Mikoto Kusanagi Vs Miss USA: Once and Future Angels

"Auugh..oh shit...." Marilyn gasped out, the pain in her leg subsiding to an intense ache instead of the sharp pain that occurred when she put all of her weight on her wounded knee.

Hearing the crowd, Miss USA turned her head, looking around. She saw Mikoto, lying on her back. The American thought to herself that victory might be at hand. She just needed to gut it out, and drag herself over to the Japanese woman and drape her own battered body over her opponent's.

With a groan, Marilyn rolled over onto her stomach. Then, using her arms and the leg that was still working, Miss USA managed to drag and claw her way across the ring to Mikoto. With one last pained grunt of effort, the American flung an arm over the Miko's chest. Not the best of covers but it was enough to get the ref to kneel down and begin the count...
"One!"

*Come on....Please let this be over, please.* Marilyn silently prayed to any and all deities that might be paying attention at the moment....

The feel of a muscled arm pressing against her chest jostled some life back into the priestess, creaking open her eyes to the sight and sound of the ref slamming his palm into the canvas just over head.

“Two!”

Gritting her teeth and twisting to the side, Miko easily broke the lackadaisical pin attempt inches before Miss USA would be declared the victor. Waves of disbelief and stunned gasps washed over the audience, a tragic element to the broken pin as most watching the match would believe that Marilyn may have had the fight won if she only secured a more stable pin sooner with her entire weight leveraging Miko to stay down.

Once she rolled herself to her front side and slowly propped herself up by her hands and knees, Mikoto glanced over to the American rookie still suffering from her disabled predicament. There wasn’t any inkling of a doubt that Miss USA carried on her predecessors indomitable spirit. Through a hobbling injury Marilyn reversed the course of the match and nearly walked away with it. Miko couldn’t allow herself to underestimate Marilyn from this point onward, or risk tarnishing her pride as a W.A. with a loss against a W.A. protegee…not even someone who had worked for the company!!

Once lifted up to her hands and knees, Miko sluggishly trudged upwards while cupping her jaw and attempting to blink away her lingering head pains. Hopefully arising at a faster pace than Miss USA was capable…

"No!" Marilyn screamed in a mix of frustration and anger that was aimed at herself more than it was at anyone else. If only she been faster on the pin, instead of writhing about on the mat holding her stupid knee! Why had she even landed on it in the first place!?

Mentally shoving aside her self loathing, the American looked about. Mikoto was already rising to her feet, holding her jaw for a moment. Gritting her teeth, Miss USA crawled towards the ropes, needing to use them to get to feet. But her progress was slow. The Japanese woman would be on her feet when Marilyn was still making her way to the ropes....

With Miko on her feet again she glanced upwards to see Marilyn retreating to the safety of the nearby ropes, obviously unable to even stand under own power anymore with her crippling knee injury. The sight of Marilyn willing herself through such a debilitating setback was a tremendous demonstration of her heart and desire to persevere. But Miko knew that Miss USA’s determination was exactly what her body didn’t need right now. She could end up making the knee injury something career shortening…

…this was all her fault. Her previous leg submission was too advanced to apply on a rookie. Miko needed to end this match now,…

The priestess rushed over to Miss USA just as she was within inches of grasping the ropes, grabbing both of her ankles and grunting heftily while dragging the American wrestler back to the near center of the ring. Soon after robbing Marilyn of her precious destination, Miko let Marilyns uninjured leg drop to the mat but maintained her grip on the disabled appendage and hoisted it ominously in the air. She gulped down and steeled her resolve. Her match with Suzu taught her she couldn't be afraid to be ruthless when the time came for it, even if it tore her up inside. Spinning in place to rest her butt on Marilyn’s curved and sweaty lower back, Miko tucked the ankle of Marilyns pained limb under her armpit, slowly and cautiously applying a single leg Boston Crab submission.

“I’m…I’m sorry the match turned out this way, but you’re only putting yourself at risk by not submitting!!” Miko turned her head and implored Marilyn to give in while maintaining the hold but at the moment not applying any more pressure than was necessary to keep it synched in and nothing more. Hopefully that pain alone and the dreaded unease of more to come would be enough for Marilyn to finally concede...

The ropes were close. If she could reach them, Miss USA would have both safety and a way to get back to a standing position. She crawled closer....closer.

Then she felt Mikoto's hands close around her ankles.
"Nonono-ow! No!" she screamed as the Japanese woman dragged her away from the ropes and the refuge they offered. Pain shot up her leg from her wounded knee as Marilyn was forced into the single leg crab.

