Akane Akiyama vs. Armando 'Army' Rodriguez - Slugfest

Something was going on outside the ring. A fight from the sounds of it, and it didn’t take much imagination to figure out who’d be at the center of the ruckus. It figured - there was only so much bullcrap that Carmen could take, and Drake seemed to have endless supply of it. It was more than a little annoying to have a fighting going on in the middle of his fight, but given that the alternative would be Drake messing him up and making things harder than it needed to be with Akane, he didn’t have the usual reservations.

Let them fight. He hoped Carmen knocked his block off.

Outside, Carmen was keen on doing that very thing, more than a little fed up with Drake’s antics and wanting to take him out of the fight altogether. No, surprising him like this hadn’t been the most honorable of tactics, but then, it wasn’t like anything else was working. She’d warned him what would happen if he interfered again. He interfered again. Here they were.

She was about to pound away at him, when Drake showed more of that dogged, street fighting skill that had been such a pain the first time around, smacking her in the face with a wild elbow, one that sent her rolling off him and got him the space he was craving. She made her way back to her feet with her hands on the barricade, intending to bring the fight right back to him, but she was seized before she even had the chance - security was finally on them. Two men for each of them, four total, pulling them apart and dragging them away.

Army made small notice of any of that. He was bit busy getting punched in the face at the time, as Akane delivered a sledgehammer of a punch to his face, leaving him loopy. He took a step back, shook his head to clear the brain, then gripped his fist and came at her with a mirror image of the punch she’d just thrown, aimed at the same spot with his own brand of intensity. If she wanted to go out in a blaze of glory, he’d be more than happy to oblige her, willing to bet on his stamina over hers any day of the week.

Drake had a set of pet peeves as everyone did. Most of them were so minor they hardly ever came up in his life, things like scratching paper, food on a person’s sleeve, the sound of someone biting metal, or repeating himself four times in a row. All of those things made Drake extremely uncomfortable and irritated, but they only happened on such rare occasions that they may as well have been nonexistent. However, Drake did have an extra pair of peeves that went along with the aforementioned set, and his new line of work forced him to confront them ever time he entered the AFW.

The first one was mentioning his eye, which had happened to him so much throughout his life he had grown sick of the subject altogether. Every time someone threw an insult at him or gave him a nickname, it was about his missing eye, stuff like “Cyclops”,”Monoeye”, “Patchy” and so on. It was a dead subject to him, with everyone that brought it up asking the same two to three questions before leaving, or making fun of him for it. He had gotten much better with conversations about his eye, but it still irritated the man to no end.

The second major peeve of his was others touching him. To be more specific, it was others griping his arms and shoulders. Drake was fairly protective of his personal space, with one eye, one had to be even more aware of their surroundings than most, and having someone so close was likely going to trip him up in some way. If someone was hanging off of you, they would only drag you down. In Drakes line of work that was dangerous, and could lead him to taking an unnecessary hit.

So, when two strange men suddenly appeared over him, then grabbed and restrained his arms, he was clearly less than pleased. He thrashed about for a moment, trying to free himself from their grips. After struggling for a few moments, he seemed to remember where he was and calmed down, simply grumbling as security escorted him away…

--

Akane was not really all that concerned with the fight outside the ring. She had gotten used to fights breaking out around her, after all some of her earliest fights were in large groups where it was practically a free for all, only helping out people you knew and hitting people you didn’t. Something as petty as a fight outside the ring hardly caught her attention at all.

Not when there was such a nice, meaty target in front of her.

Her right hook clanged against his head like a bell, the taller man seemingly getting knocked for a loop as he stumbled back a step. He looked rough, but like a strong oak tree, he stayed standing. He was tough, that’s for sure. Tougher than anyone else she fought. Akane was in the middle of considering the perks of just going for a low blow when Army’s fist punched her in the face similar to how hers just did to him.

Dizzy was an understatement, it became hard to see for a few seconds. Akane stumbled for a moment, gravity threatening to pull her down to the cold canvas, only a quick stomp kept her from going all the way down. It was a bit difficult to lift her head back up, and for a split second, there was two Armys in the ring. As quick as they split, they merged back together. That wasn’t a good sign.

She needed to hit Army with something hard. Her hands still hurt from strangling him earlier, and she was starting to think that it was holding back her performance. Just another way her temper came back to bite her in the rear, though it would not take her long to come up with an idea in her groggy state of mind, it probably was not her smartest or greatest idea, but it seemed like it might do the trick.

