Southern Hospitality: Dakota vs Taurus Mask (D)

"Tarnation…" Dakota murmured to herself as she hung slumped against the corner. Even having braced for impact with her back first, the impact into the ropes had been a jolting one that had her wheezing. For as much of a blowhard as this Bull-boy was, there was no denying he had some serious muscle that was going to be a big issue. Through blond tresses, she peered up to the distant Reggie, setting up for what came next. He was gracious enough to telegraph a tackle with football callouts that had no real meaning in the ring, save for giving her a very needed leg up on his intentions.

She played possum, the movements of steadying her footing and tensing up her body as minuscule as she could manage, maintaining the illusion she was down and out. It was certainly easier than appearing coins from behind people's ears… she had tried that before and it hadn't gone well. Poised and ready to receive Reggie, she waited for the perfect moment as he came barreling towards her.

Dakota sprang to life at the last possible moment, turning her hand over to grip the ropes and tug herself to the side. She spun from the corner with uncharacteristic grace, feeling like one of those sharply dressed tango dancing duos she had seen on the television once or twice before. It left the bull with empty air and an unforgiving metal post to acquaint himself with as the southern gal glanced back for what she hoped would be a devastating impact.

Oh yeah, you guessed it. Lettered in high school. Varsity Offensive Linemen Reginald "Bulldozer" Bulworth was fixin' on making his rampaging return tonight. He figured it was about time he showcased to the audience just what earned him the record for QB sacks in a single season in his alma mater of Cal State Fresno. GO BULLDOGS!!! Reggie being notorious on the football field not only for his tackling prowess and frenzied ferocity, but for his elaborate celebration dances after steamrolling over the opposition's quarterback who had practically left a body sized indentation into the grass. Instinct had kicked in the second he assumed his old right tackle linemen position on the far side of the ring, primed and ready to unleash years of training drills from coaches who taught him to mercilessly mow down anyone carrying the football.

However his intended target tonight was noticeably not carrying the football and was waaaaay more smokin than usual. Eh, no bigs. He'd just have to imagine that she was carrying the ol' pigskin and he was off to the stampeding races. Figuratively and literally as the bullying linemen went into a hunched over sprint like a runaway locomotive. Fully intent on spearing into her with enough strength to have her gasping for the rest of the match and potentially the next few days, except all he'd cram into was the steel turnbuckle pole behind her. Which remained steadfast on impact as the linemen was left hung out to dry atop the middle turnbuckle with a pained grimace before the green-haired giant went plummeting outside the ring to a deadened flop. Clutching his aching shoulder miserably for a while before attempting to slowly soldier himself back up to his feet.

Twirling to the side, the ring ropes had become her dance partner. Fingers curled around the cables in a tight flex, allowing the southern gal to come to a sharp stop with a flutter of curly blond hair. She held the pose, throwing back her free hand to embody the moment. Knowing full well the cause and effect in play with her actions, the loud metallic pang of Reggie's body against the ring post was enough to startle her and cause a small wince. It reminded her of an unfortunate accident of driving the neighbor's tractor into their fence and the managed remains that were left. She couldn't waste time daydreaming about yesteryear though. Stepping forward she reached to try to grab hold of the green bull's spandex ring gear only to find him suddenly slipping through the ropes. She lurched forward in a hurry, grabbing for the big lug but he tumbled out despite her efforts to clatter across the floor leaving her leaning out the ropes to peer down at the carnage.

"Tarnation…" Dakota whispered to herself, unsure if she should feel sorry or happy at the level of destruction her small reversal had managed to unleash. What was done was done though and gawking about it wasn't getting her any closer to winning. When the referee shuffled over to start a count-out, Dakota slipped fully back into the ring and gestured for them to give her room. The two shared a glance in which the official looked concerned and the southern gal couldn't help but grin. "Don't worry hun, we'll be back."

Grabbing hold of the top rope she planted her heels and drew back, stretching the cable out like a slingshot. It took some doing to get it back as far as she wanted, a gentle burning in her biceps from the strain was enough to clue her in it wouldn't go any further. With a leap forward the blond vaulted herself up and over the ropes, jumping out past the apron to aim for her new landing pad, a big green one. Thrusting her legs out, she tried to spike her heels into Reggie's back with a massive double stomp, trying to flatten him out across the ringside area with her full weight coming down on him in one focused place.

In the ongoing war between metal and man, the ultimate victor of today's particular battle unsurprisingly remained the same as all other skirmishes with scarcely a dent made upon the unyielding steel. Although for what it was worth to Reginald's caveman pride, the turnbuckle was at the very least somewhat askew now. Sacking quarterbacks in college was apparently a hundred times easier since they were preoccupied with tossing a football through the air with pinpoint accuracy. This was a lesson in wrestling that was only learned the hard way, but one that in all likelihood he would learn repeatedly due to his inability to absorb knowledge and retain information even if it's imbued by a teacher thwacking the info into his skull along with that pointer stick thing swatted down at him.

