Seren Morgan vs. Abattoir - A Dark Place

The crowd was loud, getting far rowdier than one would expect for a match involving a face they barely knew and a face they didn’t like. Even so, there were plenty among them who longed for a good, hellish fight, and that was an itch the combatants were eager to provide. Even if Abattoir had some mounting questions about her chosen opponent - like, for instance, who had Seren just been talking? Even with all the chain’s rattling and the din of the crowd, she swore she heard this queer woman saying something. A mutter, a bare whisper, something. Strange woman…

...but an effective combatant.

Abattoir had hoped that her sudden move would take Seren off guard, and it did for a moment. A moment, however, wasn’t nearly long enough, because she was back on the attack immediately after. The nak muay gasped, both in shock and pain, as the chain clamped down around her face, biting at the skin, pressing against her eyes.

She was hurled away, dropped flat on her back, and things grew worse from there when the iron noose went around her neck. Now she was being choked, trapped in the steel vice, fighting for every breath, caught more and more in Seren’s web. She needed a way out, but her arms were still trapped, she could use her legs, and-

So use your legs.

Abattoir heaved back and tucked her body into a roll off her shoulder, attempting to flop backwards and come down with her knees into Seren’s face.

Abattoir was no ordinary playmate, this had been apparent since they first exchanged blows. The AFW was filled with pretenders, liars who wore the faces of other people to hide themselves. Deceivers who looked at this as something more that legalized brutality. Wrestling wasn't a game, it wasn't a path to fame or fortune, it was a blood sport that gave her the rights to tear another person apart while thousands of screaming cheering animals looked on in wonder and disgust. This woman was more than a gesture in black behind a mask. She knew it too, the doll maker could feel the intent behind her actions and struggles.

She despised this woman's mask. It wasn't enough to inflict pain upon her victims, she wanted to live the experience with them. Every choked cry, every agonizing expression, that fading glimmer of light in their eyes before ultimate surrender. This device stood in the way of being able to enjoy this to the fullest. After being sent up for so long, she wanted she wanted to feel it, feel anything. It had to go, she would rip it from this woman's face the first chance she had… perhaps soon.

Seren pushed her way to her knees, gripping the chains white knuckled between her fingers. Looming over Abattoir, staring down into the woman's sanguine eyes as if she were attempting to siphon the woman's soul from her body. A soft, unsettling breathy chuckle escaped her as she tugged the chains tightly from one side or the other to allow them to sink in and find space to bite at the woman's flesh. She anxious was waiting for this woman face to ripen to a hue of blue or purple, a hit of a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as she longed to see those red orbs pop from the sockets.

So transfixed was she, the motion of the rest of her opponent's body went unnoticed. She was waiting for that moment of desperation, of pleading for release that would never come… yet. Abattoir’s figure rolled upward, sending the woman's legs in a wide arching path straight for Seren’s skull. They connected squarely, a loud crack, unmistakable bone meeting bone. There was a splash of crimson, so soon, as the freshly sewn stitching popped under the blow enough to spatter the floor with a sprinkling of her life essence. The doll maker recoiled with the strike, snapping backwards as her hair flew wildly back like a swimsuit model rising from the waves.

Her grip was surrendered on one end of the chain, affording Abattoir a moment of release, hopefully one she was ready to seize. Once the intitial shock on the knee strike had faded, Seren was already wheeling back down, a violent arc lbow tucked in close, arching down to attempt to obliterate the space her opponent's face had once occupied. She was grinning, wild eyed, as blood was already starting to paint a trail down her face.

Good. A voice that wasn’t Abattoir’s congratulated her from the dark recesses of her mind. ”Good.”

The impact was everything they could’ve wanted, colliding with Seren’s face and making it whip back in a beautiful arc. There were few things so satisfying as a blow like that, one that traveled through Abattoir’s leg. The sensation of bone against bone, the wild tremors that ran through the point of contact and spiraled outwards. A satisfying crunch. This one was more solid than most, put together well.

She wanted more. They wanted more.

But there were priorities to consider, here, and the foremost one was getting free of the vise she found herself tangled in, free herself of the bonds. In the moment where Seren was still reeling, Abattoir was quick to spin around and untangle, making her way out of the iron snare, shifting here and pulling there and working it all about until she’d managed to shrug it off.

For her troubles, she was given an elbow to the face, as Serene came back hard. Her madness showed through on that wild face of her, smiling with glee, wrapped up in the carnage of the moment, and she wasn’t the only one - when Abattoir whipped her head back around, her eyes were much the same, with hints of smile showing along the edge of her mask, where a thumb-sized piece had broken off.

Blood had been spilled, but their gods were greedy. They wanted.

Abattoir bursted upwards like a launching rocket, slamming into Seren’s chest as she rose to force them both back up. She wanted this match to go back to their feet, standing, where she could do the most damage with her strike-heavy style, but she also wanted it to happen in a position that worked to her advantage. With that in mind, she attempted to send Seren’s back crashing into the announcer’s desk, and she wouldn’t have complained much if she wound up launching her over it by accident. Anything to keep this moving.