Worse thing that happens is he knocks me out cold…

With that thought out of the way, Akane rushed Army, looking to deliver a similar hook as the pair exchanged previously, but as she got close, she changed stances, going instead to hug Army and restrain his arms, even for just a moment. If she succeeded, then Army would be defensless against the one thing everyone always told the red head was harder than her fists. Her head.

Akane would pull it back, then look to smash as hard as her back, neck, and skull would allow.

There. One of Army’s best punches. He’d knocked guys out with that hook, guys bigger and tougher and meaner than Akane, so that was sure to put her down for the count.

Any second now.

Any second.

Shit.

After she took his Smash and kept going, Army should’ve figured that this wouldn’t do the trick, either, but in his defense, that blow had been at the beginning of the match, long before he’d put Akane through the ringer. She should’ve been worn down, shouldn’t have had much in the way of defense left, and yet here she was. Still fighting. Still surviving. Still ready to face off with him, despite all the damage he’d flung her way.

It made for an impressive scene, one that Carmen admired as she was escorted away. She didn’t put up any real fight, didn’t give security any trouble. After all, she’d been working in the Tension arena long enough to know most of these guys by their first name. If she didn’t make any trouble, there wouldn’t be any trouble.

Carmen would have to sign a few papers, make a few phonecalls, probably pay a fine. She could get herself out of this. No problem.

The same couldn’t be said for Army, however. He thought he’d been doing good, and he was ready to hit her with another shot to the face. Akane didn’t seem to be all that big on actually dodging anything, more of a ‘stand up and take it’ sort of girl. He could work with that.

Instead of moving away, she came in, pulled him close, and let loose with the only part of her body that wasn’t currently occupied: her skull. It slammed Army’s head and sent him reeling, moving back on wobbly feet. He was on shakey ground, wide open, begging to be attacked.

But there was an opportunity here, too. On instinct more than anything, Army put his body into a familiar motion, drawing back his left arm, turning his body in just the right way, lashing out from the unorthodox angle. Another Smash, and this one was designed to do what the previous couldn’t: knock her the fuck out.

“Damn…your head…sure is hard…”

Akane liked to think she was a fairly tough opponent not just because of her brawn, but because she was strategic as well. She seemed to have a natural knack for figuring out where the softest spots were on a person on going in on them for maximum damage. Sure, she liked to avoid low blows and dirty fighting in general if possible, but she was not above using them if they were the best tool to deal with a situation. With that in mind, even she would acknowledge that perhaps a headbutt was not the smartest choice to go with when fatigued from a long hard battle.

The red head was not stupid. She knew full well how to execute a proper headbutt as to achieve maximum impact on her foe’s skull while achieving minimal impact on her own. It worked fine, Army stumbling back from the impact, the man wide open for another pressing attack, but for an instant, nothing came. That was because Akane’s head was still sore from the impact. It was nothing as serious as one of Army’s punches, but Akane was trying to win this thing, and if this were a video game, she would bet her health bar was in the red by now. One stupid mistake could easily send her to a pretty painful date With Army’s knuckles.

Or, maybe it would save her a whole lot of suffering.

Army must have been working on instinct, because he did little to hide what he was doing next. Had Akane not struggled with her head, she would doubtlessly have charged Army, looking to press her advantage and thus have no chance of escaping his strike. The red head had only seen it once, but she recognized the first half instantly. It was the beginning of the move she had been watching for since it hit her at the start of the match.

Akane tried her best to learn from her mistakes, and there was no way she was going to repeat the smash if she could help it.

Akane moved in, getting as close as she dared to Army while trying to stay out of the reach of that moving sleeping pill. She backstepped just in time to avoid the haywire fist that could easily have knocked her out, sweat flying from the arm and splattering her face it was so close. She prayed that Army could only throw one of those things at a time, or else she was doomed. No backing up now, only moving forward would get her the win. If she retreated, she was done, Army will have completely worn her out and there would be nothing she could do. The brawler pushed, hard and fast as she could, sweat rolling down her skin as she focused everything she had into delivering this final blow.

She got close and into position, pulled her right arm back, trying her best to copy the movements she had seen in her memory, turning her body at an angle she was sure was correct, or at least close, and firing her own fist at a very strange angle. Akane was mimicking Army’s Smash attack, figuring the only way to take him down would be a next level finisher, but this was her first and only time using it. How effective it would be remained to be seen.

Don’t screw up, don’t screw up, don’t screw UP!

Don’t miss, don’t miss, do not miss…

Those were the words that kept repeating in Army’s brain as he reeled back and let fly with the best shot her had to offer, hoping to knock Akane’s head clear off her shoulders and score the win. Even with his body winded and his head spinning and his sweat pouring, he could still nail this move reliably, had no doubts it would put her on the mat for a three count.

