Blaise Cameron vs. Nathan Weed - For Amy's Sake

"Guh! Nnf!"

Blaise's body is rattled and rocked with each hard hit that blasts into him, the impacts hard enough to rattle the turnbuckle behind him. Each hit seemed to reset what progress Blaise was making in finding his footing, keeping him trapped and cornered.

The teen's mind is in a panic. He's getting beaten up - each hit is a forceful impact on its own. He badly needs to get out of this predicament, but he only has more fists in front of him, and a solid surface behind him! But then Nathan gives him an opening as he draws back, telegraphing even in a way that Blaise can see the shot coming. Gritting his teeth to focus out the pain wracking his abdomen and chest, he suddenly swings his left arm free of the ropes and spins aside to let the punch go wide. Carrying the momentum, he attempts to position himself behind Nathan's back and pop into the air for a quick, snappy dropkick aimed to smash Nathan's front into the newly-vacated corner!

"You could'a fought! Or at least seemed to not want it!" He swallows to catch his breath. "But you went in for second helpings! Was Makoto 'doing it' for you when she was brutalizing the girl who came to save you?"

Blaise handily moved out of the way, and Nathan's fist ended up driving itself into the unforgiving steel of ringpost. "Gahhh!" Shock ran all the way up his arm, and Nathan threw his head back and cried out, using his left hand to hold the wrist of his trembling right. He hardly noticed when Blaise slipped out from the corner, and he paid for it when he felt two big boots punch punishingly into his back. His cracked fist, his back, and now his chest was burning with agony; it had been a very bad few seconds for Nathan, and he was far too stunned from the abuse to respond, or even turn himself around to face his foe.

Blaise turns over onto his hands and knees, drawing himself back up to his feet. Nathan seems stunned from this angle, hopefully giving him plenty of time to continue. And given how hard Nathan seems to punch, he's happy to take the opportunity.

"It matters," Blaise pants. The match hasn't been a gentle one, and it's only in its beginning stages. "It matters that you're weak! You didn't fight it, you went for a second kiss, and now you're using Amy as an excuse!" He springs into the air again, but not for a dropkick this time. He attempts to scissor his legs around Nathan's neck and swing his upper-body towards the mat, aiming to flip-drag Nathan's body backwards to land against his head and chest on the mat in a reverse frankensteiner!

The match may have just been beginning, but Nathan had come into it at less that top condition. And while Blaise may have been used to taking this kind of sustained beating, letting every attack connect was an entirely new experience for Nathan. He was not nearly the tank that Blaise was, and it was starting to show.

Blaise, of course, wasn't about to ease up on him for that. Quite the opposite- while still dazed from the previous attack, Nathan staggered under the sudden weight atop his shoulders. In the next moment, he felt himself being hurled down into the mat, headfirst, driven down by that same weight. The rest of his body flopped over soon after. He tried to pull himself to his elbows, but that's as far as he got before he fell back to the mat. But he'd been stunned even before the attack had connected; Nathan was muttering quietly in response to Blaise's latest accusation, more to himself than anyone else. "That's not... that's not true... that's not what happened..."

Blaise gathers himself to his hands and knees and turns to face Nathan - who still appears to be denying the severity of his actions. "It is true!," he pressures. His knee draws beneath his chest, and he pushes himself up to his feet. He approaches Nathan from the side, glowering down at him.

"Amy Poford came in to give you support, and you sucked face with the person who was calling the shots! Amy suffered and you enjoyed yourself!"

His right boot stamps down between Nathan's shoulders at midback, intent on keeping him pressed to the mat on his front. Blaise leans in and props his arm along the knee, adding more weight to the attempt. He has an axe to grind, and he doesn't want Nathan going anywhere. "You did everything those chicks wanted! You were their toy, their plaything!" He grabs for Nathan's wrists as he continues, "And you even went extra-curricular!" If the wrists are taken, he wrenches the other male's arms out to the sides and backwards as he straightens his back, his bootheel grinding down into Nathan's back.

"You can lie to yourself as much as you want, but the rest of the world knows better! You're nothin' but an opportunist, treatin' the people who'd put it all on the line for you like trash! And now Amy knows that! You have any idea how that must've felt?!"

