Blue Thunder Mask vs. Makoto Takeda - Second Impressions

Huh. So Makoto could do a dropkick. Stone was sort of surprised. She’d been pushing their leader to add some real wrestling moves to her repertoire, expand on her street fighting base, but she assumed the pint-sized terror just did what she with all the advice that ever came her way - dismiss, ignore, forget.  It seemed like she’d at least watched enough to get a decent dropkick going, one that could hit a taller opponent in the chest.

Of course, it wasn’t the best idea with that spine of hers aching, nor with the referee continuing his count…

…”4!”...

...but it was the thought that counted.

Makoto didn’t quite see it that way, though, more focused on the sharp pains going through her still-hurting back. Landing hadn’t been fun, but it was worth it to get a good hit on Makio. Now, if he’d just shut up long enough for her to enjoy it. ”You just like the sound of your voice, don’t you?”

She started to pull herself up, moving a bit ahead of him. To make his life hard, she lashed out with a quick sweeping kick once she’d gotten high enough, targeting the arm he was using to push himself up with. Double whammy: knock out his support and hurt a major limb.

"Love yourself and everything else falls in line... that's a quote somewhere." He huffed, less in his charismatic tones as Blue Thunder Mask and more along the lines with himself. It was hard to keep up the high energy at the moment. He watched the woman as she made her way over, lowering his palm from his chest to set it lightly on the ground. "Do you love yourself Mak-" He never had to have fast hands in the way he worked his footwork, until now. As she swept her leg out, he meant to intercept it.

..."5!"... The crowd was starting to chant along now as if they couldn't hear the official.

The kick powered through his first hand, awkwardly sending him onto his side as he hissed through gritted teeth. That was smarts! His other arm had fared better, snapping out to wrap itself around her ankle, capturing her leg under his weight. He'd try to reinforce his grip with his other hand, locking her ankle up in his grip. Trying to keep the woman off balanced and hopping on one leg, he rose to his feet steadily, bringing her leg up along with him.

If he managed to get all the way to his feet, he's shove he leg away as hard as he could, intent to send her twirling her around. He's spin with the very same motion, coming full circle to strike out at her with a powerful forehand chop, sending his palm out to hard style clap down on her with such force the audience would likely cringe at the resounding crack.


..."6!"...

Yeah, the talking was legitimately starting to grate now. It wasn’t just what Makio was saying, but the way he was saying it. He had this irritating, deep, fatherly tone to him, making her feel like there should’ve been a piano playing nearby when he spoke. One of the good things about not having a father in her life was not having to put up with condescending shit like this, and here came Blue Thunder Mask, shoving it down her throat.

”Fuck, somebody has to.” Even as Makoto replied with that, speaking while she kicked his arm out, she sort of regretted it. A wee bit more Linkin Parkish than she’d intended, but it was out now, and it wasn’t like she had much chance to regret her words. She had more pressing concerns, like the way Blue Thunder Mask had seized her leg.

”Hey!” She squawked as he  steadily rose before her, lifting her legs with him. ”Get the fuck off me! Let go-”

To be fair, Makio did let her go - in the worst way possible, spinning her about and opening her up for one hell of a chop. Makoto shrieked, red hot with fury, as the flat plains of her chest were lit on fire by his hands, feeling like stinging nettles under her shirt. But it was a good thing, in a way. It pissed her off. She fought better angry.

”Mother-” She lunged his way and retaliated in kind, slicing into his bare chest with a wide, powerful knife edge chop. ”-fucker!

Amusing as this all way, Stone was more focused on the referee, who was getting further and further along with that all-important count. ”7!”

"If you insist!" As she came to a halt, his spin had finished opposite her, his hand came crashing down. He had slapped the woman so hard his palm had numbed slightly from the impact. He knew no amount of leather stopped that from making some headway. He may have smirked in that moment, but just that moment. As Makoto launched herself at him, he had more than a few regrets.

Blue Thunder Mask recoiled at the stinging chop against his bare chest, hissing fiercely. She had instantaneously left a red mark on his body he was sure wasn't going to be going anywhere for awhile. He threw out a hand to try and clap the side of Makoto's neck or grasp for her collar. Jerking her closer, as he threw his weight in to hip check her midsection, trying make her more compliant for what needed to come next. With the clock running down, he stumbled towards the ring trying to drag Makoto along with him. Promptly reaching back to garb any part of her he could to go along with his grip on her. Base of her jacket, her pants, it didn't matter. He needed something to leverage her weight as she strained to try and heave her up over the apron to roll her back under the bottom rope.

..."8!"...

Backed by leather, slicing into bare flesh, with one angry, riled up mini-Valkyrie driving it home? Yeah, she could make some damage. As Blue Thunder Mask had just found out, as she struck him like lightning on the chest. He’d be reminded of her strike every time he looked at his chest in the mirror, for at least a week. That thought brought a smile to her face.

Though, sadly, that smile only lasted until he retaliated and grabbed at her hard, yanking her away and tossing her hard into the ring without much problem. She was tempted to keep on fighting and stay out, but, well...rules. She didn’t just want to kick Makio’s ass, she wanted to beat it, at the game he loved so much.

