Sabrina Anderson vs. Yvonne Gulski

The one thing she capitalized on was resilience and stamina.

Her opponent was smart, tactical, and she timed every blow she could with precision. The downside to it all was the fact that she could barely survive any of her blows alone. Indeed, it was like comparing a scalpel of a boxer to a hammer of one, and in Sabrina’s case, she wasn’t done swinging until she hit the nail on the board. In this sense, this nail had already been struck a few times. A few more and it’d be nailed right to that board in no time.

In Yvonne’s case, a few more and the woman would be tasting the canvas personally.

Her blow came soaring from below and while her opponent’s arms dropped down like a shield to absorb the impact, her punch was a lot stronger than her opponent’s body. She grinned at her opponent like a hungry beast, licking her chops at the prospect of sending Yvonne straight to dreamland. However, to her honest surprise, her opponent STILL had some fight!

Before she could wrench her glove back into her side, Yvonne had struck back! A hook soared from above and smashed into her temple! Her head was ringing in moments and her head shifted back violently as she groaned, shaking her head to try and shake the cobwebs out. Fuck…

That one rattled her more than the others if her slightly glazed eyes were anything to go by.

It was a testament to just how much Sabrina had rattled Yvonne that, when she landed that blow, she didn’t immediately capitalize. Above all else, she had been trained to seize the moment, to strike at weakness and hound her opponent the instant opportunities arose. If this blow had landed earlier in the match and had that effect, she would’ve moved in by reflex, without a second thought.

But now? Now, she was slow, she was weakened, she was dazed. When her punch landed on Sabrina, she recoiled and stumbled to the side, suffering under the force of her own strike. Her body was simply not made for this sort of prolonged punishment, and every movement she made was a serious labor. Her bones cried out for release, even if it was only a couple of seconds.

That, however, was not a luxury she had. Sabrina was open, a rare window that would be closing soon. She had to move forward. She had to.

Yvonne gritted her teeth and willed her body to move again, tensing up and managing a stumbling step. Another after that, then one more. Just enough to get her there. Get her close.

She brought her right arm up again in the same position it had been before, then lashed out with the exact same punch from the exact same angle. Another chopping right, the best punch she had to offer at the moment. A risk to follow up with the same attack, but one she had to take. If one didn’t work, two would. Certainly.

Sabrina’s legs wobbled, but they remained firmly planted on the ground regardless. Even when she was rattled and left staggering around at times, her mind a mess, her face punch drunk, she was still a stout and strong beast of a monster who kept standing upright. Of course, her trainer probably wouldn’t have been too keen on her blocking with her face still even despite that inhuman resilience of hers.

The black-streaked blonde could still make out the image of Yvonne moving about like a drunkard similar to herself. Even then, the woman offered her foreign opponent a bright grin, her gumshield shown and all.

Her muscles were crying, screaming. Her face in particular. Her body was a tank and her face was a bunker, but those outrageous counters used momentum as a weapon. Not to mention that said weapon was enough to even up ant fight no matter the game you threw and set.

Sabrina willed her body to move about, to keep upright. Her arms lazily guarded her chest, nowhere near enough to keep to her face as she stared in Yvonne’s direction.

And then another shot had her head spinning, her head whipped about as her skull rang, her mouthguard loose in her lips and hanging as she began to stagger back.

Her legs were loose, wobbling about…

She wasn’t focused, fuck.

This was it, this was the moment. Yvonne’s entire body was screaming for it, knowing what was about to come before her brain had even properly processed it.

Her punch connected clean with Sabrina, landing full and flush on the brute’s face. It didn’t quite have the power that it would have brought to bear at the start of this match, but that was to be expected. They were both running on reserves, but Yvonne had far less to work with than her burly opponent, made all too obvious by the difference in their builds.

If there was ever a time to end this, it had to be now.

That Sabrina was still standing after that was impressive, a true feat. But it wouldn’t be enough. She was faltering, and all it would take was something substantial to knock her over. Nothing too crazy. Just a solid shot.

With her dwindling power, Yvonne planted her feet, closed the gap, and lashed out with a right cross aimed at Sabrina’s face, looking to put this beast down for good. Or at least ten seconds.

Sabrina shuddered as her legs continued to keep her body upright. It was true. Between the very two of them, she was the strongest when it came to endurance and resilience. She was sluggishly resisting the birds hovering around her temple, practically chirping about always. However, Sabrina wasn't ready to quit and she wasn't going to go down without giving this Russian bitch a piece of her mind.

She respected Yvonne.

So, if she was gonna go down, she was gonna make sure she went and showed Yvonne all that she had in these possibly final moments.

Sabrina stomped forward and bit down firmly into her mouthguard as she lunged right at Yvonne, just at the same time the lankier woman did the same. Her right arm surged from the side and came barreling straight for the Russian's cheek in return. Her bicep bulged, power surged, and with a furious snarl, she SWUNG!

And in moments, her head whipped around, her bright mouthguard flung through the air with spittle and tinges of blood splattering across the canvas floor. Sabrina's legs shook and she went tumbling back, her body collapsing onto the canvas in moments.

Her eyes were glazed...

Huh, weird...

Why couldn't she hear a thing?

Yvonne stepped forward, threw out her best, and something happened. Something.

