The Dasher Challenge : Part 3 - Too Close To The Sun

Wrestling bloggers were already in the ready position with their hands tentatively hovering above their keyboards for what was aiming to be the story to set the wrestling world ablaze. The unequivocal upset victory of the year that was already happening in early January. A cutesy wrestling neophyte who no one had ever heard of and looked more at home by the side of a football field with pompoms in her hands had topped the colossal giant with a bowl-cut and was minutes away from breaking the Dasher challenge. And from the strained anguish in his face, by extension break his ankle in the process as the muscle-bound grappler remained clutching onto the back of his head.

"Chik...ushō..." Muttered Japanese profanities interrupted all of his agonized grunts as he cursed his rotten fortune to be outright humbled by this girlish, impudent new comer literally talking smack behind his back. There were fewer things he could imagine being more demeaning to his manly pride than being in this utterly galling position. Years of hardened puroresu grappling experience were keeping his resolve steely, even with the added twerks of his ankle sending electric jolts up his agonized leg, not to mention the pinching claw on his back that was...really just a nuisance when compared to the joint lock tearing through his leg.

So it was, with his forehead still pressing against the canvas, a steady and rising wobbling rise of his right hand appeared to suggest that Dasher was calling it quits. A roaring audience seemingly made the stadium shake with a few minuscule notches given to the Richter scale. After a few seconds of keeping his trembling hand in the air, Dasher would swiftly thrust it down...to pie-face the cackling Kei, who had bent so far back to put her head within arms reach. Dasher then slamming the back of her head into the canvas like a basketball time after time after time until she eased up off the calf slicer...and even than he would add three more head slams for good measure.

"Oh-hohohoho! I never expected you to be this much of a ch-URK!" As dasher's massive hand palmed her entire face she choked back what saliva she had in her mouth. Kei's back was wrenched downward as her head was slammed back into the canvas. "Errrgh!" As her back natural brought her up from the mat, dashers palm saw to it she go back where she had just come from. "Huurrrrk!" She stared wide eyes through the gaps between Dasher's thick sausage fingers as her head was driven down into the canvas over and over. "Hgn!" Each time like a infant's toy she made a slightly different sound as her head bounced off the mat with a solid thud. "Nnngh!" While the audience in attendance cringed with each blow, it was likely music to the larger man's ears. "Oof!" It had taken three more solid whacks to shake loose the hold, five more to see him freed with his intended good luck slams at the end.

In the end she lay sprawls out on the mat, legs twisted beside him, rapidly trying to blink the haze from her eyes. Was she gargling? It sounded like she was gargling a bit. An unkempt mope of hair pooled around her like blood from a gaping head would, the corner of her lip twitching. "Y...you... ass..." She groaned long a loud, by the end it had evolved into a crying whine of pain. Her head was throbbing, vision blurred, the sounds around her muffled. Always keep your eyes on your enemy, unless you are doing something super sick. Terada rule #53. Her head lulled to the side to catch sight of Dasher, dimly aware of his movements as she remain laid out on the mat.

The age old saying about never making assumptions was indeed making an ass out of Dasher, who had falsely presumed Kei to be nothing more than a deluded, scantily dressed, air-headed tart with nary a lick of any actual wrestling expertise under her belt.

Regrettably, it was the latter half of his assumption that seemed to ring false, with the rest of his first impression still being relatively on point. But wrestling skills or not, hubris came before the fall. And Kei's fall just so happened to involve her head falling back down to the canvas numerous times after Dasher was able to get his meaty hand on it. All of her maniacal taunting and cat scratching claw attacks distracting her from the fact that she had leaned far enough back for Dasher to counter in about as ruthless a way as possible. But the, sights, sounds, and feel of Kei getting her cranium pancaked into the canvas would have been much more satisfying if Dasher wasn't still coping with what felt like his leg nearly being sliced in two.

"Erg...you...bitch..." Dasher echoed Kei's sentiments exactly as he rolled over a few times until he could haul himself up to his hands and knees. He spent a concerted effort into raising himself back after several seconds of languishing on the canvas, to decent success as he stumbled and bumbled with a drunken posture before slumping against the ropes with his arm clinging on to the top. The surly grappler began massaging his calf as best he could while muttering more Japanese profanities, his teeth gnashed and his temper fuming as he began visualizing all the colorful ways he was going to make Kei regret making him look like a damn fool...

