Miranda Blair vs. The Black Fang - More Than You Can Chew

So, this could’ve been going better. In hindsight, the Black Fang had to admit that she could’ve seen this coming, but she’d though that, if she were quick enough, if she kept her eyes open, she could’ve beaten the numbers game and came out on top through all of this. Beat Miranda with a rollup, scoot on out of the ring, run up the ramp before she could get dogpiled. Discretion being the better part of valor.

In practice...no, that wasn’t happening. For all her efforts, she found herself on the floor, wrecked and writhing and reeling from the blue one’s hellacious blow. God, could she hit, and those hadn’t been sloppy shots, either. It was hard to be sure through the haze, but those felt like professional punches, from someone who’d boxed outside of a wrestling ring.

It was an interesting thought, but one that didn’t count for much, in the end. Whatever this big woman’s past, she didn’t seem like the person to spill it out. Or make conversation at all, really. Or even say a single word that she didn’t need to.

Instead, she was all about action. She moved in and hauled her up with ease, trapping her in a tight full nelson, one that the Black Fang would’ve had trouble getting out of if she’d been at her peak - and, right now, she was about as far from her peak as she could get.

That wasn’t to say she didn’t fight, only that it got her nowhere as she wheeled around to face Miranda. She was defiant, kept her face stoic, but she couldn’t help but waver when the woman went for her mask, pulling at it, threatening to take it and her identity away in one fell swoop. All at once, her thoughts went to AJ. If she wasn’t watching this already, she would eventually, and there was no way to keep her from the Twitterstorm that would no doubt happen if she were unmasked.

Trapped, cornered, running low on time, Miranda presented her with two options, neither of which appealed - give up the mask or give up her fans? Her identity was sacred, a tribute to the wrestlers of old who guard their masks with a fervor approaching the religious. But was holding onto the mask worth losing all the respect she’d built up.

With a deep breath and a heavy heart, the Black Fang opened her mouth, readied herself…

...and bit Miranda’s finger.

For a moment, the group of four was still. Miranda watched and waited for Black Fang’s response, while Bridgette kept the hero locked in, making sure not to give her any slack. Kristy was watching a pair of guards descend down the ramp, fidgeting behind Bridgette. The Black Fang was in a situation that would be bad for anyone, and as the guards came closer, Miranda lifted the mask ever so slightly. Her message was clear as day…

Make your choice, or I will make it for you.

“Black Fang, you’re the only one who can answer this question of mine. Does a masked wrestler care more about their mask, or their fans? I can’t answer, because I care for neither, and having this information could prove useful if I have to deal with others like you in the future.” Miranda gave the mask a little nudge, sliding it a bit higher as if to emphasis her point. “Please don’t disappoint me, Fang. I want to hear it from the source, mask or morals? Personal life, or professional life? Which do you prefer?”

Miranda’s tone was ice, but she seemed to get closer with each question, searching Black Fang’s features for any possible hint to an answer. Bridgette noticed her employers’ close proximity to the hero, and took further precautions, tightening the grip on her hold while moving her feet as to put pressure on the hero’s legs. She was making sure she couldn’t kick or punch her way out of this.

Finally, Black fang took a deep breath. Miranda could have sworn she saw her bottom lip quiver. It didn’t matter, what she wanted was an answer to her curiosity, a peep inside the Black Fang’s lonely, defeated state. She would get her answer, though it was as they say…

Curiosity killed the cat.

Rather than speak, The Black Fang clamped her jaws around Miranda’s finger. To be specific, it was Miranda’s left index finger, the one that had slid underneath the mask. It felt as if knives where being stabbed and grinded in that very finger, Black fangs force was not enough to cause serious damage, but that could be quickly and easily rectified should the hero choose to push harder. Now it was impossible for Miranda to lift the mask, and for Black Fang to speak to the crowd.

Miranda had been thwarted, and it was taking all of her will power not to scream, the hand the once gripped The Black Fang’s chin now pushed against her mask, as if she was trying to muffle herself. Miranda stared at the Black Fang, suddenly seeming much more human as her eyes seethed with pain and rage.

