Blaise Cameron vs. Stone - The Distance

Stone would've loved to laugh at Blaise's little joke - she hated to say it, but his brand of humor was starting to rub on her. Unfortunately, having her spine compressed wasn't doing wonders for her funny bone, and she was in far too much pain to properly respond. But that wasn't the worst part. No, the worst of it came from the fact that, for all her strength and resilience, there wasn't a damn thing she could do to escape. It didn't just make her feel pain, it made her feel helpless, and she wasn't seeing much reason not to tap. It would be one thing if she could get out of it somehow, but if she was truly trapped, the only thing resisting would do was get her injured. She valued her place with the Valkyries, but she valued the use of her spine, too, and she was sure she could recover from the loss of the former faster than the loss of the latter.

She began to raise her hand for the tap, but stopped when she heard the crowd suddenly surge with boos. It took her half a second to figure out why. The choice wasn't in her hands anymore. "No, fuck, Mako..."

Sure enough, Mako and Divine were running down to the ring at full speed, sprinting down the ramp in their full motorcycle gear. Divine came in from behind with a chair gripped tight in her hands, a little something to take care of the referee. She brought it down hard into the back of her skull and laid her out with a sickening crack, all while Mako made a beeline towards Blaise and Stone. She dropped down at the last second and shoot her legs out towards, trying to hit him with a baseball slide.

Blaise's heart pounds harder as he sees that hand lift. She isn't resisting him anymore. She's scarcely even struggling. She's ready to surrender! Oh God, he's actually making someone tap out! His eyes are wide, mirroring the referee-girl's own anxious look.

Something odd happens then. The roars of cheer filling the stadium almost immediate shift into cacophonous booing and jeers. He doesn't get it. The audience is getting what they wanted, aren't they? Don't they want her to tap out? Don't they want him to take the W tonight? Next, he feels her jaw shift under his hand more than he hears her say "Mako", but he does hear it.

His head turns in time to see two bikers charge the ring.

"No..."

The referee is taken out brutally, the poor girl slumping to the mat.

"No...!"

In comes Mako. The heart that had been pounding with the anticipation of his first straight win both sinks and breaks at the same time. His submission hold has suddenly turned into a cage. He can't stop this.

"No, no, no, no!"

The boots collide with his ribs, and his arms immediately give, dropping Stone harmlessly away. Whether the larger girl lands on him or not, the teen is left twisting on the mat from the hit.

Stone rolled off of her back and brought her arm behind her back, giving it a light massage with her palm. She could still feel Blaise's knees in her back, digging away at her bones, and that sensation would likely linger for the next hour, maybe two. Not that she would've been able to do much if she could get up. Not with Mako like that.

Divine stood watch over the referee as she reeled from the chairs strike, probably not knowing what planet she was in right now. A little more vicious than she preferred, though, after waylaying Mariko, she was starting to get a better taste for it. A good thing, too, because that was exactly what their leader demanded.

Her helmet came off to reveal an utterly pissed off face underneath, even by usual standards. Breathing hard. Seething. Like just being in the ring with Blaise is more insult than she can stand. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah!" She straddled Blaise's back and brought the helmet down on his head, punctuating the words. "So Amy's your friend, huh? Think she's watching now? I bet she is. Ready to put on a little show for your bitch, you little shit?"

Blaise finds his back mounted by a girl who's size was disproportionate to the amount of rage she brought into the ring. The helmet collides with the back of his head, and that's it. That's all he had left in him. He can't buck the girl off of him. His brain feels like it's jarring around in his skull, his gaze is fuzzy, and his world is throbbing pain. The impact earned a yelp, and each subsequent strike gets a follow-up cry. His arms flop over the back of his head, attempting to protect himself.

His head is turned, his cheek resting on the mat as he endures the beginning of what he dreads is going to be a bad beating. But there across from him, he catches sight of Stone. He had no reason to trust things wouldn't go this way; no reason to trust her, but he did. He saw no reason to doubt her with what time they spent fighting each other. She seemed like she was on the level. And now this. The betrayal in his eyes is intense, but it isn't angry. It's just questioning.

'Why?'

That is, until the next impact. Those eyes squeeze shut. "Ahn!" Makoto's words carry a certain extra amount of weighty dread. It sounds an awful lot like this has only just begun. "G-get off!" He tries to sound demanding, but it comes out as more a plea. He doesn't have the strength to resist his attackers.

Stone caught sight of Blaise, staring at him for a moment. Just a moment. Barely a few seconds. Hardly long at all, in real time, but the small span seems to go on forever. She can see the question written all over his face, and it's the same question she's been asked numerous times before. Ro, John, Amy. Just like with them, she doesn't have a good answer. Though she couldn't speak right now, even if she did.

"Get off you?" Mako had a harsh laugh and tossed the helmet aside, letting it slide under the ropes. Some poor dope in the front row reached for it, but his friends quickly pulled him back - he did not want to be holding that helmet when Mako came looking for it.

"Why?" She filled her voice with the same sickenly sweet and saccharine tones that fooled Nathan for a few minutes. "I'm trying to help you, Blaise." Mako grabbed his hair and gripped it tight with her furious figners, pulling away at his scalp. "Your girl, see, she hasn't learned how stupid it is to fuck with us yet. So, you and me, we're gonna show her why, and then she'll know not to stick her cute little nose where it doesn't belong. You ready?"

