Thunder and Hurricanes: Makie Akamatsu vs Blue Thunder Mask

Makie braced herself as she made that landing, personally a little amazed that she had managed it herself. But she wasn't out of the woods yet, and she instinctively braced herself...for an attack that never came. To her surprise, instead of following up on his attack, BTM was holding back, giving her a wary, respectful nod. Surprised, Makie nonetheless gave a slow nod back.

His honourable attitude, his respectful behaviour, his desire to be a hero of righteousness...BTM was almost a carbon copy of her brother Kyo, through and through. Makie couldn't decide if she appreciated that or was weirded out by it.

BTM was circling again, going for a grapple. Narrowing her eyes, Makie have him a cocky, inviting smile as she closed the distance with him. Then, suddenly, like lighting, BTM's arm whipped out, smacking her under the chin. Her head snapped back, and a second later, BTM's arm lashed out again, this time chopping her across her ample chest.

Okay, so much for playing nice, then.

The blow elicited a sound from her that was somewhere between a cry and a gasp as her breasts were stung hard by the impact. The impact spun her around, forcing her to cradle her chest as she was left breathing hard. Her face reddened. Swearing loudly, she spun around, deciding to return the favour, faking a chop at BTM's own chest....before spinning, trying to lash a kick across her opponent's masked face!

His choice of attack hadn’t been one without thought. Both competitors had been putting on a good show. They had demonstrated their strength when they locked horns. Had put their skills to the test when countering one another's offenses. Not it was time to put her endurance to the test. It had nothing to do with her gender, just a pure expression of puroresu tradition in initiating a chop contest. It wasn’t uncommon for two wrestlers to duel back and forth like this, allowing one another to rally up all they had and deliver the most devastating chops in all the world until one finally faltered.

So he only let fly one single blow, one that carried with it the thunderous crack that most avid followers were more than happy to see even through the cringing hiss of onlookers feeling for what Makie had just experienced second hand. When she reeled from the heart slap, he stood his ground, making no move to capitalize, waiting to see if she could recover and give her a chance to strike him back like any honorable exchange of this sort.

He drew in a deep breath as she spun, presenting his broad chest to her as an open canvas for the chop he expected in return… but it didn’t come. His steely gaze faltered for a moment in recognition they didn’t seem to be on the same page anymore as the blur of her kick came rocketing at him. He was open though, unprepared to meet it and when her kick struck him in the side of the head it snapped it to the side.

Whipping blue hair fluttering past his mask, body twisting as he reeled, staggering to the side. One arm waved, trying to keep his balance as he battled to stay upright. In almost any other circumstance he would have been able to do something to mitigate the damage. Move with the kick, dodge the blow, meet it with a block, but she caught him flat footed and he was paying for it. If it wasn’t painfully obvious Makie was a good striker before, he surely knew it now.

The audience collectively winced as Makie's boot made solid contact with BTM's face-- not downing him, but visibly staggering him. To many in the audience, it had been painfully obvious that BTM had been going for a standard exchange of chops-- a time honoured staple of puroresu wrestling that was as much a contest of endurance as it was a way for the two wrestlers to test their limits. But instead of reciprocating, Makie had instead gone for the jugular, hitting BTM hard with a solid kick to the face.

Makie's reasons were simple: that chop had really fucking hurt. Her ample chest still stung from where BTM had struck her. It was only now that she realized that she had maybe, maybe overreacted a little.

Well, the damage had been done, and it was easier to apologize after the match.

Stalking after BTM as he was left reeling, Makie moved up within line of sight of the masked warrior, hopefully while he was still dazed. "Here," she declared loudly, "let's see how YOU like it!" And with that, she would rear her hand back and deliver a harsh slap to BTM's chest, hoping to add a little sting to his daze as she repaid his chop with one of her own.

