Underground Clash! Cicilia De'Reignhardt vs Margaux Lefeuvre

Rules: Underground rules, both boxers are allowed to strip each other mid-match.

Winning Conditions: 10 Second Knockout



Cicilia growled to herself as she was tossed a 5 minute warning, crossing her arms back stage as she waited for her time. She hated these stupid stripping matches, especially those with people she didn't know or care to know... She huffed, feeling her frustrations radiate through her muscles, encouraging her to punch her opponent blind in this match... Her brain wasn't arguing... and neither was she. Her name was called and the juggernaut stepped out into the walk way, her music blasting over the arena to announce her presence. At least she was going somewhere comfortable...

Cicilia's Boxing Outfit:

Spoiler:

Music:

Spoiler:

Her fans roared with approval that their main star was stepping into their ring once more and she had to admit... it felt good. Having the praise of the fans swelled the confidence in her chest, making her feel as if she was MORE invincible than she already was. In wrestling, she had been outmaneuvered to loserdom. Here...? Nobody beat Cicilia on her own turf... The German smiled, raising her right handed blue glove high in the air, her deadliest weapon if not THE deadliest weapon in this sport. The crowd loved it... loved it indeed.

The Boxer stepped into the ring, slipping between the middle and bottom ropes before standing at the ready, her hands on her hips as she waited for her poor victim to stroll into the ring... She knew this wasn't going to be like the gym where everyone was weak and pathetic... Here was were the substandard were made standard, a place where she wouldn't be allowed to pull punches.

Good.

Another. Another. Another.

Defeat. Victory. The conclusion had hardly mattered to her. The only thing she couldn’t deny from her last match was that it left her wanting more. Lina had entertained her for a good spell, but there was something lacking in her prowess. The blood never flowed through her heart in a state of urgency. Never threatened to burst from the pressure. She wanted power.

It would be different this time. She’d heard about this one. A woman with a bad temperament who’d been responsible for putting away more than a few punching bags at the gym. And about just as many wrestlers while she was there. Someone that knew no mercy.

It was for all these reasons that Margaux kept a wicked grin about her face as she readied to make her entrance. Every second she was forced to stand here was another she felt her body was going to give out. The tension- the insufferable tension- how she loathed it. When the guitar wailed, a great weight lifted off her shoulders. Her pupils doubled in size with excitement, pounding rhythmically to the heavy bass. Let it chant, she thought. Let all hear of her arrival.

Margaux Lefeuvre:

There were no waves. No sweeping gestures. Just one, broad smile, pointed in one direction and one direction only. The ring. Always the ring. Her silky locks bobbed gently with every step forward she took. Her fingers clenched tightly, creasing the gloves from the inside with her firm deathly grip. The tension vanishing into the air as her foot finally reached the metal steps. Stepping over the middle rope, she’d slip into the ring with graceful steps against the canvas. Throughout the entire motion, her eyes never left the red pupils of her opponent. Just what was the fuss about, she had to wonder.

“Bonjour, De’Reignhardt.” The words flowed from her mouth like silk, a tongue running across her pink lips. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you.”

Cicilia couldn't believe what she was seeing. A pinkette...? Really...? And not even a full-one either. Half of her hair was an average shade of brown, nothing special but that one half that came out of her head... She couldn't tell whether or not it was real. The woman's smile was as wide as the arena was packed, a look that made the the Juggernaut squint in distaste. Never once had Cicilia been so ECSTATIC for a match that she'd walk into the arena with a smile that big. Geez, she looked like she just won the lottery with how wide she was grinning....

T'was creepy.

What was even more creepy was the way those stupid pink eyes never left Cicilia's. Not once. Not as her malefic zombie-noise blasted out through the arena, not as the crowd cheered their judgements at her, not as she slipped into the ring. They were locked on one target inhumanly, like a monster watching a poor helpless victim. Why couldn't she just fight someone normal...? How many people with issues DIDN'T join this place?

