Eka Guramishvili vs. Vanessa York - Generation Gap [FWC]

An indecipherable string of muttered curses slipped from Vanessa’s lips as she staggered away from the corner, cursing her lack of attention among many other things. The punch had been sloppy, but that just made it all the more embarrassing for her to be tagged by it. Maybe she was in a rush, too eager to end this to mind her surroundings, but that was no excuse. She had to be more mindful of things, had to take this foe seriously, or bad things were bound to happen.

To Eka’s credit, she was quick to take advantage of the opening given to her, wasting no time in closing the sizeable gap. She grasped Vanessa leg, and the redhead tried to fight it for a moment, balancing on one foot in a vain attempt to stay vertical. The shoulder to her gut put a stop to that, however, and gravity did the rest.

They hit the mat with a collective thud, nearly falling onto the referee as they tumbled. Vanessa was stunned for a hot second, then immediately started pushing at Eka’s shoulders, trying to get out from underneath the Georgian before she could do whatever she was going for.

Eka knew something was coming, but she did not know what. The takedown had been a good one, but it was not solid enough for her to truly tee off with a submission. Sure enough, she felt a little pressure on her shoulders, and there was only one possible culprit, Vanessa. She looked up, and even though a strain of her long dark hair had fallen over her face, she could see the redhead still struggling against her.

Good. That is exactly where she wanted her. Eka adjusted a little bit, so that her legs were outside of the two struggling women, almost off to the side. Like a spider pouncing on a fly, Eka grabbed one of Vanessa's wrists with both her hands and swung her legs around and under. The Georgian girl would then adjust a little bit more to the side and back, locking the arm bar in.

It would require a few swift movement, but Eka was sure a young and spry girl could pull it off. It had the added bonus of wearing one of Vanessa's arms down too, if she pulled it off. That meant the punches that she had eaten time after time would not be coming in so hard. She hoped, anyways.

Vanessa was getting that sinking feeling again. That distinct feeling that she was in the wrong place at the wrong time in the wrong way, that something painful and bad was about to happen if she didn’t do something fast.

This time, though, she wasn’t fast enough to do whatever that ‘something’ was. Before she could get away, Eka managed to grab one of arms, was able to the move side, and after that, well, it was all academic. The Georgian moved with such practised speed that she had no chance of getting away in time - one moment it was beginning, the next she was in pain.

Having gone through the joy of childbirth, Vanessa had a more unique view of agony than most AFW wrestlers. That being said, the less time she spent in the armbar, the better. Not just to avoid the pain, but to keep Eka from disabling one of her two best weapons. Desperate to get free, the redhead started to slid along the mat, trying to reach out with her long legs to find the nearest rope.

Eka closed her eyes when she had the hold locked in. She had no idea why she kept doing that, and her trainer here told her that was the one habit she wanted to break. This move was very difficult to get out of, sure, but there were still ways to do it. Maybe it was because her ears were perked up, listening for the sound of the tap, or the bell, or both. The Georgian girl was still exactly that, a girl, and could still be a bit naive as to what damage her opponents could bring or sustain. But her eyes opened when the world shifted. The first scoot was a long one, and Eka inwardly panicked.

So she pulled the hold harder. That was probably not going to stop Vanessa, and by extension Eka, from getting to the ropes, but it was a desperate, ill thought out move. She relented a bit when she saw just how much she was bending the arm. Sure, she was a submission wrestler, but she did not want to break anything. No, she pulled just until she found the sweet spot.

And she prayed. The match had been going on for a while, but not too long. A woman with Vanessa's fighting prowess meant that she surely had the ability to drag them to the ropes, which weren't that far away. But Eka closed her eyes again, waiting to hear either a tap, or the ref call a rope break.

Vanessa was not tapping out. Fuck that noise.

Oh, Eka’s armbar hurt. It hurt like blazes, especially when the Georgian cranked the hold and made her feel like her arm was going to come right out of its socket. It wasn’t even that she was cranking it all that hard, but more like she had a sense of just the right way to twerk the arm for maximum effect. Whatever the case, it put Vanessa in a sorry state. Maybe there were ways to counter this move, but damned if she could think of them at the moment.

No, her one and only hope was getting to the ropes. It wasn’t easy, either, with Eka making her work for every inch of her short journey. But, after a few moments, she managed to get her heel on the bottom rope, breaking the hold.