He normally wouldn’t have tried for the move a second time, figuring Akane might suss it out. The windup was telltale, and opponents that got hit with it once and survived knew to avoid it like the plague - and that was in boxing matches. Wrestling gave anyone with a sharp eye so many ways to get clear in time.

But Akane seemed different. Not stupid, he wouldn’t go that far, but she struck him as the type to take a blow, not block it, not dodge it. So he was confident this would hit.

And he was wrong.

”Shit-” It missed. Okay. So what? All Army had to do was move back, get low, get into position, and-

When Army woke up, he was on the floor, staring at the lights with blinking eyes and a raging headache. He’d only been out for a second, if that long, enough time to hit the floor and wake up. A flash knockout, not the first time he’d experienced one, but that just raised the question of what she hit him with. Akane was strong, but not strong enough to make him that loopy with a single punch in her arsenal. Right?

Whatever the case, the results spoke volumes, and like his pounding skull, it wouldn’t shut up. He wasn’t unconscious, but he was dizzy, couldn’t do much more than writhe about on the floor as his body kicked into a soft restart. Not a good position to be. Not with this woman.

Akane figured she did most of the movements of Army’s correct, but it was impossible to get them all right. She had only seen it once, and most of what she remembered was the first half, just before blacking out when the fist smashed the side of her head and knocked her right over. She got a slight refresher course when Army went to do it a second time, this time able to see how he did the last half of the smash, but seeing somebody perform their finisher twice and then replicating it perfectly was not a skill Akane possessed, no one did as far as she knew.

So when her fist smacked against Army, two things made it painfully clear she had done something wrong. The first was her wrist. For some reason only one side of it exploded in pain, the alien strike not quite landing how it was likely supposed to. Sure it was powerful, but it lacked the grace that Army had doubtlessly mastered through years of training and practice, swung like a wild wrecking ball, but had about as much control as one.

The second was Akane’s balance, as in she lost it. Army went down with the blow, falling backwards and crashing hard to the floor, but so did Akane, her body curving with the strike and crashing to the side of the large boxer. The pair seemed to just lay there on the ground, motionless. The crowd kept cheering for their favorite competitor, urging them to get back up and finish the fight.

Slowly, the two fighters seemed to return to reality, beginning to groan and writhe on the floor. It seemed the fight was starting to take its toll, as neither of them were quick to get up, or even move beyond massaging their aches and pains.

“1!”

Suddenly the referee started a count, rousing the red head from her brief rest on the floor. It was so nice and cool laying on the floor, letting her tense and bruised muscles relax for even a minute felt great. Sweat continued to drip off of her and onto the floor, the brawlers red eyes simply staring off for a moment…

“2!”

“3!”

It was at the three count the she finally started to move, trying to get her tired arms underneath her, trying to lift her heavy frame of the floor, grunting with effort. For the moment, Akane’s only thought was to stand back up, dealing with Army would have to wait for later.

Army was on his back and someone was counting. Huh. For a moment, he could almost pretend it was like the old days.

For a moment, a weird one, it felt like Army wasn’t in the ring anymore, wasn’t in Friction, wasn’t even in Japan. No, he was younger now on a different day, at home, in the middle of a boxing tournament and not do so hot, if his current view of the ceiling was anything to go off of. He must’ve been fighting someone good, damn good, to put him down like this. Felt like he’d been trading blows with a sledgehammer…

Wait. Wait. That wasn’t right. None of this was right. He wasn’t in the boxing ring, he was in the wrestling ring. He wasn’t taking on one of his old rivals, but Akane, the psycho redhead bruiser. He wasn’t outside, either, and she wasn’t pinning him as near as he could tell, which left precious few reasons for the referee to be counting. Unless…

He looked up, to the side, and sure enough, Akane was on the floor, trying to get up before he could. Fuck.

With a groan, he balled his fists tight, clenched his teeth, and made an attempt to get back up, one that failed right out of the crib. Another try, another fail. It was only on the third attempt that he managed to steel himself enough to get his upper body moving, and even then, it was a slow process...just not as slow as Akane. He hoped.

”4! 5! 6!”

Some were going wild for him, cheering for the AFW veteran they’d known for going on five years, now. Others were solid in Akane’s corner, wanting to the sharp newcomer with the hot outfit make her debut with a strong win. Army blocked them all out and focused on the task at hand, forcing his body to rise higher, willing everything he had to keep going.

Wait, did she just say six?

