Edgar Shaw vs. Felina Rodriguez - Never Back Down

It wasn’t just that Edgar hit hard, though, yeah, he did hit pretty hard. She’d taken hard shots to the gut before, however, harder than that. Kicks. The punches that Carmen and especially Army could dish out if you gave them half a chance. Felina was no stranger to pain and gut checks.

But those were blows that she’d been at least somewhat able to prepare for, mentally and physically. She could tend up, protect herself, ready her body for the damage. The punch that Edgar sent out, the shotgun blast she just took in her stomach? That came out of nowhere, and that was the reason she was gasping and choking and struggling for each breath.

Even so, she could’ve recovered in a moment or two. It was only one punch. Just a few seconds and she’d be back on her feet and ready to go.

The only problem was that Edgar didn’t seem all that inclined to give her those few seconds.

She cried out as her hair was yanked up and her body followed suit, pulling tight on her braids, but the worst of it was yet to come. The first punch struck her face hard, left her dizzy, so much that she wasn’t able to do much about the follow up. Crisp and clean shots to the face, right on her cheek, brutal and precise. She brought her arms up on instinct, protecting her skull as best she could, but there was only so much damage she could absorb.

The referee started the count, but she wasn’t going nearly fast enough for Army’s liking. ”Hair-pulling? What is this bullshit?! Bitch-move! Come on, ref!” He gave the apron a hard slap. ”Felina, hang on!”

Felina only had to ‘hold on’ for another moment, before Edgar abruptly let go and kicked her away like trash, sending her tumbling towards the corner in a heap. The referee raced after her, reaching her side as fast as she could. ”Felina, are you okay to-"

”Out the way!” Felina had scarcely been on her back for more than three seconds before she was rolling back to her feet, grabbing the ropes for support, and pulling up to her feet fast. Her stomach was sore and her face was sorer, but she had more than enough rage to work through the pain. With a warrior’s yell, she charged headlong towards Edgar, full steam, nearly knocking the referee over in the process.

”Idiota!” She launched into him the second she was in range, throwing out a quick one-two, left and right, followed by a swift low kick aimed at the side of his thigh, trying to make him stagger and fall back.

Leah slowly inched a bit further away from Army, creating some distance out of embarrassment as he hammered the mat. Maybe coming ringside had been a mistake. She knew how Edgar could get... Though he seemed especially malicious today for some reason. He wasn't ever really concerned with putting on a good match. She had sparred with him, and lost, plenty of times to know when he meant business it was really rough... and she was pretty sure he went easy on her.

Edgar watched Felina crumple to the floor with a smirk painted on his face. He raised his balled up fist, blowing on it as if it had been a smoking gun. That had been cathartic, and the view of his opponent flat on her back was something he could get use to. He had been about to play to the crowd, looking to rub it all in when the woman was already back up. "What?" He had laid out people with less before. He figured that match, if not over, would have been at the cusp of ending. Who the hell was this woman?

So she could take hits. That was fine. He liked to give them. With the wimpy facade gone and buried, it was time to buckle down. Normally he's mess with opponents a little more, but he had laid it all out on the table when he had laid her out on the canvas. No playing possum now. He could have fun with it once she was down for good. He shifted his legs for balance, prepared the meet the charging bull as a wall. His shoulders squared up as he tucked his head down defensively.

She came at him guns blazing, but he was ready for her this time. It was time to see how much she like to actually trade. He dipped to the side, narrowly avoiding her first quick punch. He guard slipped back as he cocked his arm back. He ate the second part of her combination, snapping his head to the side. He whipped back, responding with another wide hook as she cracked his leg with a kick.

He dropped down to his knee as the rippling effect of her kick rocked his thigh muscles. As he went down, he threw out another straight, not at her body, but down to the canvas to try and crush the girl's exposed toes under his fist. If she was delayed orleft stunned by his attack on her foot, her leaned in to swing his left arm back behind her knee, looking to ground her with a chop block.

As Felina neared Edgar, she could see the man battening down his hatched and preparing for the storm, knowing she’d be bringing all he could handle from here on out. Good. Great. She wanted him ready for it. She wanted him take all he could. After that little stint he just pulled, embarrassing her in front of two million plus people, she had a lot of things she planned on sharing with this man, and she needed him standing for all of it.

Nailing him in the face was satisfying beyond words, but Felina scarcely had time to enjoy it before another hook crashed into her face, knocking the taste clean off her tongue. She started to stagger back, almost took a step, but she managed to slam her foot down and stop it. No retreat. Not from him.

Army, on the outside, had his fists clenched, focused forward, gnawing his lip and not liking what he was seeing. Felina should’ve been able to block that shot, should’ve had her guard up and ready, but the damn thing landed clean. That was sloppy, and it wouldn’t cut it with a man like this. Edgar was either a pro boxer or he’d been trained as one, he was sure of that, could recognize it in the way he stood and moved and reacted. There was little room for error, here. Less than Felina knew.

