Edgar Shaw vs. Felina Rodriguez - Never Back Down

It was starting to take a real, tangible effort on Army’s part to not jump up, storm the ring, and kick Edgar’s ass from pillar to post, and when the little fucker had the nerve to wave his way with his cocky smile and his damn swagger, he had to grip the apron tight to keep himself back. He’d just watched Felina nearly get her head kicked clean off, taking one of the nastiest shots he’d ever seen, and all his brotherly instincts were kicking in...despite the fact that Felina was his cousin.

It wasn’t easy to watch what was happening in the ring, and it definitely wasn’t an easy thing to endure, either. It might’ve appeared otherwise, but his kick hadn’t knocked Felina clean out - it had just come close. Damn close. Her vision was filled with stars, her thoughts were hazy, and she was only just able to register that she was being dragged along the mat.

A weight, dropping down on her back.

Her arms, draped over his thighs.

Hands at her chin, pulling her torso back, bending her further and further…

Felina cried out as the tight hold bent her, exacerbating the damage that the Boston Crab had done mere moments ago, twisting her spine. She had to clamp her teeth down hard, and even then, she could stop a low hiss from squeezing through.

And then, through the pain and the hell she was enduring, came the taunting. The snide little whisper in her ear. That was what burned the most, the sound of his cocksure voice, and it only hardened her resolve. She wasn’t tapping. Not to this. Not to him.

---

Edgar made a soft thoughtful sound after she made a sound, ha hadn't been sure if she had even been conscious when he dragged her to the middle of the ring. His angles may have been off, technique a bit sloppy, but the hold was working hard for him. he hadn't ever researched how to do it properly, he had just seen it used quite a lot by dasher and was mimicking the puroresu professional. He rocked his weight back a bit in the knowledge that he had a live on on the line. While he may have seemed like a malicious asshole... and he could be, he wasn't looking to cripple anyone. Not as long as Leah was watching anyhow. Had she actually been knocked out he knew they would call the match before he could do too much damage. It seemed he wouldn't need to worry about that though.

"Hanging in there honey?" He inquired in a cutesy tone as if talking to a pet or small child. "Come oooooooon. You're just making this harder on yourself... Unless you're into this sort of thing. Are you into this sort of thing?" He snickered softly, leaning his head back down beside hers, drawing in a deep breath through his nose before he took a long slow exhale of hot breath into her ear. "This what you're here for? That and beating up wimpy no-names?" He jerked back, trying to give her a long hard pull as he took out a bit of added aggression out on her over that sucker punch. "Congratulations, you found someone who can actually fight back. How's that working for you, huh?"

He raised himself up just a bit before changing his seating a bit further back on her, almost sitting on her backside. From there he would keep her head at arms length as he wrenched her backwards, applying the the hold the way it was suppose to. "Lets see just how flexible you are."

Just hold on. That was all Felina had to do, hold on. It wasn’t like she had much choice, really, with the way this hold was applied. She was far from a wrestling technician, and as far as she was aware, the only way out of a hold like this was to lift your opponent straight up and throw him off. Even if she was in her best state, she had doubts that she could pull that off.

It honestly wouldn’t have been so bad on its lonesome. She’d been in submission holds before, plenty of them, even worse ones than this, and none of them had ever gotten a single tap out of her.

But what made this one worse, what tested her more than any other, was the taunting. The little comments whispered in her ear, the feel of his breath on her ear. That made her want to scream, but even more than that, it made her determined to endure and survive this hold. She didn’t care how much it or how her back felt or how far he bent her. She was not giving him the satisfaction of making her submit.

No. Tapping.

She clenched her fists tight when Edgar leaned back into the hold, stretching her further than before and testing the limits of her flexibility. Her face scrunched and her teeth grit so hard she thought they would crack, her brain wracked by the searing pain, dominating every thought.

At the sidelines, Army had gone quiet for the moment, knowing Felina wouldn’t hear anything he said and that it wouldn’t matter much if she did. A small - but growing - part of him was considering jumping into the fray, however. Felina would never let him hear the end of it, sure, but the alternate was big worry. His cousin was too proud and stubborn to submit to a man like this, so much that she might let him do something she couldn’t take back...

Was he doing this wrong? Felina was tapping. Was she stupid or just stubborn? Either way, he was getting pissed off she was still hanging on. He had to take a moment to just settle his anger and take stock on the situation. He was in total control. It didn't matter how much of masochist she was..eventually she would have to break. His current method wasn't working, so he decided to go back to an old faithful.

