Playground Games

Amy froze mid-hair-tie. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see Nathan- under Carmen’s guidance, Amy had reached out to Nathan, and the relationship that the Valkyries had so gleefully destroyed was finally on the mend. But the momentum of her date was progressing nicely into the perfect next act, and, okay, fine, she didn’t want to see Nathan right now, and she didn’t feel bad about that.

Amy finished tying her hair and turned around. Nathan wasn’t here to play on the playground. He was probably out on a run, or walking to the grocery store. If she and Army hid behind the slides until he passed, they could probably get away with-

There was no one behind her.

There was a sudden commotion back Army's way, and Amy whirled around just in time to see him sprinting toward the finish line. “Son of a bitch!”

Amy took off after him. She knew she wouldn’t be able to catch up, not now. But Army couldn’t just run up the side of the playground. No, he’d have to slow down, maybe even stop at the cliff’s base, and that would be more than enough time for her to plant a flying knee into his lower right back.

”Victory! Ha!”

Army was already off and cackling by the time Amy realized what was going down. Yes, it was wrong. Yes, Amy was certainly going to make him pay for that. But it was just too tempting to pass up. Oh, the taunts that he’d be throwing her way in the next few weeks when she came over…

Oh, right. She was leaving. Well, there was always Skype.

With only a slight pause at the sobering thought, he made his way to the playground and went for one of the slides, figuring it would be one of the quickest ways for him to get up. The top had a nice, wide open mouth that he was sure he could fit through, unlike the other entrances. He stepped on the metal and started to bound his way up, banking on his momentum to carry him through...and it might have. If Amy hadn’t kneed him in the back.

Army let out a hoarse croaked and fell down flat on the slide, thankfully getting his hands up in time to avoid a faceplant. Gravity had its way and he wound up going back down the way he came, only on his stomach this time, eating away at the minor lead he’d gained.

Amy landed gracefully on a single foot at the base of the slide. “Ay bendi-”

Then 200 pounds of dead weight slid into her ankle like noodles down a chute, and Amy supplanted her taunt with a more organic, “Fuck!”

Amy toppled over, crashing bodily down onto Army’s back. She thrashed about clumsily on top of him- knuckles and knees and elbows went into his back, his arms, the metal of the slide- as she tried to orient herself back upright. And still Army slid- his momentum carried both him and his passenger a full yard further before his momentum finally exhausted itself.

The two professional athletes remained an unseemly heap of splayed limbs for half a second after their full stop. Then Amy’s claws finally found purchase in Army’s shoulder, giving her the leverage she needed to get her feet back underneath her. She stood tall on Army’s back, very intentionally feeding her full weight into his body, before attempting exactly what Army had just a moment ago, beginning her run up the steel slide with a rude step off of his right shoulder and a wholly uninhibited laugh.

It was a little strange, but as Army tumbled down the slide, the #1 thought in his head was that he should’ve set his phone up to record this. Oh, well. He’d just have to make sure it was as memorable as possible, wouldn’t he?

And it was well on its way, too, as he fell down the slide and knocked Amy off in the process, something that would’ve made him laugh if not for the fact that he’d just nearly faceplanted on hard metal.

That would’ve been bad enough. It was bad enough for his tastes, certainly. But not for Amy.

She could’ve just bounded up the slide and took the lead without much trouble, but she had to go and be smart about. He felt one foot on his back, then another, and he had all her weight coming down on his spine at once. Not pleasant. Amy couldn’t have weighed an ounce over 120 pounds, but that was a lot of force to be coming down on two small points.

He didn’t have to endure it for long, madre dios, since she got off him and started bounding up the slide a moment later. It was still a pretty far ways from the summit, but he didn’t want to give up any ground that he couldn’t, knowing it would so hard to reclaim. Up he went, minding his aching shoulder as he went.

He saw two ways for her to go from there - a jungle gym with bars that she’d have to climb and a tunnel that she was just small enough to walk through. He figured his best shot was to bank on her going for the tunnel - if he was wrong and she went for the bars, he’d hopefully be able to catch up. So, instead of following her up the slide, he dashed off to the side, climbed up a ladder, and waited by the exit, looking to give her a right hook in the ribs if she popped out.

Amy slipped deftly through the mouth of the slide and spared a glanced back over her shoulder. Army was only just getting up, and she could tell he was feeling it in his shoulder, but his eyes were locked steadily onto her, tracking her, scanning for opportunities to make up for lost ground. Amy puckered her lips and sent a tiny kiss down his way, popping a leg for good measure, before returning her focus to the task at hand.

