Elizabeth 'Riza' Hawkeye vs. Armando 'Army' Rodriguez - Second Shot

When in doubt, punch. Words to live by.

In this case, that saying served him well. It was just about the only thing that kept Hawkeye from ripping his arm right out of the socket, as she continued to pour the pressure on with an excruciating hold. There was a time when Army would’ve shied away from punching a pretty woman in the face - and Hawkeye was pretty, for all the crap they were giving each other. But, thankfully, he’d managed to get over that a while ago. She wanted the hard treatment, and that meant taking the whole package.

The crowd still booed the hell out of them, though. Whatever. He was a little too preoccupied with his aching arm to care.

He rolled over to his knees, grasping his aching arm as he rose to his feet. It hurt like hell, would need some time to recover, so he had to figure out a way to keep the momentum going in the meantime. He had a few ideas.

Getting back to his feet, Army took a couple steps back and bounced off the ropes, building some extra speed. As he came close to Hawkeye’s fallen form, he leaped straight up, tucked his legs in, and came down on her midsection with a knee drop.

In truth, it probably wasn't all that fair that Army was getting overwhelmingly booed for that punch. Wrestling wasn't a soft sport after all, and Hawkeye wasn't pulling any punches against him. But then again, who liked to see a hot blonde in a bikini top, especially an underdog with heart, get punched in the face?

Hawkeye stayed on the mat, blinking rapidly, hands slowly checking her face as she became more away. Her face stung like fuck, and she was slowly checking herself for immediate damage. Nose?...smashed, bleeding, but not broken, luckily. Teeth?...all there, thank goodness. Even for his size, how the hell could he punch that damn hard?

Not that she had any time to actually contemplate this, as things went dark, a shadow cast over her in the bright lights, having just enough time to realize it was her opponent, before his knee drove into her midsection.

"HOOOOOF!"

That...that really fucking sucked. His knee smashed into her soft, but taunt, midsection, smashing down on her ribs and soft innards, kicking up her legs and upper body and driving all the wind out of her, before she fell back onto the mat, curling up in a fetal position as she gagged and gasped for air!

Army chuckled as he came up, though it probably wasn’t for the reason that most of the booing crowd thought. Specifically, it was kind of funny to see her down what he liked to call the ‘tooth check’. Back when he was boxing, he’d always run his tongue along his teeth every time he took a big hit to the face, making sure everything was still in its place. It was just funny to see he wasn’t alone with that.

Just a small observation. Back to business.

His knee drop was a success, if the noises Hawkeye made were anything to go by. Her midsection was solid, moreson than he remembered the last time, but she wasn’t bulletproof, and he was dropping quite a bit on her all once. It was no surprise that she crumpled up, but if she was looking for respite, she was about to be sorely disappointed. And just plain sore.

”Okay, so,” He dropped down after rolling after the knee dropped and pushed her flat on her back, using his knee to pin her chest down. ”I’m not big on the submission moves, don’t know too many. So this’ll have to do.”

With his position secured, Army raised his good arm up, took a moment to gather strength, then brought his fist down hard into her ribs, targeting the same spot his knees hit. ”Tap!” And again, for good measure. ”Out!”

Breath. Breath. Fucking Breaaaath.

Normally, breathing was literally the easiest thing in the world...but then Army had to drop his f**king knee on her gut like an asshole and make breathing unbelievably difficult.

His knee on her chest certainly didn't help..."*wheeze, gasp* Get...off of-AHH!" she cried out, his fist hammering down on her ribs, spittle flying from her mouth as she again was left gasping and wheezing, the crowd booing loudly as he tried to make her submit.

"*Pant...pant...pant*...Fuck...You..."

Yeah, that was about the response that Army was expecting to get out of Felina. It seemed like the woman was just operating on pure stubbornness - the more he wanted to put her down, the more she wanted to resist and make it a pain in the ass. It was kind of endearing in a way, and he could see himself doing the exact same thing if the positions were switched. Didn’t make it any less of a pain in the ass, though.

”Yeah, yeah, fuck me.” Army groaned, half out of pain from his aching arm and half out of irritation over the whole situation. She wanted the rough stuff? She’d get it.

He reached down and grabbed Hawkeye by the hair, standing up and forcing her to rise with him. As soon as she was on two feet, he dropped down and plowed forward, ramming her into the corner, shooting his shoulder hard into her chest. Still targeting that area. Still giving her the hard shots.

