Violeta 'Eztlicoatl' Ayala vs. Spider Kikuchi - Tangled Web

Spider considered the possibilities as she dragged Eztlicoatl back like a wolf with her conquered prey, nearing the center of the ring. Her mind was mostly set on using the Alacran, her favored finisher when it came to focusing on the leg. A more visually impressive hold than the kneebar, and with the damage she’d already done, certain to finish the match.

”Now, now, dear, don’t struggle.” She started to regain some of her earlier haughtiness as she hauled Eztlicoatl along, sensing that her prey was thoroughly trapped in the web. ”Just a little more, then we’ll be done. Promise.”

Despite the bravado, Spider was having a harder time dealing with this than she let on. Eztlicoatl was putting up quite a fight, for understandable reasons, and Spider bent down, hoping to grab her other ankle and stifle the resistance.

And that was how Spider wound up getting kicked in the face. Repeatedly.

The fourth was enough to make her let go, and the fifth dropped Spider flat on her back, where she laid in a stupor. Even through the pain, she could feel the rage boiling, and she was eager to get back up and make Eztlicoatl pay for that infraction, on top of the many others she’d piled up in the mercifully short time they'd known each other.

Free at last!

A barrage of upkicks hit home, and just like that, Spider was on the mat. Etzli sat up for a moment, trying to gauge their location - slightly off-center, just close enough to hit a top-rope move. No time to get there, though; Spider was stunned, but by no means was she going to stay down long enough for the luchadora to mount the turnbuckle and aim an attack. It'd have to be something quick, brutal, and efficient.

Letting herself drop back down to the mat, Etzlicoatl log-rolled the short distance she had left to the ropes and ended up on the apron. She grabbed the middle rope with both hands, pulled herself upright on her good leg, and then in one fluid, practiced motion, she bounded up to the top rope to hit a massive springboard 450 splash.

At least, in theory.

The problem was that the Nahuatl had greatly underestimated the amount of damage to her knee and ankle - or else she'd greatly overestimated her own endurance and strength. The second she pushed her weight down on the top rope, that leg buckled hard, and no amount of flailing and windmilling her arms could save her. With a squawk of horror, she flopped off the top rope and face-planted a full three feet away from Spider, the 450 splash having gone totally unperformed.

Etzli's voice was muffled against the canvas. "Oh, the indignity."

Spider was steadily recovering from the kicking assault, slowly getting her bearings back, when she registered a change in the light. The world had suddenly grown darker, and when she opened her eyes, she understood why - there, up above, silouhetted in the arena’s lights, a figure of death approached. In that moment, Eztlicoatl had taken to the ring ropes, and was now perilously perched on the highest one, looking down on Spider like a bird of prey eying its next meal.

She was too stunned, too winded, too surprised. Spider knew there was no way she could have dodged in time, and that she was doomed to eat whatever deft manuever her foe was about to execute. She winced, expecting a devastating attack from the sky...until Eztlicoatl screwed the pooch and fell flat beside her, crashing and burning in a epic mess.

The former Wrestle Angel sat up in surprise, looking about in stunned silence along with the audience. A mistake? They did happen in wrestling, especially with women who weren’t Spider. Hardly any shame in it. Not that such a fact would stop Spider from immediately capitalizing. ”Yesyesyesyesyes-”

Spider pounced on Eztlicoatl and crawled over the young goddess’s body like her namesake, slithering her way towards the same leg she’d tortuned earlier. She crossed her foe's legs, looking as if she was going for a leglock, but Spider’s planned move was far more unorthodox. Instead of turning around, she grabbed Eztlicoatl’s foot, placed her own foot on the inside of the knee, then leaned back, dropping of her weight onto her opponent’s shoulders while she cranked the limb back with her.

If it all worked out, she would have Eztlicoatl trapped in her finisher - Hottentotta Tamulus, better known as the La Alacran.