She didn’t seem to be thinking about that, though, her mind focused on bringing the pain back to Edgar. So focused, in fact, that his next attack took her wholly off guard, as he mashed her bare toes into the canvas. Felina let out a sharp, shrill shriek and started to hop on one foot, only to have that one foot immediately cut out from underneath her by a chop block.

She crashed hard on her side, her wild hair flying about the ignoble impact, but she still had enough mind about her to return fire. It wouldn’t have too much strength behind it from this position, but she swung her leg up and around to Edgar’s side, looking to clock him in the face with her shin.

Leah had moved all the way to the far corner, her hands placed lightly on the ring posts as she peeked out from behind it at the action and the ring as well as Army. She had decided to leave him be for the moment, not wanting to transfer his shouting to the ring onto her by proxy of her family relations. Perhaps if things started to wind down again she would head back over, but for now she remained mostly out of view, occasionally leaning out to call out. "Go Ed!" Which, despite many of those in attendance not being found of his tactics just far, were happy to support Leah's endorsement and cheer for the lad who didn't really deserve praise.

The sound of her hitting the mat wasn't every doing to get old, now that she was back down it was time to really work her over. Edgar started to push himself up, intent to stay low to climb on top of Felina. Expecting her to go down easy however, was a mistake. he was clipped in the side with a wide kick, being thrown to the side in a hard lean. He caught himself awkwardly, barely propped up by an extended arm. He let out a loud snort, glaring down at her as he reconsidered his plans. With a shove off the mat, he got himself back to his knee. A full mount wasn't in the books anymore. "Just stay down lady."

Instead, she scooted himself closer, bring a hand down to try and pin her ankle to the mat. Hunching down, he raised his fist, position his arm to be a defensive buffer while is was cocked back. he threw a hard punch down at the woman's knee, trying to drill her with two hard punches before trying to back off. On retreat he kept his arm raised, looking for her to try her cute kick again at him,. While he wasn't all that good with intercepting blows unless he was eating them head on, he would try to hook her leg under his arm if she landed another kick on him. Otherwise he would rise away from her and back off.

For a second it looked like Felina was going to get mounted after she went down, which would’ve been all sorts of bad news. Edgar’s punches were good, top class stuff, and Army didn’t want to see what would happen if he could get a solid mount and start wailing away. If he had to bet, his cousin had a slight weight advantage over this guy, but not enough that it would matter if he could pin her down.

Her connecting with that kick allowed Army to breathe a sigh of relief. It didn’t last long, however.

Felina was beginning to push her way back up, when Edgar moved in and drilled his knee, landing two stiff shots that had her thrashing on the mat. She swung her leg again, once more trying to make him back off and deal some damage along with it, but that proved to be a bad idea when he managed to get a hold of that leg and tuck it in tight.

One leg trapped, the other too hurt to use right now. Army could see an easy out, however - all she had to was reach back and grab the ropes, forcing a break. Simple escape.

Felina didn’t go for it.

Instead, she tried to lift her upper body, pulling towards him, and swung out with a hard right, aiming for the center of Edgar’s face. It was like her only priority was hitting this guy now, like she was forgetting wrestling basic and turning this into a street brawl, one that Army didn’t like her chances of winning. ”Come on, Felina! Get out of there!”

Knocking Felina’s lights out had been the early plan. Understandably the woman who thought she could stand toe to toe with him had a thick skull. In retrospect he should have seen it coming. Her legs were the thing to take out. Sure, it hindered her mobility, but it was all about her kicking power. Sure, once he got in there he wanted to, it wouldn't matter but the approach or retreat, her superior range posed an issue.

Actually catching her leg, even if he had to take a hard kick to his side, had been a surprise to not only him but Leah too. It wasn't something he often did, but it obviously had the ability to pay off. His arm hooked around her leg while his other hand ran down her inner thigh, holding her leg steady as he tried to turn and wrench it sideways, leveraging pressure against his body. He wasn't really a submission guy, so it was down and dirty with a crude hold.

Her hook landed clean, with both his arms occupied. His head snapped to the side, a faint mist of spit leaving his lips. Her cheek stung not only from the punch but her was almost certain he had fun the inside of his cheek on his teeth from the rattling blow. She growled low as he jerked up and back, trying to step over Felina and flop her onto her stomach as he tried to turn his crappy leg lock into a more grounded single leg boston crab.

Leah felt a bit bad, compared to Army she was a pretty terrible cheerleader in Edgar's corner. She skirted around the post, cupping her hands around either side of her mouth. "Go go Edgar he's our man, if he can't do it... It's okay because he definitely can do it wooooooo!" She may have been purposely been trying to drown Army out. She didn't have anything against him. He seemed like a pretty nice guy in fact... He reminded her a bit of her parents though back when she played sports. She knew from experience the sideline commentary rarely helped her in the moment, in fact it had often times been frustrating.

With all the chaos in the ring, Army had almost completely forgotten about Leah’s entire existence, only noticing her now that she was screaming out loud. He threw a quick glare her way, before refocusing on the fight itself and the drain his cousin seemed determined to spiral down into. He wasn’t sure what to make of Leah, being completely honest. She’d seemed nice enough a moment ago, but she’d been mum after her brother started dropping bombshells, and now that she was a fair distance away, she didn’t seem to have a problem cheering her jackass of a brother on.