One side of his vision looked as if someone had smeared Vaseline over the scenery. He found himself blinking his eye a few times, thankful his great view of his boots came back into focus. The last thing he needed to go have another injury taking him back out of the ring the second he had stepped back in. Head still hung, he let out a heavy breath, lifting his chin just enough to affix Makie with a hard judgemental look through hanging strands of blue hair. While he made no move to reciprocate the unspoken breach of the challenge he had set forth with his initial chop, his steely gaze was uncharacteristically serious carrying with it a hard edge. A warning.

There was an undeniable tension as Makie strode up towards him, an air uncertainty that hung over them. When she reached him though, he straightened up, drawing in a deep breath through flared nostrils. He had taken her kick like a real pro, and was handling this relatively well on the surface. It seemed as though NOW she was interested in having a contest of endurance after nearly knocking his head off. Like a good sport, he would present his to me chest, clenching his fists as he tensed his body in preparation for what was to come.

Boy did it come. The chop was a clean crack that echoed through the arena with a collective cringe heard from seat to seat. Blue Thunder Mask to his credit hadn't really budged save to a braced step back, but the pain was visible in the twitch of his eye and the tightness of his taut lipped grimace. He let out a long shaky exhale as her but ing handprint already started to glow red across his pectorals. Yeah… that was pretty vicious.

He rolled his broad shoulders, testing the burning in his chest. Yeah, that was going to be a problem later. He turned his sights back on Makie, bringing his hand back. Tight fingers, flat palm, raised high with all of arena's glow backlighting it. He brought it down like a lightning bolt to snap across Makie's chest, a second time in practically the exact same spot. His knife edged chops were a practiced part of his arsenal, a tool of a bygone era that didn't see nearly as much us these days. It took power and skill to deliver a truly deviating chop, not unlike any punch or kick, and Blue Thunder Mask's were arguably one of the best in the business.

To BTM's credit, he stood and took her shooting star kick like a champ. True, he had stumbled a little, and true, he looked understandably dazed and reeling after taking the blow, but he remained standing. The look that he turned and gave Makie, however, was a glare that could melt ice in its intensity, a dramatic change from how upbeat, optimistic and smiling he had been not too long ago. Makie almost stopped in her tracks from that look alone.

Almost. She still needed to get even for that chop to her breast, after all.

Her had smacking against BTM's bare pectorals was a satisfyingly loud snap, the blow leaving a faint red handprint on his otherwise flaweless skin. While BTM didn't budge, she could tell from the way he grimaced and the way his eye twitched that the hit had stung, a lot. She allowed herself a slight smile at this point. "Come on! Show me what you've got!" she shouted, beckoning BTM to return the favour. The crowd was roaring around them now, no doubt enjoying this test of endurance between the two wrestlers.

BTM seemed all too glad to accept Makie's request.

For the second time, BTM's hand reared back, hand forming an almost perfect knife-blade as he honed it for the killing strike. Like lightning, it flashed, slashing hard against Makie's chest. Her boobs cushioned outwards visibly from the blow, the sheer force of the strike unbalancing her. Part of the problem with having a bosom as generous as hers, after all, was that not only was it a large target, but attacks against it tended to hurt a lot more. With a chop delivered with as much force as BTM used, the impact stung hard.

With a sound that was halfways between a shriek and a gasp, Makie was sent sprawling backwards, toppling onto her hands and knees. Huffing for breath, she cradled her hurting chest with one arm, gingerly trying to get up to her feet. It was plain to see, however, that BTM had won this contest, and now he had the advantage...

Tension was a bit of a different beast. His time in the inside before settling back down in Japan was proof enough of that. Not only were they mixed up with some rather ludacris wrestling practices, but much of the old ways he had fallen in love with as a child were long since retired as being the norms of the business. It was for that reason he tried not to be too judgemental of Makie's knee jerk reaction to his first chop. There were some genuinely malicious people looking to humiliate and demorale the female members of the roster, something he personally found detestable. It was his opinion that any wrestler had merit, no matter their face, gender of beliefs. That was something he would always champion so long as it didn't come at the expense of someone else.