Despite having crashed and burned, Etzli was still cognizant enough to realize that Spider was scrambling in to take advantage of her situation. She shook her head and started frantically rolling to one side in hopes of getting away before the other girl could get close enough to really capitalize. "Nononono---"

It was too late, though. Spider had a solid grip on her leg a moment later, and even as Etzli tried to twist out of what she assumed would be another kneebar, she was propped up on her chest in an Alacran. (She recognized it as an Alacran, of course, although with her head twisted to one side she had a decent view of some guy in the first row mouthing the words 'Haas of Pain' to his friend. Had Etzli had her hands free and a spare minute or two, she would have gone over and smacked him.) The pain was immense. Her knee and ankle were already wrecked from the last few minutes of the match, and now all of the other girl's body weight was torquing on both of them.

The Sanguine Serpent glanced over to the ropes. They might as well be miles away, and her mobility was basically zero in this hold.

She squirmed back and forth, tried to see if she could get ahold of an arm and pull Spider out of the hold, completely failed to maintain her grip where she needed it, realized that this was not going to be her day at all, and at last, with a hint of resignation in her agonized expression, tapped on her opponent's arm three times.

This was it, the integral part of the match. The moment where the efforts of both wrestlers were measured, and one was finally found wanting. A time of reflection, of digestion, of understanding between two fierce competitors.

That was the way it might’ve been recognized by most wrestlers, at least. Spider was notably less gracious about it. ”Tap!” She shrieked and threw her body back, wrenching the hold for all it was worth. ”TAP, or I swear, I will rip your leg off and beat you with it!”

Spider was so wrapped up in the moment, so enamored with the thought of punishing Eztlicoatl, that she scarcely noticed when the Saccharine Serpent - or whatever she dubbed herself - finally did tap. She didn’t even budge when the bell rang, and she was declared the winner. After what had to be an agonizing few seconds for Eztlicoatl, Spider finally released the hold and let the tortured limb go, then pushed her opponent to the side and stood up. Victorious.

The referee raised her hand in triumph but, of course, these people had no appreciation for her victory. They booed her. Decried her. Spider merely ignored them and regained her composure with a flip of the hair, trying to play off the damage she’d accrued throughout the match.

”An admirable effort.” Spider turned her nose upwards as she approached. ”But, surely, now you understand: the gap between our levels of skill is not one so easily crossed.”

The amount of time that'd passed between Etzlicoatl tapping and the actual release of the hold was, to put it charitably, generous.

Having been thoroughly Palhares'd, Etzli shrieked with pain and thrashed wildly until at last, mercifully, the Alacran was released and the blood flowed back into her wrenched knee. Granted, that just made it feel worse, but frankly at this point she was just relieved to be out of there.  Hopefully her leg wasn't injured, with everything that'd happened to it.  The Nahuatl clutched her knee up to her chest, gnashing her teeth together and trying very hard not to cry.  God, nobody took her seriously now, imagine what'd happen if she just lost it like that in front of the world.

Spider, of course, wasn't content to be victorious, and instead headed up to taunt her.  It was difficult to think of an appropriate retort, or even muster up the effort to retort considering the pain she was in and the abject, depressing state of this whole situation.  A tougher girl wouldn't have let any of that stop her.  Abattoir - for example - would've spit on Spider in the same situation, or even baited her into coming close enough for a good open-handed slap, the ultimate insult.  There were plenty of ways to look good, or at least not look totally bad, in this situation.

But Etzli was fundamentally pretty pathetic and bearing the weight of a whole new wave of apathy, and so she simply turned her face away, refusing to look at her opponent, and quivered in pain.  Not much, as acts of defiance went.  Barely a token effort.

Spider had won. Her first match in the AFW, and she’d come out victorious, making her mark on the AFW Universe. Everyone who watched this match would tell people they knew about the dangerous wrestler who’d just joined the ranks, her name would spread, and fear would come along quickly behind it.

Spider should’ve felt good about this. In truth, she did. But, as she received no response from her defeated foe and saw her sitting there, crestfallen and aloof, she couldn’t help but feel an odd deja vu. She’d been here before. She’d seen this before. From someone very familiar...

Spider bit her lip and looked off to the side, ignoring the waves and waves of boos that washed upon her. After a moment passed, she opened her mouth to say something, thought better of it, then dropped down and slipped out of the ring.

Spider walked up the ramp with her head held high and not another word spoken.