Fear also lanced through her. The pain she had been in since the hold had been bad. Now Mikoto planned to inflict more punishment upon the limb!? Already the pain in the knee was sliding into agony and the hold was barely locked in! Marilyn gave a shriek of misery and pain as the crab dug it's claws into her.
Then Mikoto spoke, her words sounding reasonable. After all, what was worth risking permanent injury? Her hand raised up, as she bowed her head, preparing to tap out.

From somewhere within her stubborn heart, a voice answered her own question.
Pride. Not just about the country she was from. It was about her pride in herself. She wouldn't quit when the other girls at the training center teased Marilyn about her mixed heritage, or when she was beat by Silver Ace. She would be damned if she would submit, especially to a Japanese wrestler. That would give the rest of the Japanese girls more satisfaction than Marilyn was willing to give.

Still....This was going to suck.

Her hand clenched in a fist as she slammed it back down against the mat. Then with a scream that mixed both defiance and agony, Marilyn crawled an inch closer to the ropes.....

As Mikoto and Marilyn struggled with each other in the ring, as their match drew to a heated climax, the lights in the arena suddenly flickered. Just for an instant, barely even noticeable as the crowd cheered on the two Wrestle Angels, on the edges of their seats as they watched the match. But then, the lights went out completely, leaving the arena bathed in darkness, the crowd wondering what had happened, whispering to each other excitedly.

After a few mere seconds, the titantron screens flared to lift, a countdown appearing on the oversized monitors. It began to count down, seconds passing by as the numbers began to drop lower and lower.

5...4...3...2...1...

The moment the countdown hit zero, pyrotechnics began to go off along the edges of the entrance stage to the arena, loud music blaring over the arena's speakers. Not only that, but there, standing in the center of the stage, was a tall woman, a serious look on her face as she stared down towards the ring, staring at the two Wrestle Angels inside.

Spoiler:

She stared down towards the ring for a few long, agonizing moments, then began to head down the ramp, heading towards the ring. Every step she took was full of confidence, full of determination. Her stare was cold, full of hatred. Her entire attitude seemed to be that of someone who knew exactly why she was here and what she was doing.

Hibiki Izayoi, the Purple Dragon of the Wrestle Angels, had finally arrived to the AFW.

Mikoto kept the hold synched in as expertly as she could, fighting her years of experience telling her to wrench in the boston crab as tightly as she could. The feel of Marlyns leg muscles tensing up in the hold accompanied Marilyn’s shrill screams, sign enough to Miko that she simply had to be nearing her limit by now.  Nearly mistaking Marilyn’s fist pounding for a submission, Miko turned her head in astonishment that Miss USA continued through what must have been excruciating pain to drag them both inches closer to the ropes.

In response the priestess leaned backward with a slight, straining effort on Marilyn’s horribly battered limb. For all of the respect Mikoto had for Miss USA and the insane perseverance she was demonstrating, at that moment, she couldn’t help but resent her for forcing her hand like this. For making her out to be the villain in all this when all she wanted was to win just as badly as she did. Marilyn was testing the priestess’ determination as to whether she could push aside her kind hearted ways and do what was necessary to win when the time came for it….

However, as the conflict raged in her head, the flickering of the arena lights caught her attention, perking her head up and carefully laying her opponents damaged limb on the mat tenderly. With the arena enveloped in darkness, Mikoto naively believed there was some technical malfunction and the match would have to be called off. That was until the ominous countdown lit up the arena, the priestess flinching when the pyrotechnics flared away, completely confused as to what was going on until she made out the tall, slender figure standing atop the stage.

“Hi..Hibiki…” She muttered her name to herself once she recognized the purple haired woman. A creeping sense of dread froze her in place with widened eyes, the gravity of her situation only just then dawning upon her. The promo Hibiki had cut some time ago still resonated deep within any W.A. still in the company, a spiteful declaration to destroy any of her former colleagues she could get her hands on. Soon afterwards there was a noticeable lull in activity and matches from Wrestle Angels, rumors swirling as to whether that was more than a mere coincidence…

Once Hibiki started her confident stride down the ramp, Miko looked behind her to realize Miss USA was in just as much danger as she was….and twice as defenseless. Without thinking twice she would rush to her side, place Marilyn’s arm over her neck and lift her up to guide her back to a corner post. “Listen, I…I’m sorry…for everything…Just…please…please try to escape if you can…” Leaving her face down against the edge of the ring, Miko turned back to confront Hibiki center ring, waiting for her there while the Purple Dragon ascended up the metal stairs.

