Fernanda 'Goldilocks' Jiménez Guerrero vs. Dmitri Markov Voronov - Underdog Story

”No, no, I really don’t!”

That was the straight truth, too. Dmitri had never been one for silliness in the middle of a match, rarely indulged in all the back and forth banter, and this wasn’t any different of a circumstance. He was perfectly happy to play this match like normal and the last thing he wanted to do was insult her, especially when there was a high possibility of her taking that as an invitation to bash his face in.

Unfortunately, he was getting the impression that not insulting Goldilocks was simply a thing that wouldn’t be happening today. For such a tank of a woman, her skin was shockingly thin, and it seemed like every attack he made was only making her madder. For both their sakes, he needed to look into ending this - before he had to give her serious damage or she got on top of him and pressed her size and strength advantage.

The first step towards that would be getting some space between them, enough for him to breath and recoup, if only for a few precious seconds. Her stance was getting mess up, reeling from the knee he gave her - if there was ever a time for something big to work on her, this was it. He had just the move in mind, too.

He gave her a hard push and stepped back all at once, making a temporary gap between them. She’d probably move in to close it, and he’d be waiting for her when she did. He twisted around, whipping about with a full rotation, and shot his leg out high, coming at her face with a spinning heel kick, one of the better strikes in his arsenal.

Fernanda was the type of person that believed that wrestling wasn't just a spectacle, or even a sport. To Goldilocks, wrestling was a way of life, a philosophy, her very own creed of spiritual relevance. She was a lover to the ring, and now in that same very ring she began to act like an animal against an opponent that was able to push her far beyond her limits. Perhaps she was a terrific luchadora, but patience and composure simply weren't a part of her working ethic.

After attempting to catch Dmitri, who remained evading her offensive onslaught, she only grew more furious, and more irrational. He left a big hole in his defenses, and she dived in to attack like a wolf that went for the Russian underdog's neck. If she remained holding on to her sanity, then maybe she could have seen that this wasn't a fail on the martial artist's part, but the preparation for an attack.

"DMIIIIIIIIIIIIITRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!!"

Fer lunged towards Dmitri, ready to crush his head with her hands or something similar. But then, a kick hit her head like a guillotine, taking her down to the mat as if a swift blade had taken her life. In a way, it did, for that moment her life was the destruction of her opponent, and that lethal strike took her opportunity to achieve this. Her unconscious body lied n the canvas, with no intention or capability to get up anymore.

It all happened so fast that it was hard to tell what transpired. It was something of a blur even to Dmitri, and he was the one at the source of it all.

He launched one of his best kicks at Goldilocks, taking a gamble that it would land the way he wanted, and it wound up doing that an even a little more on top - she’d come in hard and furious, and the block landed so clean that the impact made his ears ring. When he came back around, he automatically leaped back with his hands up, expecting her to still be standing, but no - she was down. Unmoving. Maybe even knocked out.

For a moment, Dmitri stood there, not believing the scene before his very eyes. It was surreal. He’d never gotten to this point in a match before, never had his opponent down like this. It was like his brain was trying to register an error.

”Pin her, dumbass!”

That burst from the crowd was crude, but it was what Dmitri needed to snap back to reality. He shook his head, dropped down, and rolled Goldilocks over, scooping up her legs in the process and pressing down on her chest for the pin. The referee seemed almost as stunned as he was, but she did her job, dropping down to start the count.

”1…!”

In the few moments before the kick that brought her down for good, Fernanda thought about those important times in her wrestling career. When she was just a kid watching a match in a Mexican arena, looking on in awe very closely to the TV screen at those masked men fighting each other like modern time gladiators, her father telling her; "No tan cerca Fer" because her small face was almost pressed against the screen. To the very first time she pinned another opponent in the rookie leagues back when she was another scrawny kid that managed to beat another rookie, and how the public cheered for her while she lifted both of her arms in a feeling that she would never forget.

And then, it came the darkness, those past cheers now smothered by the present cheers that were present while she looked up to the blinding lights of AFW's arena, feeling someone lifting her thick thigh and pressing against her bosom. "1...!" She was fighting someone there... her debut. She remembered as much, and normally she would jump up after connecting that and the fact that she was on the mat like a complete jackass. But... something happened, her body wasn't responding, as if someone severed the connection between her body and her brain yelling: "Move it!!!"

"2...!" That voice small voice that talked in between the beeps in her ears. It was a countdown! She was about to get counted down after getting pinned. "Uhhhhhhhhhgggg-" Her body pushed, trying to do something about it, but her attempts fell short, like when someone feels that they move in slow-mo during their dreams, or as if she had sleep paralysis. Who know what Dmitri thought of looking at that juggernaut getting beat and fighting back like a kitty not wanting to be petted at the last moments of the match.

"3!!!" Was the word that the golden luchadora heard, followed by an orchestra of cheers, not for her, but for her defeat. Dmitri had prevailed, and managed to beat her. Did he deserved it? She might be as stubborn as they come, but even she couldn't deny that the boy fought for this and earned it thoroughly, still, would hardly be any consolation for her once she was fully conscious.

Now that there was no reason for her to try to resist the pin with her sheer willpower, just before falling down to sleep the blonde woman saw Dmitri's figure through the corner of her eye, grabbing a handful of his eye with the last remnants of her strength and conscience. "You... I will... get you... next time-" And with that, she dozed off, letting his hair go after there wasn't anything else that she could do. Later, she would wake up, remembering this match and remembering how she was beaten by Dmitri, a name she would probably keep in her thoughts for quite some time.

‘Three’.

It was surreal for Dmitri to hear that number spoken by a referee in a ring. Actually, correction - it was surreal to hear that number spoken when he was on top of an opponent. His entire career had been a string of losses. Some closer than others, and to his credit, he’d managed to bring that gap closer in recent months, narrowly snatching defeat from the jaws of victory a few times. He’d trained, he’d worked, he’d persevere, but every time - every time - he came up short. It seemed like he was destined to lose.

And yet, here he was.

Dmitri rolled over after the final count, staring up at the light, mouth agape, flabbergasted as the crowd cheered and hollered. It took him a moment to realize they were cheering him, but that clicked in soon enough when he heard his name being chanted. A weak, thin smile crept along his lip, liking the sound of it, the way it rang in his ears. Yeah, yeah he could get used to that.

He sat up as he heard Goldilocks’ final whispers, looking over and watching her fade away. He allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief for the first time in the match. He didn’t like her threat to trouble him in the future, but he hoped that was just posturing on her part - he did not want to take her on again. She’d been a strong opponent, as fierce and wild as any woman in Tension and he was lucky to come away with all his bones intact. Tempting as it was to stay and help her regain consciousness, he figured it was best not to push his luck. It had already gone further than he was used to.

With a nod to the audience, a bow of respect, he rolled out of the ring and began the long walk up the ramp, limping a bit as he went along. Tonight, he was going to celebrate. A drink, a pizza, and a movie on Netflix.