Ow ow ow, hair hair, fucking hair.

Of course Army would grab her hair. Dick. She hated being pulled up by her hair, one of her biggest pet peeves, and here Army was, tightly gripping and yanking her up by it. She punched as his hand, his wrist, trying to get him off, to no avail. At least she was breathing a bit easie-"AGH!"

Nevermind. Whatever air she had managed to get in was taken back, as Army drove the smaller fighter into the corner, his shoulder crushing her chest and targeting her still aching ribs, more spittle flying from her lips. "Big...dumb...ox!" she yelled, growing more frustrated, trying to drive her elbow, as well as several fists, down on his back.

Army was well aware that Hawkeye wouldn’t enjoy having her hair pulled like that - that was sort of the point. A big part of this whole thing came down to respect, mind games, playing with each others heads, and he intended to keep that going. Win or lose, there’d be matches after this, and he wanted to plant the seeds for later.

...also, her hair felt kind of nice in his hand. Nice and glossy. She took care of it. He was kind of curious how it looked when it was down and free. She’d probably clean up nice...

Focus, focus.

Army was in the process of hefting Hawkeye up on the top rope, a task that he swore was easier during their first match, when he was met with some unexpected resistance. The blows on his back would’ve been pleasant at any stage of the match, but after being worked over so much, they took a toll - he cried out as her elbows drilled him in the back, and he was forced to take a couple of steps back to deal with the pain, leaving her where she was for a moment.

The respite Hawkeye had briefly bought herself allowed her to do a mental sit-rep, checking her own condition.



It...wasn't great to tell the truth. There was blood coming down her possibly broken nose, and one eyelid was getting puffy after he punched her in the face, her back was bruised and felt like fire, his strikes to her ribs had to have bruised something, because each ragged breath felt like agony, and now her scalp hurt.



While having better endurance than some would suspect, she was still in a bad way, getting beaten down more and more the longer things went, and while she was doing damage, Army could endure more.



Her mind raced through ideas. She needed a big move to put him down, so she could re-apply her armbar.



Charge at him, hit the Boma-Ye? No, he'd see that coming. Climb the turnbuckle, leap attack? No, last time that got her rib smashed.



...the turnbuckle....



An idea coming to her head, Hawkeye reached out, grabbing the waistband on the front of Army's shorts, pulling him closer to her, just enough to latch an arm around his head and kick both booted feet out at his leg, trying to trip him up and use her grip and leverage to pull him down and smack his face into the turnbuckle pad!

Army was confident that he had this thing in the bag, which was what worried him. He was in a weird state of high confidence and low confidence, sure and unsure all at once.

On one hand, he was pretty sure he had this all sewed up. Hawkeye was tough, but he’d just about broken her in half. On the other hand, he’d kind of been here before, hadn’t he? These situations were he thought the match was one, only for it to come back and bite him in the ass. It was like his chances of winning a match were inversely proportional to what he thought his chances were.

So, as he moved towards the turnbuckle with Hawkeye in tow, he was kind of expecting something to go wrong. Unfortunately, that didn’t mean he could do anything to stop it when it did. She got the jump on him, tripped him up, and down he went. Right into the turnbuckle. No,it was not pleasant.

He hit the bottom pad with an audible smack, an impact that felt every bit as bad as it sounded. Stunned, all he could do was roll over onto his back and groan, nursing the spot where a lump would likely be growing soon.

Oh thank god that worked, Hawkeye thought, with a sigh of relief. Being trapped in the corner against Army was something that couldn't possibly end well for anyone. Luckily she had him stunned and had the opportunity to really do some damage.

Grabbing the hunk of dazed meat and muscle, Hawkeye, with great effort and more than a little pain from her ribs and back, pulled Army up to his feet and pressed him against the turnbuckle. Lifting with her legs, and with her shoulder in his gut, hands around his waist, she lifted him onto the turnbuckle, sitting him down on it. "So...damned...heavy...how do you not crush your girlfriends?" she said aloud, finally sitting him on the turnbuckle.

After taking a minute to gain her breath back, she climbed up with him, standing on the middle turnbuckle, looking Army in the eye. "Alright, whose ready to see me put this big lug away!?" She yelled, getting a roar of approval from the crowd, the woman putting Army's arm over her head and doing the same to him, preparing to superplex him!