The Arrival: Abattoir vs. Lucky Uchida

Lucky's glare was ambrosia, and under the mask, Abattoir's lips pulled into a jackal grin. It wasn't obvious, of course, due to the size of the respirator, but something about her eyes just let people know when they were being leered out.

The punch, of course, came seconds later, and Abattoir took it on the chest - literally. A shock rippled through her torso, and she had to take a step back from the sheer impact, but it was cold pain, expected pain, the kind she could deal with. The grin remained. There was an 'ooooh' from the crowd, who was quite used to this kind of exchange.

Throwing her momentum forward, Abattoir launched a knife-edge chop at Lucky's chest. If she was going to aim for the soft spots, she was going to have to be ready for some reciprocation.

Lucky's eyes softened a bit as Abattoir staggered back from the hard chest punch. She didn't quite smirk, but as clear as the masked girl's face had been, Lucky's was as well at the satisfaction of punching the soft, yet sensitive orb.

Unfortunately, Lucky knew she was playing Abattoir's game. Still, she also knew that Macky was probably hooting and hollering with delight backstage. Maybe she actually could fight a war with this girl in a toe to toe sliugfest? That thought was thrilling! It looked like Abattoir was enjoying herself still as well. Lucky didn't mind that little side effect either and it pumped her up a bit more as Abattoir launched her own hard back hand into Lucky's own ample bosom.

"Ghhn!" Lucky staggered and rubbed her chest where it stung. She narrowed her eyes, cocked back her hand and returned the favor once more, cracking her own backhand across Abattoir's chest loudly. The crowd was starting to shout with each attack thrown, getting into it as much as the two dark haired girls.

When the initial mixup had happened - due to some unfortunate translation errors, Abattoir had ended up auditioning for AFW instead of a much more serious combat sports organization - she had initially been equal parts bewildered and, if the truth was to be told, anxious. The theatricality, the presentation, and most of all the sheer excesses had made her worry that pro wrestling wasn't 'for her', that the violent, intense core she craved in all her pursuits wasn't lurking somewhere in there.

But here they were, trading shots in the middle of the ring while the crowd roared, and Abattoir found that, much to her surprise, she was having the time of her life. There was something pure about it - Lucky could feel it too, judging from the enthusiasm with which she chopped the living daylights out of the nak muay, and the audience was definitely into it.

That one had been hard, too - she hissed in pain through clenched teeth (although through the mask it sounded like some kind of furious challenge), and now the adrenaline was flowing in earnest and both girls were in the zone.

She staggered back from the impact of the chop, hitting the ropes, and bounced off with another forearm strike. If this kept up, they'd even have the cheap seats up in a fever pitch.

Lucky's lips continued to tug at the edges, nearly forming a smile as Abattoir staggered to the ropes. 'This must be what Macky-san feels during her matches.' The quick thought ran through her mind as Abattoir recovered and lunged at her.

"Gnnhg!"

Once again the masked girl's arm impacted Lucky's healthy chest and the bluenette staggered back. She was bent over and grabbed her sore chest, panting softly. She gnawed on her cheek. That really hurt. She was really letting Abattoir ravage her poor bosom, but Lucky didn't want to give up. With an almost primal growl, she lunged at Abattoir and drove her forearm as hard as she could into the masked girl's chest. One of them was probably going to fall sooner or later. Lucky was certain of that. She just wasn't sure that it was going to be Abattoir...

There were definitely going to be some bruises after this.  After the adrenaline had died down, Abattoir's sternum was going to feel like a car had driven over it.  Plus, to her considerable surprise, Lucky was still upright - tougher than expected.  If they'd been playing 'two for flinching', she would've held her own nicely.  Most people wilted under the flurry of strikes Abattoir tended to throw at them, but this one just wouldn't drop.  Further evidence that just standing in front of somebody and trading blows was anything but a sound strategy.

Not that it mattered.  She was practically moving on instinct now, caught up in the thrill of the hunt, her brain spraying all sorts of happy chemicals.  She was alive, and even as Lucky elbowed her right between the breasts (credit where credit was due, despite her apparent strengths as a grappler, the girl could throw pretty hard), Abattoir was already chomping at the bit to strike back.  She staggered again at the impact of the blow, pushed forward again, brought her hand back as if to go for another chop...

...but it wasn't a knife-edge to the chest, it was a spinning backfist, using all the momentum from the rebound, and it was aimed right at the side of Lucky's head, just behind the right ear.

Now they were playing for keeps.

Lucky pulled up her fists, ready to continue with their slugfest. She was panting hard and with each breath she took, she could feel her bruised chest aching. She didn't know if she could handle another round and while she held a fighter's stance, she pushed one wrist into chest as if she could ease some of the pain with some pressure.

She just hoped that maybe she didn't HAVE to trade too many more blows. Abattoir looked pretty worn out herself. Not worn out enough to stand down though! Lucky watched as Abattoir reloaded and came at her. She prepared herself to take another chest shot, however, when the masked girl suddenly pivoted and backhanded her right in the side of the head.

"Gaaaahh!"

