Laila Nazari vs. Sara Conner - Collision Course

Sara was the faster woman between them, but that wasn’t to say that Laila was slow. Far from it, in fact. For a woman her size, she was remarkable fast, and had good reflexes on top of that. A fact that was about to be well demonstrated, as she recovered from Sara’s turnaround.

She started to move in after her opponent, only for her to roll forward and rise to her feet in a surprising move of deftness and agility. As tempting as it was to move, caution made her hold back, keeping distance as Laila whipped and rose to her feet, ready to pounce.

No need to move in just yet. Regaining her stance, she let a quick smile shine through for just a second before she returned to her usual stoicness. Moving around Laila, she kept her distance for now and waited to see how her foe would proceed. Being fairly sure that first part belonged to her, she was eager to continue the trend.

Laila rolled just in time to see Sara about to come at her...and then pause, no doubt knowing that rushing right at her was a fool's errand. The blonde was smarter than she looked, Laila thought grimly, and faster than her as well. Two very deadly combinations that would make her a tricky foe to defeat.

Sara was already moving now, circling her warily, no doubt waiting for her to make the first move...seemingly inviting her to do so, in fact. Mirroring Sara's circle, Laila glared daggers at the other woman, slowly inching closer and closer to her...until she suddenly exploded into movement, rushing at her with an arm raise for a clothesline. At the last second, however, she would drop low, aiming a grab for Sara's leg, hoping to twist on it hard and flip her opponent down hard to the mat!

Sara’s patience was serving her well, knowing all the advantages were working in her favor. There was no need to press her attack, now - making Laila take the initiative had worked in her favor before, and it would do so now.

Sure enough, her bigger opponent came rushing in with much of the same attack, looking to take her down with the devastating lariat of hers. A strong attack that would’ve caught slower opponents - but for Sara, it was only an opportunity. She ducked look, prepared to turn, and-

And she was promptly tripped up and thrown to the mat. ”Shit-”

Disoriented, tossed askew, Sara began to push up to her feet on reflex, but she wasn’t sure of her opponent’s position as she did. Kind of a problem.

Laila took a measure of satisfacton as she managed to effectively trip Sara down to the mat. There was no doubt that her American opponent was faster, and was a much more vicious strike as well...but it was also clear that Sara had wanted to test out Laila's ground game earlier as well. In that, Laila was all too happy to demonstrate her mastery.

Grabbing for Sara's leg, Laila would try to flip the American over onto her back, and, unless countered, would step over that leg, folding it neatly around her own knee, before dropping down to her butt and leaning back, aiming to lock in a mean figure four leg lock! The audience watched, enthralled: thus far, this match had had little of the slams and punches they were used to in a typical wrestling match, and instead featured a lot more tactical strikes and grapples. This wasn't a match: this was a duel.

This was bad. Sara knew this was bad. How? Because she’d been in this position quite a few times, only on the other side, where she’d gotten an opponent down and moved in for the kill before they could retreat. She was the hunted now, she was the one who knew she only had less than a breath’s time before a copious amount of pain came her way, and she made a mad, desperate scramble for the ropes, hoping she could get there and force a break, achieving some safety.

No such luck.

She tried to fight as she was flipped over and pulled in, but it all happened too fast, too fluid, with her foe moving into things seamlessly. Her legs were wrapped, the hold was locked in, and-

”Fuck!”

Yeah, ‘fuck’, that about described it. Sara threw her head back and ground her teeth down hard to fight the scream, but that was about all she could do. That, and thrash around as the pain tore into her bones, twisting and tweaking her.

Laila almost smiled at this point. Almost. After a match full of back and forth jabbing and striking, of nothing but moves and counter-moves, Laila finally had Sara where she wanted her: on the mat, locked in one of her many holds, experiencing firsthand why she wasn't someone to mess with. For all of her icy cool bravado, Sara Conner was now in pain, there was no hiding that.

Breathing through clenched teeth, Laila leaned back, pressing her palms to the mat as she arched her fit body a little, pouring further pressure on Sara's legs as she bent her ankles the wrong way. Perspiration rolled down her forehead, abs and chest as she locked in the hold, but she kept at it, waiting patiently for Sara to finally give up. At this stage, Laila was content to see which broke first: Sara's willpower, or her legs.

