Aisha vs. Abattoir - Two Days Notice

Abattoir seemed entirely distracted as her opponent recovered, fixated with wide, crazed eyes on something that was very clearly not there. She reached out for a second, and then the first strike from the chain crossed her shoulders with a vicious thwack and everything snapped back into focus. It wasn't quite enough to cut her, thanks to her ring gear, but the pain was real and impossible to ignore, gear or no gear. Hot surges of 'holy shit that was a length of chain' shot up and down her back, and Abattoir arched sharply, letting out a gasp of sudden, startling pain.

She still didn't quite seem to be entirely there, in the throes of abrupt chain-based agony, but as Aisha came around her side, she was clearly becoming much more lucid, and her eyes focused on the weapon. The nak muay pushed herself up, gathering her energy, and glared at the chain in Aisha's hand.

"Better make the next one count," she growled.

Aisha didn’t like to think of herself as a sadist. She wasn’t some crazy, twisted bitch like Anesthesia, getting off on the pain she doled out. But she had to admit, hearing the distorted cry of agony from Abattoir was satisfying on a spiritual level. The hint of poetic justice helped.

Even though she was quite capable of fighting in her heels, she took a hot second to kick them off before she went back on the attack. She wasn’t giving away any more advantages, no matter how small they seemed to be.

She kicked them away and made her way over to Abattoir’s side, gripping the chain tight with one hand while she twirled it around and around with the other. ”Don’t you worry one bit.” She matched Abattoir’s growl with one of her own, facing off like two tigresses in a cage. Aisha bent her knees, looking ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. ”I will.”

She was cocky, but it was justified - between the chain and the brass knuckles, she was covered at any range. She had the odds. Aisha took a cautious step back, then leaped forward with a vertical swing this time, bringing the chain up and over and down right towards the top of Abattoir’s head.

Chains, as Abattoir was well aware but sometimes needed reminding, packed a wallop. Her head was still ringing as Aisha circled around, twirling the weapon in circles and clearly enjoying her momentary advantage.

Off to the side, her hand closed around the edge of the fallen chair. She was going to have to get this right on the first try; if she fucked it up there probably wouldn't be a second.

As Aisha leapt forward, swinging in a huge overhand strike that would probably have given her brain damage if it'd connected flush, Abattoir snatched up the chair in one hand and brought it up over her head like a shield. There was a tremendous clang of metal on metal (and the chainlinks still banged against her gloved knuckles, drawing a pained hiss from Abattoir), and then she swept the chair out to one side, knocking that end of the chain away and making sure Aisha would need to draw back before swinging it again.

Not that she planned on letting her have enough time to do that. Abattoir rushed forward, bursting up from her crouch like a runner hearing the starter pistol, and charged with her improvised shield forward, battering-ram style.

Aisha, the referee, and everyone else in the stadium recoiled when the chain clashed against the chair - the harsh sound was almost the complete opposite of what they were expecting. The Dancing Sistah felt it the worst of all, as the shockwave made her ears tingle, but she wasn't deterreed. If she couldn't get Abattoir with the first shot, she'd land the second. Or the third. Or as many as it took, she swore.

She started to reel back for another shot, when she noticed that her opponent was suddenly a lot closer than she was only half a second ago, and getting nearer by the second. She was going to hit. They were going to coliide, full force. It was going to utterly suck, and there wasn't much she could do about it at this point, exept voice her displeasure. "Fuckyoufuckyoufuc-"

Abattoir slammed into Aisha's chest hard, rattling her ribs and forcing her to drop the chain as she was driven towards the turnbuckle. She was going to get cornered, there was no avoiding that now, but she wanted to make it as unpleasant as possible for the nak mauy along the way. She still had the brass knuckles around her fingers, and she put them to good use. Aisha threw a few quick hooks around the chair, looking to hit Abattoir's head, shoulder, arms - she'd take what she could get, at this point.

To the surprise of those who'd encountered her, Abattoir was not a sadist either, at least not in the traditionally-used sense of the word. She enjoyed fighting - all the impact and adrenaline and pain that went through everybody involved - and simply beating on a defenseless person was anything but a fight. With all of that said, Aisha's rising annoyance as their crash against the corner approached was pretty satisfying.

To her credit, the singer didn't stop fighting even as she was sandwiched between a chair and the turnbuckles; a series of short, flailing punches arced over the chair and caught Abattoir in the shoulder a couple times. Brass knuckles - now things made a bit more sense. Abattoir's upper body was already burning steadily with a slow, searing pain from the chain shot, and now, as Aisha tenderized her further, she took evasive action.

