Blue Thunder Mask vs. Makoto Takeda - Second Impressions

”Motherfucker...motherfucker…”

Okay, so, Blue Thunder Mask talked like a total pussy, but he didn’t hit like one. She could confirm that much. One moment she’d been on her feet, kicking his ass around the ring, well on her way to grilling him into the mat like so many bitches before him, the next she found herself on her back, grimacing, straining as she stared up at the sky, wondering what happened to the advantage she enjoyed just a few seconds ago. Flipped around. 180 degrees. Just like that.

She started to sit up, wincing along the way as she craned her upper body to the ceiling, but Makio wasn’t as stupid as his outfit would’ve implied, either. He was on her quick, rolling her over, grasping her legs, bending them back, until…

”Gah, fuck! Fuck!” She shrieked as her body was bent in a way that was clearly never intended, cranking on her spine. She banged hard on the canvas then reached out and dug her fingers into the floor, starting the hard, arduous journey to the ropes.

All while Blue Thunder Mask gave her a lesson. ”Your mother is a tortoise.” No, not the best comeback, but she was in a lot of pain, couldn’t think too straight.

He knew they were headed slowly to the ropes, and was determined to make that journey as taxing on Makoto as he could. He could have tried to drag her back to the center of the ring, but given how early the two were into their match, she was still to fresh for something like that. All it would take is a momentary easing of the hold to allow her to attempt to kick herself free, given the rough and tumble fighting she seemed to favor, that lack of finesse seemed like a serious threat.

So he planted himself, dragged his boots, and bore his weight down upon the woman's back as he made her work for every inch she hoped to get from him.

"Wise and patient, I can only hope as long lived. Hm. I'll pass along your compliments to her." He surrendered a light bit of his ground with her to give her legs a sudden jerk for her words. "My thanks."

Blue Thunder Mask, peered back over his shoulders, keeping the ropes in his sight as they neared. he could hear the official shuffling along beside them at a distance, waiting to call for what seemed to be the inevitable break. When he was assured Makoto had reached safety, while her hand was outstretched, grasping for release...

He let her go.

Blue Thunder Mask had done it primarily to catch her off guard, but some little part of him just wanted to deny her that sense of satisfaction that would have come with working so hard to get there. As he let her legs free and rose from her back, he was already in full motion again. Arms pumping as he charged from one side of the ring to the other. In a leaping stride he spun to strike the ropes with the flat of his back, springing off to steamroll back the way he had come, bearing down on Makoto without giving her any chance to recuperate.

Makoto wasn’t sure whether or not the size difference was making this hold better or worse, but she did know that, either way, it hurt like a bitch. It was funny, really - the Boston Crab was such an old mainstay, so easy to execute, so simple to use, you wouldn’t think it would hurt as much as it did. But when that power was being applied by someone who knew their shit - as Makio did - and you had so far to go before the ropes - as Makoto had - the damn thing was sheer, undeniable, excruciating torture.

It didn’t help that Devine seemed more interested in checking out Makio’s butt than voicing any words of support. A little cheering would’ve been nice.

An foot. Another foot. Another foot, after that. She kept inching on and on, fighting for every bit of ground gained, clawing her way forwards. The ropes were so close now, so close, just a little more, and-

He let her go. ”You son of a bitch!”

If he heard her, he didn’t show any sign of it, as he was already dashing off for whatever he had planned next. Striding across the ring, moving at high speed, Makoto knew she had precious seconds before he was on her to do...whatever-the-fuck he had planned to do. Nothing she wanted to be around for, that was a safe bet.

So what to do? Tactical withdrawal. She rolled away and under the ropes, laying on the apron and putting herself in a relatively safe spot. If Makio wanted her, he’d have to reach through the ropes and get her.

Blue Thunder Mask was preparing himself mentally. He hoped above all things she didn't retreat fully to the outside. He wasn't about to let up the attack, regardless of where she might run off to. He wasn't looking forward to hurlling himself over the ropes to follow, the high flying daredevil act was one he rarely pulled out due to his own lack of skill in the field. It was however something former Blue Thunder Masks had done, so if he had to, he would for the mask and the fans.. As he turned into the ropes, he felt them dig into the meat of his back stretching to their limits before snapping him forward back the way her came. She was leaving.

