Blue Thunder Mask vs. Makoto Takeda II - Beat It

Makoto didn’t get any real answer from Blue Thunder Mask, which was, frankly, just about all the answer she needed. She couldn’t prove anything, all she had were her suspicion, and she really didn’t give that much of a damn, honestly. If she won, he’d be gone, and it wouldn’t matter either way. If he won, she would have to follow his orders, and it wouldn’t be like she would be in any position to do anything about it without his say so. Fuck it, either way.

For now, her only concern was the man in front of her, and pushing him hard towards the ropes. Her smile returned in full force as she drove him back towards the ropes, getting him so close before he managed to slam on the brakes. The work she’d done on his leg was paying off, making him buckle a bit. A sight to see.

”Having a little trouble? Think you can-”

Her taunt was cut short when she was suddenly whipped about and planted hard on her back, hitting with enough impact to shake the ring with her small body. Makoto was trapped under him, locked in tight, and what was more, she had her shoulders to the mat.

”1…!”

The referee came in for a count, but Makoto lifted up before she could even raise the hand. What was more, she lifted her leg up and tried to give Blue Thunder Mask knee in the head, hoping it would make him ease up and give her a quick escape.

The two wrestlers spiral for a moment before crashing to the canvas, he did little to try and lessen his weight driving down into her as he rested across her chest to crank her head under his arm. As the referee started a count, he didn't care. He wasn't trying to pin the woman after all. His flexed arm crushing her skull and upper body twisting to wrench at her neck was more than enough evidence to support that. "No trouble at all." He huffed out with another squeeze. It was obvious to him this was a short lived position, but he was going to take everything he could from it.

Makoto had other ideas, understandably. He jerked forward as her knee slammed the back of his head, rattling his teeth. Keeping the hold was off the table. A straight retreat left him open. His arm suddenly pulled away, letting Makoto free from the lock, but he wasn't done. Blue Thunder Mask drew his arm up, crossing it over his chest before he backhandedly swung his forearm down at her head. If he managed to broadside her, he'd lean down on his arm, pressing her head into the canvas as she pushed off to try to stand, denying her a view of his positioning as he retreated.

Makoto’s knee was a blind strike, done more for desperation than anything. She thought was pretty good on the mat, could link submissions well and had a good ground game, but the problem was that Blue Thunder Mask was just as good, if not better with his experience, and he had the superior size and weight advantage. She was better served on her feet, bringing the fight to him head on. Her striking game was the one area she beat him out at without too much trouble.

That didn’t mean she could seize other opportunities, though. As he smacked her chest and tried to keep her head to the ground, she saw a tasty one.

Granted, she couldn’t actually see it, since he had his forearm blocking her view, the smartass. She did have an approximate idea of where his head was, though, so maybe…

She decided to try something a little different, see how it would work. As Blue Thunder Mask kept her pinned, she swung her legs up again, for what might have looked like another knee. This time, however, she tried to swing her leg pass his head and bring it down from there, attempting to capture his neck between her thighs and snap on a leg scissor. Not her typical style, but if could catch him by surprise, it would be worth having to listen to the next few weeks of Devine taunting her over it.

The headlock had never been part of a master plan, just a simple addition to the takedown, which had been had been the meat of his offense. Once he had her down on the mat, a world of possibilities would open up for him. Positioning had taken too long, allowing her to give him reason to retreat. Not for long though, he had intended to drive another elbow into her chest.

He hadn't gotten that far, as he leaned back off the woman beneath him. Before he could fully disengage her legs came up, instinctively he leaned to the side to avoid another attempt to hit him only to find that wasn't at all the purpose. Her made a soft gagging sound as her thighs wrapped around his head, capturing him between her legs.

He hadn't thought too hard about the hold, in the context of their match it was just another opportunistic hold. Anything that could be gleaned from it was beyond him. He jerked his forearm down from Makoto's face, both of his arms reaching out to immediately try to grab for her wrists. There was no doubt in his mind that she would be more than happy to pummel him while his head was vulnerable like this. It was hard to see though, his face partially mashed between her legs. He needed to escape, but this was more pressing to keep her from doing even more damage.

