AV 19 Valley Doll vs. Death Bunny

Whatever it was that rekindled Valley's rebellious spark, absolutely nobody could have denied it's jarring effectiveness in imbuing new life into the Californian whose chances of winning a few seconds ago could have best been described merely by casting one's gaze towards the coffin at ringside. Death certainly not anticipating or much appreciating this unforeseen revival when winning the match was all but within her undead grasps, nor the concussive strikes back and forth from all sides. A planned reprieve against the middle rope was effective in the short-term but devastating in the long term due to the Tiger Feint Kick thwacking her from that perch.

Voices rose throughout the jam-packed stadium from not only Valley's offensive surge, but exactly what a splayed out adversary assuredly meant for the blonde high-flyer. Death stirred with eyes scrunched shut and a reflexive twitch to her head bobbing up and down. Signs that she was subconsciously willing herself onward. That is until a squinted open eye caught the split-second sight of an acrobatic flip taking place up above before the underside of Valley's tanned thigh came splashing down across the Reaper's head with enough booming impact to have Death's frame spasm on impact before settling back down with warmed over breathes felt against the back of Valley's leg.

Almost the instant after the impact, Valley Doll shot up and moved towards Death Bunny’s leg, only stopping halfway there when the realization struck home. Not a standard match, the pinfall wouldn’t work. Casket. Had to get her to the casket.

It was the fatigue talking more than anything else, she knew it, the weight of this match taking its toll on her senses. Compared to most other wrestlers, Valley did these multi-fall matches often, but her body wasn’t built for them. She was getting older, slower, losing stamina easier and her younger opponent had the benefit of a deeper well to draw from. She’d been wrestling for nearly thirty minutes at this point, and it might as well have been a marathon as far as her body was concerned.

She needed to end it.

Rolling over, she grabbed Death Bunny by the hair and pulled her in close, stuffing the hare's head between her legs. She raised her right leg up, tucked her ankle behind her left knee, and pulled it back from there, trapping Death Bunny in a tight figure four headlock - what she liked to call her 'Valley Lock'.

Death vaguely recollected what sounded like suppressed snickering right after Valley had made the splayed out bunny reaper acutely familiar with the underside of the Californian veteran's thigh. The attentive audience catching Valley her attempted pin right in the middle of a casket match for a rarefied botch from the veteran and one assuredly added to internet clip shows showcased around the world. Well as for Death, whatever the people were slyly chuckling about couldn't have mattered less to her after being battered around like a goddamn ping-pong ball with Valley Girl playing both sides of the board.

Of course rather than a paddle it was the dynamic kicks of Valley that were getting the job done. Rattling D.B.'s bunny-eared cranium to the point where resistance was a hopeful afterthought to her simpler desire of just shuffling over onto her stomach and start lumbering back to her feet. Neither of which she was allowed before feeling both of Valley's tanned thighs crank down on her from behind. "Shhhffccck..." Death croaked out with a gasping grimace as she struggled mightily with both of her hands clawing onto the Cali-girl's strangely supple thighs with the intent of prying open whatever room she could get. But even those efforts were not as fearsome as they could have been...

”What was that?” Valley called out as she pumped up the pressure, tightening the noose on Death Bunny’s throat. ”Speak up, it sounds like you have something in your throat!”

Valley was fairly certain this was what they called ‘gallows humor’. As good as it was to have the advantage over this beast of a woman, even temporarily, she wasn’t under any illusion - this wasn’t built to last. Sooner or later, and probably sooner, her foe would get the better of her, and it was all in her best interest to get this woman into the coffin before then.

A who outweighed her by, at least, sixty pounds. Oh, joy.

Valley reached down to give Death Bunny a quick smack in the face, then started to crab-walk backwards on her palms, making the slow drag towards the edge of the ring. ”Let’s take a walk, come on…”

"...Hrrgh." Hacked breaths and croaked words did not make for a fitting rebuttal, but you try responding in a comprehensible manner when you have tanned granite for thighs squeezing down on your cranium and just genuinely making life miserable for you. Being sprawled out on her back gave Death a disconcerting view of the roof-lights above as she huffed and pawed at Valley's legs with an occasional stomp of her black boot into the canvas until that, as well as her resistance in general starting withering down. Scores of ladies have assuredly succumbed to this very same predicament, to what were ostensibly the strongest pair of legs in the wrestling game today. Death's eyelids started to become that much heavier with drawn out panting before getting a demoralizing swat from the Cali-girl. In firm control of the match and D.B. herself, whom she'd start to lethargically scoot towards the edge of the ring...

The good news: Valley Doll had Death Bunny between her legs. Dead-to-rights. If this was a normal match, it might be over. All she had to do was keep holding on and wait for the oxygen deprivation to do its sthing.

The bad news: This wasn’t a normal match, and Valley had no clue how to get her opponent in that casket.