He held his head high, drawing in another sharp breath as the fire in his chest burned, looking on as Makie staggered back from his second thunderous chop. He ignored the want to place a hand the red spot on his pectorals and soothe away the sting, instead wearing the fiery pain he had endured at her hand like a badge of honor. Standing tall he walked forward, closing the distance created by Makie. Reaching out, he brought his hands down towards her shoulders, fingers curling inward to tightly grip the woman like the head of a vice. With a forceful tug, he winds to jerk her upright and steady her on her feet.

The transition would be a snappy one, dipping forward to switch his placement, scooping one arm down quickly to slip between her legs. With a grunt, he would hook his arm underneath her, using it to cradle her weight while trying to hoist her up off the ground. If he managed to lift her, the weight wouldn't be much of an issue at all. Muscle flexing, he spun on the heel of his boot, lifting her high into the air. With a spin her would twirl her upside down for the briefest of moments before throwing her down towards the center of the ring with a meteoric body slam to rock the ring.

There were some days when Makie, admittedly, cursed her sizeable breasts. True, they obviously upped her sex appeal among her fans, and, when it counted, they also worked well to sometimes distract opponents, but...well, on the flip side, they were big targets, and attacks against them tended to hurt. A lot.

She sucked in air through clenched teeth, trying to get back to her feet, a part of her really regretting that she had agreed to this contest of endurance against BTM. Even as she tried to push herself upright, though, she felt her opponent's hands on her shoulders. To her surprise, she was yanked up unceremoniously to her feet, wobbling from the suddenness of being pulled upright like that.

And then, suddenly, an arm was between her legs, and Makie was gasping as she was lifted off her feet across BTM's shoulders. It was still early in the match, and she still had the presence of mind to drill an elbow into BTM's bare, exposed back. It accomplished nothing: with a sudden, lurching sense of vertigo, she was flipped head over heels and brought crashing down, back-first, into the mat.

Her upper body jacknifed upright from the impact, her eyes wide in an expression of shock, pain and confusion, before she collapsed onto her back again, arching up painfully from the mat before rolling onto her side, groaning...

Another time, another opponent, it was quite possible the barrage of chops would have continued. He had Major on the ropes figuratively speaking and there was an ease to repetition that would make for an Effie t means of wearing his opponent down. He wasn't one to rest on his laurels not was he needlessly malicious to want to batter the poor girls chest. Instead he loved for something bigger, better, and more exciting. The transition had been buttery smooth from pulling her upright to taking her off the mat. The only hesitation he felt was t derived from the elbow diving into his shoulder, but the positioning.

There was a skill to wearing an opponent down without causing needless harm. It would be easy to dump Maki on her head directly and injure her neck. A consummate professionally, it was up to him to walk the line between causing temporary and permanent harm to those in the ring with him. It was a clear line in the sand he had drawn even before being nearly crippled by Makoto in her gauntlet challenge. So when he brought Makie to the canvas, it had all the force behind his fit and full form but the slight cushion of displaying the hard landing across her shoulders. Most watching likely couldn't tell the difference, but Makie would feel the difference after a long day of rest following this match.

The wrestling icon slowly paced around Makie as she writhed, rolling his shoulder to work out the link she had put in it with her retaliatory blow. Once she had settled on her side, he pushed a boot up against her shoulder to shove her over onto her front. With two hopping back steps he made some distance, enough to not back towards the downed woman and leap himself up into the air. Tucking his legs, he became a dropping weight set to land squarely across the small of her back with his shins trying to pin her down beneath him.

It served to work her back, but also to set up his next move. Had she been unable to avoid him, his hand would reach up to slip up beside her head and tuck her chin back while the other tried to loop around her thighs. Had he managed to get a good hold of her, he would roll his weight  backwards to to himself down onto the mat while hoisting Makie up along his thighs with bow and arrow hold, trying to stretch her out with all his might.

That body slam had been expertly executed, Makie realized past the pain. BTM had just dumped her square on her back, positioning her carefully in such a way so that the pain of the impact was evenly spread across her body. More importantly, it had been done with care to avoid injuring her: she had heard all sorts of horror stories about how an inexpertly done body slam could leave you crippled, or at the very least leave your neck feeling sore for months.

