Of Like Minds

In theory, this was all in Anesthesia favor. She had the superior weapon, after all. A whip could be a painful tool, yes, but it required distance, and even if it did hit, the pain was nothing she couldn’t endured. The cattle prod, however, was capable of immobilizing victims far larger than the surly Nadya. If it hit the right spot, this fiery spat would be over in a hurry.

There was a problem with this, however. A hiccup in the equation. It didn’t quite take into account how insanely durable and outright stubborn Nadya was.

Anesthesia was in range. The prod found its mark. Nadya should have fallen to the floor in pain, or at least staggered, or at least screamed.

She did none of those things. Instead, she kept moving and, with a few deft movements, Anesthesia found herself with a whip around her neck, choking her like a noose, as she took knee after knee in her ass. Lovely.

One hand went to the rope, pulling as it, doing anything to find relief. The other hand worked to more practical goals, as she jabbed the cattle prod hard into Nadya’s foot, attempting to give her some incentive to let go.

That cattle prod was definitely going to leave a painful mark on Nadya's flesh. For all the looks Anesthesia had given Nadya's scarred body earlier, she certainly seemed content with heaping additional disfigurement upon the Russian now. If that had been something more potent, meant to immobilize, like a taser, Nadya's pure hatred probably couldn't have pulled her through. But the prod was just meant to jolt cattle without harming them. It did some real damage to a human being, sure, and hurt like a motherfucker, but if anything, Nadya felt more determined than another to hurt, to maim, to obliterate the phony physician from the face of the Earth.

She managed to wrap her whip around Anesthesia's neck, tightening the cord as much as she could, leaving at least a red mark where it squeezed into the woman's flesh. Nadya held that with a death grip as she swung her knee up into Anesthesia's lower body, hitting her crotch, her ass, whatever happened to be in the line of fire at that moment. She had Anesthesia bent over, in a position where Nadya was practically humping her from behind. What a treat for all the dumb, ugly bitches who were gathered to watch the duel.

It didn't last long. The second time Anesthesia jabbed the cattle prod, into Nadya's foot, the Russian screamed and lost her balance, her foot spasming for a second as she dropped to the floor. But even through that pain, she would keep her grip on the whip, trying to choke Anesthesia out of existence as she dragged the lighter-haired woman down on top of her, their battle going to the floor as Nadya's foot felt like it was on fire—or torn off! "FUCK! FUCKING WHORE CUNT! F-FUCK!"

This woman. This woman.

Any other woman would’ve let go after taking damage like this. Feet were sensitive, one of the most pain prone areas of the body, with more nerve endings than the entire torso. It would’ve made grown men cry.

But for Nadya, pain only seemed to make her stronger, like some kind of hellish fuel. It took a second jab just to get the effect that Anesthesia desired, and even then, when Nadya finally fell, she lacked the good grace to do so alone. The Dark Nightingale went with her, and the choking never eased up. The pressure hardly ceased. If anything, she was squeezing harder now and to make matters worse, the prod slipped from her hand.

Distressing. Quite distressing.

Knowing the trouble she was in, Anesthesia kept one hand pulling at the whip, while she swung her arm around and attempted to shot her elbow into Nadya’s side, going right for the bone. At the same time, she tried to throw her head back into her foe’s face. Anything, everything, all just to get loose and breath some fresh air.

Nadya had been fighting for her life for years. She had been in conflicts where a loss could have meant something much worse than humiliation or a few bruises. She had tried to get away from that life, moving away from her native Russia to a Japan where few would dare cross her, then finding a use for her nursing skills in a hospital where she was actually able to help people—raping many in the process, but she made damn sure she did nothing which would actually cause an appreciable deterioration in any woman's medical condition.

Over four years in prison, her old instincts not only resurfaced, but were honed to an even finer point. Pain tolerance. Ability to endure physical and psychological trauma. Her skill with her fists, her legs, with a knife fashioned out of a plastic spoon. When she felt pain, her muscles tensed up, never fell slack, and if she lost consciousness right now her body would still be choking Anesthesia even as Nadya descended into a pit of horrible dreams.