He kept her bend and steady, leaning himself in down over her shoulder again. “Serious, it isn't worth it, you’re done. Just give up.” Despite the message, his tone was a bit softer than it had been, though given her current mindset and the fact he was still applying the hold it was unlikely to persuade her.

“Just give up.” He repeated again as he tilted his head slightly, trying to give the edge of her ear a small nudge before trying to take her earlobe between his lips. A soft suckle, a little nibble, testing her resolve again from the small prodding earlier. If he couldn't make her submit with the Inoba Clutch, there were other ways to try to dispatch her.

Felina hated Edgar Shaw. She hated this man so much that it was actually becoming an asset to her in a fight. If it was just about anyone else, she might’ve given it up. This wasn’t that big of a deal, it wasn’t like she was fighting for ranking or anything like that, so there was no real harm in losing. She shouldn’t have had this big a connection. Should not have cared so much.

But when the idea of giving up started to occur, when the seed was planted, that was the exact moment that Edgar had to dip down and teasing her. And the nibbling, having his digusting mouth on her, like she was would ever, in a million years, get turned on by such an asshole…

No. No. No.

Before she even realized what she was doing, Felina jerked her head to the side, then brought it back with all the force she could summon, knocking their two skulls together like coconuts. It would undoubtedly be worse for her than him even if it did 100% work, but she was willing to make the sacrifice if she could just hurt him a little and stop the teasing.

Was it working? It didn't seem to be working at all. His lips gave a small pop as she jerked herself free a small snort coming from him as he turned slightly to glance sidelong at her. "Not a f-" As she came back his way she him squarely in the brow, enough to send him recoiling back in pain. He growled in frustration, his brief moment of calm utterly obliterated. Rather than crank the hold, he pulled back one of his hands to jam his fingers up into the back of her hair at the base of her braid, getting a firm grasp. He removed his other hand from her chin and leaned in again to try to slam Felina's face into the mat. "You bitch!"

Leah cringed a bit watching the whole exchange. She raised a finger from her little end of the ring. "Ed, language!" Not exactly the most appropriate of times. It was never too late to make a good impression though... okay maybe not with Felina and Army... or the crowd. Her shoulders sank a bit.

"Can it L!" The referee would interject again, flagging him down for using Felina's hair, yet again, and begin a count. Edgar didn't know if it was the pain from her headbutt or his generalized rage at her persistence to just not know her damn place, but he was done playing Mister Nice-guy. Which said quite a lot for his current state of mind, given that he hadn't started off terribly nice to begin with. With limited time, he did everything in his power to make those seconds feel like an eternal hell. Clapping his other hand on the side of Felina's head he would try to continually ram her into the mat, even drag her face along the canvas if she lacked the strength to fight him. Finally he would break the count, climbing off her back.

"Stay down, or I will end you. You here me? Huh? Stay the fuck down." He snarled, hocking something back in his throat before spitting down at her. He turned to head towards the corner nearest Leah, reaching up to feel his head for blood. She hadn't managed to split him open, but he was having trouble keeping his eye from unintentionally squinting on that side at the moment. He stopped part way, stealing a glance back towards Felina, just making sure she wasn't rising from the dead to tackle him. Assuming she was still down, or struggling to get up, he would make his way to Army.

Draping his forearm off the rope, he'd make some friendly conversation while looking between the two Rodriguez family members just to keep tabs. "Real piece of work you have here. Maybe you should put her back in the oven, she's not fully cooked yet." He raised a hand, twirling a finger beside his head in the 'crazy' hand gesture. "Listen, I'm gonna be real with you Blue.  If you like this lady, give her some useful advice. See, I am trying to help her out here and she just won't listen." He gave a large shrug. "Tell her to stand down before I have to do some real damage."

Felina didn’t care that the headbutt hurt her more it hurt him. She didn’t care that it wouldn’t really do any serious damage, that it wouldn’t help her win this match - if she even could anymore - and she didn’t care that, in all likelihood, he would make her pay for it with more pain. Much more.

It all worth it, just for the chance to knock that stupid smile off his face and get him to shut up. Despite the searing pain going through her back at the moment, Felina had a smile on her face, slim and slight, all the way up the moment when Edgar came over and proceeded to ram that face of hers right into the mat. Repeatedly.

Each hit produced more and more stars in her vision, until she could see almost nothing but white. She could feel. Her skull filled with pain, driving every coherent thought clean out for a few moments and leaving her a husk on the mat.

