Round Two

As she brought Diana to her feet, Carmen pondered just how much her fighting style had evolved in the past few years. From boxer to wrestler to street fighting champion, she’d run the gamut of combat and came out with a range of experiences and skills that few could compare to.

Part of her had some distaste for it, missing the structure of a ring, but this was the life she’d chosen. If she hated it, she could give up the title at any time and go back to regular competition. This was the life she’d chosen, the path she wanted to walk down..

”Get up.” She grumbled, forcing Diana up on her wobbly feet. She supported the bigger woman as best she could, though it wasn’t an easy task with the sweat starting to build and her own fatigue setting in. But, fortunately, she wouldn’t have to do it for much longer.

Carmen grabbed Diana’s chin with one hand, lifted it up just enough to expose her chest, then lashed out with a fearsome knife-edge chop across her breasts, connecting with the barely covered skin and filling the gym with the sound of a wet, meaty crack. Carmen knew firsthand how that sort of blow could feel, and she wasn’t nearly as gifted in that area as Diana was.

Where as Carmen somewhat missed formality in terms of fighting, Diana couldn't of missed it less. If she was forced with making the choice between a defined fighting style, such as boxing, or quitting fighting altogether, she'd likely hand her resignation in to AFW offices in the morning. Just because Carmen defined her own gym as the area the brawl would take place in did not mean the match itself was a ring bound one. Had Carmen challenged her to a fight there and then in that hallway, or hell, even to her residence for the fight, Diana would of given the same response.

Wavering somewhat like a flag in a breeze, Diana was somewhat awoken by her foe deciding to figuratively slice at her breasts, a neat slap echoing throughout the empty gym. Somewhat less woozy, after her breasts had just been turned into a hefty set of drums, she'd shoot her own chop back, the exact same target in mind on Carmen, with her face roaring in anger as she did so. Her woozy stance somewhat detracted from the power of the blow, but it was still a strike which would hopefully leave the champion seriously considerate of doing it again.

Despite Diana’s notorious resilience, Carmen thought she’d been worked over enough for the chop to drive her back and make her give up and opening, something she planned to fully exploit when it was presented to her.

She was wrong.

Instead, Carmen was met with a chop of her, slicing across her own chest with every bit of the same vigor as they one she’d launched. She shrieked and staggered back, clutching her chest and hissing at the burning pain. It was a bit sloppy, but it had more than enough hate to make up for the failing form.

If Diana thought it would make Carmen back off, though, she was wrong, too. ”Harder!”

Carmen gritted her teeth and moved back in a second later, launching another knife-edge spot, targeting the same area. This time she hit with enough force to make her own arm sting, and she could only imagine how it felt to the statuesque stunner.

Diana knew her strike did not have the same force as Carmen's; she simply didn't have the wind up space, nor the stability of her base to make it really shudder Carmen to the bone. She fully expected the woman to remain standing, perhaps even unmoved, but certainly stinging at the very least.

Once more before she had chance to consider her next manoeuvre, albeit now with her feet stable below her, Diana again found her chest victim to assault. She was more braced, her muscles more tensed, but hitting the same mark twice essentially cancelled her advantages out, the Italian making a small step backwards as she covered her chest. Looking down, she'd already see her wounded spot turning red, as if the Italian was smuggling two red balloons under her bra. Looking up with a face of both shock and fury, her dark smile suddenly became evident on her face, as Carmen seemed to be trying to outright break the woman and prove she were the stronger woman overall, something Diana would do her damned best to prove that such was something that simply could not be done.

Instead of striking back, Diana would simply bring both her hands to her hips, pushing out her chest with all the pose of a super heroine, as if she dared Carmen to take another strike before she'd give her the strike back she desired. She'd even slowly step forward, so that her front and the champion's were somewhat pressed, if Carmen didn't immediately try yet another assault. If the champ became predictable, and indeed went for said strike, Diana would do her very best to make her pay for it.

One more hit, one strike, one echo as the satisfying sound of flesh against flesh resoudned all around. Carmen had to admit, chops were more her brother’s thing, but she was enjoying the results. Even in the darkened room, the red streak across Diana’s bountiful breasts could be clearly seen, and it put a little smile on her face.

That smile faded, though, when she saw the one Diana had. As confident as ever. She stepped forward and pressed against Carmen’s, highlighting the size difference as those reddened mounds of flesh threatened to slide over her own.

Carmen raised an eyebrow, staring back, waiting for an attack that wasn’t coming. Diana wanted to goad her? Okay. They’d play that game.

The 24/7 Champion took a step, reeled back, jumped towards Diana for some added momentum and came at her with a blazing chop on the chest.