The woman greeted her in a certain way, revealing her nationality was french if her gibberish name didn't give it away first. Cicilia stared back at the woman, her gaze hard, trying to figure out what her game was besides being a creepy, half-bred pinkette... She was being polite though... so far and so the German saw no reason to be openly hostile yet.

"Yeah...? And what have you heard?" She inquired, a certain edge in her voice. Perhaps she should've been flattered but the mix between her eyes, that stupid hair and her smile put Cicilia on the defensive. She frowned, her own expression hardening, letting a little bit of anger bubble up beneath the surface to reinforce her fortitude. "I haven't heard anything about you."

The smile was still there. How could it not be?

Their gloves hadn’t touched flesh even once, yet Margaux could already taste the promise radiating off this woman. Her pupils traced away from the woman’s crimson eyes for but a second to take in her form. Her presence. Her stance. What a strong body. Just waiting to be broken. It made her mouth water at the tension.

But that would take patience. She could sense the biting tone hiding in her words. It was something she’d learned to endure disicpling her own subjects. This one would be no different. Except this one wasn’t for business. It was pleasure.

“My apologies. Je m'appelle Margaux Lefeuvre. I am...new.” Her native accent flowed like water off her tongue. She slowly circled the woman, eyes gazing up and down her body. “But you, Cicilia. You are ruthless. Strong. Unbreakable. Terrifiant. Indeed, it is as though you are chiseled from stone. And yet, I never expected a woman so fierce…” She stopped before her and locked eyes once more, a grin crooking onto her face. “...to be so fond of...lavender?”

She giggled incessantly. That the two were smitten came as no surprise to her. There was little she recalled of that match, but the juggernaut’s squeals and moans were so great a juxtaposition from the rest of her, one couldn’t help but etch the memory. For all her hard exterior was worth, Cicilia was a woman with her soft spots. Her weaknesses. She had to cut out those liabilities before they ended up ruining this match.

Cicilia's frown only deepened as the opposing woman's apparent joy and... dare she guess... lust increased visually increased. What could've been going through her head that was making her smile this way...? She hated people like this... How hard was it to walk in, greet your opponent like a normal person and then proceed to get thrashed? Cicilia's sanguine eyes followed her opponents, catching how she was eyeing her up... She thought she was uncomfortable before with this woman... well now it was official.

"Verdammt kriechen ..." CIcilia muttered under her breath, her fingers curling ever tighter into fists. The German caught absolutely nothing of of what the woman was trying to speak in her twisted moon-language, turning in time with this creep-show to not give her a view of her vulnerable back.

It was no surprise that the compliments this chick sent her way rose feelings only of disgust and contempt in Cicilia. These words coming from a girl that looked at her like a piece of meat meant nothing to her. Each word she spoke only riled the boxer more and more, her frown intensifying into a growl, eager for the match to begin. What did it take for the announcers to see that they were ready for BATTLE already!? WHY were they waiting to ring the bell!?

What the frenchwoman said next made Cicilia stop, the remark about her being "so fond of lavender" hitting deep... Her sanguine eyes widened, completely SHOCKED she knew ANYTHING about that... Had she seen their match? Had Sayumi been too active on social media? ...Had this girl been stalking her....? Rage steamed and boiled within her, Cicilia's eyes flaring up as the pink brunette began laughing uncontrollably, mocking her relationship ON TOP of actually KNOWING ABOUT IT! Cicilia shook with pure anger, her volatile desires demanding she CRUSH HER NOW! FUCK THE DAMN BELL!!!

But then she stopped... and started to laugh.

"Heheheh..." She snickered, shaking her head as all that body-language quieted... all except for her fists. "You know, Marg or whatever... I was going to be nice and leave you able to walk out of here yourself... Now?" Suddenly the German's eyes darkened, her face contorting into a cold, vicious snarl. She raised her arms and shifted her legs into the right-handed orthodox stance. "Now I'm going to destroy you." She may very well be playing into this freak's hands but damned if she cared. The Juggernaut was going to rip her to pieces.

