First Impressions

Michelle tried her best to overpower the man but the opposite happened and she found herself on her back. She struggled to avoid being overwhelmed by the man as he spread her arms out. He was surging with energy and strength and she didn't know what could be fueling such aggression. "Gah!" she groaned as he pinned her to the mat. "Get off!" she shouted, and tried to headbutt him.

His laughing finally stopped when he had her pinned. He placed his legs between hers, so she wouldn't get any funny ideas about going for his weakest spot. And on top of that, it brought her into quite the uncomfortable position. "The American flag! How proudly you display your slave collar, little girl. Is that stockho-" He didn't get further than that, when her forehead smashed into his face and caused his head to reel back for a bit. Then he simply laughed again. Michelle could feel a drop of blood hitting her face, likely coming from the Anarchists nose.

"As you want it!" He only said, and then his right hand let go of hers and grabbed her head's side, painfully pressing her against the mat, as if he was trying to crush her skull. He clearly wasn't out to get her into a good hold right now, but rather to inflict pain. However, this also gave her a free hand. "You might just be one of the strongest women out there. But you're still just a woman." he mocked, while painfully pressing her down.

Michelle felt the man's hand push her head back painfully as if he was about to headbutt her right back. Her own free hand came to his wrist, trying to pry it off of him. Even in the dark she could imagine what position he had her in already. Her back and legs were already immensely sore from her workout, but her arms were still fresh. She had to do something.

The Anarchist was playing the part of the villain perfectly. He was mocking her on her attire, her gender, pinning her down, making her look bad. It was demeaning, but no one was there. No one was watching. It was just between them, and part of her realized that this very well all could just his idea of a pro wrestling spar. An unorthodox one.

The pain was still real. "Ahh!" she groaned as he crushed her head. Using her free hand, she tried to hit the man as hard as she could across the head hoping it'd be enough to give her some space.

The hit certainly landed and the wrestler almost flew off of her. His laughing had stopped for a short while, until he had regained his foot and stood tall again, keeping a certain distance to her. "Not bad. But not good enough."

He was back in the darkness again, only his grinning teeth let off a weak glimmer in the moon light. He felt that his initial burst was already weakening, he had to stay on the offensive. Only giving himself and her a moment of recovery, he would attack her again, unless she did.

He was now trying to get a hold of her arm, for a throw. The concerning part about this, was how close they were to the edge of the mat. Of course, afterwards, one could always pretend that they thought there was a mat where they slammed their opponent on the cold, hard floor.