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

A monkey flip. A fucking monkey flip.

Vanessa was more irritated than anything, especially now that it was pretty much official that this match had gotten away from her. She was still fairly confident she could pull this thing out of her ass, though.

At least, until she felt Eka’s thighs wrap around her head and clamp down. That changed her opinion, somewhat.

”Was a term...of endearment.” She replied as best she could the Georgian clamped down on her skull, crushing her head in the fulcrum of her legs. She reflexively tried to ply them apart, but she might as well have been pulling at solid steel for all the good it did her. Eka was locked, Eka was determined, and Eka was clearly not going to let go of her own accord while Vanessa was conscious.

That left her with one option - the ropes. Vanessa twisted about and rolled hard for it, stretching out with her long limbs to touch the first rope she could get near.

Eka was not filled with rage. That was not the term for it. Sure, she was young, and sure, she did not have the most spectacular record anyone at AFW had ever possessed, but she was still a warrior dammit, and was worthy of respect. At the same time though, it was nice to hear a term of endearment after such a long time of beating herself up. Eka was filled with a conflicted sense of indignity, a sense of longing for emotional warmth, and a quiet reflection on her own emotional state.

Her thoughts were expedited by the situation, however. "Still, you should not-whoa!" Eka was rolled over. For a brief second, she stopped yanking the hold so hard. Fine, she was face down to the mat not entirely of her own doing, but the fundamentals of the hold were still valid, no matter where she and her opponent were. The Georgian girl tightened the hold. Her blue eyes were still closed.

And then she rolled again. When she felt the earth shifting, she had no option to open her eyes. Of all the ways to get out of the hold, this was a fairly new one. More girl should use it. It is effective, she thought. She looked to the left. There was as a red smear on the white canvas, and Eka reckoned that was the red cross on her face coming off. She looked to the right. The ropes were only a short distance away.

The Georgian girl pulled. This was not now or never, and she knew that. But Eka tried to make the case that it could be.

Vanessa was starting to greatly regret speaking a moment ago. While it was nice to clarify things, it was also nice to breath, and she wasn’t doing nearly enough of that to be healthy.

She was working to the ropes, which couldn’t have been more than four feet away, but even that was a long distance when you had a tough, heavy, strong Georgian anchoring you down, making you work for every inch. To make matters worse, she was clamping down harder by the second, putting her all into. Vanessa was starting to fade, weak and growing weaker, still reaching, almost…

Got it.

”Break!” The referee called out, saving Vanessa for the second - and hopefully last - time today.

Eka heard the call from the ref girl, and released the hold immediately. She scooted back a little bit before she stood up. Twice had she slapped a difficult submission hold on her opponent, and twice Vanessa had dragged her sorry hide to the ropes. She swore to herself that there would not be a third.

"I know it was a term of endearment. But I am young, and my record is not so good, and it is very hard for me to get respect, yes? So maybe honeybunch makes me sound like a child. But it is nice to hear something nice in the ring that isn't swearing or insulting, and I did think it was endearing," she brushed her hair from her face as if that would clear her confusion, "but maybe, uh..." Eka paused. For as much as she protested being called a girl, she sure was speaking like one. Her voice was high and her lilting Georgian accent did little to help her confused, contradictory sentences be taken seriously. She brushed aside another strand of hair. "But maybe we should just forget it. It is not a big deal, yes? You are very good at wrestling, so let's wrestle."

The Georgian girl took another step back and crouched down into her stance and tried to forget all of her stupid words. Her right leg was in front of her left, and her hands were at the ready. Last time there was a break in the action, Vanessa did not go for a punch, but a daring and effective feint. Eka promised herself that she would be ready for something like that should the redhead go for it again.

Vanessa moved to her feet, slower this time, taking in deep gulps of air to replenish her diminished supply. She supposed she should have counted her blessings that Eka hadn’t gone for the arm again - it was still sore, but getting better, useable enough to make some impact now. Even better still, Eka didn’t go on the offense as she stood back up. Not only was she sticking to her defensive style, but the Georgian had some things to say.

Vanessa let her speak. Why not? The more she talked, the more Vanessa could catch her breath. It was nice to see, too. She was unfailingly polite, the sort of trait that you didn’t see in most wrestlers these days, even the ‘good’ ones. Refreshing, actually. Vanessa couldn’t help but think that this was the sort of woman she hoped her daughter would grow into, someday.

A thought for another time. ”Not a big deal, no.” She sighed, nodded, smiled. ”Let’s.”

Vanessa was low on options - Eka had not only managed to survive the bum rush, but she’d proven she had effective counters, could handle the best that was sent her way. It was hard to imagine any approach that didn’t result in a counter, and if she got put on the floor again, she might not be getting up.

But she didn’t have much choice in the matter, really. Only one way forward, and Vanessa had never been one to keep her opponent’s waiting.

She grit her teeth, psyched up, and dashed forward, slamming into Eka’s guard with a long right cross and a left uppercut following that.

Eka took another step back. The redhead could cover the ground between them in the blink of an eye, and Eka recognized that. And when Vanessa came, she had the potential to come hard. The black paint with which she so lovingly wrote out the name of her country was covering most of her arm now. She hoped that whatever blow came in would hit the black paint on her arm, as opposed the red paint on her face. The Georgian girl steeled herself. An attack was imminent. The hair on the back of her neck stood up, and she took a breath in.