”Got you.” Makoto chuckled, dark and deep, as her thighs clamped down around Blue Thunder Mask’s head and dragged him to floor. ”Got you, fucker.”

You wouldn’t know it well, thanks to her tendency to wear leather and jackets that hid what little feminine figure she had, but Makoto’s body was rather well built. The few who’d ever seen her without clothes would note her hardened arms, well-defined abs, and slim, but solid legs. Legs that were currently tightening around Blue Thunder Mask’s neck, closing in like a leggy noose. She brought every muscle to bear, cranking it, grinding away on his head with rhythmic pulses. A little more pressure, then a little more pressure, then a little more pressure on top of that. Ramping up. Bit by bit

It wouldn’t be enough to make him tap out, if anything could. But she had a few ideas that could help him along the way…

Before she could implement, those ideas, he grabbed her wrists and yanked them in hard, flipping her cruel smile into a deep sneer. Probably thought he was smart, that he’d saved himself from the pain. He was wrong, and she’d show him just how wrong he was.

Makoto began to really ramp it up now, putting everything she had into cranking away at Blue Thunder Mask’s neck, determined to squeeze the resistance clean out of him.

Calm and collected. She had him locked in, there wasn't anything he could do about it, yet. There were a series of things that need to be completed before he could make a real move, chief among them was to defang her assault. Her wrists firmly in his grasp, one variable removed. There was no doubt in his mind she would have used them, pounded his head into a bloodied stump if he hadn't acted quickly.

He had never seen beneath her layers of clothing, but had become more than acquainted with the power tightly packed within her small frame. Ever since their first encounter, she had burned that into his brain so fiercely he would have to had amnesia to forget it. He could hear the dull thump of his heart as his head compressed, the sounds of the arena muffled to his ears. She knew exactly what to do in this situation, his time to act was limited. Air, while limited, was the least of his worries. He could almost feel the blood pooled in his face as she cut off his circulation. Long before he would tap, the world would go dark around him if he didn't act.

It was hard to resist the urge to lay down and shift, trying for short sighted immediate release from the pressure. Such a fleeting action would seal his fate. He would lose it all. The match, his career, and whatever else she meant to to take from him as he would be left helpless. He couldn't allow it. Wouldn't allow it. His weight shifted as he tucked his legs slowly beneath him, working himself up onto a crouch. Her weight pulling him forward seemed like so much more than it was as she cranked at his neck mercilessly.

He pulled on her arms, drawing her closer, more compact against him. She blocked his senses, face buried against her body, hearing lost between her legs. He worked on muscle memory, on balance. He strained, leaning back as he shakily pushed himself up, hoisting Makoto up off the mat, bringing her with him as he stood up. He took fumbled steps, struggling to keep upright. Red faced he wheezed and whined, bringing her up all the way to his shoulders. Once they had reached the peak of the rise, he threw himself forward, only then letting go of her wrists to clutch at her sides to bring her down to the canvas in a massive powerbomb.

If Makoto had one regret about going with this variation of the scissors, it was that it meant she couldn’t see the look on Blue Thunder Mask’s face as he faded to black, could see those eyes roll back in his head or that drool coming out of his mouth. Having him this deep in the hold was a fair tradeoff, of course, since it just meant that the hold was that much more effective, getting in good, crushing power. But getting that satisfaction was a large part of why she was doing this in the first place.

Oh, well. She’d just have to settle for verbally mocking him. ”How’s that feel, bitch?” She gave her thighs a quick pulse, then bore down even harder. ”Like your head’s gonna pop? Like some bones’ll break. Just wait, I can make it even worse.”

She had every intention with doing just that, too, before Blue Thunder Mask decided he was going to cancel the party with his stubborn insistence on staying awake. The bastard.

”Hey, what-” She squawked as he suddenly began to surge, summoning energy from some unknown source. The next thing she knew, the man was lifting up, rising, getting one foot on the mat, then another, and he wasn’t stopping there.

She knew what he was about to do. Anyone who’d watched more than ten wrestling matches could piece it together. But that was like saying she knew a nuclear bomb was about to blow up nearby - knowing something would happen didn’t mean she could stop it.

