24/7 Championship Match - Carmen Rodriguez (C) vs. Soledad 'Sola' Vega - Wake Up Call

It was hard to judge and be sure, but when Sola’s chop came in this time, Carmen couldn’t help but feel she had the better strike. Hers seemed a little more practiced, got more of her body into the blow, and it certainly stung like blazing fire on her skin. Despite being the younger woman, Soledad’s experience couldn’t be discounted.

Carmen didn’t play the little card games that Army was into so much. Too complicated and silly for her tastes. But she’d hung around with him enough to get the basics of how they worked. As such, she was familiar with certain aspects and concepts. The rules. How they worked. Certain strategies.

As Soledad stood there, flaunting her chest, she couldn’t help but think about ‘trap cards’. The way Sola was jutting out, she was begging for it. Begging a little too hard. She'd already proven to be a tricky, dangerous opponent, and this was tempting fate to the extreme.

That thought came to for her only a moment, though, before she decided to just go ahead and lash out. Whatever happened, she’d deal with it. She raised her hand, jumped forward, and brought her open palm down towards Sola’s chest, looking to lay it right on her bare skin with all of her weight behind it.

Gritting her teeth, Soledad squared her shoulders. Her soft chest was presented, thrust forward, waiting to feel the sting of Carmen's chop coming down onto soft flesh. Sola wanted to take that blow. She almost felt like she needed to take that blow. She'd come to this apartment with something to prove, to send a message. But she didn't come here to be stupid, about it.

She watched Carmen reel back, prep herself to deliver what was likely to be a massive, punishing strike off the chop. And, just as Carmen had committed her weight to it, just as she came swinging down, Sola shifted her hips. The quick step would move Sola's body back, just barely out of the reach of Carmen's strike. She's feel the rush of air being cut just in front of her chest, but not the sting of the strike connecting with her soft skin.

Then, without missing a beat, Sola shifted forward and swing the retreated leg forward in a quick snap-kick. A tricky move, a bit of quick and cheap trickery in place of the blow-for-blow contest she had offered, the Puerto Rican youth lashed out in frustration over the lack of progress she'd been making. She should have been dominating this fight, dammit! Eyes bruning, Sola vowed to herself that she'd make Carmen regret having put up such a fight. And toward that end, Sola poured all of that frustration and anger into a quick snap-kick, aimed squarely between Carmen's legs!

If the blow connected, Sola would lean forward, and try to hook the double-over Carmen's head into position for a DDT. The blow itself was satisfying enough, even if it was as dirty as all hell, but this fight wasn't over yet. Sola had a hell of a lot more frustration to work out, yet.

Carmen was so ready for the impact, so hungry to bite into Soledad’s waiting flesh, that when her blew missed its mark, her entire world became askew. Suddenly, her balance was off, her timing was wrong, everything was helter-skelter, and all because Soledad had bucked the trend by dodging instead of taking the hit. Clever. That was what made it so irritating: Carmen wished she’d done it first.

If Soledad did take the belt, that sort of thinking would help her keep it. It would solidify her career.. But she wasn’t going to win. Not tonight. Not from this woman. Not ever.

But she didn’t see the dodge coming. And she damn sure didn’t see the move that followed. You could tell that from the way she reacted.

”Bitch!” Carmen fell to her knees, grabbing the middle of her thighs as the camera zoomed in, getting a close up of her anguish. It would have to be a quick shot, though, because Soledad didn’t give much chance for anything else. A moment later, she was right back on it, seizing another opporunity. She was consistent, Carmen had to given her that.

Carmen found herself tucked into the front facelock, locked in tight, and she was too winded from the last hit and the many more that preceded it. She was hurting, tired, and the whole ordeal was taking a real toll.

Soledad was struggling, but the payoff to her dodge-and-strike strategy had paid off. The latina street fighter was back in the drivers seat, back on top. She couldn't help but give a nasty, sadistic grin at Carmen's exclaimed expletive, as she doubled over. Sola wasn't just taking her title, tonight, she told herself: she was bringing the athletic, professional fighting champ down to street level. Or at least, Sola's image of that person.

With Carmen's head hooked, Sola put her free hand on the waist band of Carmen's eveningwear, and used it to pull her up. Her grin deepened.

"You need a better look?" she asked the cameraman, seeing him just now backing off from trying to get a closer shot of Carmen's reaction to the low blow. "Here, hijo," she said, as she tightened her grip on that waistband, and pulled it into a hard wedgie. Partially, Sola was still trying to get her opponent into an ideal position for the DDT. Mostly, however, Sola was doing everything she could to simply humiliate the champion.

Hoisting Carmen up once more, Sola took a quick glance over her shoulder, to find the nearest bench in the champion's home gym. Then, with a final adjustment of her grip, Soledad yanked on Carmen's pants one final time, wrenched her head downward, and spiked her head hard into the bench with the DDT!

Soledad was already coming out ahead. She had Carmen in her grip, holding the larger woman down, maintaining a solid control over the fight, swinging things decidedly in her favor. Dominating a champion would’ve been enough for most wrestler, but most wrestlers were not Soledad Vega. She just had to go the extra mile.

At first, Carmen thought she was just grabbing her underwear for a grip, something to set up a move. Nope. It was all about the humiliation, as Carmen learned when she suffered the first wedgie of her entire life.

She didn’t have much time to be humiliated, though. Just as the realization set in and seething rage took over, her head was introduced to the hard end of a bench, and she was in too much pain to really care about anything else.