Then Vanessa came. Like a bolt of lightning, the redhead stormed across the canvas. Briefly, Eka was a ram on the side of a mountain, watching as another ram lowered its horns and charged at her. She was on her heels now, light as a feather, looking for which way the blow would come from, that she may dodge it.

There it was. A right hook, wide as the day is long. Eka made a move to duck it, but it came in too fast, and clocked her right on the side of the jaw. Earlier in the match, she had lost focus. Earlier in the match, she had been put on the back heel, and stayed there for far too long. Eka's blue eyes never wavered from Vanessa's green ones even as her head jerked from the force of the blow. She quickly righted herself. Near the bottom of her vision, she saw an uppercut coming towards her chin. Eka's reaction was instant, because it had to me. She moved her head back just a few inches, and it saved her from the worst of the pain. It graced her nose, and forced her head up anyways.

Eka took another step back, eyes never averting from Vanessa's. Her hands were up.

The paint, the way she spoke, the look in her eyes - Eka was passionate, Vanessa could tell that much. It was refreshing, in a way, reminding Vanessa of herself when she first entered the squared circle. Granted, she was ten times rowdier, raunchier, and more foul-mouthed about it than the fine lady before her, but the youthful energy was much the same.

As much as she liked to see it, though, it could be a pain in the ass. Particularly since she was the one dealing with it on the receiving end.

For instance, while she admired the skill that it took to dodge her uppercut - barely - she growled at the negative impact, the horrible feeling that came along with a missed punch. Somewhere,there was an invisible clock ticking, counting down the time she had until there was nothing left in her tank. This had to end.

Relentless, she barely waited a second after throwing the blow before she moved on, going after Eka with another strike. This time she came after her with a sidestep and tried to throw a hook around her guard, hoping to land the wild blow on the side of her head, targeting those big blue eyes.

Eka was moving back. Earlier in the match, Vanessa had tagged her with blow after blow, and forced her back all the way into the corner. In retrospect, that was quite embarrassing, and Eka certainly did not want to relive that. No, this time as she was retreating, she was doing so with purpose, buying herself space which in turn would help save her from the lightning punches the redhead had a proclivity for throwing. She was waiting, watching, seeing what the British woman would do.

And just as Eka anticipated, she threw a punch. Unfortunately, it was coming in too hot for Eka to do anything about it, and it caught Eka right in the side of the head. Long strands of her dark hair flowed elegantly as her head jerked violently to the side. She did not know what kept her upright. There was very little left in the tank at this point, and all of those blows were really having an effect now. Perhaps it was only her stubbornness that kept her standing.

She staggered to the side, and took a step back. This time, she dropped her guard. Every time she put her dukes up, Vanessa slipped around it. The Georgian girl stared at her opponent defiantly. Despite everything, she was still standing. Her knees bent and her hands opened. Her chest rose and fell and she breathed in deeply. The Georgian girl was usually cautious, but she was going to be putting everything into one last gambit.

Though they hadn’t been fighting too long by wrestling standards, that was hardly the problem with this match. The bout had taken significant chunks out of them in record time - Eka had been worn out by the punches, while the submission holds and constant escapes were taking their toll on Vanessa. If this went on for another three minutes, it would only be a question of whose body gave out first, pins be damned.

So Vanessa was relieved - as much as she could be in the circumstance - when her punch connected, landing square on Eka’s cheek. And she should have been relieved when Eka’s guard dropped, opening her up entirely, only…

An alarm bell rang in her head. Eka wasn’t an idiot, she had to know she was practically inviting a beatdown. It was tempting, too tempting to avoid, but she had to wonder what was going through the Georgian’s mind. Was she at the end of her rope? So tired she couldn’t muster an appropriate defense?

Whatever. Vanessa wasn’t about to let the opportunity for a Sunday punch slip her by. She took a step back, then launched herself forward, hopping towards Eka and throwing a left hook towards her head as she flew, throwing her into her finishing move - the Gazelle Punch.

Vanessa was so quick. Even here, even now, she was coming at her relentlessly, and quickly. The Georgian girl only had a scant second to react, but she had mentally prepared herself about as well as she possibly could. When the moment came, right before Vanessa took that last step to pivot on and launch whatever devastating punch was coming her way, Eka moved. Her dark hair bounced upwards as she threw her upper body back.

Then her plan really started going in motion. Eka was desperately hoping for something straight, but she could work with a hook. Two long spindly arms shot forward, hoping to catch a punch that had all of the power and speed of a runaway train, her hands still open and ready to latch onto her wrist. The Georgian girl showed off the strength in her tummy by jumping and folding her body up, attempting to wrap her two strong legs around Vanessa's impressive arm.

Flying armbar, it was called. Or a teardrop armbar. Whatever she called it, she pictured it a thousand times as Vanessa approached her. Eka was a pretty girl, and she was even prettier in motion- she called upon literally every muscle in her body to pull of the audacious and daring move. The raven haired girl was not only praying to avoid the devastating punch, but turn it into something she could win with.