It was slow going, trying to get to her feet. She had wanted to, really wanted to, but her body was having trouble following instructions. She hand rolled onto her side and had begun to quickly rise to her feet only to wobble and fall again. She didn't feel confident at the moment she was able to stand unaided, so she crawled herself to the ropes, climbing one after the other like a ladder until she was hanging from the top

It was slow going attempting to get up. She wanted to, she really did. The problem was her body was having a terrible time following instructions. She tucked in her legs, to attempt a heroic flip to her feet. It fell as flat as she did, channeling her inner magikarp as she gave up after what anyone watching would assume was two splash attacks.  The referee even came over to check on her, just to be certain Kei hadn't suffered a seizure. "I'm fine! Just... summoning my...  FIGHTER SPIRIT!" [/color]She growled on the canvas, throwing her arms wide to pound on the canvas. "Grrrrrawwwwh!" She sat herself up, fired up all the way to the highest reaches of the heavens. She threw herself to her feet, and promptly fell onto her knees. Shaky noodle legs provided her with little assistance in the act of standing. This was fine. Totally fine. All part of her master plan.

She scampered along the mat on her hands and knees to the ropes, finding it far easier to haul herself up slowly using them as support than standing under her own power. Take that, gravity! The only rules she cared about were her own... which happened to be Terada Rule #0. She had already had rules 1-15 by the time she had thought up that, so she had to sneak it in somewhere. As she slumped against the ropes, clinging to the topmost one with a hooked arm around it, she called out to Dasher. "I'm glad you finally took advantage of that opening I GAVE you. You look so much like a giant man sized baby I couldn't help but cut you a little slack." The seesaw of age insults was a weird one. Old crone, giant infant? Where did it end.

Even muscles of tempered steel can be tenderized if subjected to the right amount of torqueing pressure. A fact that Dasher was coping with first hand as he remained hobbled and leaning against the ropes while heavily favoring his good leg. The booming hype train in the audience had essentially derailed after seeing the spunky cheerleader get her head be given the Harlem Globetrotters treatment. Not many people suspecting she would get a better chance than that calf crusher to topple the burly grappler and earn the upset win of the decade.

Dasher massaged and soothed his throbbing calf muscle as best he could with the excessive amount of time given to him, which turned out to be several gracious minutes thanks to Kei's prolonged and exaggerated attempts to look cool by doing an energized kip up, only to flounder around like a fish flopping around on deck. It would be hilarious to Dasher if he weren't already seething in vengeance induced anger. He started taking some wobbly steps along the ropes by clamping onto them until he felt ready start walking on his own two feet. He flinched in discomfort as he began walking off his nagging leg pains while staring across the ring at Kei recouping from her own battle scars. Which to his own aggravation involved her shooting off more long-winded mockery...

"You...talk your mouth off like every other woman I've faced in this ring, and I'm gonna prove that's all you're good for..." Dasher bitterly snarled while taking his first man-sized steps off of the ropes and into a stalking beeline straight towards the petulant brat in the frilly skirt. He was nowhere near his normal speed, but he made due and coped with his leg pain at the prospect of finally getting his grubby hands on Kei and teach her some manners, Dasher-style. He grit his teeth and clenched his fist as he encroached upon her before suddenly going into charging rush, the dashing wrestler attempting to lift his leg and punt that smirk right off of Kei's sneering face.

It helped her heart to sore, seeing the lumbering man baby in a bowl cut hobbling around the ring. She wore it on her face in a wide Cheshire cat grin. She wouldn't admit the slow recovery fro Dasher was a godsend. She wasn't really ready to get back in the fight just yet. She drew a forearm across her forehead, brushing back hair and clearing a few beaded droplets of sweat away as she dared to stand away from the ropes. Her grin slowly faded as Dasher started to find his footing again, move more naturally. Her lower lip jutted up in a visible show of her disapproval. She rested her arm back behind her, draped across the ropes, snorting softly at the display.

"Ha! Trying to break into the comedy business? You've got the face for it, or horror movies. It's just a matter of taste I guess." She twisted her body, shaking her rear at Dasher before she gave it a smack, taunting him from afar. "Talk big for a guy I had crying on the mat like a lil baaaaaby!" She threw back her head, laughing hysterically at his expense. When her attention returned to Dasher he was charging. Her lips pulled tight as she grimaced, panicking at the bowl horned bull bearing down on her. She quickly ducked down, hanging out between the ropes. "Ref! Ref!" She kicked her leg out, as if childishly trying to ward Dasher away from her as he approached.

The Official blinked, reluctantly springing into action to slip between the two of them, throwing their arms to the side to call off dasher's charge moments before it was too late.

If dasher didn't blow through the referee to get to her, she'd poke her head up, blowing a raspberry at him, safe behind her human shield. Another victory for Kei Terada!

At some point, one had to wonder whether their was indeed a method to Kei's madness...or whether it was in fact just plain old madness. It would certainly explain her incessant need to provoke, goad, and generally irritate the musclebound strongman to no degree. No sane person would test Dasher's patience like Kei had been, whether it was by her incessant prattling or that smarmy smirk Dasher was aching to grind his boot treads in to. Every single, solitary aspect of this frilly cheerleader enraged Dasher, and the smacking of her wiggling backside was akin to a red flag being flashed in front of a raging, bowl-cut wearing, chauvinistic bull...though an actual bull may have the edge on Dasher in terms of I.Q. points.