She wasn’t sure exactly what, and that had been the ongoing theme of this entire match, hadn't it? Sabrina had proven to be full of surprises, right from the start. She had been so quick to write this woman off as a brutish bulldog, slow and stupid, and perhaps she was, but there was skill there, too. Tenacity. Strength. As much as she wanted to ignore what this woman brought to the table and write it off, there was no denying the results. There was no ignoring the way this had turned out.

Not before, and definitely not now, when she was…

She was falling. Had she been hit? She was having trouble putting the pieces together, as if the last few seconds were all a fragmented blur. Gaps in her memory. She had been throwing out her best, it should’ve connected, and that should’ve been it. She could’ve sworn she felt the impact, too. It was a good one, nice and clean, a perfect shot.

So why was she the one falling back? Why was she staring up at the lights? Why was the world falling away as she tumbled backward, down, down, down?

Yvonne hit the mat with a sickening thud and bounced on the impact, her thin frame making a far heavier sound than she would’ve expected. She laid still, save for the occasional tremble and blink, as her brain continued to try and process what had just occurred.

Somewhere, far away, someone was counting.

Ugh, yep, she couldn't hear or feel a thing other than the tired aching muscles weighing her down as she peered up at the dim lights that felt more like fucking searchlights being flashed down to her face. She could barely bring her body to move and even now she struggled to make heads or tails of her situation. She wasn't even sure if she had struck that Russian bitch or if she had struck out instead... Either way, neither of the options proved to be reasonable with how absolutely stunned she was.

She could hear something. She wasn't sure what it was though, only that she could hear someone mumbling something. Mumbling? No, it was something else, something where people were roaring.

"Three..."

Huh, funny...

Even down on her back, sweat dripping down her skin as her bruises grew hot with pain, her body shuddered as her eyes lazily roamed to the side. She spotted someone banging at the canvas from the side and shouting. Someone with one hell of a grim-face, but he was shouting regardless.

Her eyes widened briefly.

'...Shit.'

Accurate words to sum her situation up.

Yvonne Gulskii. Her name was Yvonne Gulskii and she was in Japan, in the Momentum arena, in the middle of a match.

Yvonne Gulskii. Her name was Yvonne Gulskii and she was in Japan, in the Momentum arena, in the middle of a match.

Yvonne Gulskii. Her name was Yvonne Gulskii and she was in Japan, in the Momentum arena, in the middle of a match.

Yvonne kept repeating those thoughts in her head, over and over, trying to make the connection. She was in a strange place, where she understood what those words meant, but couldn't quite grasp the significance of them together. Like there was something that was keeping her from proper understanding, some barrier she needed to break through before she could process meaning.

”4!”

Oh. Oh, right.

It all came together at once, and her body did what it was trained to, even if her brain wasn’t all the way on board just. She started to move, and even managed to get one shoulder up, straining, pushing, reaching…but gravity was too much, and she flopped back down, erasing any and all of the progress she made. Another try, then, just a little more, almost up, and…no, no, it wasn’t happening.

”5!”

She gritted her teeth and commanded her body to move, demanded it, but the best she could do was twitch and flop and eventually, somehow, roll over to the side. That was progress at least, but she was still so far from she needed to be. And where was Sabrina, anyway? She couldn't see her in the neutral corner, where’d she go off to.

Don’t think about it, doesn’t matter. Just get up.

Sabrina was more like a hog left out to dry in the sun than anything else as she laid on her back silently. She was in the middle of a damn match. She, Sabrina Anderson, was fighting off some Russian giant of a woman and they had been going at it for about three entire rounds right now. The words were supposed to be clear and the thoughts just as well, but instead her mind was razzled and she could barely form fully coherent thoughts without them wandering around too much...

"6!"

Well, until the count continued and she realized that she needed to move her body into action and kick things into high gear. She groaned loudly, pulling her sight away from the lights above and to the world around her once more. Her body was struggling to move and it wasn't complying at all with her requests to pull herself up and get back to her damn feet.

"7!"

The black-streaked blonde snarled and slowly, but surely, pushed herself about before rolling onto her side and back onto her front. She ignored the sweat dripping down her frame, muscles highlighted as clear as day. Her body strained and shuddered, muscles creaking and bones shaking beneath it all. She FIRMLY smashed a glove into the ground, trying to push herself back up, but...

She just fell down again with a groan, panting hard.

Was she really going to...

Where was Sabrina? It didn’t matter.

Yvonne had to focus and push every thought out of her mind, make it a blank slate. She couldn't afford to be distracted by anything right now, had to ignore the roaring crowd, couldn't think about her trainer’s call and the rumbling beneath her body. Push it away, bury it, focus.

Only the count mattered, now. Nothing else. Center on that.

”8!”

Yvonne planted one fist on the canvas, then the other, and began to push her way up from there. It should have been a simple matter, she had never been a heavy woman for her height, boasting a thin, lanky frame that was easy to move around…except now. She swore, she had never felt so heavy, had never had this sort of weight bearing down on her. Every inch felt she was pushing double, even triple what her normal weight was. A true labor, like moving through mud. But she was doing it. Just a little more, almost up to her knees.

”9!”

And down she went again, flat on her chest, her arms giving way. That was it, the bottom of the barrel, the last vestiges of energy she had to spare. Totally drained, she could do nothing more than wallow on the floor now and close her eyes, waiting for the final count.

Rest. God, she wanted to rest forever.