Diana Accera vs. Armando 'Army' Rodriguez - You're Going Down

Army squirmed. Left. Right. Up. Down. He twisted and kicked and groaned and growled and did everything he could think of to get free of Diana’s chickenwing hold, put every muscle he could find into the effort, mined his mind for every lesson he could remember when it came to enduring and escaping submission holds.

None of it did any good. He was helpless, waiting for whatever ultimate move Diana was going for. Fortunately - or unfortunately - he wasn’t kept in suspense for very long.

Things were shifting, her body was moving, and while he couldn’t see shit from his perspective, he could make out well enough. Her legs were coming up, over, down, and then….

...then it became an official submission hold, and the pain got really, really bad.

It wasn’t just uncomfortable, though, goddamn, did it hurt. It felt like she was going to pull both of her shoulders clean out of their joints, and any rolling or movement he made just seemed to make it so much worse. The truly painful part, however, was the way it left him - facedown, ass-up, unable to do a damn thing about it. Not a good look.

”Army!” The referee kneeled by his head, her long shadow casting over him. ”Do you give?”[/color]

He closed his eyes. ”No…”

[b]”Come on!” She leaned in closer. ”Do you give up?”

Army closed his eyes even harder and thought for a moment. How long had he been on the floor, now? Felt like a good minute. He wasn’t getting up. She wouldn’t let him. The match was over, it was just a matter of how long it took for him to acknowledge it. The longer he stayed stubborn, the worse the damage would.

With a long, pained sigh, Army gave a few hard nods. ”I give! I give up!”

A loud bang was heard as the Italian's soles made contact with the mat, Diana's eyes shut as she herself ached in agony; her back flaring at a level equal to or perhaps even greater than the strain in her foes arms. But where his pain was forced, hers was by choice-a small price to pay in Diana's mind, for a chance at putting away her monster of a foe. Head now inverted against Army's cheek, all Diana had to do was hold.

No wrenching, as the extreme leverage was doing all the work and more than Diana's toned biceps could of ever done.

No trash talking, as the match had reached a pure point of intensity that no words were needed. Although, some words would of greatly been appreciated by her foe, ideally before Diana's ridiculous arched back forced her to cave in. All she had to do was hold.

Hold...

Hold...

And surely enough, such a simple task gained Diana a reward she herself at times thought out of reach during moments of the match. Releasing but a fraction of a second after her foe spoke those magic words, Diana would lay in something of a heaped mess, shoulder and head rubbing against the man she had just submitted with a move she would likely never dare try again. Her back was in agony, her teeth baring as her eyes closed in amidst the ache. Instead of soothing the ache, she merely retained her posture, a somewhat respect by the Italian as two warriors lay next to one another on the battlefield.

The match itself was everything Diana hoped for and more. Besides the personal issues between the two, and of course Diana's own flustered mindset over her lady-love, Diana had enjoyed every moment of the brawl, even when she was preparing to call it. She couldn't deny that in any other circumstance, herself and Armando would of been but two peas in a pod; Diana's infatuation with seeking a good fight a good pairing with someone who offered a extreme challenge with minimum effort.

A few tense moments passing, finally, the Italian spoke in a hush exhausted tone, still laying next to the male Rodriguez.

"Pretty...good..."