As much as Makie appreciated that, though, it didn't change the fact that the slam had freaking hurt. She lay on her back, staring up at the arena lights, barely able to move, her back a single solid mass of pain at that moment. "Ah...ahhh..." came the moaning non-words from her mouth as she arched and tried to roll, willing her pained body to respond.

She felt BTM's boot shove against her side, and she was sent flopping onto her front. For a few seconds she lay facedown on the mat, catching her breath...and then BTM's shin's exploded against her back, causing a fresh lance of pain to to burst through her spine. Her head tilted up at that moment, as, unable to restrain herself, she let out a loud cry of pain.

Her woes didn't end there, though, not by a long shot, as she suddenly felt one hand rench back on her chin, and another loop around her thighs. "N..no..." she whimpered, knowing what was coming. And, true, enough, her body was elevated upwards a second later, arched across BTM's thighs, stretched in such a away that her body was put on full display to the audience as it was stretched back to hits limits.

Her eyes clenched, and she could only let out a muffled cry of pain as BTM's move tortured her. Digging into reserves of fortitude, she fought back, shooting an elbow back once, twice either into BTM's knee or the meat of his thigh as she rocked her body back and forth, trying to dislodge herself and get free. If she did manage to get free, then she would try to fall down on top of BTM, and use their relative positions to try to grab for one of his arms and wrench it painfully behind his back, trying to scissor her legs around his other arm or his face as she would try to twist back his arm...

If, of course, she managed to escape, and right now that was a big if....

Blue Thunder Mask hadn't felt the need to speak when he heard Makie's soft lament as her fingers clamped down on her like vices. Anything he could add would likely be seen as patronizing given the world of hurt he was about to inflict upon her. Rolling back he gave himself a firm foundation, bending his opponent so dragonfly that he was almost able to rest his biceps completely flat against the mat while he worked the torturous hold. His thighs tensed as he extended his legs, suspending her up in the air slightly, using his knees to leverage the maximum amount of punishment he could inflict upon her. It was a good hold for his purposes, enabling him to weaken several parts of her body to play the long match, should it last… he was pretty sure the spirited girl would be able to hold out though and hoped not to be disappointed.

He looked on shoofly, drowning out the cries from the crowd, mindful for movement. They were so far from the ropes and with nothing to really enable her to crawl, she had to think creatively or manage to brute force it. It was moments like these he found himself invested just like a fan in the stands, wanting to be given that golden moment where the hero or heroine escaped. When prying herself free hadn't worked, Makie rallied her strength in another way, throwing her elbow blindly back at him. The was a sloppy strike but it managed to clip his thigh hard enough to earn a grimace from the masked wrestler. The next was more honed, knowing where to strike for after that initial test swing.

She was struggling now, rocking with this strikes. She. The third one hit unprotected he let out an audible hiss, starting to lower her back down with the intention of shoving her away to break the hold. Rather than dance to the beat of his drum though, she had found her own opening and threw her body towards him when the tension had been loosened. He could Makie flop down across his bare chest, her weight pinning him to the mat. Her hands were frantically grasping at him, clutching his arm, trying to crank it back. He let out a grunt, straining as he struggled to keep her from twisting his arm behind him, barely able to keep her at bay with the use of one arm. The other had been hopelessly snagged, clenched tightly between Makie's thighs. He gave the limp a guy, but she had him pretty good… he had to focus on keeping his other arm.

"Good one." He rasped a sincere compliment through the strain of flexed muscle. Blue Thunder Mask twisted his body, unable to dislodge the woman on top of him at the moment, but he needed to keep one shoulder up, the arm she was wrestling to control. Even if he kept her bag Bay, there was a risk she could weight him down enough to go for a pin. He couldn't have that. Dragging his heels along the canvas, he tucked his legs in close, planting the soles of his boots. Taking in a deep breath, he summoned his strength, counting down from three in his head. On the final count he kicked off the mat, thrusting his hips up hard, bucking his entire body in an attempt to flop Makie off of him, or at the very least, shake her enough to pull his arm into his chest to make her unable to do anything with it.