SS 19 Blade Uehara vs. Beauty Ichigaya

That was satisfying. Really.

It wasn’t quite as good as hitting a powerbomb, didn’t have that indescribable satisfaction that always came from using someone’s spine like a battered ram, but the lack of that impact was more than made up for by the way Blade screamed as she was flung through the air. Beautiful, really. And effective, too, as her opponent could no doubt attest.

Judging from the way she hit, it was a surprise she held onto consciousness. She was just barely awake, sliding to the floor in a lifeless heap, a position that Blade would’ve loved to take advantage of in some grand way...if only she wasn’t so gassed at the moment. That little counter had taken a lot out of her, and she would need a moment before she went for anything big.

But then, that didn’t mean she couldn’t do something. A simple thing. Like, say, planting her foot on Blade’s neck and pressing down to choke her.

So she did that.

Leaning over her fallen, pinned foe, she made sure to look into Blade’s eyes as she struggled underneath her heel. ”Rethinking certain life choices, Blade?”

Well...Beauty aint wrong. Blade was indeed harboring several regrets at the current moment. Not the least of which being her specific choice in counter attack after it itself had been countered in a way no-one had ever seen. By sling-shooting the punk high-flyer overhead to plaster her face onto the ring apron, aka the hardest part of the ring...as if the announcer's would ever let you forget that tidbit. But that still didn't make it any less true, or undeniably effective in bringing forth a galaxy of stars in Blade's disoriented vision. The Okinawan drunkenly tripping over nothing before toppling over and letting gravity take the wheels.

Blade blubbered nonsensical gibberish before consciousness started streaming back into her, one disappearing star at a time. She was even somewhat starting to regain her composure with a visible attempt at upward motioning. But than Beauty...well, just had to be Beauty didn't she? "Hrruhhhhhyakk..." Blade squawked and gagged for air when that pearl white boot started squeezing down on her neck, her own sneakers tip-tapping on the floor with one arm reaching behind her to paw at the Beaut's ankle. She scrunched her face and resisted, but knew deep down she wasn't being freed until goddamn Ichigaya allowed it. Cacophonous booing and jeers indicating the snob was not earning any extra fans by literally putting her boot to the throat of the underdog fan favorite.

As satisfying as it was to grind her heel into Blade’s throat like this, she had to admit - inwardly - that pinning her down like this was less about getting a submission out of the woman and more about taking a moment to breath without being harrassed. The little ruffian had really run her ragged for the first half of the fight, giving her far more trouble than she should’ve had from a woman half her size - but she was in control, now, and she was going to make sure it stayed that way.

This was never going to make Blade quit, of course, but she had confidence that she could get them to that point. Not out here, though - Beauty wanted to move this fight to the back.

In her own way, naturally.

Beauty let off of Blade’s neck, but not out of mercy - instead, she reached down and grasped her foe’s hair, pulling her up and shoving that head of hers between her legs in the familiar position. Reaching down, she yanked Blade up onto her shoulders, took a running start, and launched her off at the right moment, sending her back flying towards the barricade with a brutal Buckle Bomb.

If someone were to casually come across this match while channel surfing, that person would be hard pressed to believe Blade had been running anybody ragged up until this point of the match. The least of whom being the statuesque blonde currently digging her boot into Blade's larynx...which was admittedly about as minimal an effort possible towards keeping an opponent grounded and out of your hair. Blade's gurgled retort not needing to be translated considering it was mainly a strung together mish-mash of infuriated expletives with some shade thrown towards Beauty's hair stylist to boot. The sweet release from beneath the Beaut's white boot came with some whooping coughs that sounded hoarse, but in reality Blade was loving the sensation of getting some air back in her lungs.

But than it all went wrong again once Ichigaya hauled her up by her scruffy locks and trapping her head between her sculpted thighs. Blade ineffectually stroking those muscled legs around her in her frazzled disorientation before being heaved upward and situated upon Beauty's shoulders. Slackened lifelessly and eyes half-lidded, the Okinawan adopted a look of startled terror when their speed started picking up before being flung forward through the barricade. Fans in the front row wisely booking it to avoid becoming a part of the action as Blade howled in agony upon collision before twisting to her side to start massaging her spine. Snarling vehemently with her cheek mushed against the cold concrete, and basically really starting to hate life right about now.

It might have looked impressive to most eyes, but Beauty Ichigaya couldn’t be satisfied with that PowerBomb. Blade’s initial assault had left her running more ragged than she’d anticipated. She hadn’t been able to get nearly the momentum she should’ve had with that throw. The distance was lacking. Not the ideal impact.

But it was a small problem. She would have all sorts of chances to powerbomb Blade in unique ways and onto unique surfaces. Her time would come.

For now, though, she wanted to keep Blade moving while the woman was so pliable. She was tempted to try and lift the woman up, and she would’ve had the strength for that in most circumstances, but she was still a tad wiped. Not that she was giving up on the goal, she’d just have to use more creative, efficient ways of moving her foe around.

”Come along, Blade.” She reached down, grabbed a handful of her hair, and started to march up the ramp, dragging Blade along with her whether she wanted to come along or not. Especially ‘not’. ”Let’s take a walk, shall we?”

