Ryan Knight vs Cicilia De'Reignhardt - Dawn of the Conquest

Match Rules: Last Person Standing

It was time, the first match of the former UK Elite. Newly labelled as Warriors Without Borders. The group were at one point Tag Title holders in Tension, then following their loss and an extended leave of absence they had returned back to Tension. Their leader, Ryan Knight had promised that the group would care simply to defeat all who stood in their path. It wasn't long before a match was due for them, Ryan had gotten a single match here. Last Person Standing, 10 count and all that. Normally the Paragon wouldn't have really entertained this, simply focusing on typical matches. However whereas before he'd have likely objected this and requested something more normal. Ryan instead silently agreed to it.

He was sitting in his locker room with John and Lucy, Ms Grange rubbing his shoulders and John leaning on the wall opposite Ryan. The former Brit stared at the floor with his one eye, a neutral expression on his features. "So boss, are you sure your wanting to go through with this one?" John said to Mr Knight.

Ryan nodded, he motioned for Lucy to stop and then stood upright. Patting John on the shoulder and saying "Yes my friend. Now, the pair of you will remain her for the entirety of the match. You will not, under any circumstance even come close to the door. I shall herald our arrival and defeat this opponent. It will signal to all that we are intent on taking Tension over again as we once did before......"

Ryan:

John nodded in response and took a seat near the TV, least he could so was watch his boss in battle. Lucy waved goodbye and said "Bring us a bag of chips afterwards yeah?"

Ryan smirked and simply waved goodbye, the walk down the hallway was silent. Save for the beating of his heart. Inwardly Ryan mused on if he was ring rusty, granted he'd certainly been out of the Tension spotlight for some time. But he'd been in the British indies, mostly to try and promote an anti-brexit approach where he could. Oh how futile was that in retrospect Ryan thought to himself. No matter, it was time to fight........

The Rebelling Paragon stood near the entrance ramp, the lights dimmed down. A second later the WWB's new theme song played, Ryan quietly breathed in and out. Then he ventured forth, Ryan strode down the ramp slowly. Glaring at all with his one eye, it was more boos than cheers it seemed. Not that he cared one iota, for he had work to do. Ryan lept up to the apron and then jumped over the ropes and walked to his corner, with one fluid motion he yanked his cape off and hung it on the ring post. Followed by removing the top part of his armour and setting it under the bottom turnbuckle. He then turned and faced the entrance ramp, he'd not really heard of his opponent for tonight. Save she was a boxer of sorts, made sense he supposed......

Spoiler:

Well this was a first. Cicilia couldn't remember the last time she had fought a man, such things resided almost entirely for those who joined AFW under the brand of Tension. Only a sparse few times had the Juggernaut actually crossed sections of the league like this, usually staying confined to Friction. Perhaps it was because Cicilia didn't actively try and control what matches she actually got... or perhaps she just wasn't interested in exploring the many... interesting faces of AFW beyond what she deemed decent. Back home, a woman fighting a man was practically a guaranteed one-sided fight. It was the common belief that men stood a head above the opposite gender in raw power, speed, reflexes, etcetera and there were certainly more than enough results in favor of it... even if nobody had the guts to say it outright. Suffice it to say that combat generally, was dominated by males and their power was unquestioned. Only a few prodigies could truly climb their ranks and stand above them as women... but most were outright ground beneath their feet. In Japan, though... (or at least in this league), the opposite seemed to be true. There was no shortage of small, weak males that just loved getting in bed with women of low standards, those who would happily throw themselves into the ring with girls just for a chance with them right then... or later. Cicilia, having come from a place of giants, had been significantly underwhelmed by the majority of the creatures that called themselves male here, their behavior as annoying and weak as the smaller, uppity greenhorn girls. It was disgusting. Not an ounce of self-respect to their names... Not a bit of drive beyond their basest of instincts. In a way, if she were to fight them, it would be a woman against a parasite... rather than against another male. Just another tool attempting to use his to get ahead.

Gross.

...This one was different.

This man was battle-hardened. Cicilia had looked up his profile before the match had begun and... among these others... He might as well have been some sort of warrior-god. Apparently fighting with a handicap, Ryan was a former champion and had the physique to match. Hardened, masculine features, a body like that of expertly crafted steel, his gaze as cold and ruthless as a sword... He had enough of a name behind him to get the German's attention... and had enough of a form to get her excited. He was mighty, that was for certain. Perhaps Tension wasn't as tainted with weakness as she thought it was.