Amy paused for a moment at the top, weighing her options, before scrambling through the tunnel opening to her right. The monkey bars would have gotten her higher, faster, but if Army was still watching, which she was sure he was, it would be so easy for him to walk over and pluck her like fruit from a tree, yanking her all the way back to square one. Plus, if Army was still watching, which, again, she was sure he was, then he wouldn’t have the time to reach the tunnel’s end before she got there. The only way that was possible was if he had already started moving, gambling on her decision before she’d even made it, which couldn’t be the case, because, as you’ll recall, Amy was sure that Army would still be watching to see where she would go.

She made good time through the tunnel, even though she had to bend a bit at the waist in order to fit. That’s why she was so surprised when she emerged to a pair of mean-looking legs at the other end. Amy looked up. “Uh…”

Then Amy ate a solid right to her ribs. It wasn’t as hard as it could have been, considering how cramped the platform must have felt to a person of his size. But Army knew how to work with what he had- bend of the knees, twist of the torso, and he might as well have been in an open field. And since Amy was hunched over in the way that she was, his hook landed like an uppercut, and Amy’s side would be a constant source of misery for the entirety of this fight.

Amy gasped and retreated back the way she came. Somewhere in her mind, she remembered that they had just finished eating, and that it was far easier to cover a bruised eye with makeup than it was to feel sexy again after puking out your guts. She could always claim a faulty connection and stick to just voice; she couldn’t get back a whole day’s worth of grade-A foreplay, especially not this day’s. She should say something.

But true to form, she disregarded the responsible action in favor of hedonism. She stopped just a few steps in, just as she'd intended, then shot out of the tunnel like a bullet from a gun, betting that the added momentum would be enough for her shoulder tackle to slam him against the weird spinny tic-tac-toe things on the far wall.

Army hadn’t just wildly struck out with the blow. It was a free shot, and he’d tried to spend it wisely, targeting a key area for Amy. It wasn’t as good as getting her legs or her back, sure, but he knew all too well what it felt like to take a good punch in that particularly area, even more so when you couldn’t see it coming. No way to prepared. No way to tense up, to get ready for it. You just ate it and your insides go all mixed around and you felt like throwing up, and…

Ugh, he hoped she didn’t throw up. They were both kinky enough that blood and bruises wouldn’t put a damper on any of their spoken and unspoken plans, but he was sure that would put them both out of it. Plus, he just plain didn’t want her to go through it.

He pushed that little thought aside and focused on the task at hand. Amy was retreating now, moving back into the tunnel, and he started to go in after. There was some hesitation, though. She was tough. Damned tough. Far tougher than any woman her size had any right to be. She could take some of his best stuff and keep coming, and if he went in after, he might wind up getting trapped…

...but if he stayed put, she might be able to get free and find a quicker way up before he could catch up. While he was fairly certain he could climb anything she could, there was no guarantee he’d be able to do it anywhere near as fast.

So, screw it, in he went.

He’s just started to crouch down when a human battering ram slammed into his chest, driving him hard. His feet were clumsy and slow and couldn’t stop the drive, as Amy rammed him backwards with force that would’ve been the envy of most linebackers. He hit something - not quite a wall. It felt segmented and blocky. Whatever it was, it wasn’t comfortable, but she had him pinned.

Looking to make the most out of the situation, her tried to wrap his arm around her head while it was low, put her in a front facelock while he was leaning back. It wasn’t much, but it would keep her still for a few moments, he hoped.

Was Army about to follow her into the tunnel? No, there was no way. Focused though he was, even he could tell… I mean, his shoulders. It would be like trying fit a bull into a shoebox.

But there was no other explanation for why he was crouched down the way he was when she collided into him, why she was able to move him at all; his feet were square with the tunnel entrance, instead of spread apart and stable. Hitting him head on after he’d just thrown a punch should have felt like tackling a brick wall.

But, instead and incredibly, she drove him back. Their bodies rocked from the impact against the plastic panels, but Amy kept on pushing. Army would find his balance in a second or two, and this exquisite feeling, this beautiful fantasy of her overpowering Army would end.

A thick arm dropped down around her neck and locked in tight. She grit her teeth in anticipation of the squeeze, but didn’t try to move away. Instead, she began to drill punch after punch into his right outer thigh.