Replay videos repeated non-stop on LIVE television. Capturing the barricade-crushing powerbomb from five different angles while Beauty collected herself and Blade, well...tried to remember the good old days when her opponent's didn't love hurling her into the audience every goddamn match. Chizuru having done the same in their match, and now Blade gets to relive that joyous moment again. The Aerial Artist was still cognizant, still aware of her surroundings and for now thought it was in her best interest to just kinda stay put for now. Buried beneath barricade walls and beside steel chairs, it was actually kinda comfortable. A nice place to-

*Ohgoddammitnotagain...* Blade couldn't even enjoy languishing in peace before overhearing the elegant vocals of the sadistic princess just than digging her hands into the tomboy's hair before being unwillingly hauled upward. One of her arms would wrap around Beauty's waist from behind with the Okinawan leveraging herself heavily against the blonde powerhouse for whatever stroll Beauty had in mind. "...Rghh...ya had anuff yet or what, huh?" Blade blathered out in her powerbombed stupor, almost tripping over her own feet as cameramen followed along the warring duo from behind.

Ugh, this was annoying.

While Beauty was dedicated to bringing Blade to the back, she had to concede, it was proving to be a more troublesome task than she’d originally anticipated. The smaller woman was in a daze, clunky, which made dragging her about far more cumbersome than she would’ve liked. She was stumbling and staggering all over the place, in no fit shape for the journey. Worse yet, she seemed loopy, which would make winning this match more difficult than it needed to be.

She needed Blade awake and alert. Needed to jolt her back to reality. She had just the thing, too.

”Up we go, Blade.” She reached back, grabbed Blade by the waist, and hoisted her up in a sudden, rough motion, dropping her back across her shoulders and holding her with a Torture Rack. Like this, she started to march up the ram, bouncing every few steps to give Blade a burst of fresh pain, keeping her nice and awake for the transport.

Those who had placed down good money on the Okinawan underdog to scrounge up a win here were no longer liking their odds of walking away winners this day. Not when Blade looked like a stumbling drunkard being escorted to the exit doors at closing time, which she can attest to having needed to be done to her at times. But being run ragged by your most hated rival who now had absolute control over you was nowhere near as much as fun as being drunk...

...but unlike glasses of cold water, a hearty breakfast, and some hair of the dog which usually cure her hangovers, Beauty opted to go the more brutally painful route of hoisting Blade atop her shoulders like she were the narcissist's personal luggage. "Rragh...you...sucking...fuck..." Blade snarling out her bitterness in a jumbled mess, thrashing desperately until Beauty's bouncing torque's sparked white hot agony in her spine. Making her flinch from the seething pain, but she ultimately became limp and docile from the torture rack doing its job of both keeping Blade cognizant while also settling her down like a prized trophy Beauty pridefully marched around with.

”Code Alpha! Code Alpha!”

Backstage, the crew was already starting to scramble as Beauty made her way towards the curtains with her unwilling passenger. All over, stagehands were scrambling to clear the area of all valuables, anything breakable or expensive, reduce damage as much a possible - with Beuty and Blade coming, property destruction was a certainty, but they could at least try to get ready.

Beauty came through the curtain and found herself amidst this chaos, smiling at all the possibilities laid before her. The camera crew filed in right behind her, desperately trying to find the best angles to cover what was about to go down. She wished them the best of luck.

Looking around, it didn’t take her long to figure out what the next step would be. ”Hungry after the trip, Blade?”

After uttering those cryptic words, Beauty ducked down, shot up, and heaved Blade right off her of her shoulders, sending her flying through the air, free and high...towards the catering table. It was the traditional kind, not the kind of table that broke in two when you looked at it the wrong way. An unpleasant landing, and that was before you took into account all the deviled eggs and ham which would serve as her landing pad...

Sprawled out on Beauty's shoulders and rendered relatively helpless, Blade endured the paralyzing torqueing of her spine as best she could given that she didn't have any input on the matter regardless. Admiring the craftsmanship put into the ceiling tiles did help her count down the seconds before she'd finally be set down by the pompous powerhouse, though when she steadied her resolve with a scowling grimace and flaring exhale through her nostrils, she was immediately clued her in to where they were the instant she started smelling the distinct aroma of dark coffee, deviled eggs, and ham...good ol' catering.

"So, like, this one guy is totes chatting me up right, and he's like tre cute and starts asking for my number and junk...but than he starts getting all handsy and I'm like, so sure~...Whatever sqeezo..."

"Like, seriously...But I still felt kinda icky when Masumi tossed the poor guy halfway across the-...Whoa, look out!!!"

Two particular Hooters waitresses standing beside one of luncheon tables scattered to their respective sides once they noticed the incoming Wrestle Angels and their accompanying camera crew making a beeline right towards the table they were chatting besides. Blade attaining the freedom she desired, although it was via her getting chucked over head to a cacophonous splat atop all manners of foodstuffs. Immediately a feeling a distinct combination of throbbing pain and grossed out disgust as she went tumbling off of the table, slopping over all of the ruined foodstuffs along with her.

"......so anyway, I was thinking that we could, like, hand out mugs of beer for out next entrance and..." Those particular waitresses carrying their food plates elsewhere as they continued their conversations at the other end of the bustling lunchroom.