Zarya Volkov vs. Makoto Aihara - Iron and Gold [FWC]

A murmur of sympathy and disappointment rippled through the crowd, reacting to the inherited viciousness of Zarya's last move. For her part, the Iron Soldier said nothing. She enjoyed taunting her opponents, but sometimes silence was far more effective. Suddenly, Makoto was trapped in the ring with a much larger competitor who's nature and intentions weren't as clear as they seemed even a few minutes prior. 

Zarya Volkov wasted no time at all, taking a literal seat on the smaller girls lower back in what looked to be the beginnings of a standard camel-clutch submission hold. The size difference between them made positioning a little awkward, but that hardly mattered to Zarya. 

The effect was largely the same and the Iron Soldiers size made the simple act of draping Makoto's arms over her muscular thighs an excersize in suffering, stretching Makoto's back at an even worse angle then a similar sized opponent would. Finally, if she managed to keep Makoto trapped beneath her, Zarya would complete the hold. 

Unfortunately, she wouldn't do so by simply lacing her fingers beneath the Judo Babes chin and pulling back. Instead, she moved to loop her right arm tight beneath Makoto's neck and pull back in what could only be described as a blatant choke hold, one that the ref didn't seem to consider illegal... 

In fact, the completely honest, fair minded referee was quick to crouch beside them, asking Makoto in grave tones. "Do you give up?" 

The pain was lessening, and as it went away, clarity replaced. Enough for Makoto to realize that this challenge was not all it appeared to be, that, perhaps, she should not have trusted the ridiculously strong Russian woman she'd never met before a week ago. Enough to realize that, perhaps, the referee wasn't actually a legitimate official, and that her inattention wasn’t due to incompetence. Enough for her to realize that this was a trap, and one that she had fallen neck deep into.

It was not a happy feeling.

She was also painfully aware of Zarya sitting on her back and lifting her upper body up, going for what she assumed was a camel clutch. That would’ve been bad enough news by itself. While judo offered many counters and reversals, she’d yet to became aware of one that could get her out of that move.

Her despair grew, however, when she felt those thick, powerful arms wrapping around her throat, bringing Zarya’s power to bear. She gasped, then tried to take another breath, only to find out she couldn’t - at best, a wheezing noise came through. Her body struggled and fought, but in this position, against that inexorable force, there was little she could do but shake her head as the ‘referee’ kneeled beside her.

”Wh...wh...why…” She struggled to ask, before deciding her efforts were better spent on sucking in air.

Silence remained her primary weapon, cold, unfeeling silence as the Russian amazon tightened her grip, biceps and forearm creating a brutal vice that threatened to strangle Makoto unconscious then and there. It would be a pathetic way to end a match... but Zarya was operating on someones orders, and that individual had paid very well to make sure the judoka suffered. The Iron Soldier was nothing if not considerate of her customers. You had to exceed expectations, after all. Keep them coming back for more.

Kubota, the referee, was no less cruel. It might be better to have someone laughing, openly mocking Makoto's foolishness, then to have to stern-faced parody of a real official asking, in all seriousness, if she wanted to give up.
Zarya released her grip on Makoto's throat, unwilling to allow her any respite, even if it meant passing out. Maintaining the camel-clutch otherwise, Zarya tried to shove two fingers into the Japanese girls mouth and fish-hook her inner right cheek. With her other hand, the Russian took hold of the top of the judoka's head, fingers curling down to dig into Makoto's eyes, old-school heel style. Neither attack applied enough pressure to do permanent damage. Her aim was just enough to hurt and humiliate.

"Do you want to submit?" The referee asked once more... and this time Kubota allowed the contempt to bleed openly into her voice, as if daring Makoto to endure. Something in that voice suggested that to surrender would be the mark of a coward... and Isa Kubota *might* decline to hear it, regardless.

Before Makoto could come close to passing out, Zarya let go of the hold - or the choking part of it, anyway. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, she couldn’t say. It was starting to feel like the Russian cared less about winning and more about hurting her, something she couldn’t do too much of if she was asleep.

