Aisha vs. Abattoir - Two Days Notice

The AFW audience had never actually seen the Nail connect before, and considering they could hear the sound ten rows back, the pop was greatly adulterated by shock and horror.

These reactions only mounted as Abattoir, instead of going for the pin, circled around to the other side of the ring and retrieved the remaining lighttubes. Holding the length of deadly glass in one hand, she leisurely ambled back towards the downed Aisha - although admittedly, her easy pace was practically necessary with how badly the match had exhausted her, not that she'd let it on. There were now some outright shrieks in the audience, with the impression that she intended to literally murder the Dancing Sistah beginning to steadily spread. Even the ref girl, greatly regretting her career choices and assuming she was almost definitely about to be bashed in a huge cloud of dust and flying glass, raised her hands in supplication. "Come on. Abattoir, you can't, she's--"

She was cut off by a growl as Abattoir shoved past her. A quick twirl, and the nak muay grasped the lighttube bundle with both hands, holding them raised and at the ready like an executioner's axe. She placed a boot on Aisha's chest and glared over at the ref as the blood from her scalp pooled on her shoulder.

"Count."

The ref girl wasn't questioning her luck. She was on the floor before Abattoir's mouth had even closed.

"One!"

Aisha's brain was working overtime, desperately trying to find some way out of the predicament. Every twitch her body made was an attempt get some life going in her limb, at least manage to stand back up or roll out of the ring or spit in Abattoir's face.

It was all futile. She couldn't move, not an inch, and even if she could, Abattoir would just beat her down again. "Ghhh..." A wispy, weak, whining noise came through her teeth as Abattoir's boot dug into her chest, scuffing up her glittering designer top.

"2...!"

It didn't matter how slow the referee counted or what she counted to. Three. Four. Ten. A hundred. Aisha was not getting up, simple as that.. As the nak muay finished her with a cocky pin, it was clear to everyone in attendance that the Dancing Sistah was completely and undeniably and indefinitely...

"3...!"


...finished.

It was quieter than usual in the wake of a big win, and this was probably because, despite having won, Abattoir was still standing over a semiconscious Aisha holding the lighttubes. She looked like she'd been through a war zone; blood dripped steadily down the side of her face, mingling with the split lip that was barely visible through the busted side of her mask, and trickling in pulses that matched her heavy breathing. The fans had seen this enough times to know what was coming - a blast of deadly glass to a defenseless victim, just to put the 'hey, I'm hardcore' exclamation point on this whole grisly affair. Gruesome. Potentially very dangerous.

The arena fell eerily silent as Abattoir stepped back, bringing the tubes up to waist level...and then collectively exhaled as she dropped them next to the fallen diva and shook her hair out.

"Remember this moment," Abattoir rasped, sparing a glance downward.

With that, she turned and slid under the bottom rope, making her way up the ramp as her music echoed throughout the arena. There was a smattering of bewildered applause in her wake, but all in all, her actions had left a trail of confusion and uncertainty. Perhaps, in the end, that was the way she wanted it.

Abattoir wins via pinfall (The Nail)