Stepping out into the ring, Cicilia's hands would remain tucked into her jacket pockets, seemingly unconcerned... that perhaps her opponent might try some twisted trick. Unlike with Ryan, whom the audience seemed to brand as scum with their voices, the inverse would be true with Cicilia as the crowd roared her name, cheering her on! ...Not that it mattered. They were here to watch and little else. Seemingly as cold as her opponent, the German would give not a glance to the people around her, the boxer's sanguine eyes instead remaining locked on her opponent. Slipping into the ring, the boxer would walk RIGHT up to the center and stand proudly, the smallest of smirks flashing across her lips. Finally, a fight worth having.

"Fighting me with one eye?" Cicilia mused. "...What kind of deal did you have to cut where they let you keep fighting?"

So it would begin, Ryan looked at his opponent for tonight. He'd heard she was a boxer or something akin to that, so this match rules favoured her it would seem. Regardless Ryan was more than capable of outlasting opponents, in fact it was often deemed one of his most impressive qualities in a match. He followed the moniker of 'Win if you can, survive if I let you' Mr Knight knew that playing for pins and submissions was futile. Take it to the ground if need be, but winning via a 3 count was out the question here. No matter, Ryan was prepared. This was the return of him and his comrades, now they no longer fight for Britain. They fight simply for themselves now, hence their name of Warriors Without Borders.....

She carried herself with the stance and walk of someone who knew what they were doing, good. Ryan didn't suffer fools gladly and in his mind this sort of foe would make his battle far more prolific. The greater the foe, the greater the glory. The Rebelling Paragon hadn't even paid any mind to the audience, after all he had only one to fight today. Ryan folded his arms and sized her up with his one eye, confidence was clear on Cicilia indeed! Tension had a bit of a murky image, however there were those such as Mr Knight who promoted the more ideal aspects of competition. Even now with his change of mindset and focus he'd still espouse these virtues, only matches that where the end goal was to defeat your opponent via non lewd means were worthy of his attention. Looking more and more akin to a black knight at this point.

Cicilia went to the middle of the ring and the first thing she said was a snide comment about Ryan's one eye. Clearly she hadn't heard of the latest news, that he lost the other one in a bar fight. Ryan smirked, put a hand under his chin as he walked around. Then laughed loudly and shook his head.

"T'was but a scratch." he said to Cicilia in reference to Monty Python. Ryan then strode towards the ring centre. "Deal? Lady have you seen what this place and Friction can be like? All they care about is if you can stand and fight. And that's all I live for at this point........You know that feeling? Your stance and walk make me think that......" Ryan said, he was no better at home than an arena after all. "Then I know it shall be a fitting battle, one who returns to conquer their former land and one who seeks to make their name known......" The Rebelling Paragon entered his stance, waiting for the bell to ring already.......

"A scratch and you still wear an eye-patch...?" The German mused, rolling her eyes. "Poser." Ryan would then get on his high-horse, remarking how the business they were in didn't care about their health, that so long as they could throw a punch, they would keep you around. Accurate, considering the many scars that covered the German's own body. AFW wasn't the sort of organization that handled their members kindly, throwing them into whatever match they desired and would rake in the most cash. The Juggernaut knew of this firsthand ever since she survived Margaux's attack. The moment she was out of the hospital, her contract resumed... and the rest was history. The man would remark how Cicilia resembled him as someone who understood the nature of battle... and at that, the boxer simply shrugged. So poetic for someone who was going to be beaten down in a moment. She didn't really care or think about those kinds of things. She merely went out, beat the life out of someone she was told to and come back for payment. In a sense, her passion for this place was tied proportionally to the amount of green she was getting to sustain her lifestyle. She cared more about keeping herself and Sayumi comfortable and fed than any sort of heart-thumping bull-crap this guy seemed to be suggesting. It was a luxury after all, a luxury among others the Juggernaut couldn't afford.

"Then it sucks to be you." Cicilia remarked sharply, tossing off her jacket and revealing her toned, tough and scarred form! "...Because I'm not like that at all. I just want to get paid and go home. If you live for... this," The boxer gestured with her hand at the ring, the surrounding crowd, the cameras filming them. "...There isn't really a lot for you to love here. Its just a whole bunch of idealists and freaks." As if reciting a script, Ryan would continue to blather on about how this was a battle of legend or something, how it was fitting that one of them would be a returning, house-hold name doing battle against someone who desired to be such. A rookie against a seasoned veteran.

...No.

"Do you talk this much for the cameras or for yourself?" Cicilia groaned, growing bored of this man's insipid, dramatic nature. "Just shut up and fight me already so I can go home." Her voice was as heavy and cold as stone, the German lowering herself into her boxing stance and awaiting for the bell to ring. She wasn't putting up with this today. She had no patience for this ridiculous showmanship!

Ryan had been fine with losing his eye all things considered, you just got used to it. Adjusting your sight and all that. Still he knew people would remark on it, least he could do was play it light. On that end. Cicilla called him a poser, hah! He'd heard much worse, her patter was trash. Ryan simply smiled at her. Was his initial assumptions of her wrong? Perhaps, but then after all he'd simply just met her after all. But he could tell she knew how to fight, good. Then this would be all the more better.

