Equal Fights

Saturday. Noon. This was Army's one, true off day. He didn't have to do any cleaning at the arena, he didn't have any matches to get ready for, he didn't have any training he needed to do. Saturday was his chore-free day, the one time he could sit back, relax, and be absolutely unshackled by the occasionally annoying demands of wrestling life.

There were all sorts of things he could have done with this day. Watched a movie. Caught a football game. Hung out with Ro and wound up doing something borderline illegal. Instead, he was in the last place you would've expected him to be, the gym, doing the last thing you would have been expecting him to do, gearing up for a match. Life was funny like that.

He sat on the bench by the ring, lacing up his boots for the last piece of the ensemble. Black boots, red trim. Red shorts, black trim. Fists taped up, hair slicked, chest bare. It wasn't even really wrestling attire, it was his old boxing gear. Cute when he started out, but now, after the year had passed and Carmen was wearing an outfit that fit the sport, it was getting old. His whole act was, really. Before, he'd thought he could get by on pure boxing, but after taking on Hana Fujioka, it was clear: he needed to learn how to wrestle. Seriously wrestle.

That was part of the reason he was here, to help improve those skills. The other part was because he had a little score to settle.

Amy Poford. He'd only met her a few weeks ago, but she was already growing on him. Fast. Fiery. Funny. Amazing in bed. Granted, she did have the tendency to fight him over the homerun baseball that was so clearly his, but since taking her on was so enjoyable, he didn't mind much. It was just a good excuse for them to compete. Without the ball, they would've found something else to scrap over.

The last time he and Amy fought, it devolved into dirty, rough sex on the concrete. This time, the idea was to go all the way and have a real fight, straight through...though Army was against the idea of having a little fun afterward. He knew Amy would be down with it, too. That was the great thing about her - if he liked it, there was a good chance she liked it.

So, here Army waited, laying back on the bench and staring up at the ceiling, trying to catch a little nap before his honored guest to arrive.

Amy had been in a foul mood. Her loss to Domino was still fresh in her mind. It wasn’t so much the loss itself that bothered her- she lost plenty of fights, and, while obviously she preferred to win, losing could be nice in its own way too. No, it was the way in which she and Domino had parted. A budding friendship- something real, she could tell- had ended dashed against the rocks. All because Drake had decided that she couldn’t handle him at his best.

But Amy had pushed all of that out of her head. She was chipper now, cheery even. She was on her way to see Army, and she’d never not had a good time with Army. Army was exactly who she needed to see, actually. Never mind that he had nearly a hundred pounds on her; Amy knew she could trust Army to really try and knock her out.

She had hoped to show off her new ring attire to Army in this fight, and maybe let him peel it off afterwards, but she wasn’t sure if she’d ever wear that again. Instead, she was planning to fight in a plain white sports bra, which she had on under her light blue jacket, and her black fingerless gloves.

And where Amy would normally have worn a black pair of bike shorts, Amy wore short white tennis skorts. She really did want a straight fight, but if things were going south, well, a little flirty grinding wasn’t sex.

But perhaps Army had the same idea, because when she entered the gym, there he was, naked from the waist up, chiseled abs and pecs bared for all the world to see. Amy put a hand on her hip. “You know, I’m pretty sure I asked you to wear something baggy for this.”

Army had just started to doze off when Amy's voice pulled him out of the entrance to dream land with a snort, and he immediately shot up to look her way. He was tempted to say something romantic, like how it felt to wake up to an angel, but she'd probably slap him for the corniness. Besides, he knew her too well. 'Angelic' wasn't a word that really fit Amy.

That wasn't to say she looked bad, though. Her fine little body was on perfect display in the tight little number she was wearing, and while she could have rocked it in any setting, the fingerless gloves told the story well enough. She was here to fight.

"These are baggy, rubia." Army stood up and gave them a nice stretch, pulling them out and letting them slap back in. He could make enough space in there to fit Amy...which was an interesting idea, now that he thought about. "Besides, do you how hard it is to find clothes my size in this country? Forget something that's baggy for me, have a hard enough time getting something that doesn't choke me everytime I move."

"Right, right, you're a big guy, we get it. You know who else is big though? Sumo wrestlers. And I'm pretty sure they don't go walking around in public in just their little sumo sashes." Amy was tempted to greet Army with a kiss, but she didn't want to fall into that mindset; not yet, anyway. So she unslung her backpack from her shoulders and set it down on a bench a chaste distance from Army's. She rummaged through her pack and removed two items.

"Just saying. You might not be looking hard enough. Here," She tossed him his Punisher shirt. "Thanks for that. It's washed. Ever find mine by the way? I was thinking that it might have gotten stuffed between the cushions in your couch." Amy held the second item out teasingly and swept it across the gym, a playful glint in her eye. "So which of these rings is ours?"