Nathan shut his eyes and gave a throaty bellow as Blaise pulled back on his arms, threatening to rip them off. "Raaaarhgh!" His mind was fuzzy, largely thanks to the abuse his head and body had taken, but not in small part due to the inner conflict that roiled inside of him, either.

"That was... the only way... to get them to stop!" His voice was loud now; strained, yes, but he couldn't make himself audible without shouting in Blaise's hold. "If I'd fought... it only... would have... been worse for her!" The voice he used was extra convincing; for whose sake that was, he was uncertain. He shut his eyes tight and expelled his last sentence in one go. "The fact that I liked it was irrelevant!" Then he broke down gasping against the pain. His mind though was focused on just one line. How must Amy have felt?

"Tch..."

Blaise arches his back and yards on Nathan's arms, taking on the role of inquisitor in this interrogation. The scenario isn't lost on him - he acknowledges that he's essentially trying to torture the truth out of Nathan, and each passing second the other male remains trapped in his hold, the more confident Blaise becomes that he's in control.

"How could it have been worse for her?!" Yank. "You could've at least acted like you didn't want it! Don't give'er the satisfaction!" Yank. "And do you think Amy thinks it's irrelevant?!"

Finally, Blaise eases up the pressure on his leg to raise Nathan a little off the mat, only to thrust his boot back down. His wrists are released, but the slam down on the mat is probably less than welcoming. And after the impact, his boot remains in place. He leans in again, his weight bearing down on the balanced leg.

"How long? How long would it have kept going if she didn't get off you? How long would you have made out with Makoto while Amy suffered?"

"I don't know!"
Yank.
"ARGH!"
Yank.
"I DON'T KNOW!"

The questions continued even after he was released from the hold, a boot grinding down into his spine, but Nathan's answers were all largely the same.

I don't know. I don't know. I don't know.

The submission had been painful, but Nathan would have much preferred to be stuck back in it than to be assaulted mentally in this way. His legs bent and unbent, his arms curled and uncurled in a feeble attempt to crawl out from under Blaise's weight, but it was hopeless. After a time, he stopped moving and instead laid there panting heavily with a cheek to the mat.

The indecision should be expected. There really isn't a way for Nathan to answer - not if he didn't want things to get worse. But in all actuality, Blaise is fairly certain Nathan's at least telling the truth when he says he doesn't know.

"Lemme clue you in, pal..."

The boot is finally removed from Nathan's back. He leans in again, this time to grab him by a fistful of hair and a shoulder to haul him up to his feet, intent on turning him to face him. He wants to lock eyes with the other male, to let him see the sincerity of his words as much as hear it in his voice.

"Amy was in a lot've pain when she was getting beaten up, but you hurt her. She's my friend. And this is what friends do for each other when one's been hurt."

Without waiting for a response, the teen pivots to turn his back to Nathan. His right arm reaches back to catch him around the head, and should he catch him, drop to his rear to let Nathan's jaw bank off his shoulder in a full-on stunner.

After he was hauled to his feet, Nathan stumbled a step forward, then stumbled back to his original position. His eyes lost focus once or twice while looking into Blaise's, and his consciousness was compromised enough that instinct threatened to bring his hands up and build their guard around him. They twitched, even made it up to his belly button.

But, with a concerted effort, he managed to keep them firmly at his sides. He didn't know when he'd made the decision to not dodge or block any of Blaise's attacks, but, if he had been paying attention, he would have realized that he'd passed judgement on his own behavior from the very beginning. Somewhere in his mind, he'd accepted this match and beatdown as an act of penance.

But he hadn't realized, at least, not yet. And it was unclear if Blaise had realized this either, but it was unlikely to deter Blaise's assault anyway, which continued with a harsh stunner that rocked Nathan's jaw into the rest of his skull. Nathan's head snapped back and he fell in a graceful arc backwards into the mat. Dully, he resented the way that Blaise had so casually stripped Nathan of his status as Amy's friend, but an icy fear ran a long, bony finger along the nerves at the base of his skull. Had he done more harm to Amy than the Valkyries had? Was Blaise right to relegate Nathan from that circle?

Despite the violent turbulence of his thoughts, his body was still, save for the heavy rise and fall of his chest and the steady steepling and unsteepling of his legs.