This was the last time Ryan would talk like this to someone in the ring he mused. It seemed there would be no love lost by this match and what would ensue, fine by him. The Rebelling Paragon no longer cared for honouring the opponent, no opening salute or flourish. "Hmmmmmm......" he quietly muttered. Idealists and freaks eh? She wasn't wrong, but where did she fall amongst there? Ryan decided he couldn't be bothered to find out.

So the time for talking was over. The bell would shortly ring and Cici was keen on getting into battle, to get this over with. Was that all this was to her?! Ryan viewed this match as the start of something great for himself and his fellows, he had far, far more on the line that she would ever have then. "That's the last time. You'll go home alright, with an ice pack......" Ryan said, his once jovial demeanour replaced with cold ice.

It was time.

Cicilia entered into a boxing stance, confirming that this match just further benefited her background. Ryan decided to throw caution to the wind and lunge right at her, attempting to grab hold of her and fling her towards the ropes with an Irish Whip to try and get the ball rolling!

What Cicilia didn't expect was how strongly Ryan was taking these blows to his ego. Like pops to his iron chin, the man would simply smile and quietly move past the jabs the German was taking at him, instead seeming to favor a silent evaluation. He looked like the sort of man who took himself far too seriously to tolerate such a blow to his pride, as muscle-men were. As his body would grow strong, his ego would grow weak, a parasite attached to his new body... or something like that. Cicilia's experience with muscle-bound creatures such as him lead her to believe he would be so easily enraged, it would only take a red-cape of any sort to send him spiraling to madness. ...It was almost funny how completely relaxed he was... until he wasn't. Instead of embodying the restraint, the almost gentlemanliness he had offered the boxer, he would instead lunge at her like a feral beast, his arms SHOOTING out, his fingers curled into claws, eager to get his hands on her!

...Well, that escalated quickly.

"Whatever. You're nothing special."

Indeed, this was the kind of reaction she had been expecting from the start, something this vicious with an equally volatile temperament. While she misjudged how easy it was to set this man off... the German did predict what was most important: the attack strategy! As Ryan's arms shot out at her, Cicilia would step past his hands, allowing one to slip past her face, the other below her opposite arm! Ryan would manage to grab the air where the boxer once stood as she DROVE into his space, following this invasion of his security with a BLISTERING uppercut RIGHT into his solar plexus! She rose with her punch, aiming to use her momentum to drive her fist as deeply into his chest-cavity as possible, hopefully leaving him heaving and breathless... and what remained of his ego in complete tatters. So arrogant as to believe she wouldn't think he'd make the first move. What did he think she as, a fucking green-horn? She'd been fighting in this place for over a year and she knew how people like him behaved in the ring.

...Probably thought of himself as invincible too, his record worn on his back like it was a war-trophy.

...What a loser.

Should Cicilia's punch connect, the Juggernaut would quickly swipe her hand across his throat in a BRUTAL chop, further aiming to debilitate his breathing!

Ryan was at the end of the day someone who was brought up as a wrestler and his mentality and approach would reflect that, it was often both a blessing and a curse. The ring was something he was familiar with and he liked to use it where he could, but that could leave him with a lack of assessing his opponent. Something that here, he paid for it dearly.

In the flick of a switch Cicilia had dodged him clean as a whistle and delivered a hard fist right into his solar plexus! Ryan gasped loudly as the pain shot through him, how could he have been so foolish! Perhaps that ring rust was catching up to him after all, even if he had believed otherwise. No doubt Cicilia would be very pleased with her opening attack, not only allowing her to help set the pace of the fight but also to help disprove what Ryan's belief and statement would be.

She wasn't done yet though, a stiff shot to the neck was followed as Ryan had been completely taken aback by this opening gambit by Cicilia. It earned a loud gasp from the Rebelling Paragon, his vision blurring in response to it as he felt the air out of his neck go. It sent Ryan staggering to the side towards the ropes, Mr Knight's gaze had managed to stay on track of his opponent though at least.

This certainly wasn't looking good, the match had just begun and already Ryan was reeling and on his proverbial back foot. But still, it would take far, far more than this to take down the black knight. Just because Cicilia got a couple of lucky shots it meant nothing in the grand scheme of things to the Rebelling Paragon.......

Pleased...? What a crude word to describe what she was feeling. No, she didn't take pleasure in watching Ryan fold like a piece of cardboard. She did not enjoy watching him reel back, clutching at his wounds as he heaved for air! She held nothing more than a vague sense of contentment that her counter-attack connected solidly, leaving him open for a follow-up. Cicilia, despite her brutal style, never enjoyed breaking her opponents, smashing them to the ground over and over. She wanted them to fall instantly, to just... give up or something so that she didn't have to watch... as they collapsed under their own stubbornness. Always so cute-of-face too... stupid, little go-getters that just didn't know when to quit. Ryan was different though. He had enough bulk to his name to survive walking into the German's fist, enough even to still stand as his throat was SLICED across with the strength of Atlas. Even as he gasped and reflexively fell back, he still stood his ground! It was more than Cicilia could say for the majority of her opponents.