Yes. This is what she wanted to see.

There were few things Margaux didn’t know about the people who interested her. A habit she initially picked up to squash a number of coups against her. Those days had long past. Now, intelligence was better spent on her hobby. Knowing what made her opponents tick.

In that regard, juggernaut was practically a human landmine. It seemed easy enough to get under her skin by merely underestimating her. One could only imagine the sheer wrath she was hiding beneath that tough, trembling exterior. What she saw in the lavender woman, Margaux couldn’t care less for. Friendship? Comfort? Love? The concepts were lost on her. All she knew was that it made her meal all the more appetizing. That’s all she was after.

And it seems she had managed just that. Oh, what fun they were going to have together.

“I look forward to it, ma chère amie.” She let out a giggle. “Then, let us get ready to- how do you say...rumble?”

The moment she raised her gloves, the referee signaled for the bell. There was no reason to go over the rules. They had already gone beyond simple boundaries. The only one leaving this ring would be the ones drenched in blood, the other destined for the next world. No mere rules could save either of them from such a fate. They’d all be there sooner or later.

Cicilia would go first. Margaux dashed forward the instant the bell rang out throughout the arena, singling the beginning once again. Tucking her arms low, she stopped her mad dash a mere foot away from the juggernaut, coming in low and coiling her entire body as she swung her right fist straight towards the German’s side. Before she committed to anything serious, she wanted a taste first of what she could offer.

"Just shut up and fight, you freak." Cicilia snarled, strengthening her guard. She knew Sayumi was telling her to keep calm, to temper her... well... temper and to not let these things bother her and DAMMIT SHE TRIED!!! This woman, however... this creepy, pink-sporting, smile-spreading french-woman deserved NONE of her mercy now. She anticipated this match too... Especially seeing her body on the mat, bloody and broken.

The Match started and the two advanced on each other, Margaux being the faster of the two. Not that that mattered... Cicilia had been fighting faster foes all her life. She lowered her arm as her french stalker came in low for a hook to her side, her elbow catching the hostile punch and preventing it from reaching it's target. The german winced, feeling all that power behind her attack... Someone this strong with this much speed...? This was something new... Usually the Speed-types lacked strength and the strength types lacked agility but here this creep was, breaking the rules... Well there was one more thing about Speed-types... They couldn't take a hit well AT ALL.

Cicilia quickly fired off a few quick but powerful jabs at the woman's head, attempting to either send that empty shell rocking or at least force her defense up there as the Juggernaut had a bigger target. Suddenly, she would unleash her own crushing uppercut at her opponent's gut, attempting to fold her right at the start.

Attempt being the Key word. Somehow she knew it wouldn't be so easy.

There it was. The pain in her face.

She hadn’t had the pleasure of knowing this formidable woman for very long, but even Margaux could tell that that wrinkle of agony plastered on her countenance was a rare occurrence indeed. Something only the truly strong was capable of making. And, likewise, Cicilia was strong in her own right, being able to withstand her punch without much fuss. It spoke volumes without presenting much at all.

The jabs were coming. She saw them before they had even launched. Her head bobbed around the first couple before she ducked herself down to avoid the third. Only it was a trap. The woman’s fist soared into her gut, filling the arena with the beautiful sound of smacking flesh. She slid back on her feet, skidding her soles on the canvas before planting herself firmly upright on her feet. Her entire body shuddered, her head canted towards the ceiling for but a moment, the raw power from her uppercut surging through entire being.

“Magnifique.”

Yes. This one was certainly worth destroying.

Margaux wasted no time adjusting herself. Her insides felt hollow, her body light, but all the better for her. She could use the pain, entwine it with her excitement, just as always. She pounced forward once more, swinging her fists forward straight towards the German’s stern face. She’d meet it with a few lightning fast jabs before going low, digging into her gut and caving in her taut abs.

She could block it. She go right ahead and try. Margaux would tear through it like all the rest.