The simple joys of split blood we're something of a matter of taste. She loved the vibrant huge, the sporadic way it painted a surface with spatter. It lacked longevity though. Left alone it browned and hardened, chipped away in disgusting flakes. Where was the permanence? What was always so promising would under the test of time become an inert sense of expression so far removed from it's intent that it lacked all the heart, if you could call it that, she put into spilling it.

To break beyond repair. To instill an idea, a fear, to change something in an irreversible way so that her mark was always present. That was the true value in her artistry. What may have been an inconvenience, a small chip from Abattoir's mask was more than just a source of abstract glee for the doll maker, it was an open invitation to deliver further destruction. If it could bend, if it could break, she wished to see it dismembered. Like many patchwork horrors which dangled in wire nooses within her bedroom, she could stitch this woman back together once she tore her limb from limb

Seren's arm swung back as she drew in a sharp breath, inhaling the thick iron scent of her blood interminding with steel and sweat. Left to her own devices she would have remained like this, smashing this woman's head into a bowl of bone and brains until the bell had sounded and offices had ripped her away. This one didn't wish to be a victim or an example, a fighter to the end it would seem.

Seren's jolted back, arm flying wide as Abattoir shove up upright, driving her backwards. Her feet dragged with each forced step, throwing down her elbow at anything she could manage to strike. Back, collar, head, it all felt the same to her. Solid contact with meat and bone, a satisfying sound and resistance. Damage…

The sudden unexpected impact of the announcers table caught her off guard, sending a sharp immediate pain spiraling up her spine. She didn't fight the momentum, she embraced it, topping backwards over the table into the scattering suits who were calling the match in a language she couldn't even understand. Head over heels she rolled until crashing down below on the other side in a tangled mess of loose wires and fallen chairs on wheels. She had tried to rise but tripped, caught on cables. Reaching out as she fell, her palm clapped the top of the announcers desk before she slipped from view.

Time was not something she could afford to lose, not in the heat of things. She was a sitting duck, prime for a buckshot right between her eyes. Or would be if she tried to free herself right away. There was another path open to her, to buy time and space to work with. She lurched forward, digging her shoulder into the underside lip of the desk. With a heave, she threw her weight up, pushing outward with her hands to attempt to flip the entire thing, monitors, wires, bottles of water, up over onto where she assumed Abattoir would be.

What happened wasn’t pleasant for anyone, really. It wasn’t pleasant for the announcers, certainly. They’d been sitting there, minding their own business, thinking they were in some semblance of a safe area, when that notion was turned around in an instant when Abattoir launched a Seren-shaped projectile at them. They’d gotten caught in the blast area, and now they were trapped in a heap of wires and monitoring equipment, while some of the stagehands scrambled to recover whatever they could before it was used a bludgeoning weapon.

It couldn’t have been that fun for Seren, either. Abattoir had been looking to ram her hard into the table, but even she wasn’t sold on it working so well. Up and over she went, crashing hard on the other side, in a glorious display of chaos. It might’ve even gotten a laugh out of Abattoir, If she were the type to laugh at such things, and if she weren’t in quite a bit of pain.

There wasn’t time for that, anyway. Enough time had been wasted already - Abattoir had her moment, and the voice inside was suggesting, demanding, that she make the best of it. Needless to say, she agreed.

All she had to do was vault over the table, then-

Abattoir’s eyes widen in mid-leap, as the table she was jumping over suddenly wasn’t as far beneath her as she remembered it being just a second ago. Seren was lifting pushing her way up, and it rose to meet her in the back as she tried to clear it. That meant she was going for the ride. It also meant she was going down, with the table back on top of her.

Spitting out a few curses in a language that no one within earshot would recognize, Abattoir went down with the table on top of her, burying her in the wreckage. It wasn’t too painful, really, it wasn’t like the stupid thing was all that heavy, and she was able to start digging her way out right away. But that would take time. Precious time. Time that Seren would use to make her situation worse, no question. The only question was how she’d do it, and the answer would be coming soon enough.

The clatter of the announce table as bits of it broke apart before her was a cacophony of sound. There was one thing among them that made her ears perk and lips part in a devilish smile. She knew that sound, wet and real of flesh and muscle slapping against hard cement. Her only regret had been missing the sight of Abattoir being dashed across the ringside area.

Reaching out she grabbed hold of a side of the table that hadn't given way, using it to drag her from the tangled mess of electronics she found herself wrapped within. She kicked a leg wildly until it had come free, giving her free range of the new landscape to explore. Her first act though was reaching into the mess in which she leaned against, trapping a few cables that had been tied off on the underside.

With a hard yank she ripped the cables loose, the small plastic bands that secured them popped one after the other as she reeled in the wire, one hand over the next. The last bit proved to be most difficult, making her come to a standing position and bracing a boot against the lip of the collapsed table to draw the monitors free from their mounting.

