Domino vs Amy Poford- Let the Good Times Roll

Domino released the hold- Amy wasn’t sure if it was her assault that did the trick, but for now she was too relieved to care. She nimbly pushed her way backwards through Domino’s legs- Amy grunted as a boot came down hard between her shoulder blades, but, again, that was a welcome change from the hold that she had just escaped- and got to her feet. Her spine ached gratefully with the return to normal alignment, but she knew that it would take some time before she could really make any sort of movement without her body reminding her of that submission. Not that she cared to take that time, but she acknowledged it.

Amy took a moment to point down to the canvas where they’d just spent the past few moments in their match. “Camel clutch, right?” she recited proudly. “That’s one I know.” Then she charged at him again. She took two steps on the ground, then covered the rest of the distance in the air, legs shooting out to catch him in the chest with a dropkick. She knew a couple of other submissions, too, and she was eager to show them off.

Aw, she got up again! Domino gives a little curse under his breath, figuring he shoulder stomped a little lower along her back. That might have helped keep her down better. But she's on her feet and asking a question, looking ever-so-proud despite it all. It's enough to earn a little snicker from him.

"It's a good'en," he concurs.

But she's closing in on him again. Domino readied a counter, preparing to slam her back with an interrupting discus clothesline. He'll bet she hasn't dealt with one of those before! But that sort of technique flies out the window when she turns lateral, landing her feet against his toned chest. "Ung!" The model is dropped to the mat on his back in a sprawl, coughing from the hit.

When Amy rolled back upright, she was happy to see that she had finally knocked Domino off of his feet and down to his back- and it had only taken her entire body weight to do it. She shook her head, smiling. She wondered what he'd think about making a fight between them a weekly thing. She'd have to have ask him later.

For now though, Amy was hungry to lock in an armbar. She'd tried and failed to lock in the hold on two separate occasions, against two different opponents, and Domino was at least as stubborn as either of them, so she wasn't terribly hopeful. But the omniscient 'they' did have some pretty auspicious words about the third time.

"Hey." Amy sat by Domino's cough-wracked body, legs ready to make the catch, and reached for an arm. "How're you doing? I'm having a pretty great time here."

"Mnng..," grunts Domino as he recuperates. She drops onto her pert rear beside him and makes a grab for his arm. Instantly, he's thinking it: textbook armbar. And he's quite certain she'll go for the full effect if she can cinch the hold on. That doesn't sound terribly fun!

...At least, not when there's something on the line.

But what she says gets a small smile. She's such an odd girl. She gets decked in the head, twisted up, pounded in the gut, and yet she has a sweet cadence, as though they were on a date! It's endearing, in a quirky sort of way. "Oh, sure," he replies. Once she's grabbed ahold of his arm, he attempts to take her by surprise and thrust his body at hers, attempting to trap her legs against his chest and force her into an awkward roll-up pin ending with her largely upside-down and his weight bearing her into a small, compressed position. "Not enough pin attempts, though!"

She had all of no time at all to be glad that she'd managed to grab his arm, because in the very next moment, Domino had her rolled up in a pin- a weird one, but unarguably a pin, as proven by the ref's immediate count of "One!" In fact, it hadn't even occurred to her that she'd been trapped until the count spurred her into action.

"Fuck!" If she had more than three seconds, she might have bothered to come up with a more graceful way to kick out of the pin than to writhe all of her body at once, but, as it were, she didn't have that luxury. She kicked her legs, she punched up at Domino's chest, she twisted her torso; anything to slip out of the pin. It was hard going since she didn't have the time to figure out how exactly their bodies were positioned. Luckily, her back slid out from under the rest of her body, sparing her from losing the match just after the two-count.

It was a lot to hope for, but once the pressure was off, Amy would try to scamper away to a safe distance and turn to face Domino, fuming about the armbar. Clearly, she was doing something wrong. 0 for 3 wasn't exactly encouraging.