“You don’t...you don’t have…to do this Hibiki. This won’t prove…prove anything…” Miko panted heavily in between her wearied statement, her fatigued frame shivering but standing tall before the towering powerhouse. Her fists were clenched at her sides. If the priestess seemed fearless at this moment, it was all a rouse. She was hopelessly terrified…but knew that she was all that stood between Hibiki and the hobbled Miss USA...

That one inch was a study in agony as the Japanese woman leaned back on the wounded leg.
*I can't do this! It hurts so bad, please, stop!* the thought rushed through her mind, and Marilyn was about to scream it out loud when suddenly everything went dark.

For a confused moment, Marilyn thought she had mercifully blacked out. Then she felt Mikoto release her leg, making her give a relieved gasp. The big screen lit up with its ominous countdown, and after its completion Hibiki Izayoi appeared in a shower of pyrotechnic flame.
"Oh....shit." she breathed as the massive woman began to make her way to the ring. She too had seen Hibiki's declaration of war, but when time passed without incident, Marilyn guessed that the woman had dropped her grudge.

Mikoto began pulling her to the ropes, surprising the American out of her stupor in time to listen to her words.
"Wait, what?! Leave me and get out of here!" Miss USA called as Mikoto faced off with the towering Purple Dragon.

With a grunt, Miss USA's hand closed on the bottom rope that she was left by, starting the long process of getting back to her feet....

As Hibiki headed down the ramp towards the ring, her eyes locked onto Mikoto, meeting her gaze. She stared right into the young priestess' eyes, not once looking away or blinking as she approached the ring.

Mikoto Kusanagi.

She remembered Mitoto. She remembered her quite well. Too well, in fact. She wasn't the sort of big fish that Hibiki had hoped to make her first example out of, but...she was tired of waiting. She was tired of biding her time. She would end Mikoto right here, and right now, and send a message to all of the other Wrestle Angels in the company.

Once she reached the ring, she began her ascent up the metal stairs, stepping across the apron once she reached the top, and then ducked down, passing through the ropes and into the ring. It felt good. It felt good to be back in the ring, after being away from it for so long.

She headed to the center of the ring to meet Mikoto, staring coldly at her. The ends up her lips began to twist up, into a cruel sort of smile as she approached the younger girl. There was no hesitance in her movements, no lack of confidence in her steps. Hibiki knew why she was here, and she could tell that Mikoto knew as well. Perfect.

She stole a quick glance at Miss USA, then looked back towards Mikoto. No need to worry about the pretender, acting like she was a Wrestle Angel. She was hurt, and seemed to be hurt bad, so Hibiki knew she could deal with her later. She stepped right up to Mikoto and stared down at her, putting her hands on her hips, standing there tall, and proud, like a massive engine of destruction, waiting for just the perfect moment to strike.

"I'll be generous," she said, her voice low, quiet, and tinged with a hint of cruel malice. "If you have any last words before I begin, now is your chance to speak them. Otherwise..." Her voice trailed off, the threat in the words of the Purple Dragon quite clear, and quite obvious.

As Hibiki sauntered towards the ring with deadly intent clearly written all over the Purple Dragon’s commanding stride, Mikoto shuttered from the cold chill emanating from the piercing glare the towering monster of a woman was shooting her. There was not one ounce of remorse or mercy to be found; only self-determining resolve to crush the already wounded angels before her and exact her misplaced vengeance.

Mikoto had to tilt her head up to maintain her unflinching eye contact with Hibiki as she approached her, their height difference becoming immediately apparent. Standing defiantly against a wrestler of Hibiki’s imposing stature and raw power was regrettably not uncommon for Mikoto, though unlike with Chris Morgan, the priestess knew deep down in her trembling frame that she stood no chance. Hibiki was known as a notoriously vicious competitor who may have had the potential to challenge the best W.A. had to offer. Miko could barely stay vertical, briefly teetering left and right before shaking her head and raising her arms in front of her. All she could do was buy Marilyn time to escape, maybe with the referee. Miss U.S.A.’s knee needed medical attention. If Hibiki was allowed to run rampant on the injured rookie…

“…No…I guess…nothing else needs to be said…except that…you won’t win…” It came as no surprise to Mikoto that her attempt at negotiations fell on deaf ears considering the hateful vitriol the Purple Dragon spread during her promo. Mikoto could argue her point, that she and Marilyn are wholly innocent, but it felt she would only be wasting her breath. Her last defiant jab was purely meant to goad Hibiki into keeping her attention on her and not Marilyn, soon afterwards sprinting towards the Purple Dragon and attempting a jumping knee strike. An effective attack against Chris Morgan, though now much more sluggish and easily predictable…