She might be able to choke the pathetic woman into a coma without going out herself, though the "doctor" wasn't making it easy. She swung an arm back, digging it into Nadya's side, hitting rib and making the nurse hiss and clench her teeth. And then that skull swung backward into her face, nearly knocking some of those teeth out of her mouth. Her lip split open, dribbling blood down across her gums and smearing a speck across her cheek. She kept choking her foe, trying to pull the whip tighter and tighter...but she could tell that, for all her efforts, she was losing some ground. The "doctor" was able to loosen the cord slightly. Not a good sign, but Nadya would try to keep it tight, and, to try to force Anesthesia to give in, she bent her head down and sank her teeth into the woman's shoulder, biting her hard, trying to distract her from her escape efforts!

Nadya’s determination was certainly noteworthy, even Anesthesia hardly relished her place on the business end of it. She was driven, maniacally so, but even then, she figured that her blows would be able to earn her some degree of reprieve, get her to take some steps away and buy her some time.

Sadly, that turned out to not be the case. Not enough for Anesthesia’s liking, at any rate. Nadya was every bit as relentless as she was ruthless, keeping up her hold even after Anesthesia’s hits found purchase, landing clean. Anesthesia was able to steal a few breaths here and there, make some slack, but not enough. Not close to enough to be free. She was fading fast, and without something to spark her, she would go out all the way. She did not savor the idea of being unconscious under Nadya’s control.

But few things were more shocking than a bite on the shoulder. As painful and wretched as it was, the move forced Anesthesia to summon the failing vestiges of her strength, putting her body in a spasming frenzy. It also told her precisely where Nadya’s head was, which allowed her to react around and claw as the vile woman’s face, threatening to dig at her eyes if she didn’t make space between them right away.

Nadya hung on, no matter what Anesthesia tried to do, knowing that hanging on long enough would mean her disgusting little opponent would be passed out underneath her, ready for whatever punishment the Russian decided to inflict on her. Now that was an interesting question for Nadya to consider. She had no idea what the audience would do, no idea what she herself would think to do with Anesthesia at her mercy.

Maybe part of her was wishing that this encounter hadn't resulted in a fight like this, that whatever stupid bullshit the "doctor" had been planning actually made sense, so she didn't have to wonder what would happen after the fight like this. Maybe some part of her even wished she would lose, since it would take the decision out of her hands.

It had worked out well enough in prison. Beyond the psychological torture and the horrendous violence, anyway.

Anesthesia kept on moving, digging elbows into her flanks, hurting Nadya over and over again in smaller but still significant ways, the Russian's electrified and generally abused body struggling to keep taking blow after blow. She wanted to force Anesthesia to settle down, to accept her fate, and so she opened up her mouth and bit down on that shoulder, digging her teeth in deep, enough to break the skin, or so she hoped. Maybe scar that laughably "flawless" skin. Nadya hoped she could at least leave this bitch with something to remember her by, if nothing else came of this.

Her strategy might have just stirred her foe to action, rather than keeping her still. Anesthesia's claw came up to Nadya's face, and Nadya was barely able to close her eyes in time before those nails raked across her skin, leaving deep red scratches all along her cheeks and up to her forehead. Nadya let out a loud shriek of anger and pain, her mouth coming away from that shoulder as she tried to shake the slightly-loosening whip around and thrash Anesthesia about with it to get her to stop!

Rolling and kicking in the dirty, scratching and clawing away like brazen beasts, getting choked and gagging and fighting for every little breath of air that she could steal…

No, this was not one of Anesthesia’s prouder moments, she could concede.

Nadya’s ferocity was a thing of horror and beauty at the same time. As Anesthesia fought with her on the floor, it almost didn’t feel like she was tangling with another human. In her time as a wrestler, she’d come to read her opponent’s emotion and siphon away at their spirit, reading them and adjusting her strategies accordingly, but there was none of that to be had with this one. Just hate. Pure, raw, seething hate, a furnace burning beyond control.

When she bit into Anesthesia’s skin, she swore she could feel the hatred coming from her mouth, pouring out, burning, intense and unyielding. It drew a shriek from her one that mingled with Nadya’s to fill the air with a horrid, haunting wail. As vile a moment as it was, though, it gained her the freedom she sought, loosening up the whip, and she seized the opportunity to pull her neck free and roll away.

