Bryan Daniels vs. Makoto Takeda - Hard Restart

Mako was pissed off.

Nothing new, in and of itself. Mako was sort of perpetually pissed off, really. It seemed like every other day, something would grind at her gears and drive her over the edge, something would hit one of her buttons. In fact, it seemed like at least one of her buttons was being pressed constantly.

But this was different. This pure rage, channeled into physical form. This was Mako voicing her displeasure in her third language: violence.

Seething, she moved in after Bryan stumbled back, nursing his aching leg. Looked bad. Really bad. Not as good as bashing his face in, but it would pass the time until she got to work him over a little better.

With her target set, Mako went into pitbull mode and zeroed in on it. She came in lot and threw the same kick as before, aiming at the same spot, going for the same damage.

What Mako lacked in size, stature, or any semblance of a genuinely cheerful personality, the gang leader made up for in having particularly fearsome striking capabilities. They were much stronger than Bryan could have guessed just from sizing her up at the beginning of the match, especially from someone short enough to be in the kawaii division. The model athlete's temptation towards jokingly bringing that matter up with Mako about her diminutive size now not seeming like such a bright idea.

Bryan groaned as he gradually began to fully extend his throbbing leg once more, wincing through the pain he thought he was beginning to think he could cope with for the time being...before Mako would reignite those aches once more with the same strike that hobbled him in the first place.

Bryan belted out a pained yell as he collapsed to his back from the punt to his knee. Though the model athlete took this trip up as an opportunity to distance himself even further from the riled up Mako by rolling out of the ring immediately after being swept off his feet. Now on the outskirts of the ring, Bryan flinched as he hobbled around the nearest corner of the ring in his eager attempt to put a few feet between himself and Mako.

This was what Mako lived for, what she’d came to Tension.for in the first place. Tension, not Friction. Mako could have pointed the Valkyries at the AFW’s flagship brand if she’d wanted to, and they would’ve done well. But aside from Tension having more fertile ground, she’d always enjoyed beating the shit out of guys. Guys like Bryan in particular.

She liked the way he screamed. She liked the looks in his eyes as the pain tore through him. She did not like the way he was moving out of the ring, getting out of her range. But not for long.

Mako wasn’t about to let Bryan have a break outside of the ring. She wasn’t about to jump over the ropes like a complete fucking idiot, but she did have some options.

With a sneer and and a huff, Mako broke into a run and dashed at the ropes as Bryan made it around the corner. She bounced off them, came running back his way full of steam, then dove through the ropes with her feet shooting out, coming Bryan’s way with a baseball slide off the apron.

With his brilliant idea of distancing himself from the person putting a hurting on him going off swimmingly, Bryan tended to his aching leg by hobbling around and gradually applying more pressure to it. He knew full well that he wasn't gonna get anywhere in this match with a bum leg, especially considering that half of his high-flying and fast paced offensive repertoire consists of him staying loose and limber on his feet.

Eventually the model athlete was getting some feeling back in his leg. Enough to start walking normally and maybe even think about going back into the ring to face that pint-size gang leader once more. And he would have...if not for his fans at ringside yelling out his name and giving him ample warning of the incoming sliding dropkick coming his way.

Thanks to that heads up from his loyal fans, Bryan would side-step out of the way to have Mako hit nothing but air on her way towards sliding out of the ring. Acting on impulse and some lingering frustration towards Mako, Bryan would take her by the wrist and proceed to seemingly Irish whip Mako to the steel steps behind him. Only instead of those steps, Mako would be treated to a lariat clothesline from Bryan's free arm. His bulging bicep plowing right into her modest chest or that perpetually scowling mug of hers. Bryan would be happy with either outcome.

The baseball slide was a little riskier than Mako usually went for, and she was kind of tepid about it even as executed the move and started sliding out of the ring. Typically, she liked to just get in the opponent’s face and wail away on him, but Bryan was making this difficult. Running away. Just one more reason to beat his face to a bloody pulp, not that she didn’t have plenty of good reasons before.

So, it was worth the risk, and as Mako went sliding, she felt confident about seizing the momentum.

Then he moved out of the way. Damn it.

Mako tried to grab the ropes and pull herself back in, but it was too late. She was caught by the wrist before she had the chance, and the next thing she knew, she was being spun around, whipped about, and send right into Bryan’s waiting arm

”Fuck!” She spat out quick as she fell hard and fast, splatting on the floor. Stunned, aching, hurt from the sudden turn of events, all she could was lay there for a moment, as the referee moved over to the nearby ropes and started up a count.

”1!”

Bryan himself took a few stumbling steps forward after waylaying the ornery gang leader back down to the mat with the stiff clothesline. Normally he refrained from straight up beating down and clubbing his opponents due to that still lingering shred of chivalry he could never quite shake. Even if the other lady was looking to put him in the emergency room if he gave them the opportunity. But Bryan decided to ignore that voice in his head this time considering Mako would probably want to do much worse than just than give him a beating if given the chance...

