Personal Jesus

Carmen Rodriguez stood on the top floor of an apartment building, staring at a door with her fists clenched, her breath steady, and her eyes focused forward. It was late, too late to be out doing much of anything, but there she was - dressed in baggy work out pants, her red and black Tension shirt, her matching sparring gloves. The 24/7 belt hung in one hand, lightly dragging across the floor. Looking ready to fight. Because she was.

What she was about to do, what she still considering doing, wasn’t normal behavior for her. She realized that. But then again, this hadn’t been a normal month, either. After her match with Akino in Ueno, it felt like everything was spiraling. Maybe it had been spiraling before even then.

Ever since she got the 24/7 Title, life had been a constant swerve between chaos and control. The demanding schedule, the constant fights, never knowing when or where her next challenge was coming, putting up with the responsibiltiies the championship demanded of her, the traveling, the long nights…

Carmen had wanted a belt. She’d been striving for gold her entire life. But now that she had it, she was realizing the cost. She’d genuinely treasured her relationship with Akino, loved her company, enjoyed the balance it brought to her life. Now, because of the belt, that balance was gone.

It was a lot to take in. A lot to deal with. Maybe too much.

She needed release. She needed something to focus on, something to drain it. And that was why she stood in front of an apartment door in the wee hours of the morning, trying and failing to talk herself out of what she was about to do.

It was a crazy, stupid idea. But she needed it, and she needed it now.

With one final, deep sigh, Carmen raised her hand and gave the door to Diana Accera's apartment a hard knock.

Her sleep schedule as erratic as her personality, Diana Accera found herself in the pitch black of the night pouring herself a glass of water, television switched on moments ago simply to create some noise and company. Clad in her usual baggy sleep shirt, the fierce Italian was by no means tired, nor exactly filled to the brim with energy as she took to her chair, briefly taking a swig before taking her right hand to the AFW schedule to her right.

She couldn't exactly give the cold dark apartment she lived in a reason for why she was awake. She'd had a interesting time in AFW, no doubt. But as of late? Quiet, if anything, nothing that would of kept anyone let alone a near constantly angry Italian awake. Save for that party. That god-damn party.

Scuffing at the events in the schedule before her, to her somewhat amazement, she'd hear a knock at her front door. It had to have been the T.V, she'd mutter to herself. Looking up however, she'd see it was simply a re-broadcast of some typical old, English soap, on some back alley T.V. station her Japanese networked television had somehow managed to pick up. And on screen, there wasn't exactly moments of huge action, and definitely no great knocks of a door. Throwing said schedule to the side of her, she'd decide to investigate. If it was robbers, they'd be in for a rough time. If it was some delivery boy mixing up the wrong address, he'd most likely receive similar greeting.

"And what the fuck is th.." She'd stop herself, mid 'greeting,' as she'd realise just who it was at the door.

Carmen Rodriguez. And she had her fists cocked.

"Shit."

At first, Carmen didn’t know if Diana would answer, or if she was even home. Yes, it was late, and the Italian wasn’t exactly a social butterfly, but Japan was a place where you could find something to do regardless of the time. And there was always the possibility that she was just a heavy sleeper, and there’d be no way to wake her up without alerting half of the building.

She was ready to leave, if it came to that. She almost did, too, until she heard the pitter-patter of heavy Italian feet heading her way, stomping across the apartment and nearing the door.

The handle turned. The door opened. No turning back now.

Diana was standing there, the two of them staring at each other. Carmen didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to say anything. The hungry, fierce look in her eyes would spell things out well enough, and if it didn’t, her actions would drive the point home like a hammer with a nail.

She tossed the belt inside Diana’s apartment, let it slide all the way into the living room.

She reached up, grabbed Diana’s hair, and roughly pulled her in for a kiss, smashing their lips together for the sort of invasive, dominating kiss that they'd both come to expect.

She brought her fist back and broke the kiss in the roughest way possible: punching Diana in the chest, full force, a powerful right cross.

Message delivered.

Diana's eyes were almost glued to the woman, ears registering that damn belt of hers sliding across the floor and seemingly settling itself against the opposite wall. Her body wouldn't react much to the kiss, save for fall into it, locking lips with the woman but not exactly putting the effort in back. Diana was simply too busy asking herself the one question. What the fuck was she here for?

She wouldn't directly ask it of course, and would neither get the chance. Stumbling back, her toned figure taking a chop directly to her large chest that would of echoed through the apartment block had it been on bare skin. Diana would look down slightly, as if to examine the wound, her eyes almost screaming to the woman 'what was that?'

Her signature dark smile coming to her lips, she'd take somewhat of a hefty step forward, hand shooting to those short threads on Carmen's head. Trying forcibly to pull the woman into her apartment, her free hand would partially shut the door behind her, before Diana would try to shut it fully by slamming Carmen right into it, with the Italian pressing bodies tightly and roughly. Bodies completely locked, she'd lean in, performing a near perfect mimicry of Carmen's rough greeting kiss moan and all, before stepping back, hand coming out to roughly shove the champs head back into the door.

Carmen knew Diana. As well as anyone could know her, at any rate.

She knew that the Italian Wrecking Machine would probably be up at this hour. She knew that she would probably be wearing not much at all. She knew that, while the situation might confuse her at first, violence was her first language, and it would take her long to process what was going on.