Cough, gasping, wheezing, Anesthesia decided her best bet was to take the high ground, and she made a mad crawl for the ring, grabbing the apron and trying to crawl in under the bottom rope. She had little doubt Nadya would be on her heels soon, but any chance to catch her breath would be well worth it.

The two women had now literally torn into each other, with claws and teeth, drawing blood and causing no small amount of discomfort, judging by those two shrill shrieks which filled the room and sent shivers down the spines of all the nurses in attendance. Neither had much of a chance to start tearing her opponent apart. Nadya's grip was sufficiently loosened by Anesthesia's maneuver that the "doctor" was able to slip free, and rather than attempting to do anything to Nadya the woman decided to be a coward and made a mad dash for the wrestling ring.

Nadya could have lunged and probably caught her by the ankle. Maybe she would be able to drag her back. Or the Russian woman could have walked over to literally any wall of the room and chosen a new weapon to carry into the ring to use upon her unarmed hostess, getting revenge for the vicious prodding she herself had sustained at Anesthesia's hands.

But Nadya...was tired. More emotionally than physically. Her body would go on and rip Anesthesia to shreds, if it needed to, but her heart wasn't in it. She hated the woman, sure, but once again her nihilism overwhelmed everything else. Who cared whether she won or lost this fight? Who cared whether it continued or ended? It was all meaningless, anyway. There would be no difference to the world at large, to the world of generally decent people out there, whether or not Nadya or Anesthesia ever left this room. That much was clear.

But of course she wouldn't stop fighting. She did, however, forego any weapon, instead heading straight for the ring, walking around quickly to the opposite side of where Anesthesia had climbed in. And Nadya would slide in under the bottom rope herself, keeping her eyes on her foe all the while. She wasn't exactly sure what her plan was now. She wanted to see what Anesthesia was going to do before she decided the best way to rip her apart.

Anesthesia was definitely going to need medical attention after this fight was through. The irony of that was not lost on her.

Lacerations, bruises, multiple cuts, and she certainly had some fractures here and there. She was reasonably certain that her body hadn’t been damaged in anyway that couldn’t be concealed and erased with proper methods, but that was only so far. It was quite clear that Nadya was out to leave permanent damage. Scars.

It wasn’t like fighting a person. It wasn’t even like fighting an animal - a beast would kill for food, for rage, for dominance. Nadya seemed bereft of such concern, a shell driven by aimless hate. It would’ve made for an intriguing case study.

To her surprise, the woman didn’t harass her as she made her way into the ring, but she didn’t let up all the way, either. As Anesthesia struggled to her feet, fighting a score of aches as she rose, Nadya come in to greet her. No more weapons, no more street fighting, just two women in the ring, with only their fists and claws and feet and teeth to rip each other apart with.

That suited her.

She’d barely been standing for two seconds before she charged forward, attempting to tackle Nadya and drive her into the nearest corner, throwing her entire weight and force into the effort. She wanted this animal trapped, scared, humbled, and she had a myriad of ideas on how to reach such a point.

Nadya had spent so much time during this encounter with Anesthesia pondering the nature of her hatred, both directed at herself and at the "doctor," and ruminating on just how despicable a creature she herself was. Anesthesia was despicable, too, of course, and it made Nadya think that the two of them might actually have gotten along.

In whatever bizarre world could see two fundamentally damaged, emotionally deficient people strike up a successful bond over being so unlikeable.

Now, Nadya was going to set all that aside and just focus on fighting Anesthesia. Life and death, pride and power, it was all on the line, and she was going to fight smart and fight vicious to win this one. As her opponent charged in, Nadya braced herself for impact. As that body slammed into her midsection, Nadya groaned, backpedaling, her shoulders hitting the turnbuckle. She barely flinched, before bringing her hands up, wrapping her fingers in the woman's hair, then dragging downwards, trying to pull the fake physician's face into a rising knee, aiming to do some more damage to those pretty features and stun Anesthesia right off the bat to start the ring portion of this fight!