Blue Thunder Mask vs. Makoto Takeda - Second Impressions

The crowd winced.The referee winced. The announcer winced. Even Devine and Stone winced.

Makoto laughed. Maybe she had an issue or two.

She did think that was pretty funny, though, seeing the mighty Blue Thunder Mask getting brought low by a littte chit of a girl stepping on his fingers. Simple, but damned if that didn't do the damage she was hoping for. ”Aw, I’m sorry, hero.” She cackled as she took a step back and started to slip off her jacket, getting a bit too hot for comfort. ”I just thought you were supposed to be a badass or something, figured you could handle some hurting-“

Blue Thunder Mask interrupted her in mid-sentence, just as she had finished slipping the jacket off, hitting with a solid elbow. What he hit with wasn’t as important as where he hit, though, as he wound up striking in the pit of her stomach, landing a hit in that tender little spot with the fancy name that she couldn't remember off the top of her head. Solar something...

Didn’t matter. What did matter was that the blow hurt like fuck and made her stagger away as she gasped, sucking in as much fresh air as she could.

It was slow process climbing to his feet with one hand tucked under his arm. The pressure helped, if just a bit, to ward off some of the biting sting her stomp had brought crashing down on him. He could see Makoto was still reeling. They both needed a breather but he had to push now, when he had some momentum. Makoto kept proving she was the superior skirmish fighter compared to him. Every time she was given room to breath, she had been able to make something of it.

Don't stop moving, you stop moving you're going to eat another big shot.

He Slipped his hand out from under his arm, shaking it out as he trudged at first, picking up his pace as he got closer to Makoto. he brought his arms up over his head, interlocking his fingers as he tried to bring down an axe handle smash to try and put her into position for another grapple. If she had been bend forward, he's try to hook one of her arms, then the other behind her back. He wasn't moving as fast as he wanted, he couldn't move as fast as he wanted. He'd try to lift her off the ground, turning her in the arm to slam onto her back as he sat himself out at her side with a double underhook suplex. He'd be seated near her arm if all went according to plan where he immediately attempted to wrap her up in an armbar with both his arms and legs.

Bullshit. Utter bullshit.

Makoto shouldn’t have been having trouble with this guy, shouldn’t have been forced to stagger away in pain like she was. He was a fucking boyscout. She’d handled guys like him - maybe not guys as big as him or nearly as strong or skilled, but the attitude was what mattered.

And yet, he’d gotten the better of her. Again.

Blue Thunder Mask had an opening, and he didn’t let that go to waste. In he came, striking hard against her back before she could rise up. That would’ve dropped her, should’ve dropped her, but he didn’t let that happen, grabbing her before she could fall. Granted, the fall was still going to happen. Just in his way.

Makoto cried out as she was lifted up with ease and brought down hard on her back, hitting with enough impact to rattle the ring, even with her small body. Not fun.

He brought his fists down across Makoto's back hard, so hard in fact that when she bend over, he had almost fallen as well. He had remained upright, bring one arm under his control as he breathed heavily. The crowd was cheering and whistling. He hooked the other. He had her, she was either too tired or too stunned to fight him now. he just hard to bring her the rest of the way. Without real momentum behind him, it was a sheer lifts to bring her off the ground but once he hit the height he wanted, the turn was simple, it had been nearly perfect in execution. He went down with her, far more gracious in design was his landing as her back shook the ring from post to post.

Sat out along side her arm, he scooped it up, wrapping his legs around the base at the shoulder to ground the limp while he wrapped his fingers around her wrist to throw his weight back onto the canvas, using the length of his body as a rack in which to stretch out her arm. He had no intentions of easing her into the lock, no, he was going to give her back the same treatment she had given him. There wouldn't be any hesitation here. He Arched his back, lifting himself up onto his shoulders to bend her arm farther and harder than it should go in the wrong direction.

Did she have enough fight left in her for this? He wasn't sure. He hadn't had the energy to drag her to the middle of the ring, so the ropes weren't unreasonably far away. He just had to hope he had whittled her down enough. Lets see how much fire you still have.