Army thought that keeping her within his reach was to his advantage. But here, on this tiny steel platform, inside his reach was exactly where she wanted to be. He was a Porsche in the suburbs, a cheetah at the zoo- all power and no room to run. But she was in her element- things to hang from, things to push off of, things that would hurt his fist if he missed a strike. Sure, she didn’t have the room she was used to to run away, but…

…

...Oh wait, no. No, this was actually really bad.

Without warning, Amy stopped pushing forward, and started pulling back, putting effort into freeing her head from Army’s lock. Mobility was the only reason that she could stand toe to toe with Armando Rodriguez; without it, the two wouldn't even be in the same league. She needed to be able to move in order to play the high stakes, high rewards game that was brawling with Army, and freeing her head from his grasp would be step one to regaining that advantage.

Amy was small. Tiny. Obviously. But, then again, so was a bowling ball, and it was perfectly capable of cracking your skull if it hit hard enough. Army’s girlfriend - wow, he’d never fully believe that - knew how to use her size to expert advantage, and if you doubted that, all you had to do was see the way she plowed into him.

But he had her locked down. Army had gotten pretty good at snapping on a facelock since he became a wrestler, and it helped that Amy’s head was quite small. He could probably have palmed it if he’d been so inclined. But this was more than adequate to keep her in place for a little while. Even if he wasn’t sure what to do with it - he didn’t want to hit her with a DDT onto a hard surface like this, and there was little chance that Amy would became the first person in recorded history to submit to a facelook.

As he was weighing his option, Amy gave him other things to think about. Like the stinging pain in his thighs as she relentlessly hammered them, her tiny fists striking home like little hammers. One, two, three, four shots in rapid succession, and he gritted his teeth harder after each one.

It was hurting. Too much. He was having a hard time keeping up with as it was, but with a limp? He might as well call it quits.

So, when Amy tried to push away, he gladly let her. But not without a parting gift.

He pushed her off then moved in right after, spinning around he neared, his body turning in a full rotation. At the same time, she brought her arm out and used the momentum from the twist to last out at Amy with a lariat - his signature move, Hurricane Armando. With his leg hurting, he couldn’t quite move as fast or as hard as he’d like, but he was still confident he’d get some big damage if he nailed it.

Hurricane Armando. He was so proud of the name, thought it was the coolest thing. Amy preferred “The Zangief Spin,” but there was no changing his mind on the matter.

Amy had let Army hit her with the Zangief Spin once before. She stood in the exact center of the ring at the Rodriguez gym, tensed and trying to ignore what a bad idea this was. At her insistence, Army took a running start from a corner, spun around, then clocked her with a stiff arm across the collarbone. Amy slammed into the mat- not on her back, but hard on her chest, having spun a full 270 degrees in the air. After verifying that nothing was broken, Army did something that she didn’t ask for- he rolled her over and pressed a single hand lightly into her chest. Then he started counting out loud- he was pinning her. He got all the way to six before she finally figured out what was going on and managed to get a shoulder up- still groaning, venom in her eyes. Pretty good sex that night.

It became a priority for her to recognize and dodge the Zangief Spin. Army hasn’t been able to pull one off on her since.

Though this one came awfully close. Amy tugged away, and Army simply let her go. The unexpected boost from her captor made her stumble against the edge of the tunnel. And Army followed directly after, his arm out and the circle tight- a little slower than usual, but with her off-balance, it all evened out.

She didn't have the time for anything fancy- she simply tucked her head down and fell backwards into the tunnel. She would be vulnerable immediately after, but at least the Zangief Spin would miss its mark.

The real name for the move was a discus lariat, but Army thought the one he’d picked for it had more of ring. Especially more than ‘Zangief Spin’ - Zangief, as he always pointed out to Amy, used two arms for his. Completely different.

Whatever you called it, you couldn’t deny the moves power, especially when it was thrown by someone with his size and strength to back it up. It was the sort of move that could end matches with the right opponent and it would’ve taken Amy down if it hit.

If. If, if, if.

Instead, she ducked under the damned thing, like she’d done so many time before, and Army was left to flail about at nothing but dead air. It wouldn’t have been that big of a deal, but this area wasn’t designed for fighting, especially with a guy who was five times bigger than the average five year old. His arm wound up smashing into a metal bar on the side, which, well, sucked

”Ah, shit.” Army fell to one knee and cradled his arm as the pain tingled up and down it,