So into the ring she went, rolling to her feet and standing up as quickly as she could. Which wasn’t that quick, really. Getting winded.

Blue Thunder Mask he to really work to drag the biker the few feet he had to. His early shot of momentum had tapped into his adrenaline, but now? The dull ache in his ribs was starting to creep back in. he could feel the burning pain in her forearm from her kick. His head was ringing and chest was savaged by her chop. He heaved her like a sack of potatos into the ring. There was no time to be gentle. No time to do something fancy. No time at all. He clapped his hands on the apron. He needed a minute... but he only had two seconds.


..."9!"...

One second. Gripping the ring lower rope he pulled, kicking a leg up to slip himself into the ring just before the ten count had sounded. He was aware Makoto was beating him to her feet, his hands fumbling blinding for the middle rope to assist him as he couldn't afford to take his eyes off him. She was definitely going to get to her feet first and he needed to be ready. "Hanging in there?" He croaked, letting on a bit too much of what he had wanted to keep hidden.

Stone breathed a long sigh of relief as Makoto was forced into the ring, glad that she’d had the sense to not fight what needed to happen. The only thing worse than losing would’ve been tying over something stupid like a countout. It was getting hard enough to keep their gang in line without stupid crap like that happening.

The match was still on, and she returned to her spot as Makio made his way back into the ring. Things were heating up - if Makoto made the signal at all, it was going to be soon, and she’d need to be ready when/if that happened. Hopefully she could keep everything under control, but she had her doubts. This man was good. Damn good.

That was a fact Makoto recognized as well, which was why she’d committed herself to giving him next to zero breathing room, no matter what. She only waited for him to get halfway up before she moved in, and that was more practical  than an act of mercy - she wanted his head at a good striking level.

Surging forward, she responded to his quip with an attack, lunging towards him with a fast, feral pounce, trying to strike him in the face with a lunging knee. ”On the floor!”

As he had only just begun to lift himself Makoto had gotten to her feet first. This was bad. There would be no thank you for saving the match. No pat on the back.... not in the good sense anyway. She was going to just run him down like a dog. His eyes narrowed as she charged. He wasn't in a good position to defend himself. He did the only thing her could do, and raised an arm to shield his head. If she went for his body, the shot would be clear. He could work with a battered body though, right now he needed to preserve his mind.

As her knee crashed into him, the brunt of the hard surface was absorbed by his arm. The follow through of the impact along with her weight? It had no place to go but into his arm and through his skull. His head snapped back as his body sprang off the ropes to plant him face down on the mat again. His fingers clawed at the canvas as he coughed into the mat. Nothing witty to say here. He wasn't even sure he could form a coherent sentence. The crowd was shouting and booing again. He could make that out clearly.

He had to get up.

He pressed his palms to the ring, slowly trying to crawl to his knees to try to salvage this.

And now came the boos. The audience threw a fresh round of hate her way the moment she struck their beloved Blue Thunder Mask, daring to hit him as he rose in the ring. Yeah, she was the bad girl, here. Even though she hadn’t done anything illegal yet. Even though he had at least thirty pounds on her and over half a foot of advantage.

Dumbasses.

Makoto threw a middle finger out to the audience, letting them know precisely how much she cared about their opinion, before he redirected her attention to their precious hero. To his credit, he was still trying to rise after taking that hellacious shot. Not that it made one bit of difference to what she was going to do next, but she could respect the gumption, if nothing else.

”What’s wrong, hero? Looking a little tired down there.” She sneered and loomed over Blue Thunder Mask as he started to push up. ”Get up, get hype! Make some noise!”

And, just to make sure that happened, Makoto brought her boot up and dropped it hard on him. She didn’t target his leg, though, Not his back or even his head.

No, she stomped his left hand, mashing his fingers into the mat even as he continued to push his way up.

Blue Thunder Mask scowled as Makoto lorded over him, making a mockery of who he way portraying. It was only fair, he had been taking jabs at her as well. It had a way of biting more when you were helpless to do something about it. He was having trouble focusing. Even as he moved to rise his body swayed, the knee had done more to rattle him than he realized, the more he went to rise the more vertigo seems to be setting in.

As anyone who has slammed there fingers into a cabinet or gotten them pinched between two heavy objects could attest, even the strongest bravest men would fall victim to the biting pain that came from all those nerves singing out in a chorus of pain. His hand had pulled away almost instantly after being stomped, clutching itself against his chest as he breathed in a stiff ragged gasp. He would have preferred more knee strikes to this in all honesty. The pain was unbearable for how simple the assault had been and it was paying dividends for the badass biker.

He had to retaliate, give her reason to not attack again to render her unable to. He threw his shoulder forward, his arm hooking around to throw a solid stiff elbow blow up at Makoto's solar plexus. The only way he was getting up is if she didn't have a choice in the matter, of that he was certain. On the plus side for the biker, her last few blows had shut him up for now. Far more pressing matters than idle chit chat.