"What was that, about an Ice-pack?"

The Juggernaut pursued Ryan step-for-step, not allowing a single iota of distance between them to form, constantly stepping to him and keeping within his space! Her sanguine eyes flicked between the arms that surrounded her, keeping note of their positions, their movements... as she made use of her own! The Juggernaut would bring her knee up HARD into the man's hardened belly in a piercing, rising knee-strike, aiming to buckle him over and prevent him from catching his breath! Should he fall over her leg like a tree with its trunk chopped out from under it, the German would bring up her arm... and SLAM her elbow into his spine, aiming to drill it DEEP into his back and send SHOCKS of weakness throughout the entirety of his nervous-system! She aimed to make him collapse to the floor, shocked... AFRAID!

...She wanted to end his confidence before he could find some way to live up to it!

"...Is this what it takes to be a champion...?"

Ryan was no stranger to pain, came with the territory. He viewed it as a neutral entity. Helped when it was brought upon him, the lad would always say he'd had worse. Losing an eye can do that to a person after all, still Ryan could safely say that Cicilia could hit like hell. But it was just the beginning, it'd take far, far more than that to fully end the Rebelling Paragon. Because he'd give it his all, one positive trait that Ryan had that universally all could agree on was his work ethic at least. Now Ryan was in a difficult position, he was being forced into a reeling state and being exposed to his opponent's main game of strikes. Ryan was confident in his own to be sure, though he was aware that his main game was his grappler attacks. Just one chance, one chance was what he'd need to help reset this.....

Cicilia pressed onwards in attacking the former Brit, not letting him get any chance of egress. He didn't respond to her remarks, how could he given his state. Though his one eye glared daggers at her signifying all that was needed to know. She delivered a hard knee right into him, needless to say it hurt like hell. Earning a loud grunt from the Rebelling Paragon. The attack certainly hurt, but it gave Ryan one idea. An action of instinct, the ensuing attack had brought her dangerously close to him......

Suddenly Ryan's closest arm would wrap itself around Cicilia's leg, with his other getting to her hip. Quickly and without warning the Rebelling Paragon attempted to try and dig deep and heft the boxer up to perform a counterattack with a powerful spinebuster to send her hard to the mat!

It seemed that this man wasn't all bulk after all... Each blow he took, he took like the champion he had been, each punch the German landed sinking in a much more shallow depth than she had expected! Muscle-men always thought themselves to be invincible, never thinking to work on their pain-tolerance of their ability to tank hits... This man was different. It was as if his flesh had hardened to a consistency of that of a punching bag, giving as little as one could imagine without being a rock-solid object! While the German's strength was impressive in its own right, easily enough to completely overpower the majority of Friction, Ryan was very quickly proving that he-too was far above the average girl in a skimpy wrestling costume! Cicilia's knee would HAMMER into his gut but it wouldn't take him long to prepare a fierce counter attack!

Slipping an arm under the German's leg, he would just FLIP her over in his grasp as if it were nothing, the German's sanguine eyes shooting wide with shock, her jaw dropping (or rising....?) as gravity inverted and she was SLAMMED back-first HARD into the mat! No hesitation, no loss in fluidity... it was as if the man had been pelted in pebbles for how much of a dent the German had made in him! She stared up in shock, her back throbbing, her head aching... her teeth CLENCHED in pain... She could already feel the burning sensation of karma ARCHING up her spine and along her limbs, the boxer's chest struggling as if deciding whether to EXPEL the air inside... or keep it trapped and pressurized! With just one move, Ryan had set the scene with what kind of battle would be taking place here, one with someone who actually EARNED his title... versus someone who actually hadn't. He was mighty, he was fast, he was able to transition from a taken-blow to a grapple without skipping a beat...

...He was a superior wrestler.

BUT WHAT OF IT!?

Only a second, perhaps two after her spine meeting the cruel floor below, the Juggernaut would KICK up a boot into the man's jaw, aiming to PLANT her foot-print into his face and send him recoiling, hoping that the raw power of her leg would keep him from committing to a follow-up submission of some kind! Should she succeed, Cicilia would quickly ROLL backwards and up to her feet, bringing her hands back up in her boxing-stance, her fingers more loosely curled... as if in expectation of a grapple or an otherwise handsy fight. Her chest rose and fell lightly, breath heavier... cautious. She wouldn't let herself be caught off-guard that way again...