Damn it. But... not all the way. Just to be behind the ropes. Free, presumably, from him making an attempt to grapple her. That was fine. He could work with this. While he rarely kicked someone when they were down, it was a different story entirely when they were on the run.

It had only been about a month since his last actual match, his last one before making the long trip back to Japan. There was always something magical about this stage, something he was unable to capture anywhere else. The lights, the people, the raw unfiltered passion that oozed out from people in the heat of battle.

He had missed this.

As his running footfalls shook the mat, the crowd was electric. They saw him barreling down at her hidey hole on the apron, they could tell something was about to happen.

"THUN---DER THUN---DUER... MAAAAAAAAAAASK!"

He swung his body out and down, going low as he slid the last of the distance across the canvas to attempt to blindside Makoto with a baseball slide to send her packing to the outside of the ring. He had enough momentum behind himself that if he managed to miss, by her efforts, not his own, he would continue to the outside and plant himself upright. Should he hit, all that momentum would be graciously hers to keep as he would remain inside the ring.

All right, okay, this was good. As much as Makoto hated running away from a shitstain in a mask like this, she could deny that there was some sense in this, just hanging out on the apron for a little while. Kept her close to the fight, but in a position that he couldn’t get to her from. Bought her time, and she damn well needed it.

Hurt her to say it, but while Makio might’ve talked like a bitch, he didn’t fight like one. Once he got his momentum going, he didn’t let up like a lot of the guys she fought did. No holding back because of her size, no soft-selling for the girl.  She wasn’t sure if that made her hate him more or less, but…

Wait. Why was he still coming?

She’d thought Makio would cease his charge when he saw her on the outside of the ring, but no, he was still going. And he was dropping down. And he was sliding towards her. ”Oh, fu-”

Makoto was launched off the apron and hit the floor hard, with enough momentum left to make her roll straight into the barrier. He back slammed into the steel, and that was where she stayed for the moment, hissing as she grasped her back, cursing in both Japanese and English through her teeth.

Blue Thunder Mask inched away on his backside, making sure his legs cleared the bottom rope. He rose to sit up before jolting backwards, throwing his weight down into the canvas, tumbling backwards until he had rolled far enough to pop back up to his feet to the cheers of the crowd. He patiently walked the middle of the ring, eyes flicking towards Devine and Stone. He they not been there he would have pursued. It would have been easy for one of them to catch the referee's attention and him him open to dealing with the others. He had no good reason to chase her to the outside. No reason to risk the harder surfaces that came with beyond the mat. He was going to play it safe

"Get her!"

"Kick her ass Thunder Mask!"

"THIS IS AWESOME!"

Come on guys.... seriously? You're killing me here.

He drew in a deep breath as he internally struggled with appealing to the crowd. He had to, didn't he. With a resigned huff he jogged towards the edge of the ring shooting the referee a knowing glance. he really hoped they were on there game, or the two bikers on the outside were going to actually let this play out proper. She kicked a leg between the top and middle rope, slipping between them with a practiced ease. As he dropped to the solid floor, he reminded himself to be careful out here. He had wasted precious seconds in the ring, seconds Makoto would have used to recover. As he came closer, he attempted to reach down to try to yank the woman to her feet with a hand on her shoulder and the back of her head.

Makoto gave exactly two shits about people’s opinions, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t aware of them. In particular, she was aware of people saying that she didn’t know any wrestling moves, that she was just a brawler with a few submissions thrown in. She knew, this because one of the people saying that was Stone, whenever they sparred together.  Apparently, she couldn’t call herself a pro if she wasn’t using every damn wrestling cliche in the book. Punches and kicks and knees just weren't the right style for the squared circle. Bullshit.

Well, she did know wrestling techniques. Some. Not many, but some. She just didn’t have much use for them. Now, though, was a different sort of story.

