top of it pointed downward at her foe, and attempted to drive it downward, towards Barda's midsection, hoping to soften her amazonian opponent up.