The two lcd screens dangled from the wires she held, flicking with white noise with no active feed available. That was fine, she hadn't wanted them to get play by play action. Raising her hand up, she circled her arm in a wide motion, slowly building the momentum to twirl the monitors over her head like some manner of horrid modern day flail. The cables spun so fast they had begun to whistle as she scanned the wreckage for signs of life.

"Come out… come out… wherever you are." The doll makers twisted figure lurched back off the table unsteadily as she stepped over the downed chairs and coiled cables. Her sunken eyes remained wide and alert, flirting around the area as she moved around the wreckage. All she needed was a single sign, something vital of Abattoirs that was worthy of destruction. The moment the other woman came into view Seren would give her impromptu weapon one last twirl before bringing it around in a wide, deadly arc back down at her opponent. "Found you!"

Get up, get off, get away.

Those six words were enough to summarize Abattoir’s priorities at the moment. Seren was good, surprisingly good, but she was confident that she could take this woman head-to-head and dominant her in a standing exchange. She was tougher than she looked, fast, not unskilled, but Abattoir was confident enough to outlast her in these areas. If it all came down to striking, the match would be hers. The only trouble was that Seren excelled in using the environment to her advantage, a talent that had put Abattoir on the backfoot for the opening bit of this match, and now had her trying to climb her way out of a pile of rubble, just hoping that she could…

...what was that sound?

Abattoir paused in her struggles when she heard movement nearby, along with what she assumed was Seren’s voice. She was close, but she wasn’t moving in to get her out of this heap. No, she was holding back for the moment. Waiting. It didn’t take much imagination to figure out what she was waiting for, either.

Abattoir was vulnerable like this, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t out of options. She’d just have to be quick. Very quick. Wait for the right moment, think it out.

Go.

She burst of the rubble in a rush, getting free just in time to see the monitor careering towards her skull. A quick roll was the only thing that saved her from a concussion, flipping over and letting it come crashing down beside her, but she knew that was a temporary escape at best. Seren would be giving her little time to breath. Reaching, she grabbed the first solid thing she could find, which just so happened to a chair that the announcer had been sitting on a moment ago. A decent weapon, but one that she wasn’t in range to use traditional. In a pinch, though, it would do.

Abattoir rose up to a knee, jerked about, and hurled the chair at Seren’s face, chucking it with a wild throw. She had little hope it would accomplish much, but all she was looking for was a window, something she could use to swing things in her favor.

Sparks licked at the retreating Abattoir as the LCD monitors can crashing down across the ground behind her. Plastic frames splintering and popping free, static screens turning black as circuit boards buckled and broke, exposing the insides of the screens. Seren let out a hiss of anger at her foes ability to slip past, starting to climb over the uneven ground of the collapsed table while feeling in the hanging guts of the monitors to try again.

Hands occupied and without solid footing, the makeshift projectile proved to be incredibly effective. Catching Seren's upper body as it fly, it ripped her off the top of her mountain of debris, sending her crashing back down onto the collection of coiled wires she had just escaped moments before. She let out a scream, not one out of pain despite how much she had likely just endured, but one of frustration. Foiled twice by her crafty little playmate now had her throwing a tantrum.

Gripping the chair back, she heave it aside with a snarl sending it flattering into the timekeeper's area and making more staffers scatter. Reaching back, her fingers curled white knuckled around the barricade, using it to drag her up to lean against it. Wild eyes she glared at Abattoir, a clear feralness in her that started to show the cracks of just how unhinged she was.

"I know…" She muttered quietly, peering past either of the women ringside to look to her corner where the plushies sat. "... I know! Just let me do it myself!" Lunging off the barrier she stumbled forward, scrambling up off the collapsed announce table on all fours. When she reached the top, the doll makers heaved herself up off the pile, diving straight towards her opponent trying to tackle her to the ground.

Abattoir didn’t spare a moment to glance at the impact site for Seren’s failed attack, but she could hear the crash well enough, and it painted a gruesome picture. Cracked glass, sparks, flinging wires, screaming from the nearby audience, with the ring crew scrambling around them, random curses shouted all around them. That had been where her skull was a second ago, and she had no doubt that taking such a blow would’ve ended the match - and maybe a few other things.

It was proof that Seren wasn’t just out to win, but was trying to end her. Abattoir could relate with that, respect it, admire it, but it did raise questions. Chief among them: where did this woman come from?

An intriguing thought, but one that would have to wait, as her projectile chair shot only put her down for a few moments. Abattoir began to rise, and she could see Seren doing the same, pulling her way up with this wild, heated look in her eyes, seething anger, but it wasn’t directed at her - at least, not solely at her. Curiosity got the better of Abattoir, and she took a quick glance to see who the woman was yelling at, only to see…

...the dolls. She was screaming at her dolls.

Somewhere, deep in the caverns of Abattoir’s head, someone was laughing.

She had little time to process this, however, as Seren came roaring towards her, charging her way full of steam and malice. This time, Abattoir had an answer for her onslaught - she waited until the woman was in range, the second she was close enough, then sprang herself forward and leap at her while she shot her leg upwards, aiming her knee towards the center of Seren’s face.