Diana would of loved the time to maybe step down to a knee, rub the redness until it faded somewhat. But against Carmen, time spent nursing a wound would be time given to the champ to make the pain oh so much worse. She could of even given her foe a hefty push, even that would of given her chance to take a breath, before considering how to catch the women when she undoubtedly came springing back. But no, this was Diana Accera. You could consider her as much a genius in terms of fighting ability as a dumbass in terms of the tactics she'd often employ, just in an effort to show she was one of a kind.

Luckily, Carmen made the mistake of both broadcasting her huge swipe, and in thinking Diana was the sort who would take said strike and return with an attempt of her own. Diana always planned for the long term in her fights, and a 'who can strike harder' contest against a champion boxer, 99 times out of a 100 would leave her so much worse off.

The moment Carmen would swing her arm forward, Diana would duck, aiming to miss cleanly in almost a limbo style dodge of sorts, whilst at the same time firing her own arm in wide, coming in clean to the champion's gut. Had this been any other time, she would of likely capitalised on the miss by locking up with Carmen, and probably try to throw or submit the woman in any number of ways- a easy waist lock, most likely, obtained on a foe whose arm was currently trying to cut the air in half.

But no. She wanted to out punch the boxer. Or at least show her she could come damn close.

Carmen could almost hear her father, chiding her as she moved in for a fiery follow up on her Italian rival. Falling into an obvious trap, going for the clear bait with a repetitive move - it was pretty much the antithesis of his most basic lessons. Boxing, wrestling, the same fundamentals applied.

Then again, if her father was here, he’d probably chastising her for even doing this. He disapproved of many decisions she made.

At any rate, he would be right. It wasn't a good idea. But she did it, anyway, and sure enough, she paid the price.

”Guh!” Carmen let out a breathless gasp as the high-impact punch landed, doubled her over and making her stomach wrap around Diana’s iron diet. Even though she still didn't know about the Italian’s Amazon’s pre-AFW history - not for lack of looking - she could easily guess that it involved a boxing ring. It was a crisp, well-made, solid punch, and it dug right to Carmen’s core.

But she felt that she could do better. She took a step back, rubbing her belly for a second, before she popped up and threw a right hook towards Diana’s face, making sure to throw the bulk of her body weight into the blow.

In hindsight, the more stacked Diana should of initiated the grapple instead, and use her figure against someone she simply had to use everything she had against. Instead, she got cocky, and felt the need to punch a boxer where and when it was due. Sure, it connected solidly enough, causing Carmen to buckle over somewhat. But she'd just poked the bear with a stick, pretty much, even if the stick was pretty sharp.

Diana would take a small step back, to build up some slight distance between the two. She actually had every intention of resuming their 'who could chop harder' match, after simply been unable to resist the clean shot on her gut. Seemed Carmen wasn't too interested in continuing though.

As Diana prepared herself to wind up that powerful right, building up to try and near crack Carmen's ribs, she took what many would consider a knock out blow, square to the cheek. Unprepared, lacking a brace, and with Carmen's near entire figure behind, the Italian would be completely floored, falling backwards to her side. She'd pull herself up using the ropes quickly to her knees somewhat, before again collapsing, both her mind and body in shock from the sheer power of the blow.

She'd turn her head towards the champion, eyes wide, a face on the Italian as if she'd just been hit by a train.

After Carmen nailed the hook, she was exceedingly glad that she’d opted to tape her fists up for this. Not only for Diana’s safety, but for her own - even though the padding, smacking the Amazon’s thick skull sent a fiery tingle down her bones, and she had to shake her fist to get rid of the pain.

Still Diana got the worst of it, and Carmen was satisfied. She took a moment to shake her fist out, working through the numbess, as Diana stagggered by the ropes. It was tempting to press the advantage, but after the Italian’s mind games, she was a little eager to return the gesture.

”Had enough, preciosa?” Carmen smirked her way and stepped back, giving her some space to recover and putting her hands hips, mirroring the same pose Diana had taken a moment ago. She slid back into her fighting stance in the middle of the ring, fists up and ready, beckoning the wild beauty over.

”Keep on coming,” She whispered from behind her guard, her voice carrying easily across the room. ”I’ll put you down, everytime.”

The only satisfaction Diana could take from the strike, was the fact that had Carmen hit just a bit lower, the Italian would probably be missing a tooth or more. The pay off of her eyes spinning like waltzers and head aching like the worst of hangovers did not even come close to the bonus of Carmen's hand somewhat hurting. She'd turn her head up, gaze solid as Carmen mirrored her own pose. "Smug bitch" She'd mutter, inaudible to her foe, although it wasn't exactly difficult to lip read the word 'bitch.'

She'd stand, almost too quickly at first, wobbling greatly before steadying her pace, hand shooting to her head. Trying to shake some sense into her self, somewhat literally as she shook her head, she'd again resume the pose, matching her foe as the two stood a bead of sweat-distance apart.