Diana Accera vs. Armando 'Army' Rodriguez - You're Going Down

Good God, Army had never been so happy to grab a rope in his entire life. He gripped it tight, held on and yanked it relentlessly, even after Diana finally left him go and released his arm. Mostly because he couldn’t even feel that she’d let go until after a few seconds had passed, and feeling had begun to return to his arm.

With the referee calling for a reset, Army slowly stood up, gripping his injured arm as he rose. Stung. Hurt like crazy, and while it would probably be okay in a hour or so, he knew that was time he simply didn’t have. Judging by the way she had her guard up, so was she.

One arm, then. He’d make it work.

With the two of them facing off once more, Army hesitated for a moment, not bothering to hide the worry in his eyes. He could only stand seeing that smug look on her face before his rage got the better of him, though, and he had to break into a charge, coming towards her with a lariat from his remaining good arm.

Diana watched, with those cocky yet wary eyes to see if Army would let his fury get the better of him and essentially walk him into the Italians clutches. Then again, just because Diana had done it countless times through the match, it didn't mean the more veteran Army would be so reckless. Atleast, not straight off the bat.

Still a slow and cautious Army was at least more approachable now that he lacked an arm, even if it was his less dominant of the two. No doubt that Army had the skill and power to make one fighting fist work, but the moment Diana noticed a wince in the mans face as he held the cranked arm, her eyes didn't leave it. If Diana was a shark, then Army's hurt left was the first drop of blood in the ocean.

Her stance still firmly held, Diana would raise an eyebrow as it seemed Army's anger did have a place in his fighting technique after all. Closing in, Diana would find yet another lariat aimed smack bang for her upper body, of course aimed with the arm that still worked at peak. Ducking under certainly wouldn't work again, and whilst the momentum was on Diana's side, taking another direct hit would quickly return it to Armando.

Instead, Diana would aim for something in between.

Turning her frame to her left as that right-handed lariat came in, Diana's boxing stance would be opened as her hands tried to latch onto said arm. Her body now sideways, pressing for the moment into her foe, grunting as she tried to halt all momentum from the swing, Diana would try to continue turning her body, performing something of a rolling motion. If she managed to halt enough power from her foes own strike, she'd bring her left up and back, trying to turn the motion into a rolling elbow!

This was a very, very strange sort of position to be in for Army. He was honestly having a hard time figuring out how he got to this point in the first place.

He’d started out well enough, he thought. Diana was tough, but all the advantages seemed to be on his side. He was tougher, stronger, moved well enough to keep up with her at least. He honestly expected her to be flat on her back this point, with his hand getting raised in triumph. It shouldn’t have taken this long. It couldn’t.

Now, he was having trouble raising his own hand for anything. Life sucked, sometimes.

He had one arm, and while it was still powerful and dangerous, it also made him quite predictable, a fact that Diana was quick to exploit as she grabbed him by that same arm and weaved around him. He tried to keep up, he really did, but he only wound up getting an elbow to the face for his troubles, a quick, cracking blow that brought him down to his knees.

Diana on the other hand, had been the very definition of improvisation since the match began. She was no idiot when it came to sizing up her foes, but her poor mindset and inexperience against male opponents had left the Italian in a poor situation more than once. Not at all to say that had she focused more, she would of dominated a wrestler as renowned as Army. But well, she certainly wouldn't have attempted a straight up fist fight or tug of war but seconds into their encounter.

Taking solace in the fact that her pivot luckily avoided the vast majority of her opponents force, Diana would take a step back after her own assault connected, Army now on her knees before her. A small thought came into her mind to yet again taunt Armando; a quip about her foe not being the only Rodriguez to be sweaty on their knees before the Italian to be the obvious choice. Instead, it became apparent that the time for talking was long past, as the Italian simply stepped forward, swinging her right leg out to try and connect to Army's left, perhaps even with some luck straight to his previously wrenched arm.

It wouldn't exactly KO her foe, or even likely force him to buckle to the floor. But god did Diana need a moment to figure out a way to scale the metaphorical mountain before her.

As bad as things were looking - and Army had to be honest, they looked bad - he couldn’t help but be a little grateful that Diana hadn’t gone for the extremely obvious but thoroughly disgusting joke about on him being on his knees. His stomach was lurching enough as it was.

He just needed to rise up a little, get on his feet, then worry about taking her down while he was on his feet…

Which wasn’t happening, it seemed.

He was about halfway there before he felt the sharp pain in his thigh, a crippling blast that sapped all the energy out of the limb. He immediately buckled and fell to his side, hissing as he wrapped his hands around the thigh and massaged it, cursing under his breath.

Not good, steadily getting worse.

Every step Diana took towards dismantling her solid foe might of been a step nonetheless, but the Italian's choice to wear no protective gloves or footwear meant Diana was essentially mining at stone with her bare hands. She was making progress, but it was damn painful progress. Now with her foe on his back, or more, tiered towards the side his leg hurt most, Diana knew she simply had to keep him there.

If Army rose once more, Diana to her own pained admittance wasn't a hundred percent sure she could get him back down.

Nudging her foe slightly to try and tier him back towards been flat on his back, Diana would opt for a move to try and leave the tank that was Armando Rodriguez breathless, before most likely trying to turn her attention specifically towards that arm she somehow managed to wrench earlier. Taking a deep breath, she'd suddenly jump straight upwards right off her feet as soon as her nudging foot returned to her.

Leaping upwards, the Italian would add a forward motion into her directly ascending leap. Her feet briefly bending to follow the momentum of the jump, she'd straighten them up and attempt to bring them right back down, right on her foe.