It would’ve been hard enough with her hands and with an opponent who was smaller than she was, but Death Bunny was definitely out of her weight class, not even close. The woman was fading, but even if she went out, it was going to be a big question of whether or not she stayed that way long enough. Valley was just now getting a sudden reminder of exactly why she’d gone so long avoiding these matches.

But whining about the problem wasn’t going to help. She had to solve this.

Once she was in position, Valley rolled to the side and took them to the edge, getting as close as she could to the ropes without bumping into them. With them close enough, she opened her legs, slid under the bottom rope, and started to tug her opponent out of the ring by her arm, struggling to get her out onto the apron. ”Come on, just a bit more, come on...”

From Death's progressively nebulous viewpoint, she couldn't fathom just what the hell Valley had to bitch and moan about. She wasn't the one being strangled senseless between a pair of steel-toned thighs known for lulling scores of wrestlers unconscious within less than a minute. Nor was she the one on the cusp of losing her own match specialty and one Death specifically had chosen to bookend this war between veterans. That just added a little bit of extra salt on the searing wound on her pride that would be this impending loss should the Californian should she somehow manage to accomplish the substantial feat assuredly added as a highlight to her career.

Eyes a flutter and long drawn out breathes were the signs that Valley's trained legs were indeed sapping the strength from the frazzled Death Merchant, her gloved mitts becoming less urgent when it came to searching for some semblance of relief from the Figure Four head-scissor. Something that was seemingly granted to her anyway via the sudden freedom felt from Valley's release of the vice-like leg trap once at the ring apron. The stupefied bunny girl's cheek mashed against the canvas as her dead weight continued being hauled towards the casket one inch at a time, announcer's and Valley fans alike heralding what appeared to be her impending victory...and milestone in her career.

”Why…”

A push.

”...are you…”

Another push.

”...so heavy!”

Valley grunted and groaned with every push, struggling through her labor as she hauled her opponent to the promised land. She was tired, sure, that was definitely not helping things, but she swore that Death Bunny was at least a hundred pounds heavier than she had any right to be, even taking her size into account. What was more, she kept expecting the woman to rise up at any second ad start ragdolling her once again, but no - that was it. She was down, wasn’t getting up, all Valley had to do was put a neat little bow on this and go home.

She had a fairly solid idea on how to do just that, too. With Death Bunny on the edge of the ring, Valley rose to her feet, took a moment to catch her breath, and threw herself into one, final hard run towards edge of the ring, heading away from her foe. She hit the ropes and spun about, using her momentum to pick up the pace and reach a full sprint with half the distance she would’ve normally needed.

The moment she was at the right position, Valley jumped up, shot her legs out, and hit the floor with her full momentum, attempting to hit Death Bunny with a baseball slide variation on the dropkick - a move that would sent her flying off the apron and right into the casket.

Death was certainly never one to engage in "girl-talk", if that's what was called all of the banal blathering and chattering she occasionally overhears when sulking past any of the backstage locker-rooms. But one ceaseless obsession that monopolized those conversations seemed to be weight-loss techniques and meticulously critiquing one's figure. It seemed downright sacrilegious amongst those gaggles of gossip queens to introduce the topic of someone's weight, particularly a woman's, without the utmost tact and politeness when broaching the subject. A concept Death could never wrap her head around until Valley straight up blurted something about D.B.'s weight...seeds for a deep-seated hatred being fostered unlike any other.

Valley's abandonment of the Figure Four headlock and subsequent sprint directed towards the opposite end of the ring seemingly spelling certain doom and a match-ending return to Death's coffined entombment. All were it not for The Dead Woman reaching up to clasp onto the middle rope the instant Valley turned her back to D.B. Astonishingly arising upward with a seething grimace and dead-eyed targeting of the Californian who was still in mid-transit, Death exerted the last vestiges of her stamina in stampeding straight ahead out of her lurching and fatigued exhaustion to meet Valley in the middle of the ring. Or rather, the treads of Death's boots would be what Valley would be making contacting with in a propelled Big Boot attempt that D.B. herself would be leaping into.

It all seemed so simple on paper. Death Bunny was down. It had taken a whole match of wearing this woman down to make that happen, but she had finally clenched it, was on the cusp of wrapping this whole thing up and taking home the big prize. She couldn't have asked for a better way to kick off her Tension run, taking down one of the AFW’s heaviest hitters in a match that was practically her signature. It was a golden ticket.

She’d just hit the ropes, turn back, and then…

”Crap.”

Death Bunny ws standing tall, she was up, and she looked considerably pissed. It was a frightening sight, and one that had the Slamazon freezing in her tracks - which, unfortunately, opened her up for what was coming next.

Big Boot. Right in the face. It caught her right on the face and planted her in an instant, dropping her to the mat in a rush and leaving her in aching heap. Blinking, aching, all she could was lay there and stare up at the lights as her brain tried to piece everything together.

It kept coming to a single conclusion: She was in big trouble.