Either way, Makoto was taking in large gulps of air, trying to refill her lungs, heaving forward. She’d only enjoyed the brief relief for a moment when she felt Zarya’s claws digging into her mouth, yanking her cheek back, and she screamed when she felt the pressure on her eyes. Not enough to do much more than that, but it hurt, a growing pain in the front of her skull.

She needed out of this. Now. The smart thing would’ve been to give up. The referee was offering it to her, so maybe that was what they wanted with this? It might be worth a try. She wasn’t winning this match, obviously, so why persist?

Because she was Makoto Aihara. She’d submitted before, true, but never like this. She patently refused.

Instead, she growled, turned her head to the side, and tried to bite Zarya’s fingers. It wasn’t something she would even think about doing in normal circumstances, but they’d long since gotten past that, hadn’t they? Besides, it wasn’t as if the referee was going to disqualify her.

The referee stared at Makoto with fierce green eyes that cut to the quick. There was no sympathy or concern, no sign that she gave a damn whether Makoto submitted or suffered some career ending injury. For all intents and purposes, this match might as well be No Holds Barred.

Zarya, meanwhile, relented with the eye gouge only to tangle her fingers painfully in Makoto's dark hair, once more taking advantage of the less then sporting handhold. With her other hand she continued to dig her fingers into the smaller fighters inner cheek. You just didn't get much dirtier in a fight then fish hooking an opponent, and a ref interested in doing her job would have long forced a break in the hold.

"You wonder why this is happening." Zarya stated, knowing that part of her job was deflecting attention *away* from the idea that she was hired by a third party. Fortunately, the Iron Soldier lied as easily as breathing. "Its simple. I hate people like you.  You sicken me. Your weakness sickens me, and I will make an example of you.  All those people who believe in you? I'm going to break their hearts. I will-arggh!!"

Zarya yanked her hand free of Makoto's mouth, instinctively shoving Makoto's face towards the mat with other hand before finally releasing the hold entirely, stepping away from the judoka. The little bitch had actually bitten her! Of course, it was a perfectly reasonable counter, all things considered, but the Iron Soldier didn't really think she had the nerve to do anything that drastic. She held up her finger, seeing the angry red welts rise on her flesh and a few beads of blood where the skin had torn. It could have been worse.

"Get up, suuka." Zarya demanded, though she didn't actually give Makoto a chance to react. The Russian stepped forward, swinging out with her right foot and aiming a kick for Makoto's ribs.

Biting Zarya’s fingers was probably not a great idea, or even a good one. In fact, she was fairly sure, it was a really bad one, but not quite as bad as simply laying there and letting the colossal witch snap her in half. She certainly seemed determined to make that happen, and Makoto had no way of knowing how far she was willing to push this.

To her credit, the gambit did work. Somewhat. It got Zarya to let go of the camel clutch, so that was a success, but it hardly meant she was safe. At best, the ‘move’ bought her a moment of rest, one that abruptly ended when Zarya’s boot collided with her lower ribs, hitting with enough force to make the tiny judoka fly off the mat for a moment.

She gasped and rolled over to her side from the blow, reeling...and looking towards the ropes. For a moment, she considered just rolling out of the ring and making a break for it. She was loathe to the idea of running from a fight, but it wasn’t as if she had a chance of winning, here, in any sense. Zarya had either paid off some referee or gotten a friend to do the job. Either way, she couldn’t count of a pin being counted even if she managed to score one. She was used to fighting within the rules, and a battle like this, where anything could go…

But, then she heard them.

”MAKOTO! MAKOTO! MAKOTO!”]

The crowd took a break from booing Zarya to cheer her on, rallying behind her despite the dire straights. Her fans still believed her, still thought she could find some way to pull this out. Maybe they were right, maybe they were wrong, but there was only one way to know.

”You…” Makoto clenched her teeth and slowly started pushing up, trying her best to ignore the searing pain in her spine. ”You lied to me. To...to everyone.”