Crap, she had a good point. There probably wear some good stores that would have sumo-sized stuff, though he wasn't sure if they'd stock something in his particular style. "I'd rock a sumo sash. You know it." He wouldn't, but the thought was so crazy it almost made him want to try.

Army caught the shirt and started to put it back on. He was happy to have it back, but he would've been fine with her keeping it. Looked better on her, really. No, it was what he saw when his head popped out of the top that really had his interest. "Keeping my ball nice and shiny. Good." He smirked and matched the look in her eye. "And I don't know, didn't check those. Maybe we can go and look when we're done here. Or make you lose something else." He stood up and gave her one, last, fiendish look before turning to the ring. "Just a thought."

He walked over to the ring and gave it a slap on the side, making all the metal vibrate. "Yeah, this is it. You got any special rules in mind?"

The thought of Army in a cotton diaper made Amy laugh out loud. Army turned her on just by being Army- not that she’d ever tell him, his ego didn’t need the help- but the image was so hilarious and unsexy that it swung over back the other way and became sexy again. Fuck. Army was making her a freak. Well, a bigger freak. “I’d honestly pay good money to see that. And I’m into an afterparty, though I don’t know how I’m gonna drag your heavy ass back to your place.”

She placed the ball back down on the bench reverently. Then Amy walked up next to Army and touched him with her shoulder. On the one hand, it was easier for her to concentrate with him covered up like this. On the other… “Same rules. Knockout or submission to win. Orgasm…” Amy winked. “...doesn’t count for shit. But hey, good on you if you have one during the fight.” Amy started to climb up, shedding her jacket as she did. “Any last minute needs to address? Water, bathroom break? I don’t want to hear any excuses when you’re staring up at me from the mat.”

Amy was laughing. Army liked it when Amy laughed. Something about it just felt...right, like a switch clicked in his head and the world made perfect sense until she stopped. It was the sweetest, most innocent thing in the universe, and it was hard to believe the person doing it was going to be punching him in the face two or so minutes from now.

It was crazy. They both were. The right kind of crazy.

"Pfft, I'd do it for free. You want to throw some numbers my way, though, I won't argue." He rolled his into the ring and hopped on over to the center, throwing out a few practice punches as he began to bounce from heel to heel. "I'm ready to go when you are. Though I'm the one who's gotta be worried. I'll be carrying a knocked out little white girl to my apartment. Hard thing to explain."

“I’ll do my best to make sure you don't have that problem.” Amy didn’t know what to say after that. This was weird. Her body was burning hot and her muscles were tense; she’d been in battle mode since she left the station. But Army was prepared, too, and his eyes were looking straight into hers. He was just… ready for her. That wasn’t something she was used to. She hadn’t had a fight yet where she hadn’t gotten the drop on her opponent, whether because her superior reflexes had allowed her to respond quicker to the bell, or, in Army’s case, because his back had been turned.

Amy put up her fists and started bouncing on her heels. “Alright then, let’s get started. Um… go. I guess.” Then, for the first time since coming to the AFW, she waited for her opponent to make the first move.

Army tightened his fists, moved into his orthodox stance, took a deep breath and...

"Hold up, stop." He slammed on the brakes before he could get within striking range of Amy. Something was off, didn't feel quite right. This whole thing was missing the right level of flair and drama. If they were going to do a match, then that meant it had to come as close to the real experience as possible. "One sec, rubia."

Army grabbed his phone off the bench and went into the locker room, only to come back a moment later playing his entrance music. He sauntered  all the way back to the ring, pumping his fist out to the invisible audience cheering for him, before setting the phone down on the apron and making his way to Amy.

"Okay, much better, ready now." He bounced a couple of times before settling back into his stance, sending a fierce gaze her way and a wicked smile to go with it.

Amy stumbled forward, all the tension in her muscles suddenly without purpose. If he had been looking to juke her out for a free shot, he would have gotten it. "What?" She watched, confused, as Army left the ring, grabbed his phone, and retreated into the deeper underbelly of the gym. A phone call? She was a little irritated, but knew that Army wouldn't have interrupted their fight if it hadn't been important. At least he remembered before they really got going, and not during.

She walked to a corner and leaned against the turnbuckle, but got right back to her feet as Army came back out, blasting fast-paced latin music from his phone. The guitars sounded tinny coming from his tiny cellphone speakers, but it was easy to tell from his actions what he was doing. Amy laughed, a warm, pleasant feeling spreading across her chest. Once he was back in the ring and ready to go again, she shook her head affectionately. "You are such a dork." Then she put an exaggerated hand up to her ear, listening. "Man, they hate you. They're really roaring for me to take you down."

She moved out of the corner, hands up. She was ready again, but now there was a big smile on her face. "Sorry man, but I give the people what they want." All of her hesitation evaporated. Who cares that he's ready? Amy threw herself at Army, bounding right with an apparent punch on his left flank. She'd roll under and take a second step in, however, trying to get things started with a bang with an uppercut to Army's chin.