[FWC] "Major" Millie Walker vs. Blossom Fields

Millie had to keep herself from groaning in disappointment as she felt Blossom straddling her from behind. She'd just managed to squirm enough to make it difficult for Blossom to keep up the crossface. Well, maybe difficult wasn't the right word, but it was at least a bloody pain for her.

As Blossom tried to get the Brit up onto her knees, Millie let herself be pulled, but would try and throw a couple of elbows back when the two were closest. She was hoping that she could at least knock the Yank off her game long enough that Millie could try and pry herself free, but if she missed Blossom, or her opponent was just durable enough to withstand the elbow, she would still be at the mercy of the stronger girl.

”Come on…” Blossom grunted as she continued forcing Millie upwards. ”Almost there…”

The ‘plan’ Blossom had was to get her opponent up, trap her in a suplex, then just keep lifting her up and dropping her until all the fight was drained from the taller woman’s body. Not bad on paper, but in practice Millie was proving to be anything but a willing volunteer.

The first elbow in her side was bad, but Blossom could soldier through it with gritted teeth. The second was more of a problem. That one drove deep and knocked the wind out of her - she didn’t lose the hold, but she lost a lot of the power in it, turning a forceful move in little more than a soft embrace. For a few moments, at least.

Millie gritted her teeth as she threw an elbow back, felt an impact, but felt no change in Blossom's grip. She was getting a bad feeling that she was going to be at the mercy of whatever this American had planned for her, and threw another elbow back out of desperation.

When this one landed, she immediately felt Blossom's grip weaken. She was sure that it wouldn't last long though, and so she tried to make the most of this momentary reprieve by grabbing at Blossom's arms and pulling at them as hard as she could while trying to roll forwards to make a desperate escape from the American's grasp.

Blossom had been on track to recovering and might have even pulled it off, but then...something happened.

It probably had something to do with her being so stunned at the moment, not able to properly process whatever it was that Millie did. It was also because it happened so fast - one moment she was up, on her feet, a little woozy, but holding on, and the next saw her flying butt-over-teakettle through space.

Whatever happened, it didn’t make for a pretty landing. Blossom flopped forward and fell on her shoulders as she tumbled. The move came out of nowhere, so well that they almost crashed into the referee as they rolled. It left her stunned and on her back, not hurt all that much, but dizzy and dazed.

Millie found herself prone on her stomach, having mercifully broken out of the American's grasp. She would scramble forwards, crawling over to the ropes as fast as she could and pulling herself up to her feet, whipping around to face Blossom so that the American wouldn't be able to sneak up on her.

She didn't want to admit it, but Blossom's hold had gotten her scared. This girl was so much stronger than her it had the Brit shaken, even her blank look had broken for a moment. If she wanted to win this, the Brit would have to make sure to not let Blossom get a good grip again.

So when she was Blossom dizzy and dazed, she took her chance to try and get in another good hit, charging across the ring towards the American. She would once again leap into the air, but this time she would aim for a leg drop to the Yankee's head, hoping to get in a good, painful blow and keep the American disoriented. This time though, she had no intention of getting too predictable with her attacks if she was successful.

Blossom was aware enough of her surroundings to notice that Millie was giving her a wide berth, but she really needn’t have bothered. Tough and strong as she was, she still had a brain, and it didn’t much enjoy being rattled around like that. She had to take a moment to get her bearings, and it turned out to be one moment too long.

Blossom had just started to sit up when Millie moved in again, leaping into the air. Maybe she could’ve moved out of the way, but she didn’t even know what she was trying to avoid until it was too late. A leg drop, as it turned out. A painful one.

It hit on target and Blossom immediately went into spasm, flopping over to the side and cradling her aching head. Maybe she was the stronger woman, but Millie was making that more and more irrelevant as time went on...

As Millie flew through the air, every possibility of what was about to happen flew through her head, her mind racing to figure out what she was going to do if this didn't work, if Blossom managed to avoid her and the Brit found herself trapped in another hold.

Mercifully that turned out not to be the case, and Millie was given a gratifying impact as her leg collided with Blossom's head, and the American rolled onto her side, cradling her head. Pulling herself back to her feet, the Brit would approach her opponent and try to pull her back to her feet by her hair.

If successful, she would attempt to grab the American by the arm and throw her at the ropes with an Irish Whip. If that worked, the Brit would then set up for a clothesline. Her recent humiliating loss was still fresh in her memories, and she was dead set on showing everyone here tonight how serious a wrestler she was.

At first glance, Blossom had assumed that the military-looking outfit Millie donned was simply for show, but seeing her in action - or feeling her, really - painted a different picture. While she was no soldier, her uncle had been one, and the way she moved reminded her greatly of him. Quick. Swift. Sure. It all gave the impression of a woman who'd been in far more dangerous situations than anything a wrestling ring could provide.

That belief held as Millie moved in and scooped her off the floor, robbing her of any precious recoup time. Blossom was sent running off to the side, and all she could do was to keep going, turn about so her back hit the ropes instead of her chest, then run forward once more, only to find herself smacking straight into Millie’s arm.

She flopped back hard and crashed to the mat, laid out by the stiff clothesline.

Millie nodded to herself as Blossom ran straight into her clothesline. Good, this was good. She had managed to not get trapped in another hold by the stronger girl, and from the way Blossom had flopped back onto the mat, Millie was feeling confident in her chances of winning now. Overconfident if anything.

That was the issue with fighting a match only to make a statement, only to save face, only to groom pride. It could lead to you taking risks, cutting corners, and being far too willing to make something look good at the expense of being less effective than it usually would be.

And Millie was about to take a risk to make herself look good. While typically she tried to tune the crowd out of her thought process, her wounded pride was appreciating that the teasing comments from the audience had been replaced by either cheers, or boos. The Brit didn't mind if the crowd hated her, just that they took her seriously.

So, despite feeling like it was early in the match, Millie would walk over to Blossom and try to grab her by the hair and lift her into a sitting position. She was going to try and set up her finisher, despite its set up time, in order to make a scene for the crowd. If successful, she would then try to mount Blossom's shoulder and wrap a leg around her chest.

Blossom was honestly not sure what to make of what happened next.

She’d been lying there, hurt and stunned, wide open for any number of nasty moves. She’d thought Millie would be hitting her with a submission of some sort, trying to wear her down, and she’d briefly considered pulling herself closer to the ropes in order to save her some time.

That all became a moot, though, because Millie didn’t seem to have any interest in doing any of that. Instead, she just sat Blossom up and sat on her shoulders. Which wasn’t exactly pleasant, but wasn’t the sort of thing she’d be tapping out to. Ever. It was holding her in place, but didn’t seem to do much more than that. ”What...what are you-”