The fallen bulldozer's plunge being uncannily reminiscent and having all the elegant grace of a sack of potatoes nudged downhill. Reggie may not have been seeing red before that colossal waste of a badass spear, which may surprise audience members after seeing his rampaging stampede firsthand, but he was most definitely seeing a bit of the old crimson now. His shoulder burned like a mother, tender though he was with clasping onto his trap muscle with his meaty grip. His favorite sports channel probably handpicking this bullshit counter to air on repeat in regards to this match's coverage. And he had that Southern Fried Grease Monkey to thank for it as well. The Bull-Man was hankering for another crack at this chick, intent on making a rodeo clown out of her for once.

Reggie twisted about to lay on his back in the, ultimately ironic, effort make it easier for him to breathe. Unintentionally repositioning himself so Dakota's landing pad would be the dudebro's bitchin' six-pack abs instead of his spine. Regardless it sucked all around. "OOOHHH!!!" Reginald recoiled up to be seated after Dakota bounced off, facials scrunched as he puffed out air through his lips. Afterward flipping over again with his backside jutting up as he patted the toes of his sneakers into the floor, reaching up with one hand to search for and immediately start using the adjacent barricade as a means to start clambering back up. Winded and primarily concerned with getting oxygen back in his lungs through rasping breathes over anything else at the moment.

Reggie made a surprisingly enough decent springboard for Dakota who bunny hopped her way off of his abdomen to touch down on the ringside floor again. She landed in a small stumble but recovered fast enough that if she were competing in the Olympics, the dismount would have been pretty well received. Here, it was all cheers that counted as much for a set of perfect tens across the board to her. Soaking it in, she wheeled about with a cheeky smirk, pushing up the bill of her baseball cap to strike a pose.

The southern gal sauntered after the bull-masked bro, in no hurry to help him to his feet. While she was no weakling, Dakota wasn't about to waste her energy trying to haul someone this meaty to his feet while he was still capable of doing it for himself. So she loomed nearby, at such an annoying angle and distance that attempting to swipe at her would have been fruitless. It wasn't until Reggie had done most of the grunt work of half-standing that she finally inserted herself back into the equation.

Swooping in like a bird of prey, she used the laces in the back of her opponent's mask as a firm handhold and slipped her fingers over one of his shoulders. Taking a few jogging steps to most past him, she wheeled about with a hard tug to try and swing the big man away from the barricade into an unstable scramble, directing him with a hard whip right at the steel steps stacked against the corner of the ring. Nobody seemed to bat an eye or even question her reasoning for the extreme treatment almost as if the aura Taurus Mask gave off made this sort of thing okay by default.

Although his brolick and straight up yolked bod is strengthened to be capable of mowing down defensive linemen on a collegiate level, you wallop a man hard enough in his breadbasket and he'll be gasping for air like a trout freshly fished out of the sea. Reggie and his fraternity brethren used to play a game where they'd thwack the other's bare stomach with a wooden paddle, and whoever flinches has to take a shot. The ultimate grand prize for the baddest dude left standing at the end of the game is...well, more shots. And mad props from the rest of his dude bros. Although Reggie has himself, on occasion, been dubbed Champion Of The World through this iron-willed contest amongst his fellow blockheaded adrenaline junkies, the suddenness of it all and lack of preparation meant he was left speechless by essentially not having the air in his lungs necessary to enunciate human speech. Unless spastic gagging counted.

"...*coughcough*...Gahdamn Redneck Tinkerbelle..." Reggie seethed out in the midst of discovering and eventually utilizing the fan barricade as an assisted tool towards ascending like a drunken sea captain having indulged himself with one rum bottle too many. Chortled breathes helped with his air circulation again but his tender midsection and especially his shoulder still quaked with pulsating discomfort as he'd sling an arm over the top of the barricade to help hoist himself upward. He'd lumber ungracefully in the direction Dakota directed via the tugging on the back of his mask and grip upon his shoulder. A testament to the spirited Southerner's initiative and own honed strength. But their was much to be desired from any plan that involved out muscling the Bull-Man, as evidenced by Reggie twirling around and reversing positions. Using Dakota's own forward momentum against her and tacking on some of her foe's bullish strength in introducing her to the steel steps instead.

"You say somethin' hun?" Dakota inquired like a curious cat batting around a mouse. She swelled with confidence as she helped her opponent up, sure that after taking two big hits back to back she could have her way with him. That sort of underestimation was probably something her mother would have warned her about, but she had blinders on when it came to the misfortune of Reggie she was inflicting. So she remained intoxicatingly upbeat while manhandling the bull in preparation for another big hit intended for that thick skull of his.