”Rope break!” The referee called out. ”Break it, Eka!”

The second she heard that Vanessa had reached the ropes, she released the hold. It was frustrating, truly, and Eka did not like giving up her hold at all, but fair was fair. She sighed, and opened her eyes again. The Georgian girl rolled away from her opponent, and stood up. Eka was breathing hard now, having exerted herself properly now. It had been a short time since she had crested Mount Fuji, and an even shorter span of time since she had done the ungodly amounts of conditioning that helped her get through matches.

Ground and pound. Outthink, outwit. Outlast. Eka took a few steps back, closer to the center of the ring. Submissions were her bread and butter, and she would see if she could goad Vanessa into fighting in the center of the ring. Sure, the redhead would be able to use her speed, but more importantly, Eka would be able to twist her all up in submissions without the threat of Vanessa carrying them to the ropes.

The Georgian girl hunkered down. Her usual affable affect was gone now, and her bright blue eyes had hardened into a concentrated look. Eka had a hard time looking mean, but no one could distinguish the focused look she had in her eye. She stretched her fingers as she imagined catching a punch. The only questioned that remained is if she could catch one of those lightning quick blows for real...

Fuck, that hurt. Fuck.

Vanessa’s teeth clenched as the referee called for the break, and at first she didn’t notice that she’d even been let go. Her arm was numb, so sore and hurting that it was hard to feel anything, but the pain began to die down soon enough. Enough for her tell just how screwed this situation was going.

She pushed up off the floor with her remaining good arm, which she flexed the one Eka had snagged. Tight. Painful. Not all the feeling had returned yet, and what little was there hurt like blazes. For the moment, she was going at Eka one-handed. Not the best news, since she’d barely kept up with two.

She needed a new strategy. Hell, she needed a trick. While that wasn’t usually her style, neither was getting her ass handed to her.

Eka looked like she was expecting another punch, and when Vanessa moved in, that was exactly what she gave her, throwing out a swift jab towards her face…or what appeared to be one. Instead of trying to land the blow, she instead reached out and attempting to wrap her arm around Eka’s head, looking to trap her with a front facelock.

If Vanessa had sweat too much in the time it took for the redhead to advance on her, Eka would have noticed. She could not recall a time when she had been that focused. Her breathing slowed, and then stopped. The Georgian girl stood still, like a statue, not willing to open up any vulnerabilities that Vanessa could blitz through. Finally, when the blow came, Eka moved. The jab was coming in fast, as jabs were wont to do, and Eka ducked down. She winced, thinking that she did not react in time, expecting the blow to jab off of her.

But that is not what happened, not even close. Vanessa had literally pulled a fast one on her, and now her head was stuck between Vanessa's arm and her body. So much for outwitting her, Eka thought. The ravenhaired girl tried to position her feet so that she could pull her head away more effectively, but for right now she was just trying to get clear of the front facelock by jostling the British woman.

At first, Vanessa thought she was in luck. The front facelock wasn’t just to lock Eka down and keep her from using that wrestling magic of hers. It also just so happened to be the perfect position to set up her finishing move - the lifting underhook DDT she affectionately called the Massacre. As much as she would’ve hated cutting the match short, she would’ve hated losing even more, and she was rapidly reaching that point.

But Eka wasn’t cooperating. Stubborn, this one was. She was pulling away, struggling hard, and it was only a matter of time before she escaped. Vanessa knew it.

She decided to just circumvent the problem all together. Before Eka could get free, Vanessa suddenly let go of the front facelock and grabbed her by the hair with both hands. She jumped up, curled her knees all the way to her chest, and fell straight to her back, attempting to slam Eka’s face into her knees with the appropriately named double knee facebuster.

Eka was not prepared to go gently into that good night. She jostled and moved, and finally she was free. The cogs in her brain started turning, as Eka wanted to make sure she was on top of whatever happened next. Then, in one sudden move, Eka was no longer in charge of that. Her opponent grabbed that long dark hair of hers and used it as a pivot, that she may slam both of her knees into Eka's pretty face.

And wow, did that move hurt. Eka's face lit up with pain, and tears nearly came to her eyes. The Georgian girl fell backwards onto the mat, clutching her face in pain. She grimaced and rolled around a bit, swearing in Georgian under her breath. It was sort of ironic now, that the cross of St. George she requested served as a target.