Jessica Wright vs. Anesthesia - The Straight And Narrow

This was Anesthesia at her best, at her highest, at her strongest. At her core, she was a dominator, assaulting her foes mentally as well as physically, breaking down their ego. It was this sort of play that she lived for, and when she looked down at the withering Jessica, she expected to see a certain look. The look of a broken woman, a shattered psyche, of a person at her very edge. Something that she could mold. Something that she could control.

What she received, however, was something markedly different. Something defiant. Something wild. Jessica Wright was not yet dead.

Anesthesia hesitated at the look, and in that moment she paid for that hesitation with a kick to her knee. Right on the patellar tendon, in fact, a spot that she was quite familiar with - she had targeted it on her opponents many times, a personal favorite target. On the receiving end, however, she took it with the same amount of grace that her victims did - that is to say, very little. She cried out and fell on her backside, hissing as she caressed her aching bones. ”Ah! You whore!”