Her body immediately went limp in Sola’s grasp, flopping down to the floor. She wasn’t unconscious, not all the way, but her body wasn’t currently accepting any requests. She couldn’t do much more than lay there, groan, and mutter a string of obscenities in every language she knew.

The sound of head against workout bench echoed through the gym, as Sola released the limp Carmen. Taking a seat on the bench herself, Soledad let out a chest-heaving sigh. The young street fighter was back on top, it seemed, but it hadn't been easy. It was exhausting, actually. Soledad had been in tough fights, before, but god damn if Carmen hadn't been making her work for it, tonight!

After a few moments of deep breathing, Sola looked down and took in the sight of the stunned and downed 24/7 Champion. She smirked; coming from Puerto Rico, where Carmen possessed an almost legendary status as a popular champion, it was hard to think of her laid out and suffering on the floor of her own home. Let alone seeing it, being fully aware that it was due to Sola's hard work!

Soledad smirked, and gave a flirty wink to the camera. She was going to relish this moment, on the inevitable highlight reel. Getting down to the floor, Soledad wrapped her fingers in Carmen's smartly-cropped hair, pressed her still-stinging chest against Carmen's face for that extra, rude touch, and went for the pinfall that, she was convinced, would finally give her a taste of championship glory!

"ONE!"

Carmen was done. She was beaten. She’d come all this way, defeated so many opponents in her defense of the 24/7 title, taken everything that had been thrown her way after vowing to bring value to her championship.

And now she was going to lose it. To a wrestler in her second Tension match. In her own home. While she was bathed in more food ingredients than a cake. And…

Carmen was out of it, but not so far gone that she didn’t register the feeling of breasts against her face. She let out a scream of indignent rage, but it was lost with the engulfing flesh of Soledad’s youthful curves.

”2…!”

This was it. One second away from the end of a half year reign. Just one more slap on the floor, and it was all over…

”EVERYONE, FREEZE!” Carmen heard a loud crash, followed by the sound of stomping feet nearby. ”HANDS IN THE AIR!”

The referee, the cameraman, and Carmen - as best she could - turned to the side as four policeman barreled down the hall and interrupted the fight. The entire room descended into chaos - two of the police officers seized the confused AFW employees, and two others moved to Soledad and Carmen pulling them apart and trying to slap on the handcuffs.

Soledad was shaking a bit, waiting with spine-chilling anticipation of the three count. This was it, literally seconds away from her first AFW championship! She stared with wide brown eyes and a slightly open mouth, at hte referee as she made the count. The ref's hand just had to come down one more-

The crashing of the door, the eruption of voices and- most importantly- the absolute stop of the ref's count made Soledad's jaw hit the floor. "Que?" she said, shouting the word over her shoulder. "QUE!?" Turning her head, she saw the onrush of police.

"No!" Soledad said, her voice going shrill in her protests, "NO!" The young latina refused to lift herself up off of Carmen, as if somehow she could get the count going, again. But with the ref bracing herself against the back wall of the gym, hands held innocently above her head, that clearly wasn't going to happen.

The sight of police officers swarming one of Soledad's fights wasn't a new thing, but it had never been more absolutely infuriating. Eyes and mouth open wide in absolute disbelief, Sola went up to her knees. Her fingers sank into her hair, frustrated enough that she could have ripped out entire locks in sheer rage.

Despite being the 24/7 Champion, the rules behind the matches were still a bit fuzzy to Carmen. The AFW had never really explained how her matches were supposed to work on a wider standpoint - all she knew was that anyone could challenge her at anytime, and that they couldn’t do it while she was sleeping.

She’d assumed that meant the company squared things with law enforcement, or had some method to make sure her matches were cleared. Apparently not. Apparently, having a loud fight in the middle of an apartment complex during the early monring was the sort of thing that drew the police to investigate.

”Hey!” Carmen screeched in protest as two police officer’s yanked her off the floor. ”This is my house, this is my house, let go-”

The police either didn’t care what she was say or - more likely - didn’t speak English, because they kept dragging her along, anyway, and she was too stunned and confused to really summon her Japanese. Frustrated for dozens of reasons, she gave up and let them drag her off, glaring at Soledad whenever she had the chance.

"Nnh! Dammit," Soledad grunted, as the officer began affixing handcuffs to her wrists. "if you're going to go that hard, I'm gonna want you to pull the hair, too, chico!" This was nothing new to the former street fighter, unfortunately. Still, her arrest record going international was the farthest thing from what she expected this night to end, like.

Sola squirmed and writhed in the officer's grip, but they were token gestures. Some resistance to save face, knowing that the cameras, and likely the eyes of Carmen, were still on her. She flipped her hair, "accidentally" whipping the arresting officer's face with it. They were telling her something, but not in any language Soledad spoke.

"Punk move calling the cops, puta!" Sola cried out, after Carmen. "Punk move!" Soledad knew damn well that Carmen had nothing to do with it, but she didn't care. At this point, the youthful street fighter was simply trying to save face. She had gone from being one second away from championship gold, to being subjected to the humiliation of an on-camera arrest. Her face was burning with rage, and she needed a target.

"This isn't going to protect that title forever, puta! This is not over!" Not a bright thing to say in front of police officers; Sola doubted they spoke much English, but her tone was unmistakable and doubtlessly not helping her impending case. For tonight, however, it was clear. Crew and AFW officials were frantically trying to explain the situation to the authorities. Regardless of how that would go over, however, the fight was clearly over and done with. For tonight.