Blood in the Water: Syd w/ Allie Parker vs. Gemma Faraday

Gemma bit her lip in anticipation, Syd's silent glare wearing on her already-frayed nerves. The look of sheer condescension on Syd's face was simply killing the young Brit, as the red-eyed girl continued to jerk her around on that bad leg. Gemma struggled to come up with a response, or an insult, anything to make her feel a bit better about her position, but nothing came to mind. Competition was one thing, but this girl seemed to be trying to cripple her, tonight!

“Ghhaaauuuuuh!” Gemma groaned, as Syd's boots landed hard on her soft, yielding midriff. The blow drove the air from the Brit's body, leaving her curled up on the mat, gasping for air. More and more, the fear of serious injury was nagging at the back of the Brit's mind. “Why won't you,” she said, between desperate gasps for air, “just- just let up for a second?” She turned her gaze to Allie, a pleading look in her eyes. “Tell her to lay off! Please!”

Allie was relishing Gemma's destruction. She'd never seen someone so methodically dismantled both mentally and physically. She loved it.

However when the Brit's pleading eyes locked with her own, the red head's face soft. "Syd... that's enough..." she muttered, attempting to call off her dog. "She's clearly suffered enough. Letter go and just pin her already..."

Allie looked at Syd and as their gazes met, Allie's fierce blue eyes sparkled. The corners of her lips twitched and then suddenly a bursting dam of laughter rumbled from the deepest recesses of the obnoxious girl. It was a deep, throaty warble that percolated as Allie bent over and pressed her palms to her knees.

She tried to contain her giggle so she could speak but was finding it hard. She linked at Gemma as she calmed down and flashed her a cruel smirk. "It's not MY fault your too retarded to tap out, Gemma."

'Not that THAT matters.'

"Go on, Syd! Fuck her up! Get her out of this league! You'll be doing her a favor!" Allie smugly folded her arms under her huge tits.

Gemma could practically kick herself, for falling for Allie's feint. Briefly, just for a moment, she'd let herself believe that the little plastic redhead had dug deep beneath the silicone, and found some scrap of her humanity. Instead, the girl's mockery rang in Gemma's ears as she flailed and stumbled helplessly, in the center of the ring. Try as she might, the Brit was still struggling to comprehend what Syd's motivation was here, tonight. The red-eyed sociopath was obviously going above and beyond, tonight, to attempt to get the win.

Gemma could feel tears mounting, just behind her eyelids, as she struggled with her situation. More than anything, Gemma had been trying to prove that she was a worthy competitor, in the AFW. And tonight was not exactly proving that, to anyone. In fact, as Syd's every movement jerked her around like a puppet, and Allie's every taunt went unchallenged, Gemma couldn't help but feel like she was proving herself woefully beneath the standard, of her opponents. Still clutching the abs that Syd had so mercilessly stomped, Gemma scrambled to try and get back to her feet. Syd had her dominated, almost beaten, but there was no reason that Gemma had to lie back and take it, right?

Right? Gemma scrambled up to her knees, trying to convince herself that any moment, now, she was going to get back on top of this thing.

Syd impassively watched Gemma contemplate her predicament and worry about Allie's endless chatter, until she managed to pull herself to her knees again. She kept getting up. Syd had murder in her eyes.

Once Gemma was halfway upright, Syd threw a hard roundhouse kick at her face like a homerun swing at a ball on a tee.

Gemma pushed hard off of her knees, to try and bring herself back to her knees. The arena around her seemed to be swimming, everything blurring together into a senseless wash of light and sound. The Brit struggled for some kind of plan, for some idea of what she could do, next. Every thought, however, came to an immediate halt when Syd's boot met with Gemma's unsuspecting face.

The white-haired girl's body snapped back, at the impact. For a brief moment, Gemma's head folded backwards, a slight spray of tears, sweat and blood coming off of her face, at the moment of impact. Gemma hung in the air, for just a moment, before her body collapsed against the mat with all the grace and dignity of a wet sack of potatoes. The Brit was completely motionless on the mat, dead to the world.

Syd watched Gemma drop, and then eyed her waistcoat. That would have to go.