The trap Cicilia had laid hit home, sending the french boxer skidding back a short distance as her body suffered the full wrath of her punch. She didn't quite buckle the way the German wanted but hey, one could tell she was suffering. The German smirked in contentment, never having delivered a punch that felt this good. Ignoring the woman's creepy AS HELL reaction to the one of may blows she'd suffer tonight, Cicilia retracted her arm back into her guard and advanced slowly, creeping up on the woman like a heavily armored tank, each step solid, heavy, deliberate... She wasn't giving this woman much time to recover if she could help it.

As it would seem, the woman didn't need much time at all, throwing herself at Cicilia once again with all the raw speed she had before. Damn it! She was so fast... She wasn't going to give her any time to close in was she...? And she was tough to boot... This wasn't going to be a match she could end quickly...

The German war-machine threw a ripping straight at the charging pinkette's face as she dashed right back into battle, hoping to get lucky and smash her stupid, brainless skull to sand but judging how she dealt with her quicker, shorter jabs, she was no-doubt capable of slipping to safety. If the woman managed to close the distance either by TANKING her straight or slipping out of it's way, Cicilia would raise her guard as best she could with one arm as those blinding punches came in. The German barely managed to raise her gloves in time to meet the first punch, the second BARELY slipping past her cheek, nicking it lightly before suddenly being barraged with jabs that forced the boxer to fall back on her defense... There were simply too many to provide a counter-offensive but she wouldn't be pushed! She'd stand there and take them!

True to her word, Cicilia did her best to absorb the woman's quick, furious blows with her gloves, blocking a great many and taking a small few that slipped through with pride. A stab at her cheek there, a swipe at her jaw there... it stung, but it was nothing she hadn't felt before. Her sister had done FAR worse...

And so would this Pinkette...

As if perverting Cicilia's own strategy against her, Margaux would use this opening in her lower guard to go in for a killer strike, a surprisingly slow uppercut that had all the force of a glacier... Given her staunch and iron stance, there was no way Cicilia was going to be able to slip out of the way.... NO possible way... So she lowered her arms to attempt a block...

The frenchwoman's fist slammed into The Juggernaut's arms with a BRUTAL AND UGLY SMACK, a noise akin to the punch she delivered herself moment ago. Grunting with effort, the boxer held her guard, actually struggling against the strength this woman put into her punch. SHE was actually having a contest of strength! Her guard vs. this woman's uppercut... The german glared into those unnatural pink eyes of her opponent, letting her see the killer spark beneath all the red.

This is where they all ended up sooner or later: cowering from her fists.

The speed of her strikes. The power behind each and every one of them. They all crumbled her foes sooner or later. Fractured bones, furrowed brows,  Cicilia was just one of the many forced to endure them, but for how long was the question. The uppercut was a fun surprise. What was in store?

Margaux had high expectations in this one. She’d expected a bit more bite from her, a bit more initiative when she strolled forward. The German didn’t seem one to be deterred by a few errant fists. She was a fighter, was she not? One that knew better than to simply surrender in the face of adversity. Surely, she would be better than the squalor she’d built herself upon.

But all it took for her to fall back on the defensive was a few jabs from the French woman. The next moment, her adversary found herself tucked away from her arms. Juggernaut? This is someone who thought herself worthy of that title. She would have to tease it out of her. Margaux could only chuckle.

Blocking? Futile. She’d dig in with the last strike, wedging her arm between the gap and cutting between the woman's forearms to split the guard in two. The power of the punch would be lost in her efforts, but that wasn’t the purpose any longer. She wanted contact, to open her up for a clinch. She’d spring close and wrap on arm around the woman’s neck, the other tucking under the juggernaut's arm to keep it pinned up. The pain would next, but first…

“Did that sting, ma précieuse fleur?” She drew closer and bared her teeth. “Wilt.”

Without wasting a seconds, she’d dig one sharp jab after another into the woman’s side. Break ribs. Collapse lungs. Whatever motivated her adversary to fight back with all her might. She wanted to see more before this night was done.