”You fucking...goddamn...cunt!”

When Sara was hurt, she tended to get vulgar. No helping it. Just happened. The more she was in pain, the more severe her cursing, so Laila should be proud. She’d pushed her into George Carlin territory. That was rare.

It wasn’t without good cause, either. The figure-four was a feared move for good reason: It hurt like hell. Felt like Sara’s legs were being pulled out by the joints. She flopped on the mat and gritted her teeth, trying her best to endure the pain, but she was low on options. The ropes were too far for a viable escape, and she couldn’t reach over to hit the woman like this. But there was one, notable way to get out.

Sara started to  reach for the ropes, looking like she was going to make a desperate attempt for freedom. She twisted to the side, stretched out, wiggled her fingers, made a big show of it...only to suddenly go in the opposite direction, throwing her entire body behind a wild roll. It was an attempt to flip them both over in an instant, trying to reverse the move and put the pressure on her opponent. Worth it, if it worked.

To say Sara was not particularly happy right now would have been an understatement. Her calm, icy exterior had been shattered by Laila's expertly-applied figure four, and now she was thrashing around on the mat, flopping uselessly like a fish out of water, twisting this way and that in a vain attempt to ward off the pain. Up until now, the match between them had been a silent, stern affair, devoid of the banter that Laila so hated in so many opponents: now, Sara was cursing up a storm, and cursing Laila in particular.

"You don't know the half of it," Laila responded cooly, taking the opportunity to arch her fit abdomen up off the mat further, sending another hot spike of pain stabbing up Sara's legs.

The American was trying to escape now. Laila felt her trying to pull the two of them closer to the ropes. It would do her no good, Laila knew, keeping her breathing steady even as she kept the hold locked. From here, Laila could slow down or stop Sara's efforts. Even if she managed to craw to the ropes, the effort it would take to get her there would be excruciating--

And then, without warning, Laila's world spun over on itself, and she was suddenly on her front, her chest pancaked against the mat as her legs were suddenly wrenched in white-hot pain. She stifled a cry of alarm and agony, realizing that Sara had reversed the hold-- and with it, the pressure-- on her. A stifled hiss of pain escaped her clenched teeth as her legs were pretzelled sharply around Sara's, and she tried to focus past the pain, pressing her palms against the mat as she tried to roll the two of them over again. She was NOT going to let this American use her own hold against her...

Really? All that, all that surprise, all the effort Sara had put into reversing this hold, and Laila couldn’t even scream for her a little bit during the reversal? Bitch. Had to suck the satisfaction out of everything.

She had really been hoping to flip the scales there and turn all that pain back on her opponent, but oh well - if she couldn’t get any bonus out of the reversal, at least she was seeing the guaranteed results. It wasn’t just a way for her to bring the pain to her opponent, but a good chance for her own legs to rest, something they desperately needed. The woman had really worn her over there, and she would need a few seconds...before…

”Crap.”

Laila was about to reverse it again. She was pressing her palms on the mat, clearly going for it, and Sara wasn’t at all confident her ability to keep it from happening, knowing who was the stronger woman between them. Laila was going to be successful, and she had no faith in her trick working twice.

Wanting to get ahead of it, Sara waited until it looked like Laila was on the cusp of flipping things around, then threw her body in the same direction her opponent was struggling. Her intention was a simple one - she wanted to use their combined power to make Laila roll farther than she intended to, trying to surprise and force them to hit the ropes and break up the hold.

"Nnnngh...nnnnffffrrrrgg..." It was becoming increasingly difficult for Laila to mask her pain as Sara locked in the reversed figure four. Her cheek was against the mat, eyes screwed shut, moisture dripping from strands of dark hair as Sara twisted relentlessly against her legs. But she was not defenseless: she pressed her palms to the mat and pushed, feeling the resistance from Sara as the other girl fought to keep her face-down. Perspiration glistened on her olive-skinned back as she fought against her opponent, slowly pushing herself off the mat and then twisting to the side.

In an instant, they were rolling...and rolling. Sara had anticipated what she was up to, Laila realized, and was bringing them both into the ropes. She instinctively caught the bottom rope, just as the referee told them to break. Wincing, Laila began to pull herself up on the ropes, wincing as her sore legs made the task difficult...turning to keep Sara in her sights all the while...