She’d been laying on the floor, starting on the pain-in-the-ass task of getting back up, when Blue Thunder Mask came along to help her, dropping out of the ring as Devine and Stone gave him room? Why? Because Blue Thunder Mask was a hero. Heroes had rules, and one of those rules was that you didn’t run the risk of winning by a count-out. Wouldn't be the clean way.

Even if it wasn’t the smartest move. Because, while Makoto was hurting, she wasn’t so bad off that she couldn’t work with this. As Makio pulled her up, she decided to try one of those wrestling moves that Stone liked so much, as she reached up, grabbed his head, kicked her legs out and dropped flat on her butt, trying to drive his chin into the top of her skull with a sitout jawbreaker.

As Devine and Stone kept their distance he felt a bit more at ease. They had been the wild cards for this match. Despite all of Makoto's tough talk, it looked like there was some honor in there. He wasn't sure what the game plan was when he got to her. He knew he was going to get her to her feet, but after that? Maybe just get her back into the ring. He wasn't found of using the outside of the ring as a weapon. A painter didn't smash two canvases together and call it art.... well, they didn't use to. Modern art these days tended to get a little out there.

"Come on." He breathed out with a small sigh as he reached out to coax Makoto to her feet. She was grasping at him, making it easier to get her to her feet. He had been thank or that before he felt her grip tighten and was whipped forward, bending to crashing into the top of her skull. He immediately snapped back when release from the impact, jaw clenched as his teeth rattled in his skull. His feet fumbled as he staggered backwards before finally falling. His right arm hooked the barricade, arresting his call as he awkwardly caught himself. His head spin for a more until things came together.

He clutched the barricade, slowly trying to pull himself back to his feet. Too slow. His mind was muddy, he needed a moment.

Toned arms, hardened muscles, chiseled jaw, and one of the tightest butts Devine had ever seen on a man. Yes, she was very much wishing she’d pushed Makoto on the whole ‘dibs’ argument from earlier. The thought that she could’ve been rolling around in the ring with this fine specimen right now, instead of just watching from afar…

She chewed her lip as she stepped back, giving the two some space and resisting the urge to jump in. Makoto had been insistent about them not interfering unless signaled, cranky even by her high standards. So, for the moment, she and Stone were just maintaining the perimeter.

Besides, it wasn’t like Makoto needed the help. Not yet, anyway. She had this.

Her little trick worked like a charm, catching Makio off guard and throwing him for a loop. It wasn’t exactly a finishing move, but it did all she required: stunned him, made him back off, gave her a few seconds to work with. More than enough.

As Makio reeled from the blow, Makoto pushed her way up to her feet, rising slow at first, before she abruptly leaped up and threw her all into a dropkick, slamming both of her heels against his chest, hitting him hard in the front and smashing his back into the barricade.

The official had begun the count as both competitors had left the ring to take the fight to the outside.

1...

As He clung to the barricade he found it hard to think rationally. His first first thought, rather than to recover, was to bring a hand to his face, clutching his jaw. He could recalled in the past hearing backroom horror stories of a wrestler to accidentally bit off their own tongue when hit with a move similiar to that. Faced with the worst case scenario, it didn't seem as bad despite how bad it hurt. Most strikes that directly made contact to bone drilled into you and wouldn't let up. He shakily began to pull himself upright, his arm straining to mage his weight all on its own from this awkward position.

2...

From the corner of her eyes he saw a sudden movement, but he didn't even get a chance to turn his head. The crowd drew in a collective gasp as Makoto's boots impacted his chest, jolting his body back against the barricade enough to crumple him to the floor on his side. He clenched his chest, partially rolling onto his front as he stares over at Makoto, wincing, through hanging strands of azure bangs.

3...

Blue Thunder Mask sluggishly began to push himself up, swaying unsteadily as he kept eye contact with Makoto best he could. He couldn't afford to mess around out here much longer with her, especially if she managed to get hold of him again with more of her strikes. "Got some moves, huh?" He breathed out with a forced smile, trying to play off the injury and buy himself time with a bit of banter. "Not bad."