LEAGUE: Cherise Campbell vs Nathan Weed (complete)

Cherise would smile a bit, bending him back a bit further into the hold to increase the strain, before going back to where she had been. Oh it still hurt in that position. But not as much as when she was leaning back. "No. I'm just determined to win." Boy... if this was determined, than he most definately didn't want to see her mad...

Nathan groaned and shut his eyes when she pulled him further backwards. Determined to win... Nathan, unlike Cherise, didn't care much about winning, but he was concerned about fighting a good fight. He opened his eyes again when she brought him back to his original position, but he knew that he should be more concerned about freeing his head from under Cherise's arm. He was aware that if he couldn't get loose, it'd be a guaranteed knock out. But the pain in his back was hard to swallow, and there wasn't little he could do but grab feebly at Cherise's arms. It's not looking good, Nathan, he told himself worriedly. Calm down, think, you've only got about ten seconds of consciousness left. What can you do?

He knew what he was expected to do in this situation. They were in a sandpit, and every fighting movie buff knows that a handful of sand in the eyes is a surefire get out of jail free card. But that would be wrong and unfair, especially after that whole speech. Plus, throwing this wet sand would probably be more like throwing a snowball. Nathan wouldn't stoop to that level anyways; besides, only the bad guys throw sand.

Cherise knew she had a secure hold. And the number of things he could do were limited. If she hadn't kicked out his knees so that he was kneeling, then he could have used his legs to help himself escape. As it was, she knew the ways to free him would leave him spent more than likely. She didn't even think about the sand. "If you submit, I won't have to knock you out." She wouldn't pull back on the hold again, simply holding onto it for now.

Nathan was just thinking the same thing. Half of his brain knew that Nathan wanted to be awake to congratulate Cherise at the end of match, and was all for giving up. But the other half continued to conjure up ideas for escape, and, as the blood in his head grew staler, his ideas made less and less sense. I wonder if she's ticklish, Nathan thought as his eyes started to fog over. Man, it would be great if my latent superpower kicked in right about now.

He'd tried to slide his hands up by his neck and through Cherise's hold, but there was just no getting in there. Nathan's arms fell limply to his side as the seconds ticked by, and his hands brushed against the sand. Then inspiration struck. Nathan dug his hands into the pit, then pulled them out, slick with water and scratchy sand. With his now more slippery hands and a sudden burst of energy, he tried once again to get his arms through Cherise's sleeper hold. If he can get past the arms, he could relieve the pressure on his neck by making room between Cherise's arm and his neck with his own, giving him back his consciousness, his strength, and a hope for escape. If it doesn't work, though, he'd probably pass out trying.

Cherise hadn't thought of that one. Making his hands wet from the sand... huh. Rather interesting really. And she wasn't really able to stop him either. She tried to keep a tight hold, but he managed to get his hand in between her arm and his neck, giving him room to escape. She fell backwards, quickly rolling away from him. "That was different." She'd smile at him, despite the fact that she'd gotten wet sand all over herself in the roll. But she wasn't too worried about that.

Nathan grinned breathlessly but didn't answer. The sudden rush of blood to his head had made him dizzy, and when Cherise rolled away he plopped backwards into the sand, closing his eyes until the world around him stopped spinning. Nathan pulled his legs out from under him, which was a second huge relief, since they were getting cramped under his body, and willed his head clear faster.

Cherise would move towards him cautiously, not wanting to suddenly recieve a nasty counter surprise. When she got close enough, she'd reach out to drag him to his feet. If she could manage it without getting countered, she'd tuck his head under her right arm, and would fall back to hit his head into the sand with a DDT, hoping to knock him more out of it. If that connected, she'd go for the pin. She really did want to win.

Nathan felt Cherise grab him to haul him to his feet. Fearing another submission hold, Nathan resisted, but Cherise was still able to bring him up since he was still pretty out of it. Just as he was finally getting his bearings straight, Cherise bent him over and fell backwards in a DDT.

Shhhhh! Nathan's head sunk comically into the sand, and the momentum flipped him over onto his back. The assault to his head was well cushioned by the pit- it didn't hurt at all- but Nathan was back into a state of not knowing which way was up. He was in this condition when Cherise started her pin.

"One!" The sound of the count was lost in a swirl of confusion.

"Two!" Cherise would smile, awaiting the count of three to declare her a winner. This would be a big win for her.

Nathan by now realized that he was being counted out, but he was too nauseated to kick out. He heard the ref call two, and, unable to move for fear of vomiting, yelled out loudly "Three!" just before the ref did. The jarred ref looked up, surprised, delaying the match's end for just an extra second.

With his eyes still closed, Nathan smiled weakly. "Not so loud. Feels like world's worst hangover." Then he groaned and put a hand to his temple, utterly spent. Though Nathan had managed to escape, it seemed as though the dragon sleeper was the winning hold; his head was pounding angrily and he felt sick, so Nathan resigned himself to the count.

The ref, unsure what to do, decided to just finish the count. "Um... Three!" she said, courteously quiet.