Handling was one thing but directing proved to be far more difficult. It was the skip of a record taking them back earlier in the match when she stepped in to whip him towards the corner only to have him ready and able to reverse the situation. When it came to brawn, Dakota couldn't hold a candle to the significantly more stacked athlete and found herself rocketing towards the steps in his place. An unfortunate stumble took her into a forward pitch, diving her face first into the steel stairs.

The clatter of echoing hollow metal was a gunshot to the muffled blows and slams from moments prior. She hit them with enough force to detach the top and bottom sections, scattering them to either side as she lay crumpled across the grated slip-resistant surface in a daze. Unfortunately for her, mom's hat didn't come equipped with any sort of bump cap, something that was readily visible as it had fallen to the side in the impact and spun slowly in place on a tilted axis.

Reginald had, on occasion, traveled to the Southern states of the good Ol' U.S of A. whenever his Varsity football team was scheduled for some away games. And having been a refined connoisseur of beer, Jägerbombs and the like, he can offer a firsthand account of the high tier quality of brews those Southerners wet their whistles with on a daily basis. So Reggie can only assume that Dakota here must have been knocking back some of those beverages herself before the match if she actually thought she could out-muscle this beefcake strongman. The Raging Bull proving this point as only he could by savagely turning the tables on the Dixie Darling by making her kiss that hollowed out steel staircase instead of him. What he intended to only be the beginning of some totally righteous retribution against this Southern lass who only got lucky so far as he was concerned.

Reggie taking a nonchalant stride towards the beleaguered blonde and rotating his arm several swivels with a flinching seethe for every full revolution. He still had some kinks in his shoulder after he ended up spearing the goddamn turnbuckle, so he figured he'd earned the chance to take a load off. And he did just that by sitting himself directly atop the splayed out Southerner's back with an emphatic thud, peeking down beside him to snatch Dakota's wayward hat and start twirling it about on his index finger. "What I said, was that maybe you can fetch me a brewski after the match when I'm finished taxin that ass? Whattya say babe?" Reggie copping a feel of that particular Southern rump with a firm handful, wriggling it about within his burly hand before straight up spankin dat ass. Afterward unseating himself and affixing the cap on his own noggin.

The backs of her fingers brushed the ringside mats as one arm hung over the side of the steel steps beside the ring. The metal felt cold against her skin as she lay face down across it where she had collapsed and might have been comfortable on a hot day in the ring if not for the slip-resistant raised bits digging into her flesh. Reason enough to rise really. With a groan the blond began to gather herself, bringing her hands to the edge of the step to begin to rise. The sudden weight of a jolly green giant dropped onto her back though and flattened her out with grunt, pinning her to the stairs.

Dakota squirmed, blindly kicking her legs to try and reposition herself to be able to plant her feet on the ground. Reggie's comments had gotten a low growl from her as she twisted, reaching back to try and shove at his thick frame with her hand. When his hand clamped down on her backside though, it was a far more audible surprised yelp, one that found her face reddening as he clapped her firm cheeks with an open palm. She flailed a bit, at his mercy so long as he remained on top of her. When she was finally free though, she wasted no time in a rebuttal, fumbling to her feet at a stumble.

"Yer gonna need a straw to drink it through too!" Dakota whirled around on her heel, winding her arm up. Red-faced a fire in her eyes, she charged Reggie as if she was the one seeing red now. Pushing off the ground she threw herself forward, throwing her arm out to attempt to slam into him with a flying clothesline. She wasn't doing either of them any favors at this point as the referee continued to count both wrestlers out.

Hey, seating areas were sparse and Reggie's dogs were barking. S'not his fault the Southern Fried Belle was still splayed out and downright hogging the metallic space for herself. Whatever happened to Southern hospitality? Sheesh. Nah but in all honesty, the Regginator relished getting some well justified payback after being hoodwinked into spearing solid steel. Although he'd probably appreciate using her as a throw pillow even moreso if she stopped with the goddamn fidgeting and squirming already. On the bright side though, he confirmed what his eagle eyed appraisal speculated on earlier. Which was that Dakota has one phoine backside, possessing one of the smoothest rumps he'd ever copped a feel of. Not a compliment to be taken lightly in his eyes considering the vast swathe of willing and decidedly unwilling volunteers this encompasses.

The Bull-Man unseating himself with a few steps forward taken as he firmly affixed her mechanic hat on his noggin before spinning around on a dime after the mechanic's enraged bellowing. Reggie cocked an eyebrow underneath his mask and wondered if it was the brewski line that's got her royally cheesed off. The former college football linemen steadying his footing and showcasing the folly in taking to the air against someone who can bench you no problem. Reggie catching Dakota across his broad shoulders with his brawny arm bearing down behind her neck and the other situated around one of her thighs. "Aww yeah, Whose ready to see me take her for a ride?!" Ready or not, Reggie will start spinning in place like any intoxicated fratboy would in his Bull Rider spincycle for as long as the green giant could muster until gravity eventually played it's part.