Amy struggles and squirms, Domino's arm still between her legs, but there's no time to do anything hentai with it. Besides, she'd specifically asked him not to. Moreover, he's not the sort to just... attack a girl's personal area. But the thought does snap to mind, if briefly! And her blurted expletive gets a cheerful laugh!

He didn't expect her to stay down, and when she squiggles her body free, he's left to wobble back up to his feet, still snickering. "Okay," he says, forcing himself to settle down. "That was really, really cute." She might appreciate it later, when they're not in the middle of a fight. Or, heck, she might be able to appreciate it out. She's an odd duckie.

Domino sinks into his stance again and closes in with her, fingers spread at the ready. He closes in with her, his deep purple eyes matching her blues. His fingers flex deliberately, ready to grapple with her. And the moment he closes in, his hands start to lash out, only to hide his true intention - delivering a toe-kick into her belly in hopes of keeping the momentum.

Amy's stormy expression cleared up in an instant after Domino's remark, and she smirked. "Well, yeah." She straightened up, put one hand on her hip, and pointed to herself with the opposite thumb. "Obviously."

In that moment, she realized that, while beating in bad guys like Daisuke was delicious in its own way, fighting with friends was just straight better. Friendly banter and laughing during fights, that's what it was about. Amy grinned. Then she blinked, then held a hand up to her head, embarrassed, having come to a realization. "You... you weren't really gonna pin me there, were ya, Skip? That was just a reversal, since you promised to end me with that Falling Star. You fucker."

Amy watched warily as Domino made his approach, and knew immediately that something was up. Her opponents so far had only approached her in that method when they had something sinister up their sleeves; the ones that actually wanted to lock up had all rushed her. Amy stuck out her tongue teasingly. "Nuh uh. No chance." She skipped away backwards, waiting for her opportunity.

Domino approaches, ready to take her down, aaaand... she skips away! He might normally be annoyed by something like that, but her in that outfit? Nah. Still cute. But he has a match to win; a reputation to uphold and a title to fight for. So he's going to have to take a more unorthodox approach.

"Don't you run from me," he chastises. "You'll just get pinned tired!" He shoots her a teasing smile, then suddenly takes off at her in a full-on dash. Only his trajectory suddenly veers off to the side as he springs not at her, but the ropes! Boots plant against the middle rope, and the agile young model springboard towards her like a missile, his body twisting through the air to whip his right boot over and aim an aerial form of a shining wizard at the side of her head!

Amy smiled when Domino gave up the sneaky approach and charged. Now that was more like it. She tensed up and waited until he was close, then ducked down under his right side and turned, a fist ready to- huh? where did-

A black and white boot appeared from out of nowhere and smashed heavily into the side of her head. It knocked her clean off of her feet, twisted her in the air, and sent her crashing into the floor stomach side down several feet from where she was standing. Amy was completely stunned. Her jaw felt like it had been hit by a brick, and her cheek could weirdly remember how scratchy the laces on his boot had felt before the rest of his shin came hurtling into it. Her eyes blinked rapidly as her brain desperately tried to make sense of her surroundings.

But she did have one coherent thought: Oh, he's good.

It was unorthodox, wild, and crazy; the sort of stunt audiences expect from a seasoned cruiserweight. But it's been a while since Domino pulled off something like that. The high angle of the kick allows him to land on his feet rather than flat on the mat, and it's too awesome an opportunity to pass up thrusting his fist for the audience again. Oh yeah. He's not forgotten them.

Just looking at Amy tells him how much that kick hurt. She's not moving, and he could go for a pin, but the strategist in him is demanding he push the advantage and keep the pressure on her. He promised to finish her off in a particular way, after all, and a simple cover isn't gonna cut it. So he leans down behind her to hook his arms around her bare midsection and haul her up to her feet, hoping to hold her back against his front, her shoulders pressed back into his pectorals, her rear pushed into his hips. His arms cinch around her belly, and he suddenly arches back with her to swing her through the air and land her against her head and shoulders in a German suplex. But he has no intention of releasing after impact. He'll be rolling over her body to drag her up again, bringing them closer to the center of the ring.