Blaise Cameron vs Amy Poford- A Fresh Start

Initially, Amy was over the moon. She got the hold in! Finally! It took her four tries, but she finally did it!

But Blaise wasn't making it very easy on her. "Shit dude, stop bucking! You're gonna hurt yourself!" She pushed down a little more forcefully with her legs, hoping to calm him down.

Amy treated her armbars with excessive care. She had no desire to break or strain any of her opponents' arms. She kept a wide berth from the danger zone, though she knew how far to go to make her opponents painfully believe otherwise. Of course, that didn't mean that she couldn't threaten her opponents with the worst.

She was grateful for the ref, who, very dispassionately, leaned in and asked if Blaise wanted to submit. When he refused, Amy frowned. She started out gently:

"You know, I rolled my shoulder weird back when I was learning to windmill, and that kept me off the floor for a good three months. How long you think it’ll take for you to bounce back from a broken arm, Blaise?"

"Sh-shut up!," snaps Blaise. "I'm not giving in!" Teeth grind, and though her legs clamp down on his chest tighter, he struggles against her. "I'm.. not.. gonna lose...!" His legs begin kicking, heels scraping against the mat to try to rotate their bodies in the ring. His head turns about frantically, hunting for the closest ropes to then begin straining for. If not with a hand, then with feet!

His arm is growing more and more sore the longer she keeps it hyper-extended. He doesn't want to lose the ability to use it this match, and he's been through a lot. He can tough this out. He just needs to get free!

Irritation clouded Amy's expression. She knew that danger was looming. She needed to get him to tap soon. "Goddamnit, Blaise, you realize that if I keep going here, I’m gonna really mess up something your arm, right? That’s weeks out of the ring, at least. Not great for a rookie just starting out in the league. You gotta learn to pick your battles, man. Tap!"

"No!," shouts Blaise. His head turns to shoot a glare back at her face. He isn't angry at her, though. He's angry at the idea of folding, of giving in. The referee checks with him again, and Blaise gives a defiant cry and shakes his head.

He can't let it end this way! He can still fight! His arm is screaming in pain, but he's used to that! He's handled pain his entire career! He just needs to get out of this submission hold and pin her!

...and that's when a thought occurs to him. Oh, crap, he could've done this from the beginning.

"Nn'gah!" With a burst of force, the beleaguered teen shoves his body towards her, attempting to fold her legs in tight towards her chest and press in, hoping to convert her armbar into an impromptu pin.

Amy was having the strangest case of déjà vu. Her body was suddenly upside-down, and the arena darkened as a panting, sweating mess of a man blocked out the lights. When the ref girl slammed the mat to start the count, Amy realized what was happening. "Ugh!" Amy cried out in frustration. She released the hold and focused all her energy into kicking out violently, using the potential energy stored in her folded position to concentrate tremendous force into her hips and thighs. She directed that force up and out, intending to push Blaise back several steps, if not back onto his back.

Should Amy get a look at Blaise's face, she'll see pure determination. He's pushing his full mass against her legs, trying to grind her body down into the mat. But Amy's barely taken a hit this entire match. He just can't expect to keep her down, unless he's just worn her out by that much.

Which he evidently hasn't.

Her legs blast out, and Blaise is thrown back off of her. He lands on his boots and staggers back until he hits the ropes. It feels good to be on his feet again, even if his posture is slouched under the obvious strain of a beating. He can only lean into the ropes, his hand cradling the elbow of his pained arm.

"Told'ja.. Amy.." He shakes his head slowly, his eyes locked onto her. "I'm not.. givin' in.."

He leans off the ropes and starts to step forward, only to fall back into the ropes again. "Nnf..." He needs a moment to collect himself. So he finds himself in a rare moment of being on the defensive - that is, actually, actively thinking defensively. It's bound to last only until he feels ready to launch into a fresh attack, but for the moment, he's readying a superkick for her chin if she comes in close.

Amy didn't get back up right away. Instead, she pulled herself to a seating position and slammed the mat with both fists, frustrated. "I almost broke your fucking arm. Do you understand that!? I almost killed your whole fucking career before it even got off the ground! On your first fucking day!" Her voice cracked, and her vision was blurring. She was furious, and not just at Blaise. She was horrified at what had almost transpired, what she had almost done to the rookie, and it was breaking her.

Amy got up and drew an arm across her eyes. She took a deep breath, collecting herself, then stared coldly at Blaise across the ring. "Alright. If you're too stupid to tap, I'm gonna have to put you to sleep. Get ready." She cracked her knuckles ominously.

Amy's chewing him out. Blaise didn't exactly expect that. Hell, he's not been fussed at like this since his days at the academy. And then there was that one time with the general manager in Miami. But that guy sort of gave up trying to fuss to him. What was it he said before booting him out of the federation? Something about not wanting to facilitate his assisted suicide?

Man, Blaise still has no idea what he was talking about.

But now, this Amy girl... he doesn't get it. He's fighting his hardest. He has something to prove. He can't just... give in. That's dishonest. Disrespectful to the fans! Disrespectful to his dreams! But she looks like she might actually cry over this, and that, that's not a good feeling at all. Normally, he'd fire back a snappy retort - something to the tune of, 'You're gonna have to try harder.' But man... she's really upset here.

"Just... do your best," is all he can offer. It's a little generic, and maybe ridiculous coming from a guy who's nursing an extremely sore arm. But it's the best he could come up with, and hopefully conveys that he isn't going to hold it against her, no matter the turnout.

On the plus side, he feels stable on his feet again. He wills his body into motion again, moving towards her with his arms raised at the ready to lock up with her. Well, one arm is raised higher than the other, of course. But it's a feint anyway. The moment he closes in enough with her, he fires a toekick towards her belly. He's still not given this match up.

Amy weaved in to meet him halfway. She knew it was a feint; it was always a feint. But all Amy could think to do was end the match before things went too far. She figured that, if she couldn't dodge it, she'd just eat whatever punch Blaise threw to bring the fight back to him.

Unless that punch was actually a kick. Which, of course it was.

Amy doubled over, clutching at her belly and grimacing. But Amy was still running on fresh fury, and, if Blaise were to try and capitalize on her vulnerable position, he'd find himself on the receiving end of a signature Poford uppercut.

Feeling her stomach curve around the toe of his boot was a distinctly satisfying feeling. And naturally, he intends to capitalize on it! In a truly ironic twist, Blaise's tendency towards showmanship and lack of killer demands he not go directly for her, possibly avoiding a fateful uppercut and buying more time!

Instead, the beaten and battered teen backs up to the ropes again to lean into them, building up momentum to charge towards her! Boots hammer along the mat at a stiff gait until he misses a beat, throwing one of the boots in a charging super kick aimed for the side of her head!