She was only on the mat for a few seconds, but that was more than enough time for Blue Thunder Mask to take advantage. Makoto couldn’t shake the distinct impression that she’d gotten under the boy scout’s skin, especially with that little foot stomp from earlier. He hadn’t said a single solitary thing since that hit, odd given how chatty he’d been before. Was this paragon of virtue and fair play pissed off? She hoped so. Something about that made her proud, like she scored an achievement. Small bit of pride.

The meager smile she’d been working on was erased when Blue Thunder Mask grabbed her arm and started working her into the beginnings of a hold she was quite familiar. She fought about, squirmed, kicked, but at the end of the day, there wasn’t much do to resist him. He was bigger and stronger than her, by a fair margin. What he wanted to happen was happening.

Makoto had to grit her teeth hard to keep from shrieking as he locked in the armbar, and that scream came out at full force when he powered down on the hold, taking his limb to the limit. It hurt like blazes, fire up and down her arm.

But was she giving up? Nope. Instead, she raised the middle finger on the very hand he was gripping, while he used the other to help her along as she pulled them to the ropes, fighting for every single inch along the way.  And not without her trademark brand of commentary, either. ”That as hard as you can pull, bitch? Huh?”

He was having a very hard time battling with malicious thoughts in his head right now. It would be so easy to unhook one of his legs and just slam his heel into the downed woman over and over with a boot while he held her like this to the ground. Did she understand that? Was she just saying these things to get under his skin? He growled softly, committed to keeping things by the book. It wasn't his way. Fighting fair and clean was an uphill battle, Makoto had been making sure of that for him. As much as he had come to admire her fire and tenacity, her attitude soured ever glimpse of potential he saw in her. What was her problem anyway?

He gave a little leeway in his arm lock before wrenching it back again, twisting it at the wrist

This hold wouldn't be nearly as hard for her to get to the ropes, not with use of her legs. Rather than keep her arms outstretched, he gripped her wrist in one hand and elbow in the other. His legs released the length of her arm as he worked curled her arm back at the elbow, applying pressure to keep her from retaliating as he made his move. He rolled himself up onto his knees, tugging at Makoto as he painfully wrenched her arm to tighten her up at the shoulder, trying to get her to lean onto her side to ease the tension he was forcing onto her arm. If he coaxed her to turn, he'd lean himself back, extending his legs outward to wrap them around her neck and head, using his calf to tug her in closer to snugly apply a sideways head scissors to her to make the journey to the ropes that much more taxing.

The pain was getting pretty bad now, even for Makoto’s unusually high threshold. There was no soft-selling here, no holding back for the little girl - no, Blue Thunder Mask was trying to rip her damn arm off. Aggressive, powerful pulls. A tight grip. Relentless application.

More than a little hot, if she was being honest.

But that was a thought she’d smack herself for later. Now, she was more focused on just escaping this hold with her arm still in its socket. She was close now, the rope were near, though given the way Blue Thunder Mask had denied him the last time she’d been close to salvation…

Yup. Move transition.

Makoto growled, frustrated beyond belief as he whipped her about, manipulated her body like she was a life-sized doll, and wrapped his legs around her head. This was a new pain, and not one she’d ever experienced. Hell, there probably weren’t too many women in Tension who’d ever experienced this. Blue Thunder Mask might very well have been the first man in the AFW to execute a headscissor.

A good headscissor at that. Makoto was still making a try for the ropes, but that was doubly hard now that a lack of breathing was thrown into the equation.

He wanted to maximize his ground time on Makoto. On her feet she was proving to be a very capable fighter, more capable than him when it came to fisticuffs. She certainly knew how to throw herself into her blows. On the mat, like this? It had been a whole different match. Dragging out submissions, especially easy ones for him to maintain like this were a good breather. When they eventually broke, regardless of however much damage he had done with the hold itself, she would have spent vastly more effort and energy to get herself free. Playing the long game wasn't anything to scoff at.

"So... Do you try to jump all the new guys in the parking lot or was I an exception?" Now was the perfect time to talk. Clearly Makoto would be in high spirits and open for a respectful dialogue.