The sudden counter did not go by unnoticed by the other two. Bridgette immediately adjusted her grip, one arm restraining Black Fang’s Arms, the other holding her head still, keeping her from violently shaking her head with Miranda’s finger still in it. It was an awkward hold, completely reliant on brute strength. Kristy was about as helpful as anyone expected.

“D-don’t worry Miranda, we are gonna get you outta this! I’ll just-“

“Quiet!”

With that Kristy meekly backed away from her purple employer. Miranda was thinking about what to do to free herself. Causing the Black Fang pain was not an option, as that would just make her clench tighter, and while it was not true that a person could bite through their finger as easy as a carrot, it was still possible to do some serious damage.

“I have an idea we can try.”

Before Miranda could react, the mechanic’s hand went from Black Fang’s chin to her jaw, her thumb and middle finger beginning to squeeze the tight jaw muscles, looking to push her jaw open.

“Break it up you three! Match is over! Get away from her!”

Security had finally made it down, intent on getting the three trouble making new comers away from the wrestling veteran. Kristy immediately backed off, while Bridgette continued to work on the Black Fang’s jaw, only relenting once Miranda was free.

For the record, Miranda tasted terrible. She was wearing these gloves, latex or something like it, and it left the worst taste in the Black Fang’s mouth. This rubbery, tangy taste that she just knew would be staying with her for a while, no matter how much she gargled and attempted to get it out.

But, as bad as it was, as degrading as it was, as silly as it was, she kept on hanging on. It was about the only option she had, really, when Miranda seemed bent on unmasking her. The longer this went on, the less time they’d have to work with against.

So she held on. Tight. Just enough to keep Miranda in place, without breaking the skin. She would do it for as long as she could, though, as it turned out, she had more of a time limit on that than she’d believed. Kirsty seemed to be in a panic and Miranda was in too much pain for her vaunted ‘logic’ to be of much use, but it seemed that big, blue Brigette had a calmer, considerate mind about her. Whatever else she could say about Miranda, she had to give her hiring practices credit. They were solid, at least half of the time.

The Black Fang could only groan as she went to work on her jaw, mashing the muscles, testing the tendons, forcing a reaction that she couldn’t stop, no matter how hard she tried. She attempted to fight it, held on for as long as she could, but in the end, she had to open up and let her go.

Things would’ve spiraled downward from there, if not for security coming down among them. The Black Fang breathed a sigh of relief from the mouth that had just been forced open, and fell to the side a moment later, relieved. She was okay, she was fine, she’d survived.

For now, at least. She had the queerest feeling that, whatever this was with her and Miranda, this match and the aftermath weren’t the end of it, but a beginning. An extremely early one, at that.

Miranda pulled her finger out of the Black Fang’s mouth the instant it opened, looking to sooth the multiple points of sharp pain the burned the appendage. Miranda did a very quick inspection of the damage, visually reviewing her finger, then bending it multiple times. The blood underneath the skins rushed and began to flow normally again, the pain slowly fading while her finger returned to its normal state of feeling. It seemed that the Black Fang must have been very careful not to bite through the skin, because other than pain, there was no damage done to the finger.

Miranda did not get much time to enjoy her free hand, as both of her arms were sized from behind in a rough grip. Miranda turned her head already knowing who had retrained her. A member of AFW security, the sight alone made the scientist audibly sigh. The trio were officially done here.
Two more security guards went to restrain Bridgette and push her away from the Black Fang, who she released and let her fall loosely to the side. Only one guard bothered to shoo away Kristy, who could tell by the look in her purple superior’s eye that it was time to leave.

Neither Miranda nor her goons resisted the security guards as they were escorted out. Each of them having a record, they all knew fighting authority when caught only led to more trouble for them in the end.

It was time to leave any way. Fighting the Hero in this state would accomplish nothing, the group would gin nothing from it. No longer did it seem logical when there were other matters that needed Miranda’s attention. Still, she could not get the Black Fang’s defiant gaze out of her head. Despite Miranda’s best efforts, the look was as clear in her mind as if the woman was right in front of her.

Such a look promised many things. It would be unlikely the hero left Miranda to her business when she casted such a gaze. It seemed the fight between these two may be far from over, but for now…

The Winner by pinfall: Miranda Blair