Diana had completely forsaken boxing, technique or even strategy for the moment, as she aimed to test how her foe would react to an attempt at a brutal double foot stomp, right to the stomach!

The pain wasn’t the worst the part of all this.

It was close, and you wouldn’t have been able to think any different from the way Army was reacting at the moment. It wasn’t like he was faking how much his leg hurt at the moment, the way it felt like his muscles were cramping up, the sensation of bones that weren’t responding the right way to the orders her brain was giving them.

No, as much as that all sucked, what made it worse was knowing that Diana was behind it, and the fact that it was likely going to get so much worse.

Still, a small part of him thought he had a chance, as he rolled over and started to rise once more. Then he saw her descending towards his stomach, and all that hope vanished.

Army had just enough time to realize how screwed he was, but not enough to do much of anything about it, as Diana’s bare heels slammed into his stomach with probably half a ton of force behind it. The effect was predictable and immediate: he roared and rolled over, grasping his stomach while he kicked his legs, his face buried into the floor.

”You...suck…” He growled, in the midst of banging his forehead into the floor.

Even with her foes toned frame consistently providing as a buffer against strikes thanks to the pain granted from essentially striking such a hard surface, Diana could take satisfaction in the fact that with a double foot stomp, she had to do near enough no work.

Simply jump, and extend legs. To brutal effect.

Of course, the landing of such a stomp was rarely an easy one, as the moment her move hit Army's sudden curling up made the Italian stumble onto her side close to him. Not that it seemed he had the wind in him to capitalise, as the pain seemingly forced her foe to seemingly throw defence to the wind and curl into a ball, face to the canvas. Sure his gut was now protected, but offering your back to even a rookie level wrestler on the ground was a big no-no.

Diana's attempt to keep her cool and focus solely on the physical side of things wasn't made easy by her foes comment, a weird honest smile coming across the Italian's lips as she genuinely struggled to contain herself making a retort. Again, the odds on favour would of been a insult combining the words 'sucking' and 'Carmen Rodriguez,' with the safe second bet been the word 'chest' or a similar alternative following promptly in said retort.

Forcing herself into a crawl, Diana's own sweaty side pressed on Army's back now, as she looked for something of a simple restraint to keep the big man down. Hooking her arms under his and around his back, Diana applied something of a wrench-less double chicken-wing hold, as she opted to consider her next means of attack. It was unlikely at all, that Diana's heavy chest was partially pressing into her poor foes back, as expected now covered in something of a sticky sweat, would of been helping the mindset of the man she was now restraining...

Something was broken in Army’s chest. He wasn’t sure what - maybe a rib, or two ribs, or something deeper than that. He’d had busted ribs before, but this felt worse somehow, a fiery, hot pain that burned in his innards. He kind of felt like throwing up, but his body couldn’t quite make the effort to do even that.

It wasn’t a fun happy time, and he knew it would get a lot worse before it go any damn better. If it ever did.

Army’s head shot up when he felt a pair of rather large, sweaty breasts pressing up against his back. Any other time, with about any other woman, he wouldn’t have minded that at all, even if it was the prelude to a painful hold. Here, he couldn’t stop thinking about what his sister had done with those breasts, what Diana had done to her with them, flashes of extremely unpleasant mental pictures that the world didn’t have enough brain bleach to completely erase…

It was a little distracting. Yeah. So much so that he barely even noticed the position she’d gotten him in until it was completely, and his arms were secured in the chickenwing. Army tried to push up with his lower body, but he didn’t have the leverage for it, and even his great strength wasn’t enough to beast Diana up like this. He wasn’t about to submit, but he couldn’t escape, either.

Trapped.

Diana herself was no stranger to breaking a thing or two in the heat of a fight, but given the positioning of her foe, Diana was far from aware of such a fact. Had she known of such a sore spot to hit on, she may have opted to immediately implore her legs in trying to compress said broken rib inwards, but blissfully unaware, she went with what she had.

Sliding her body so that she was more parallel to her foe than perpendicular, her own legs now closer to Army's own, Diana would give something of a jerk with her foes arms, making them bend further behind Army's back for a moment. Where as it appeared be as if Diana was beginning to apply a actual double chicken-wing hold rather than just hold her foes arms for one, she was in reality simply testing her own strength to see rather if she did have the wind in her sails to apply the move. Had she been fresh, most certainly, even on a frame such as Army's, of course with great difficulty. But right now, after a stand-up brawl with such a figure to name one of a few brutal of the moments in their match? She needed more. A lot more.

And given her desperation and level of fatigue, Diana was stupid enough to try more.

Pushing up ever so slightly so that she was restraining Army further by adding her actual weight into the mix, Diana was now in something of a push-up stance as her feet went onto her toes. Her heart racing, the plan in her head to accomplish a manoeuvre she had not done in what felt like decades; and even then, it was not one exactly designed for a woman of Diana's height, with her moderate flexibility at best being an additional issue.

"Okay...fuck...here goes..." She'd mutter, in a AFW first for Diana as she actually had to will herself onto attempt the move, for one slight error would simply leave the Italian done for.

Pushing as hard as she could with her feet, face coming down to the unnerving position of been right next to Armando's own, Diana would lean with her front as she tried to force her thick long legs up and over her. Already wincing from the flexibility requirements of the move, Diana made sure to keep her arms locked as much as she solidly could, as her feet came down to the ground. The audience itself would look on in mild shock, as they had the somewhat unusual sight that was a near six foot tall amazon former-boxer attempt a move she simply should not have; Cattle Mutilation!