With her head firmly between his legs, his became more distributed, more of a burden to drag as his contact with the mat and natural friction worked to hinder Makoto's efforts. That said nothing for the fact that with his newer addition applied for long enough, it was possible the woman would pass out before ever reaching the ropes. He doubted Makoto would succumb to that. She seemed to have this indomitable will capable of allowing her to spit in his face when it came to staying down. If he was going to put her down for good, he was going to need something bigger and badder or put her in a hold she couldn't crawl her way out of. He had access to both but pulling them off was another story all together. he was whittling her down enough that it might be possible soon. He's be looking for openings.

"Most people just send a card, maybe a fruit basket. Those tend to turn out better in the long run."

He stretched his legs, ankles locked only make his limbs squeeze down tighter on her head and neck. He'd give her folded and bent arm in his grasp a twist for good measure too. They were moving steadily towards the ropes and her freedom. This time he wouldn't release it early. This time he waited and squeezed every last drop he could from this. When the official called for the rope break, he would oblige and let her free. He'd even be so kind as to back off to the middle of the ring and wait for her to pick herself up. He was feeling a little less spiteful as feeling returned to his fingers again.

Devine was loving this.

Not the situation itself, of course. Makoto - as surly and generally unpleasant as she could be, even on the good days - was her leader and her friend and her lover when you got her drunk enough. She didn’t want to see her hurt, regardless of whether she had it coming or not.

But she couldn’t deny enjoying the sight of Makio’s body, straining and stretching to keep Makoto contained. She spent hours  perfecting her legs, and she had to admire a man who put in the same work. On top of that, she couldn’t help imaging all the things she’d be doing if those legs were around her. All the fun they could be having now.

Makoto had somewhat less of a happy view of her situation. Maybe that had to do with the pain coursing through her neck or the lack of useable air getting to her lungs. ”Only the guys…” She kicked her legs. ”...who look like…” Bucked her hips. ”...fucking dorks…”

True enough, she would’ve preferred an easy mark, and she would’ve guessed that Makio would be a pussy in the ring with his boy scout attitude. But, somehow, the wrestling equivalent to Charlie Brown had some real talent.

He held on for a while, all the way to the ropes, and this time Makoto was able to reach out and actually touch them, breaking the hold before he could do it for her and waste her time. He backed off, giving her some time to breath, and while she would never admit it out loud, she needed every second of it

Makoto didn’t stay down for long, grabbing the ropes to hoist herself back up. She planted one foot on the floor, then another, then stood and started moving his way, her steps wobbly and slow for the moment. She rubbed her neck as she walked, keeping a safe distance. ”Okay, shithead.” She spat off to the side. ”What’s up with that act?  The mask , the tights, the look, all of it.”

"I wasn't even wearing my reading glasses and you pegged me from that far off. Good on you eagle eye." The journey to the ropes was a long and arduous one for Makoto. Between the slowly grinding of her arm, the crushing pressure of his legs around her and his idle banter, clearly nothing was safe. "This is probibly where someone would feed you the never judge a book line." The last few inches had felt like the longest. As her fingers curled around the ropes, he broke the hold at the behest of the official. He threw his legs up and away, letting Makoto's arm go without so much as an extra twist. A true gentleman.

He walked back to the center of the ring at an angle, careful to keep Makoto in his sights as he throw up a fist to appease the cheering crowds. As the badass biker recovered he took the time to note where Stone and Devine were again. They hadn't involve themselves in the match, and for that he was grateful. That didn't mean they wouldn't yet still. Ring awareness was something most people these days overlooked, he didn't intend to add his name to that list. He shook out his hand as he shifted form foot to foot. Staying mobile, always. It was easy to spring into action with the blood pumping.

"Act?" While it was true he played himself up for the crowd, who he was in the mask was no less then who he was behind it, simply heightened. "It's about preserving the spirit what makes this sport great." He spoke on it rather easily, but he wasn't expecting her to s sympathize for his sentiments. He had been surprised she asked... though it could have just been a way to keep him busy. "And what about you? Seems a strange place for a would be thug." He motioned to the ring around them.