She stood over the Brit and bent down to undo the strap on her harness and pull it open. She grabbed the girl's tank top at the shoulders, braced a foot against her face, and after a moment of struggling she had uncovered Gemma's generously proportioned breasts and torn the shirt enough that she wouldn't be able to just cover them again. She tilted her head at the sight of it. It felt good, but there was still a problem.

She directed her attention back to the girl's knee, the one she'd devoted most of her attention to. It still wasn't broken. Gemma was quiet. Syd scowled. She picked up Gemma's ankle and pulled her leg straight, and then jumped up and brought her own knee crashing down onto Gemma's elevated knee cap, like she was snapping a tree branch.

Gemma sputtered back to life, a bit, when she felt Syd's boot come pressing down on her face. Squirming, helpless, Gemma could hardly offer up resistance as her opponent started tugging and tearing at her top. Face reddening, frustration and humiliation mounting, Gemma could still only muster up the most token squirming as her ample chest came spilling out of the top that Syd had just ruined.

Trying futilely to contain herself in the tatters of her shirt, Gemma was more focused on the sound of roaring crowd and the click of their camera phones to pay much mind to Syd. Which would, of course, turn out to be a horrible, horrible mistake.

“Ggghhhhaaaah!” Gemma screamed, as Syd's knee came crashing down on her. Instinctively, Gemma tried to twist with the strike, hoping to keep her knee from shattering at the impact. She could already feel her knee swelling, fears of lasting damage running through her mind as she lay on her side, nursing her battered leg. Laid out, exposed and beaten, all hope of a turnaround had completely vanished. The only thing Gemma could hope for now, was that Syd would end this thing, soon ...

Allie was relishing in Gemma's destruction. Even though she had knocked the Brit out completely, Syd wasn't finished. She was going to bring Gemma back to life and...

"Ewww, Syd, what the hell!?" Allie's cheeks flushed red as she turned her head. Now Gemma's boobs were everywhere. Allie couldn't believe that. "Stop being gross!" She said, not looking at her white haired charge. what the hell was wrong with Syd anyway!?

After a moment, Allie settled herself down and turned back to face the despairing Gemma. "Well, clearly they aren't as awesome as mine..." She said, crossing her arms under her chest and puffing out her fake tits proudly.

"Mangle her, Syd!"

More screaming. The screams were nice. But...

Syd yanked on Gemma's ankle to straighten her leg out again, picked it up off the mat, and then stomped down on the girl's knee cap. If she was really going to be this stupid, then Syd would gladly break it. She wanted to see what it sounded like when someone's knee broke and bent the wrong way, and what kind of noises they would make, what it would feel like, what it would look like.

But she didn't say a word. She just looked at Gemma with hungry eyes while she devoured what was left of her will.

Gemma was panting, her body soaked in sweat and tears as she fought and failed to contain herself. All of the eyes of the arena were on her, now, utterly humiliated and completely debased. Gemma's head was reeling, between the pain and the humiliation that was swimming around in her skull. It was sinking into the Brit's skull that her opponent had dominated her on pretty much every level, tonight. She'd left her beaten, battered, bruised and exposed in the center of the ring, and there hadn't been a thing the Brit could do about it. Gemma thought of everyone back home, watching this match, and how horrible she must look in front of all of them. Tears flowing freely down her cheeks, Gemma looked around the ring for some kind of escape; all she could see, however, were those fierce, penetrating red eyes. No solace or mercy in them, only the promise of more pain.

Another stomp came down on Gemma's knee, and all she could do about it was scream. All she'd been able to do for what seemed like the entire night, now, was scream. Arms flailing, body writing pathetically in anguish as Syd brought her closer and closer to the breaking point, Gemma swung her arms until she could grab hold of the AFW official's leg. As desperately as the young Brit had wanted to prove herself, it simply wasn't going to happen. All she had left, was three little words, and whatever hope of sanctuary they might bring.

"I give up!" Gemma yelped, as she stared desperately at the referee. Beaten, broken, stripped, Gemma had no option left but to throw herself on the mercy of the official. "Please, for the love of God! I give up! Call her off, dammit!" With no other recourse to save herself, the Brit began tapping weakly on the mat, hoping to signal to the world (and, not least of which, to Syd) that she was finished. Gemma's shoulders were heaving like they never had before, heavy sobs wracking her body. Gemma was completely broken, Syd having her broken her down, her every thought stuck on hoping that the white-haired sociopath wouldn't try to break her down further.