"MAKOTO! MAKOTO! MAKOTO!"

She heard the cries of the compassionate crowd, and smiled. Zarya didn't mind... she had anticipated it, desired it. She wanted these people to lift Makoto's spirit, to help the girl find the will and determination to fight back, to lift herself out of the gutter and soar! After all... the higher she went, the further she had to fall when Zarya shot her from the sky.

"Lied? Yes. I did." The Iron Soldier loomed over the fallen judoka, imperious, arms crossed beneath her breasts as she strode closer without the slightest hint of concern. "It was easy. They wanted to believe. You wanted to believe. You're too naive and stupid to see that this is what the business is. Wolves, tearing at each. Nothing else."

Zarya Volkov raised her right boot and moved to plant it against Makoto's left shoulder, intending to shove her back violently to the mat. If she succeeded, and Makoto persisted in trying to rise, Zarya would repeat the action, this time shoving the judoka down with a boot to the face, disrespect and contempt dripping from every action.

"So what are you going to do, little girl?"

While she appreciated the audience getting behind her, supporting her like they always did, their cheers weren't bestowing any magical powers on Makoto. She wasn't miraculously getting stronger, and the pain in her back wasn't going away. In fact, the only real change she experienced was the inner sensation of betrayal giving way to anger…no, rage. Raw, seething rage.

She started to move up, and Zarya pushed her back down again, forcing her back to the floor with a dismissive shove of her boot. She began to move up again, and Zarya did the same thing, only with her face this time, the heel of her boot roughly smushing against her face and dropping her flat on her back.

Like she was nothing to be concerned about. Like she was a minor nuisance that barely warranted consideration.

Makoto wasn’t sure what was making her more mad: the betrayal or the attitude Zarya had while doing it. Either way, it was working splendidly. She stayed on the floor for a moment, seething, before she summoned her strength and powered her way up with a sudden burst of energy, rising to her knees and rushing forward to Zarya.

She stayed low and came at the Russian with open arms, trying to get them around her legs, pulling them in as she rose in an attempt to toss Zarya over to the side - a double leg takedown, morote gari.

Zarya was somewhat off balance, intending to shove Makoto back down to the mat one more time, as if to wipe the dirt from her boot off on the Judoka's face. She didn't expect any last minute bursts of offense from the former Olympian, the girl seemed defeated, and all that remained was to break her body along with her spirit. 

That is... until something gave her pause, a glimpse of something she'd never seen in eyes far more accustomed to kindness and determination. Was that.. rage? 

And then, the impossible occurred. Zarya refused to believe it, even as Makoto rushed forward riding a surge of anger and adrenaline to wrap her arms around the amazons thighs and actually managed to *lift* her off her feet, if only for a moment, before sending the Iron Soldier down hard to the mat. 

The crowd absolutely erupted in support, having witnessed Zarya's betrayal and now Makoto making it crystal clear that her fighting spirit was far from defeated. Zarya lay on her back for a moment, more shocked then hurt. Her first action was to grab for the ropes to help pull herself to her feet. Only a fool wanted to be on the mat with a judo expert.

The audience was cheering, but they might as well have been on the Moon for all the attention Makoto paid them. As far as she concerned, there were only two people in the entire world at the moment, her and Zarya, with the traitorous referee being a possible third. This was a serious situation, and the only way she could hope to get out of it was by focusing on a task and getting it down.

In this case, that task was a simple, if difficult one - she had to make Zarya give up. Take away her will to fight.

She already had a leg from the takedown, so that seemed like the best way to start. She moved down Zarya’s tree trunk thighs until she reached the calf, capturing it as her opponent scurried for the ropes. That put some panic in Makoto’s steps - while she doubted the referee would make her let go, she didn’t want to the Russian gaining more leverage.

She yanked back as hard as she could and started to stand, keeping the leg to her chest. From there, she wrapped her arms tight around the calf and tried to stand up with it, twisting it into a fierce ankle lock, wrenching it hard to the side.