Amy Poford vs. Makoto Takeda - 24/7 at the 7-Eleven

Amy bit her. The fucking bitch bit her!

No wonder Divine hated this shit so goddamn much, it stung like fire on her skin. Mako hissed as she pulled away and looked over her forearm, seeing the red, pulsing indents in her flesh. A perfect little caste, and one that would be sticking with her for the next few days.

She followed Amy's gaze outside as the white car pulled up, with one of her Valkyries following right behind him. Whatever the reason, Amy seemed glad to see her, but as far as Mako was concerned that just meant that they could tie a pretty little official ribbon on the whole affair.

Mako made her way up amd rubbed her arm one last time, fighting back Amy's death glare with one that came straight from the pits of hell. "Bitch, I was real five minutes ago." She brought her fists up and returned to her usual stance. Fists clenched, eyes forward, teeth barred."Let me show you how it works."

Mako rushed back into the fray and jumped at Amy, shooting her legs out with two quick snap kicks aimed at her gut. Nothing too powerful, but a good way to get into her comfort zone.

Amy made a terrible realization after Mako jumped back into the fight; Mako was faster than her.

Amy’s eyes read Mako’s movements, her brain registered their intention, then reflex more than active processing sent the appropriate electrical impulse down to her arms. But while the system worked flawlessly software side, mechanically she was worn. The body was still sore from the attack on her privates, so the arms didn’t move as quickly as they ought to have. As a result, Mako’s first kick whipped into her stomach, pulling a grunt and a pained wince from Amy. The arms were in position to block the second kick, but Amy’s face was grim.

Fine. Defending just takes time away from attacking, anyway. While Mako’s leg was retreating back, Amy surged forward with an attack of her own- a left, then a right aimed right at Mako’s face.

The referee moved in and the Valkyries gave her some space to let her do her work, expanding the circle to cover the whole store, save for the checkout counter. She nearly wound up tripping over all of the fallen candy as she came down the aisle, but she managed to position herself close to the battle. But not too close. Just close enough to see the carnage without getting caught up in it. Smart. She'd be able to move in quick for the count after Mako smashed Amy's face on the floor.

She was making good progress on that front, too. The first kick she sent out landed nicely, giving her that sound of anguish from Amy that she was starting to become quite used to. The second kick, though...not so much. No pay dirt, blocked in the nick of time. Fine.

Mako reeled back and began to lunge forward, preparing a right cross for Amy, only to find out the gaijin already had one ready-made. The blow struck her right in the mouth and knocked her back with arms flailing all the way, her path only stopped when she crashed against a convenient ATM behind her.

That one was nasty. Mako had jumped right into it, taken extra damage for the trouble, and now she had one hand on the machine to keep from falling down to her knees, while the other hand grasped her face. Blood. She smelled blood. "Shit..."

Ooh, that was juicy. The punch landed right in Mako’s foul little mouth and made her stumble back, wayyy back until... until she collided back-first against the store ATM. Damn. Amy was hoping for a knockdown.

But Amy’s spirits picked right back up when she saw Mako’s hand fly up protectively to where she'd been struck. Amy knew that Mako could take hits. Not only could Mako take hits, she could take Nathan’s hits. In fact, Amy had seen Mako take Nathan’s hits, and Mako had always come back swinging. The fact that Mako’s hand hovered over her face now suggested to Amy that something special had transpired. Blood, maybe. Or, if she was extra lucky, a broken tooth. But she didn’t want to get her hopes up.

Energized, Amy whipped off her mop-juice-soaked polo shirt- it was getting heavy and scratchy- and tossed it carelessly over a shelf. Underneath, she had on a plain white tank top- light, easy to move around in; slightly wet from sweat as well as the earlier janitorial assault, but otherwise an inarguable improvement. Thus unburdened, Amy broke out into an all-out… cautious approach. It was hurried, but it also gingerly stepped around the junk on the floor, taking care not to end the fight in an embarrassing candy-assisted slip and knockout. But once she was clear of landmines, Amy broke out into an all-out sprint, wanting to catch Mako while she was vulnerable with a leaping superman punch aimed at the same target.

Fuck, Mako's nose was bleeding. Amy had scored first blood.

That wasn't just bad, that was extremely bad. This was all a game of perception and dominance, and even if she won the fight from this point, she'd never be able to get the image of her bloody nose out of her girl's minds. She was a Valkyrie, the Valkyrie, and Valkyries don't get bloodied up in brawls before the girls they're fighting do. Mako's main thought was on getting it all slurped back into her nostril, and she took a deep inhale to get it done...which she immediately regretted because it hurt. Fuck, it hurt.

She brought her hand down when she was sure that her face was clear, only to find herself staring at that same damn fist heading straight towards her again. This time it didn't just hit - it hit with devastating force,  more than she ever thought a girl that size was capable of. It caught in the face once more and drilled her against the ATM, and she immediately fell down to her knees after the impact. Mako was stunned and hurting, as she stared at the floor and tried to process the overload of pain.

The good news was that it didn't hit her nose, at least. That one struck her eye. It'd probably be swelling up in a few minutes, but she was fine for now.