She reached around Blaise's head and grabbed his arms, crossing them over each other in the straightjacket position and keeping them immobile with her legs. From there, she piled on the pain by grabbing his chin from behind and pulling him into a crossface, pulling away at his neck. Her own finishing move, the first time it had ever came up in the ring - No Tapping.

Blaise's arms are taken and folded against himself, followed soon by Mako's legs. He doesn't have the strength, nor the mental wherewithal to give any kind of resistance - he's anxiety-filled putty in her hands. When she grabs his chin and yanks back, the teen's body is arched painfully, putting a strain all the way from his jaw to the back of his spine.

With her holding onto his chin, he can't speak. He can only let out a choked cry as the toes of his boots flutter against the mat. His fingers shift, but it's pointless. He's enduring the hold as best he can, given that's his only option. But he isn't doing it particularly well. It isn't long before slight tremors begin to build along his frame as the pain mounts. His breathing comes more rapidly, hissing between clenched teeth.

"Ghh.. nng..!"

Mako had been waiting a long, long time to use this particular hold, and she couldn't think of a better opportunity than making a little bitch like Blaise Cameron squeal. It was a little unorthodox, but effective, and she'd been in enough crossfaces to know how excruciating it could be. There were other fun aspects to it, too.

"Come on, Blaise, tap out!" She giggled into his ear, then dug down even harder and cranked him back another inch. "You want to help, Amy, right? Need to set a good example. Show her what you do when you're in too much pain."

She glanced Divine's way and nodded, giving her the cue. From the looks of things the referee would be rousing in a few moments, which meant they had to have their timing down. They needed a 'clean' win, after all.

Divine sauntered over in front of Blaise, reeled back with her leg, and let loose with a furious roundhouse kick right in his face, making sure to get the tip of her heel into the move so it would drive home hard.

This is humiliating, disheartening, and painful, all at once.

Makoto and her crony have taken complete control of the match. She's taunting him, and not in any fun kind of way that he can roll with. This is sadistic. And it's not even aimed solely at him; she's dragging Amy into this 'demonstration', too. He set out to show Amy there's someone who'd support her, no matter how tough things got. They're making a complete mockery of it, stuffing the gesture down his throat. Show her what he does when in too much pain? What can he do but give muffled screams? And all to a chorus of booing.

Those boos. They tell him the audience was pulling for him, like they had throughout the match from the beginning. No butts about it, he's been a loser throughout his professional wrestling career spanning from the United States to Japan. This is the most support he's ever had from an audience, short of the Nathan debacle. But he can't do anything for them now. He's having to come to terms very quickly with the fact that he's let them down. But more than that? His first legitimate win in over a year's worth of professional wrestling is evaporating before his eyes. He'd poured his everything into the match, focused through some of the worst punishment he's endured in the ring, and had his opponent mere seconds away from giving him that desperately yearned-for moment of victory - and now, it means nothing.

The pain is unbearable. He's been punched, slammed, wrenched, stretched, kicked, and smashed. He was running out of steam by the time he was suspending Stone over his knees. That first crack of the helmet against his skull took him out. This that Mako is doing now? That's just torture. Relentless, horrific torture. His body quakes as pain wracks through him, his tired muscles feeling like they're on fire. His chest heaves in the stretch, hyperventilation starting to set in.

Blaise's eyes start to burn. He squeezes them shut.

'No. No! Hold that in. Not that, too. Not here. Pass out. Just pass out. Please, God, let me pass out!'

A boot slams into his face. In an instant, Mako is holding a ragdoll. His muscles go slack, his breathing loses its edge, and he succumbs to the sweet, merciful darkness of unconsciousness.

Mako felt Blaise's body go slack in her hold, as the life fled his body. He was out. Done. Not a peep coming from his pasty, white body.

It didn't matter to her. Not for at least ten seconds, anyway. She kept up the hold, even pulled it back furhter, because she wanted this beating to last even when he woke up. She wanted Blaise to think of her everytime he tried to look up at something and felt pain surge through his neck. She wanted Amy to visit him and cry and cry and cry, and then she'd know - she'd know - who the fuck she was really dealing with. There wouldn't be a doubt in her mind.

She finally released it as the referee came to, seeing the carnage that had gone on while she was in La La Land. Mako rolled out of the ring, grabbed the helmet, and made her way into the audience with Divine close behind, the two of them exiting just as the ref's eyes fluttered open. When she took in the scene again, Blaise was knocked out, Stone was rolling around in pain, and she had a headache strong enough to indicate serious brain trauma.

She might not have known what happened, but she knew what her job was and she knew how this situation was supposed to go. She crawled over, grabbed Blaise's hand, and started to lift it up and let it fall. And Stone could only watch.

Ironically, passing out was probably the best thing that could have happened for Blaise. It keeps him from embarrassing himself - or rather, keeps the embarrassment of the situation from setting in. It spares him tremendous amounts of pain - for now. He'll feel that later. But it also keeps him from injuring himself by tensing up. He's more flexible now, if even by a little. It's a small succor, but right now, he'll take anything he can get.

The teen is dropped to the mat, lying in a serene heap on his chest. As the referee lifts his hand the first time and let it drop, she'll find it plopping back down to the mat like a wet noodle. She raises it a second time, letting the limp limb hover a little longer, before dropping it. Flop.

Blaise's mind starts to filter back in about now. It's vague and hazy. He knows he's lying on the mat. He can hear the audience's outrage washing over the ring. And he can feel the referee lifting his hand a third time.

But he can't do anything about it. He can't even make a noise. He has no strength left. The arm is doomed to fall.