Lucky screamed loudly as the fist slammed into her neck. She stumbled backwards and dropped to one knee. She had tears in her eyes and her head was spinning. She knew Abattoir could punch, but that one had nearly taken her out straight. She wasn't able to stand up to try another strike. She was more worried abotu trying to recover and suddenly she realized what kind of stupid game she had been playing. Trading blows with Abattoir was idiotic and she mentally cursed herself. Quickly the Ice Girl began to reformulate a plan. She stood up and stared Abattoir down coldly. "I'm not down." She stated simply with a hard, low tone. Her face still held pain but her eyes were icy cold again as she beckoned Abattoir to try and take another shot.

At last, Lucky went down. Well, sort of - she'd dropped to a knee, stunned and clearly out of sorts from the backfist. It was enough, though, and Abattoir doubled over, hands on her knees, heaving for breath and aching all over. They'd basically spend the last minute doing the high-impact version of Bloody Knuckles, and it had owned. Despite the exhaustion and swiftly-spreading pain, she chuckled to herself with glee (and winced a moment later).

And yet, there was Lucky again, dragging herself to her feet, standing all wobbly, and inviting her to take another shot. Not out yet. not even down.

Abattoir nodded, begrudgingly impressed, and took a handful of blue hair, 'helping' her opponent back upright. "Yeah." She took a step back and, with one arm, threw out a little 'here's to you' gesture. "Good fight." With that, the nak muay hit the ropes and, on the rebound, spun into her finisher: the Nail, a rolling elbow that could probably kill a horse if it connected in the right spot. It was, in her mind, the perfect exclamation mark to put on the end of this fun little game they'd played. A way for a worthy adversary to go out on her shield.

But all the work Lucky had done weakening that leg had taken its toll, whether she realized it or not, and as she came off the ropes into the strike, Abattoir was just a little slower than usual, with just a little more margin of error...

Lucky grunted when Abattoir pulled her up by the hair and delivered a parting shot that staggered her. She didn't have enough fight in her to try and exchange blows. Nor did she really want to. She could muster up some power when she needed to, but she wanted to win. She had her pride, but she was not so stupid to have to win on Abattoir's turns and as she watched the mask girl bound off the ropes, her face lost all of the little bit of inflection that she had held. Her smile was erased and her features had gone stone cold.

Lucky needed the fraction of a second just to be able to match Abattoir as the elbow came around and swung at her. The bluenette ducked and sidled. With the nimbleness of muscle memory, she had caught Abattorir's arm and snaked her own around to press against the girl's throat and force her sore chest against the girl's back. She then weaved her legs between Abattoir's and squatted.

It was awe inspiring. The fluidity of her motion had been completely at odds with the brutal and brutish striking they had just done. Lucky clasped her fingers together at Abattoir's neck, fitting them snugly underneath the gasmask as she turned the masked girl's finisher into her own. A majestic, yet thoroughly painful submission move known as the Ice Sculpture.

The Nail was a game-ender - a hammer blow designed to KO just about anybody dumb enough to be standing in front of it.  Unfortunately, Lucky was not that dumb.  Not today.

The momentum of the missed elbow carried Abattoir straight into the Ice Sculpture, and the world whirled briefly around her before everything pulled up abruptly into the most painful stretch she'd ever been in.  Her back and ribs, already wrenched pretty hard by the half-crab earlier, screamed internally; it felt like all of her opponent's weight was pulling back on them.  She had to escape, now.  Glancing to either side, Abattoir looked for the ropes.  Nope - center of the ring.  She took an experimental step.  Nope - she was having to move Lucky's weight as well as her own and at this point in the match she didn't have the endurance for it.  There was no way to make it there.  With one arm and both legs tied up, escaping was going to be some serious Wrestling 201, and she was freshman level at best.  With no other recourse, Abattoir dropped onto her back, trying to jar Lucky loose...

....and was sorely disappointed when, if anything, this made her predicament worse - the grappler was still holding on, and now she'd lost the advantage of gravity.  Damn.  That'd been her one shot.  She'd had the whole thing won, and then she'd gotten way too into it, and Lucky's experience had been more than enough to take advantage of that lapse.

With a rueful snarl under her mask, Abattoir used her free hand to tap on Lucky's arm, and the crowd erupted.

Lucky squeezed and constricted with all of her might, an icy scowl of strain on her face as she leered into the distance, just holding on while Abattoir considered her options. On a good day, trying to escape the hold was going to be hard. With all of their fatigue and with Abattoir's inexperience, Lucky knew she had the match sealed.

When the tap finally came, Lucky huffed deeply and untangled their bodies. She then collapsed against Abattoir and began panting. She brushed some sweat away from her forehead and just rested against her oppoentn as her music began to play and the bell rang.

After a moment, when the referee began to come over to raise her hand. She turned and looked at Abattoir. "Abattoir-san." She said in a soft voice. A very gentle voice. She smiled softly at the masked girl. "You're very good. That was a hard fought match." Lucky lowered her head in a polite bow and then stood up. She let the referee raise her hand and then leaned over and held out her hand for Abattoir.

"Arigatou gozaimasu." She said, bowing a bit more deeply. She wore a gentle, earnest smile through her pants as she looked down at Abattoir. "If you like striking so much, you should wrestle my friend Macky-san some time. She is much better at it than I am." She added with a soft, dainty chuckle.