Dasher planned it out perfectly in his head. A charging big boot delivered squarely to that ear to ear grin of hers to send her flying over the ropes and into the stratosphere if he was lucky enough. Instead Dasher would have to stop his dashing and instead put on the brakes for a skidding stop with widened eyes once the steadfast referee would begrudgingly get in between Dasher and his prey. He stopped just in the nick of time but still ended up leaning heavily against the ref with Kei cowering behind her with Dasher's massive hands attempting to reach over the official to get just...one...measly...finger...on...Kei...

He stretched and and stretched while gnashing his teeth but was eventually ushered back under penalty of disqualification, but not without a stomping temper tantrum taking place that actually fully reinforced Kei's man baby insult perfectly. He boorishly barked Japanese profanities into the ref's face before stomping away in a roaring huff, briefly clamping onto his bowl-cut in frustration as he tried in vain to cool himself down...

Kei didn't flinch, she just had something in her eye, that's all. It wasn't not like she needed the Referee either. She was just making sure they were on their toes for when she inevitably submitted Dasher. It wouldn't do to have it go unnoticed. He was still trying to get to her, through the official even! What a rube. She left one of her shooing legs up, frozen in place defensively. She slipped slowly away from the ropes only after the referee started to usher Dasher away, She made the most of this opportunity, making nasty faces at Dasher from afar, safely out of reach.

She leaned herself back against the ropes, waiting the pair slowly. As the official turned to break away, Kei shot herself off the ropes, taking long leaping strides as she close din on Dasher. The referee had barely left him before she leap herself up, trying to bury a cheap shot dropkick aimed right at his chest, looking to knock the man down. "Terada flying kick-drops!" Thankfully she shouted after taking flight and not before, giving her a fighting chance to not give her move away.

While she wasn't the heaviest or strongest woman in Friction or Tension, what she knew actually knew a thing or two when it came to actual wrestling. Her form was nearly... well... it was a solid B -. Her accuracy was decent enough, though it helped dasher wasn't exactly a hard target.

Little, inconsequential things such as the rules and regulations of a match shouldn't be getting in the way of Kei's well-justified pummeling. At least that's what the gruff strongman was stewing about after being shooed away by the timid referee sandwiched between them. Dasher propping his hands on his waist as he strolled away and counted to ten in his head in along with some therapeutic breathing exercises coming up from his diaphragm. He was letting this rambunctious twerp get in his head, which was quite the feat considering that Dasher has faced grapplers infinitely more skilled than Kei, but she was infinitely more irritating than any of them.

Dasher was clear across the ring by the time he felt he had finally centered himself and poured some cold water on his piping hot temper. He finally ascertained that eventually Kei would have to leave the safety of the ring ropes at the risk of boring the audience to death. Eventually she would have to actually attempt to throw-down with him, and Dasher knew that all he would need is decent string of offense to put her on her back. And than she would be given the thrashing of a lifetim-

"Dyoh!!" Dasher's thoughts about how best he would bend Kei's spine were interrupted by the sprightly cheerleader's sprinting dropkick right into the burly grappler's chest the minute he turned around. While not enough to topple him, it did send the muscled man-child teetering back to the ropes. He was winded, but he still had enough sense to try a cocked back clothesline if Kei didn't get to him in time.

Kei was a confident woman. When was marginally well trained by a former wrestler who claimed to have a fair share of experience under his belt. From there she put her own spin on things, to perfect the rudimentary teachings to turn them into deadly weapons in her arsenal.

The solid resistance she faced upon impacting Dasher was a shock. Not only she she come.clattering to the floor unexpectedly fast from the lack of heavy give, but the brute managed to stay upright.

Didn't he know that was a patented Terada Dropkick. What a goober, having the nerve to not go down. She bet he was juicing. Maybe that was why he was so hairless, it all fell out because of the sports enhancement cocktail. What a piece of work Dasher was.

Never leave a job unfinished, including letting dishes pile up in the sink. Terada Rule #65. She pushed herself back up, a bit too fast. Her head was still spinning at the sudden change in elevation. She took an instead step forward before she went to break into another run at Dasher. This time she was going to take him down!

"You wanna catch me huh? Well try it!" By sheer luck, her choice of moves saved her from having to deal with the larger man's meaty arm, at least for a moment. She threw herself at him full force, twisting in the air to attempt a crossbody attack on the bowl cut bruiser to hopefully bring him to the mat, convenient you in a pinning position too! "Get splatted!"