Amy saw a flash of teeth when Mako’s head snapped back from her punch. Mako’s gums were clean; no blood. Huh. False alarm, I guess. Disappointing.

It was fine though. Amy could be diligent if she put her mind to it, and it was only a matter of time before it happened. It wasn’t like Mako was in any position to stop her.

Amy reached down and gripped Mako by the hair (nice and secure, right at the roots. Because fuck her.) so that she could tow her quickly into the next closest aisle, keeping her hand low to keep Mako’s mobility in check. The aisle turned out to be full of instant foods- individually wrapped ramen bowls, microwavable meals, and the like. Christ. Would it kill 7-Eleven to start stocking some fucking handtools?

Amy didn't dwell on it though. What she did do was yank Mako up to her feet, step one in her two-step plan to slam Mako face-first into the neat little row of noodles in consumer-friendly styrofoam cups… and the cold steel shelf underneath.

Since Mako started fighting and even more so after she became a wrestler, getting her hair grabbed became a commonplace thing. She didn't have a long mane on anything, but her strands were just the right length for a tight grip, and they made an oftentimes tempting target.

Like, right now. "Get the fuck off my hair!" Mako growled through her clenched teeth as she was dragged along, making a mental note to yank Amy's stupid ponytail the first chance she got. She didn't have to endure the hold for too long, as the bitch took the opportuntity to slam her face into the nearest shelf. The ramen noodles did nothing to dull the impact, either.

Mako's head jerked back from the impact and she started to slink down. She managed to grab the shelf for support and lean on it, but that was just about the only thing that saved her, and it wasn't by much. She needed to make some more headway, even up the score, and she started that up by jerking around and trying to catch Amy with a quick elbow in the stomach. "Back off!"

It wouldn't have too much force behind it, but if it just gave her a few seconds to breathe it would be well-worth the trouble.

The shelf rang out with a dull metallic clang that Amy found to be rather pleasant, so she made a move to grip Mako’s hair again. Out of nowhere, Mako swung back and caught Amy in the gut with a wild elbow. Amy stumbled backwards, as requested, and hair slipped like water through her fingers. I guess even gang leaders condition.

Amy took a couple more steps back down the aisle than the force of the elbow merited, using a hand to rub where she’d been struck, but half a smile played on her face. Mako was slipping. Sure, the elbow hurt, and it drew out more of breath than she was happy relinquishing, but it only hit with a fraction of the fury of Mako’s previous hits. Oh, Mako was still feisty, no doubt, and Mako would have no trouble putting the hurt on Amy if given half the opportunity. But she was also on the proverbial ropes; she was in a tailspin, she was going down, and, best of all, it would all be in front of her precious little gang. Oh man. Amy was so excited.

And it showed. Amy started to bounce, and she threw a handful of practice shots- a left, a right, and a right elbow- into the air in front of her. “Attagirl! You still got this! A couple more like that and you’ll have me begging for mercy. Come on, you can still turn this fight around! COME ON!!” Amy was full on shouting by the end. If Mako could see past Amy’s fists, she’d see that her eyes were sparkling and her mouth was stretched out into an animated grin.

Well, the elbow worked and knocked Amy away, so that was good news, at least. Mako was given a moment to recoup and stand up straight, one that she sorely needed. Her face felt like it was on fire - if it wasn't the aching of her busted nose, it was the pulsating pain coming from her future black eye. This wasn't the worst she'd ever been messed up in a fight, but if things continued on the way they were going, it seemed destined to become a strong contender for the top spot.

And the bitch had to pile it on by making jokes. Great.

Mako looked at Amy over her shoulder and glared, not even bothering to check and see if any of her Valkyries were laughing at the bitch's routine. They were. At least some of them. She knew it, she could accept it, and she would deal with it. Immediately. This was a street fight, after all, and anything went. Mako could turn this around, she just had to be resourceful.

She grabbed a can of soup off the bottom shelf - Tomatoe Basil, large sized - spun around, and hurled it straight at Amy's face, aiming right for that big, shining grin of hers. Maybe this would knock some of the swing out of her step.

Amy had no time to react; by the time she recognized Mako’s abrupt motion as a throw, the can was already hurtling toward her face. Reflexively she tucked in her chin and put her arms and shoulders high over her face, but that only worked against her, since the can was on a collision course for Amy’s teeth.

The soup can clipped an elbow on its way in, but otherwise slipped its way past her arms and punched hard right into the side of her mouth unmolested, snapping Amy’s head back and evoking a distressed “Fuck!” of pain. The can wasn’t finished, though; it rolled partially up her face, kissed her nose, then clattered noisily to the floor, apparently pleased with the work it had done.

The projectile had caused Amy to stumble backwards, too, turning her briefly away from Mako, and her arms to abandon their guard to tend to her face. Amy ran her tongue over her gums. She could taste blood; the way the fight had been going, Amy was sure that Mako was going to bleed first. Damnit. On the plus side, turns out there were weapon-worthy wares at the 7-Eleven after all. Fun.

"Shit." Amy was struck with a sickening thought, one that made her spin back in Mako's direction, her arms and body suddenly tense: She has a whole shelf of these.