Felina drew his attention all the way back with a growing groan, as Edgar intercepted her kick and started to turn it over, going for a single-leg Boston Crab. They both realized her mistake now - she should’ve gone for the reset, should’ve escaped while she had a good chance, and now her back was going to pay the price.

Edgar sat down into the hold, used his weight to bend her in half, and she grit her teeth down hard to bite back at a full scream. Felina was more flexible than most, could survive in such a hold for long than Army or Carmen could ever hope to, but it was still agony, and this early in the match it would cause problems she couldn’t afford. She needed to get to the ropes. Now.

Army came around a corner and stood in front of her, beckoning Felina on as she dug her fingers into the mat and started the hard push his way, dragging along the mat like she was crawling through a trench.

”You got this! Just come to me, come to me…” He clapped, starting up a rhythm that the audience picked up on, as Felina clawed her way further and further along. Almost there, just a little bit…

The moment she was close enough, she’d shoot her arm out and snagged the bottom rope, hoping to force a break on the hold.

A master of submissions he was not. There were a few things Edgar could have been doing to slow Felina’s crawl or apply more to the hold he however was content to settle for what he had gotten. Her leg locked in nice and tight, he slightly pat the inside of her thigh, giving it a nice firm rub. “You’d make a better lover than a fighter. Consider it.” He glanced back over his shoulder with a wide grin. If he happened to find any measure of success in getting a reaction from her, he’d keep it up until they reached the ropes.

The referee called for the break, making sure he saw her as she cut the air with a wild hand gesture. “Break? Sure, I can do that.” He pushed up from his bent knees, rising up a bit higher. He was still holding her leg, bringing it up with him. He finally removed his other hand from her leg, balling up his fist before he again targeted Felina’s knee, taking as many free shots in as he could while the referee screamed for him to release her. He had four counts to do his work before he would let her go finally, shoving her leg aside to let her crumple again.

He’d step away a bit as if he was going to let her get back up. If she was unable to take a shot at him while he moved off, he would suddenly U-turn when he had created distant, coming running back to Felina to try and punt her right in the head. While he never played football, he set his sights to kick a field goal with her head.

Felina was already on her way to hating Edgar more than she’d ever hated anyone in record time. He was far from the first jerk she’d come across in Tension, but there was something about the way the man wasn’t just beating her, wasn’t just in control, but the way he was being such preening ass about it. She kept wanting to kick herself for punching him in the face instead of going to the ropes, but damn it, hitting him was almost worth the pain she was going through now.

But then he had to go and do that. Had to rub her thigh like that, teasing her, stirring up the exact opposite feelings she wanted to be experiencing right now. ”Ah!” She bit her tongue to override any other sensations she might’ve been having, not wanting to give him any more satisfaction than he was already taking in.

When she thought he was done, Felina started to sigh in relief, knowing he’d have to back off and break the hold, give her a moment - just a moment - to catch her breath. Unfortunately, Edgar was one of those types, the kind of guy that milked the count for every second, and that was exactly what happened here.

Felina cried out as he drove his fist in her leg, again and again, punishing the bone, targeting it with vicious efficiency. When he was done, she fell to the floor and cradled her knee with one hand, while she tried to grab the ropes and rise with the other, making another attempt to stand…

Felina was in such pain, was so distracted by her aching leg, that she didn’t see the kick coming until it was far too late. It crashed against the side of her head and dropped her in an instant, laying her out flat on the mat and leaving her still. Deathly still.

It was a wide wild kick, all of his weight and moment thrown behind it, and it cracked Felina right upside the head. He awkwardly hopped on one foot to avoid tripping over her down body after throwing himself off balance. Even Leah’s endorsement wasn't doing much for him now, just about the only people on his side were the ones that were watching these matches for the odd times one of the male opponents was worth a damn.

He looked down over his work, a brow slightly raised as he nodded down at her body. He glanced over Army’s way, giving the man ringside a small wave before turning back to the woman at his feet. He pressed the toe of his boot under her side, lifting his leg to roll her over onto her stomach.

It was time. Rounding on the woman he reached down to grab for her ankles, grabbing her tightly as he dragged her towards the middle of the ring. The jeers we're thunderous now. The audience rallying behind Felina, pleading for her to rise up.

If she hadn't roused at all by the time he had gotten her to the center of the ring, he would step over her downed body, slowly lowering himself down to sit along her back. His knees bent, he collected one arm and then the other to hook over his knees to hold them in place. Finally, he reached out to extend his arms past her head, interlocking his fingers under her chin before trying to wrench her back violently in his own mimicked version of the INOBA CLUTCH!

Rather than keep his arms extended and pulling her back however, his version saw his elbows tucked in so her could pull her head back towards his chest, specifically so she could whisper in her ear. “Time to make. You. Humble.” He chuckled a bit grimly.