"Sheesh...you got a mouth like a sailor, you know that?" Bryan quipped in regards to Mako's "F"-bombs, standing over her with a slight grin after stepping back towards Mako's leveled frame. He still had a slight hitch in his step from his oft-targeted knee, but thankfully it was getting better with time.

Hoisting Mako back up by her wrist was remarkably easy considering how much of a lightweight she is, as was heaving Mako off her feet by way of draping her across his broad shoulders. Bryan secured the torture rack positioning with his hands pressing down on the back of her head and thigh, but rather than break backs, Bryan would try to tickle some funny bones in the audience. Namely by opting for the more crowd pleasing helicopter spin for a few cheap pops from the crowd, the model athlete spinning and twirling before eventually just sort of flopping back down in a Samoan Drop.

"4!"

”Your mother likes my mouth plenty, bitch!”

Mako didn't even think about the way she replied to Bryan. Not her best retort, but in her defense, she was working off a lot of pressure. Getting beat around by a guy like was noting wonders for her temperament, needless to say.

It was not going to get any better.

Rather than just pin her down and wail on her like a real man would, Bryan had to get funny with shit. The next thing Mako knew, she was being hoisted on his shoulder like a prized kill, then spun around and around and around, picking up more and more and more steam, until Mako felt like she could throw up. And she wouldn’t have minded that, too, if it meant getting to spew all over Bray’s face.

Too bad she didn't get that pleasure. Instead, she got a hard samoan drop to the mat, crushing her body underneath Bryan’s muscular frame. Mako cried out as pain flew through her body, and she immediately started rolling away, hissing with every turn as she nursed her back.

Bryan rebounded back to a seated position after plummeting backward into the Samoan Drop, wincing and shaking his head from the spiraling dizziness keeping him from standing back up just yet. He'd like to say that converting those whirling spins into collapsing atop Mako was what he planned all along, but in all honesty...tipping back like that just sort of came natural considering how groggy he was after the spin cycle.

"7!"

But the ref's counting helped snap him out of it. The model athlete shoving himself off of one knee to on his approach towards the biker leader with a penchant for profanity. He groaned from the slight kink in his own back from slamming himself down like that, those thin mats around the ring really only being there just for decoration. Much to his own chagrin...

"Hey, my mother's a saint...unlike yours, who's probably a saint bernard..." Bryan muttered that last part of his witty retort under his breath while bending down to heave Mako back up by her wrist and motion her towards the ring apron. He didn't quite have the bravery to utter that part straight to her face...he'd like to live to see tomorrow.

He tried to be seamless and swift with shoving Mako back into the ring, perhaps getting a little too hands on with her firm backside in the process, but their wasn't that much cushion for the pushing back there anyway. Bryan nevertheless rolled in immediately after Mako and strolled right beside her, raising his arm for an exaggerated flexing of his bicep for the swooning fangirls before dropping down for a a simple but effective elbow drop on her lower back.

Mako could hear Bryan saying something about her mother, but she didn’t really give a shit. She hated her Mom. She probably would’ve agreed with whatever he said.

Whatever the case, she had more interesting things to worry about, like the extreme pain going through her back or the chucklehead that was currently whipping her around the ring. There was also the countout, which she thought would be a real problem. She was so sure that Bryan would run back into the ring and leave her hanging outside, force her to crawl back in under her own power. That was what she’d do.

But nope - he was a good guy. And good guys didn’t win by countout. Though they could cop a feel along the way, it seemed.

Mako got rolled in under the ropes and flopped over to her front, still hurting - but not blind. She could see Bryan coming at her from the side, could feel the footsteps. So, when he leaped up and came down on her with that elbow drop, she was ready.

Mako pushed off the floor and rolled away, giving Bryan nothing but an empty canvas to land on. Should be fun to watch.

Bryan's flair for the theatrical tended to work both with, and against his favor. His crowd pleasing antics, when blended well with his fairly competent skills in the ring, was one reason that helped him garner a burgeoning fanbase. Well...that and his ruggedly handsome good looks, but he tried to think of himself as more than just an undeniably pretty face.

So when given the opportunity to showoff a bit when he had finally wrestled himself back into the driver's seat of this match, he honestly couldn't resist placating his fans with a mocking flex of his arm before attempting to drop down on Mako's wide-open sternum. He figured the biker gang leader was tough, but assumed that a whirling spin followed up by a Samoan Drop should be enough to keep her dazed and winded enough for the fall to connect. An assumption he paid for by elbow dropping the wide-open canvas after Mako scurried off to the side.

"Ah!! Come on, man..." Bryan grumbled to himself and nursed the stinging pain in his right elbow, rubbing it soothingly while rolling off to the sides and attempting to bring himself back to up to his knees. The deflated crowd groaning disappointingly from seeing the loathed gang leader narrowly avoid the prolonged elbow drop.