Shoving up against the other girl, the nak muay wrapped her arms around Aisha and the chair, then dropped backwards and tried for an overhead belly-to-belly suplex. It probably wasn't the most tactically sound decision to suplex the chair as well, but hey, nobody'd ever accused her of being Sun Tzu.

"Get the-" Aisha found herself pressed up against the turnbuckle, running out of precious real estate to fight with as Abattoir coralled her. "Back up, back up!"

Something was wrong, here. She was landing some of her shots, hitting with the knuckle dusters, and common sense told her that her opponent should've been backing off. She wasn't. She was advancing, pulling her in close. It was almost like she was trying to do a belly-to-belly, but that wouldn't work with the chair between them, and-

Aisha learned just how wrong she was as she was flung overhead by Abattoir's unique version of the belly-to-belly suplex, flipping through the air towards the center of the ring. The referee didn't see it coming, either, and she just barely manged to jump out of the way as the Dancing Sistah came down for a crash landing.

It was only by a small miracle that Aisha landed on her shoulders instead of her head. As it was, she crashed down on her shoulders - right on top of the chain she'd been using a second ago, for bonus points - and rolled one more time before she came to a stop near the opposite corner. Head swimming from the sudden flight, Aisha shuffled forward on her knees and grabbed the middle turnbuckle, using it for support while she groggily rose to her bare feet.

Despite the suplex's success, Abattoir had no time to be pleased with herself; the chair nearly landed on her head, forcing her to roll over and hop to her feet.

Adrenaline would only go so far. Her shoulders were already starting to burn with a dull ache, and the longer they kept going, the more it would start to spike, distracting her more and more.

She was up quickly enough, though, and Aisha was following - already halfway up by the time the nak muay had started across the ring. Not at all interested in letting the diva get her momentum back, Abattoir sped up, and angled her momentum into a running knee straight for the side of Aisha's head. Best to keep her down.

Aisha could hear the pitter-patter of crazy feet heading her way from behind, stark confirmation that Abattoir was up to something would likely involve slamming into her at high speeds. Her body was lagging a bit behind her brain, though, so when she started to turn around and face the onslaught, she had just enough time to look out the corner of her eye and see a knee heading straight for her skull at terminal velocity.

"Guh!" The blow landed spot on and sent Aisha flopping against the ropes, weakly trying to hold them on pure instinct. It was a futile effort, though, as her legs gave out, and she found herself plopping down on her butt in the corner.

Her hand came up, cradling the spot that the nak muay had struck. Her brain needed to restart - everything was hazy, groggy, spinning around. She was sure she could get her sense back in a moment, but the three Abattoirs she spotted nearby would likely have something to say about that.

Abattoir was firmly in control for the moment, and it was a very satisfying feeling indeed. She stepped back as Aisha slumped down into the corner and took a second to admire her handiwork. The crowd was leering, of course, shouting for her to do all kinds of lascivious things to her dazed opponent - what was it about the corners that encouraged this kind of behavior? Either way, they were treated to an annoyed glare and a total lack of fulfillment.

Seconds later, the masked nak muay placed the sole of a boot against Aisha's cheek and leaned in, pinning her head to the turnbuckle. With her opponent thus immobilized, she took a second to glance around the ring, looking for plunder. Hmmm. There was a stick with a water cooler jug attached to it, those made a cool sound when you hit people with them...

"I should probably apologize," she mused, shifting and joining the first foot with a second just to really pour the pressure on. "You're better than that, uh, song and dance routine made me think you'd be."

If Aisha had been thinking more clearly, she would be glad that Abattoir didn't grab any of the myriad items around the ring and started bashing her in the face with them. This match was bound to get bloody, eventually - and if the smell of blood in her nose was right, it already had - but at least she still had a decent chance. Things could be worse.

It was a tad bit hard to think rationally when Abattoir's boot was digging into her cheek, though.

"Grrrrh..." She let out a long, pained grunt as she struggled in the corner, but it didn't matter how much she kicked and pushed at Abattoir's ankle, she wasn't going to be moved. The second foot really didn't help things, either.

Through it all - the growing pain in her cheeks, the crowd's annoying noise, the sound of her own grunting - she was still very much aware of what Abattoir was saying, and she managed to squeeze out what she felt was an appropriate response.

"Go...fuck...yourself..."