That was the case here, as her small frame was hefted up high and dropped hard to the mat, hitting with a ring-shaking force that cascaded through her entire body. Makoto’s legs automatically unlocked from Blue Thunder Mask’s neck, and the Valkyrie was forced to roll away, groaning and hissing and aching all over, laying there in a parlous position.

Makoto's demoralizing words may have been to bring her comfort or break him down, but to Blue Thunder mask they were a source of inspiration. She wore who she was on her shoulder, not missing a beat when it came to reminding him every step of the way. This cruel, malicious woman egging him on with threats she no doubt meant to turn to reality. The humanity, the heart, of everything he strived to be when he stepped into this ring was different for her. Her heart seemed like a murky pool of tar, one she would gladly drag him to the depths of and let his lungs fill with black death. There had to be something to her though. Stone believed in her. Why couldn't he see it? Why did she really hate him this much to begin with?

At her surprise as he rose, he almost wished he was capable of speech other than a guttural grunt. No doubt attempting to talk like this would have come out like gibberish spouted from a drunkard after closing time. Another distraction. He didn't need them, couldn't afford them. He had already gotten her up into the air, are that was left was the easy part. And down they went. What the powerbomb lacked in his usual polish it made up for in brutality as he slammed the woman down against the canvas with an impact that shook the wing enough to rattle the ropes.

He had earned his freedom as Makoto was quick to retreat. He on the other hand lingered on where he had been left, turning over onto his side as he clutched his neck letting out a low strained growl. His free hand pressed to the mat balled up into a fist as she leaned his weight down on it, trying to take some of the pain wracking his mind away from the hard thump of his heartbeat hammering his brain. His narrowed eyes followed the ring until they fell upon Makoto, following the woman's progress to gauge how much time he had left to act. This would have been the perfect time to lay into the gang leader, surely she would be reeling from such a big move like that, even early into their match.

He hung his head a bit as he lumbered back onto his stomach, pushing off the mat to slowly begin his rise. He knew crawling his way over wouldn't have done him any favors, he needed a more powerful position to work from and needed stability to do so. He very well may have squandered an opportunity to get his hands on Makoto again, but it paid to be prepared. Whatever sloppy half hold he would have locked in on her in the time it took him to get up wouldn't have done much to seal his victory. Once he found his footing however, he cast his gaze down upon her with hardened features as sweat speckled his body and a uncharacteristic coldness was present in his eyes. He began to trudge towards her, fingers flexing in anticipation to get ahold of her.

That sucked. Wow, that sucked. It wasn’t just the surprise of Blue Thunder Mask’s move, but the sheer speed with which he’d delivered it, hammering her hard into the mat and leaving her tiny lungs breathless. Gassed, hurting, weak, all she could do for the moment was stare up at the lights and hiss through her teeth, wishing she could have a little less feeling in her back for a few minutes.

Also wishing the dumbass crowd would stop cheering and chanting Blue Thunder Mask’s name. That shit was getting old.

Blotting them out of her brain was no small task, but she managed it long enough to focus on her next objective, which would have to be getting the hell out of this ring, ASAP. More and more, she was becoming convinced that the longer she stayed here, the worse her chances became. She’d lucked up, he seemed to winded from the effort to capitalize right away, but he’d be coming her way soon. She could feel the footsteps now, growing closer…

It sucked even worse to move, but move Makoto did, throwing her all into a wild roll to the ropes, hoping to go tumbling off the apron and to the floor.

Every small movement of his neck caused a dull ache, one that he felt most surprisingly enough in his jaw and teeth of all places. It had been a slow rise, but once he got moving it started to work the kinks out of his body, getting the blood flowing. Makoto had remained down, ripe for the picking. All he had to do was get his hand on her and then he could... she apparently sensed his coming, either by sight or sound because she was rolling, trying to flee.

He leaned in, quickening his pace to dash the remaining distance after her. She had just gotten out from the bottom rope as he arrived, throwing his upper body out between the top and bottom rope to grab her her. One hand would reach for her hair, the closest thing he could as she rolled off the edge of the apron. The other tried to hook under her arm, or failing that, grab for one of the straps of her top to hold her tight from falling. "No you don't!" He growled as he wrenched at her, trying to literally drag her back up over the ropes to pull her back into the ring.