Carmen knew. Carmen was right.

She didn't fight it when Diana dragged her in. It was where she wanted to be, after all, and she liked the method that was used to get her there. A rough, forceful hand on the back of her neck, and strong pull, yanking her inwards, followed by another kiss, the kind that only women like them could really deliver. She gasped as they pulled apart - a gasp that was cut short when her head was slammed against the door.

Carmen to glare at Diana, with a look that mixed equal parts rage and lust, then it was right back to business.

Most would of asked why, asked to stop, or even called for help. Then again, most wouldn't force a kiss with the woman who just knocked on her door at near 3am and greet her with a kiss and a strike.

Bodies fully pressing for a moment, bouncy chest against firm one as Diana's thigh briefly but tightly held up against the woman's sex, Diana somewhat sensed Carmen wasn't just there for a quick bedroom tussle. The hand that briefly groped Carmens body as Diana forced a kiss would shoot up to grab that firm throat, in an attempt to drag her away from the doorway.

With a hefty push, she'd aim to get Carmen into the semi-open area of her living room, a gap between her chair and TV, where there'd be at least greater space to fight, or screw. Or both.

Carmen peeled the shirt off quickly, not wanting to waste any time here with anything that wasn’t involving, sex, violence or some mixture of the two. She’d got it off, had a quick shudder as the cool air fanning over her bare chest, and that was all she had time for before Diana came in, and seized her throat.

She croaked as the iron grip wrapped around her neck, dragging her along with ease. Carmen and Diana were similar in height, so it was easy to go around thinking they’d be similar in strength, too. Wrong thinking - Diana was the more powerful woman between, and that was made plain by the way her fingers circled around Carmen’s neck. If the late hour was making her tired, it didn’t show.

Carmen didn’t make it easy on her, though. As she was pulled along, she threw punches. Quick, hard jabs aimed at the Italian’s porcelain face, throwing as many as she could get away with before Diana would finally let go. Or move on to something worse.

While she moved, she tried to work her shoes off, too. Didn’t want to get the carpet dirty, after all. That would be rude.

Diana was by no means trying to take control of her 'foe' with a firm choke, but more position her in a space where both could unload their assaults without fear of interruption, via a table, chair or other furniture tagging itself in via the two women's violent scuffles. And whilst her focus was not on choking Carmen but simply moving her, she found herself realising the error that she had at least temporarily taken one of her arms out of the equation in terms of defending against anything that came her way. Bad move, against a woman you'd need a hundred arms to fully defend against.

Her face struck at what felt to be a thousand times, both hands would shoot upwards in a defence, as she'd take a step back, finding the push to Carmen created space between the two. Briefly rubbing her nose, to check for blood, she'd somewhat shoot a dark smile towards the woman. She probably should of planned for Carmen coming after her. Hell, their first meeting was Diana quite literally hunting the woman down.

Bringing her left hand down, she'd somewhat roughly tip over the small table to her right, the irony not lost on the fact that on the table lied a recent AFW publication featuring Carmen on the front cover standing tall over her latest prey, another Puerto Rican beauty clad in green.

Her right hand would raise, gesturing the woman to come to her. She didn't need to say it verbally mind. Her eyes screamed it.

Carmen’s punches were nothing if not precise. When they came at Diana’s face, they hit her eyes, her forehead, her cheek - but not the lips. Never the lips. She had plans for those succulent lips, and it would do to have them bleeding when the time came. She made sure to only hit what she aimed for, with the exact right amount of power.

She staggered back when Diana pushed her away, but she didn’t mind the distance, nor did she care to rush in when the table was flipped - she just took the opportunity to kick off both her shoes, letting them flop to opposite sides of the room.

By the time she was finished, Diana was up and silently begging for more. She’d get it. Carmen didn’t even bother bringing up a stance, either - she just rushed in and started swinging.

Out came a right hook, going towards Diana’s rib, looking to soften up the iron core of hers. Out came a left jab, shooting towards the Italian’s chin, hoping to stun her, if just for a little second. He strikes were potent as always, but there was a more, wild brawling quality to these, as the heat of the moment began to sweep her away.

Whilst Diana's face wasn't exactly swelling up from the quick frayed assault, the Italian could certainly feel the sting to her face, as a breeze from her air-conditioning unit made itself known, flowing its way across her features. Her taunt seemed to have worked in pulling the champion towards her, something Diana was confident would succeed. After all, it was a straight up fight, not a in-ring sanctioned scuffle.

Ever the one to try and protect her delicate head over the rest of her, Diana's arms would cross in standard boxing style, allowing the hook to her rib to connect softly, the fact she wasn't exactly wearing a wrestling-purposed bra now made apparent as her great set wobbled and jiggled with all the characteristics of jelly. A wheeze would shoot out from her lips from the blow, flowing across her arms as Carmens jab connected to her staunch defence rather than her target.

Diana was quick to note Carmen's wild, almost savage nature in the exchange so far. Yes, the two were never exactly 'soft' when together, but it was usually Diana fighting with the ferocity of a wild animal, where as Carmen would be ever composed. She'd try to even the two of them out somewhat, by briefly bending, making sure to took her arms, before trying for a monstrous hook straight to Carmen's gut, with a scream that would surely be heard by the neighbours. Not that she cared.