Akane had managed to lift her large frame onto her hands and knees, stopping to try and gather her wits about her, try and charge her batteries even a little. The red head thought she had been making pretty good time, forgetting she had all but slept through the first two counts, and had only began her journey on count number 3. One could argue that getting as far as she had was an accomplishment in itself, few able to take such a beating from a professional veteran like Army and still keep going, to still remain conscious and able to move at all. Akane did not see it that way, at least, not at the moment. Right now, the challenge that vexed her so was the simple act of standing back up within the time limit. 6 seconds in and she had barley lifted herself off the floor. Pathetic.

“7!”

The count kept going, it seemed the two fighters had hardly moved since they fell to the floor. Akane caught Army sitting back up. A low, dull, quick feeling of dread weld up inside of her, that he may stand back up before her, that she would be counted out without first knocking Army out, and he would walk away with a victory over her. That could not happen. The brawler could accept a lose if she was knocked out, anything else simply wouldn’t do.

Akane placed a boot underneath her…

“8!”

Panting, mustering as much focus and energy she could, Akane began to push herself up, slowly and carefully as to not to topple over. Her head was pounding, but still she pushed herself, her fiery vision rising higher and higher.

All the while, watching Army, using him as her motivation to get back up and to continue the fight. Anger still burning in her eyes, but also a hint of respect hidden beneath the flames. One way or another, she was determined to finish this fight.

God. Army had almost forgotten how long ten seconds could be when a referee was counting them.

This was the worst way to be reminded of such a brutal fact. He kept surging upwards, ignoring his body’s protests. He ached. He ached in places where he knew he’d taken damage, and even in places where he was sure he hadn’t, which just left him confused. When had she struck his legs? His ribs? Why were his feet so sore? Why did everything from the neck down feel like it was made of lead?

Didn’t matter, didn’t care. Just keep on rising.

He put one foot on the canvas, then another, only to slip back down to a knee soon after. Too fast, too hard, the effort left him dizzy. It was as if his body was a thing apart from his mind, wanting nothing more than to take a rest, regardless of what his brain was saying.

That was, until he spied Akane near by, trying to do the same thing, and he realized what this was: a race. One that he was far too close to losing.

”Come on…” He grunted through gritted teeth. ”Come on!”

For one golden moment, it looked like he was going to do it. He was the apex of his rising, forcing up to his feet, going higher with his second. He strained. He suffered. He pushed through, squeezed out every iota of energy he had to offer, and managed to stand up, tall and proud.

Only to fall flat on his face a moment later, nearly collapsing right on top of the referee.

Shaky. Very, very shaky. That was how Akane felt at the moment. It felt as if a stray wind would blow her over, a wrong step could topple her like a game of Jenga. It was hard…so very hard, but Akane had just barely gotten on her two feet, panting erratically, trying to keep the burning sensation out of her legs for a moment, watching Army climb up the long hill with her.

“Time to finish this, Daddy’s boy!”

A nasty smirk crossed her face, but she desperately hoped she didn’t sound as terrible as she felt, her chest steadily rising and falling. She wasn’t even sure she could lift up her arms up in a stance, much less throw a punch. Really, this was just a battle of attrition, who could hold out the longest while withstanding the others attempts to push them over. Maybe Army could still throw a punch or to, but if that was the case, then the fiery brawler was as good as gone. She wouldn’t let him see that, however. She’d take this guy on until he beat her down finally.

“9!”

Army seemed to be getting there, standing on his own two feet. The fight seemed ready to resume, Akane getting a trickle of adrenaline in her veins, seeing her toughest opponent get back off the floor. He looked a lot better than she did, a fact that scared her a little. He was coming getting ready to…

“Eh?”

Army did rush forward, or more accurately, fell forward. His massive body hit the rings floor with such an impact it practically shook the whole ring. He almost fell on top of the referee, whom exchanged a confused glance with Akane. For a minute, the pair just stood there, looking at Army’s fallen form. After no further movement form Army, the ref seemed to signal the end of the match, leaving a bewildered Akane to look on.

Did she just win? After all of that build up, she came out on top? To a count out, no less? Something about that felt…off. Army was still conscious, he just couldn’t get back up in time, and Akane was so used to it being a knockout that counted as a win. She was really going to have to get used to all these stupid rules that wrestling had.

“This is just… so stupid.” Akane mumbled while shaking her head. She walked over towards Army’s down form, tapping it with her foot while glaring down at him.

“Try and think before you start throwing trash at someone next time. Otherwise, you might find yourself on the floor again. Okay?”

Whether Army answered or not, it didn’t matter. The red head was tired and wanted nothing more than a cold shower and a decent bed to fall onto. She would turn, away and try her best to walk as dignified as she could, grumbling all the way out.