Army watched all this, fighting every cell in his body that wanted to get into the ring. That wasn’t what a Rodriguez did. They didn’t interfere in each others matches. They didn’t disrespect the ring. The canvas was their holy ground, and you didn’t go in there during a match. It just wasn’t done…

...and yet, he might've done it, if Edgar hadn’t interrupted his train of thought and come over to have a word with. The whole time he spoke, Army glared up at him, fists opening and closing. All he had to do was leap up and swing his fists, hit this jackass in the jaw. One blow. It would cost Felina the match, but that was already down the drain, and it would be the most satisfying thing he’d done all year. ”Listen, fucker,” He took a step closer and tensed up. ”You need to stop about shit you don’t understand, before-”

”Don’t.”

Army gaze shifted from Edgar to Felina, who’d somehow summoned the energy to start pushing her way back again. It was slow and groggy, but she had her fists on the mat and was starting a steady push. Bit by bit, she was rising.

”Don’t you…” She took a second to spit out some blood from her busted lip, and glared hard Edgar. ”He’s stopping anything, asshole. Want me to give up?” She shook her head and got one knee on the mat. ”Make me.”

“Someone is in a mood.” He snickered softly down ay Army’s choice of colorful nicknames for him as he bounced a bit idly against the ropes. He was actually slight curious about what blue boy wanted to say when Felina did what she did best and ruined it. Edgar’s eye drifted back her way to give the woman a flat look. Sure, okay, her getting up after all of that may have been a little impressive. It was also dumb. It's not like they were fighting for a large pot of money or a title. This was just the two of them.

He peered back at Army giving him a shrug. “Yo, seriously. Look into suicide counseling for this chick.” Felina had his full attention as he pushed off the ropes and made his way over. Part of him knew he should be careful. It wasn't as if she had started this little bout honorable, she certainly wasn't going to change that after the beating he had given her. Still, he just didn't care enough, she was damn annoying.

Edgar trudged his way up to Felina slowly at first. As he got closer, he twisted slightly, drawing back his right arm. The last bit of distance he took a long hopping stead before throwing out a massive haymaker right at the woman's head as she was starting to rally herself.

Army would never say it - not in a million years - but a part of him agreed with Edgar, knowing Felina needed to give this up before it went too far. He had different reasons, of course, not wanting to see the girl he’d grown up with have her career ended just because she didn’t know when to quit. He could figure out what this guy’s problem was, why he was making this all so personal, but it seemed damn clear that he had no problems pushing her past the point of no return.

She managed to get up on two feet as he started came towards her. Slow at first, but picking up more and more momentum with every step closing the distance, getting in nearer. He was going to make a move, any second now, and she just had to be ready…

There.

Felina gritted her teeth and willed her body into action, ignoring the pain as she suddenly ducked under his haymaker, a blow that would’ve surely put her down for good. Felina passed underneath his shoulder and kept moving forward, coming out at his back. She spun around once, then spun around again to gain more steam, before she spent it all with a spinning heel kick, aimed at the dead center of Edgar’s face, looking to hit him just as he turned around.

Edgar charged Felina down, snickering to himself as he thought of how this played out in one of Leah’s dumb cartoons. He would no doubt gather some impressive ball of glowing energy would surround his fist. Just before dust and debris would swirl around him, he’d shout whatever the dumb attacks name was and when he punched her she would just be disintegrated in a column of light. The reality of it was he was going to busy his fist into her face. It wouldn't be clean, he expected to have her skull in. Break her nose, split her lips again, leave her a bloodied mess on the canvas before strapping her in for another Inoba Clutch.

He let out a loud growl as he strung it fists out to end her world only to find her slipping beneath. The wide punch left him stumbling and off balanced. He could have taken the time to right himself, but Felina was in no condition to fight. He had her on the ropes, it didn't matter how sloppy the next punch he threw was. Whirling around, he locked another arm back intending to clobber his foe.

Her heel caught his hard and heavy in the side of the head, throwing him back to the canvas in an awkward backwards scramble. He had been briefly put on his ass, but kicking out his legs and shoving off the ground with his hands brought him back up again almost immediately, though her certainly wasn't rushing her outright, trying to shake off the effect of the kick on his brain.

He brought his fist to his mouth, raking her forearm across his back to clear a bit of spit he had apparently let fly when he was hit. Edgar snarled softly as he opened and closed his jaw, making sure it was still set right. “Lucky kick.” He snorted.