Tension Elimination Chamber Match

"...."

Stoically inert and standing rigidly straight with his eyes closed and muscled arms crossed, Dasher was perhaps the only living soul in the arena not watching the match unfolding. It was a testament to either his iron-willed confidence, or block-headed stubbornness that the Dashing grappler opted to avert his gaze from the high-flying wrestling match unfolding inside the ring aside from occasional glances when a slam made his side of the ring jostle. It mattered not to him who was wrestling up till now or who got eliminated...because to him, the match did not truly begin until he was finally granted freedom from his rigid encasing. Everything beforehand was merely a formality and an opportunity for the other so called "wrestlers" to get their five minutes of fame until he entered the ring...when their time would most definitely be up. So instead, he meditated and kept his mind clear for the task at hand...calmly waiting...

*BZZZZZZT*

...until his time came. The flashing spotlights illuminating each inhabited pod-room in dazzling succession until it rested solely atop The Dashing One's enclosure, his beady eyes opening up once he heard the locks to his door become undone. Scores of frothing wrestling fans making his impending arrival that much more momentous by repeatedly chanting "I-NO-BA!!!!...I-NO-BA!!!!...I-NO-BA!!!!!" with occasional stomps to the floor as well. Dasher serenely unfolding his arms and taking his time striding out of the pod...pure, imposing menace etched across his huge-chinned grimace as he steadily began stomping towards the Ryo boy who would be the only one left standing after his diving headbutt. Some of his rippling muscles comparatively bigger than Kamiya's head as he stood before the boy for several seconds before letting out a bellowing yell and slapping his own pecs, than bending his fingers towards him...daring Ryo to come at him with the hardest slap, chop, punch, dropkick...whatever he could dish out, Dasher was daring him to serve it up!!!!

Owwwww...Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

Why the hell did he go for a headbutt!? He wasn't even a high flyer, the hell was he even thinking!?

Indeed, his attack had been successful, slamming his forehead down on the beautiful Felina's abs, which also involved belly flopping onto the mat and banging part of his face on the mat, leaving him rolling around, clutching at his nose and cursing himself for his bravado.

...and then the lights went out.

Familiar with what this meant, Ryo slowly sat up, looking around as the lights blinked on and off each pod, looking at each potential new opponent...while silently hoping it wouldn't land on one specific fighter, the one he really really didn't want to have to fight.

The lights started slowing down.

"Cmon...not him...not him..."

They slowed, alternating between the final three opponents...before stopping on Dasher.

"Ah...Fuck."

Indeed, it was Dasher, the biggest, strongest, scariest fighter in the match, with the most ridiculous haircut in the league...and he was staring Ryo down like lunch. "Um...Felina?" He said meekly, nudging the feisty striker with his boot. "Um...Get up? Please get up? Could really use some help here..."

Fuck, Inobu was DARING him to attack him....shit. No choice then. "Alright Ryo...be brave...Take this Bowlcut!"*gulp*" With that, he ran towards the ropes, rebounding off of them for extra momentum as he charged at Inoba, jumping high and kicking both feet out in a dropkick aimed at Dasher's chest

...oh, come on, really?

Felina had been waiting for the next entrant, anticipating it, trying to get Ryo finished before whoever it was could come into the equation. But now, not only was the next person about to come out, he or she was going to do it while she was reeling on the ground, in the worst position to do anything with it. She was already mulling the possibilities, seeing if she wasn’t about to end up like Astolfo.

The best case scenario would be Leah coming out. She’d probably help her take out Ryo, and they could work together from there.

Mako? Mako wouldn’t the best worst thing. Felina couldn’t depend on her for help, but she doubted Mako would be a Ryo fan, either.

That just left the absolute worst case, which would undoubtedly be…

”Oh, come on!”

Yes, it was Dasher. The most experienced, powerful wrestler in this match. The guy that Carmen warned her about. That Dasher. And now they were dealing with him. Great. Ryo was urging her up, but she was a little preoccupied, what with all the pain she was enduring. ”Be there...in a minute…”

As Ryo took the bull by the horns, Felina grabbed the ropes and started to pull her way up. She’d join the fray in a moment, but for now she needed to take the chance to catch her breath. She had the distinct feeling that she wouldn’t be getting any more rest periods.

Mako had managed to stay calm for a long time. She leaned back, watched the action, and thought things were going pretty well. All that calm, however, only lasted until Dasher was let out of his chamber. Dasher, the guy who kicked her between the legs. Dasher, the person she hated more than anyone.

“DAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSHHHHHEEEEEERRRRR!!!” Mako roared from inside her chamber as she tried to break out. The shark was ramming her shoulders against the pod doors in a fit of rage so that she could get her hands on the man who low blowed and defeated her. “I’M GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU, DASHER! DO YOU HEAR ME YOU SORRY, STUPID, PATHETIC EXCUSE FOR A MAN!? ...DAAAAAAAASSSSSSHHHEEEERRR!!!” the woman barked as she even tried to press her back against one door while using her foot to push on the other. However, that didn’t work much at all seeing that the pod was circular.

There was no way out for the shark until the chamber let her out. She knew that. But Mako was so angry by seeing the guy get in the match before her that she didn’t care. Just watching as Dasher gave Ryo a free shot was killing her. SHE WANTED TO GET THE FREE SHOT! But noooooooo, the speedo guy got to take it. Thinking that actually made her feel guilty, though, seeing as she was kinda fond of Ryo. Still, Mako was furious, and her rage was only building up within the pod until it felt like she was swimming in her own anger.

Mako's frenzied ranting was muffled out somewhat by her enclosure, and therefore the faint rumblings from someone's pod off in the far distance regrettably failed to catch the muscled grappler's attention...which was now honed in on the diminutive lad now having the unenviable task of squaring off with the hulking brute. The scrawny doormat standing before him being precisely the type of noodle armed namby-pamby that deluded these woeful women into believing themselves capable of wrestling with true, battle-hardened puroresu champions. In essence they were the symptom of the disease plaguing this mislead federation...and he was going to be the hard to swallow medicinal cure.

Stomping his feet and bellowing forth a challenge got him the answer he seeked as Ryo went off sprinting in the opposite direction to bounce off the ropes and come darting back with a leaping dropkick. Dasher stood his ground, dug himself in, puffed out his chiseled pectorals, and withstood the aerial strike with only a wincing flinch and a jostling vibrations to his legs. Even those most decidedly not in Dasher's camp stood amazed at the grappler's remarkable feat of muscled endurance, though all knew that none of this boded well for the young Kamiya flopping down at his feet.

The Dashing Chauvinist growling down at Ryo before taking off in the opposite direction and bouncing himself off the ropes as well, timing his motions to make sure Ryo would be back on his feet by the time he came dashing back. But Ryo may not be on his feet for much longer should Dasher connect with his Dynamite Dasher rampaging shoulder tackle...sure to send the hapless Kamiya flying through the air and perhaps halfway down the street...

Felina had to give Dasher credit. The man was a chauvenist, a jerk, a blowhard, a self-centered prick in love with the sound of his voice, but the man could move. He was about the same age as her own father, but it was like time hadn’t taken the same toll on his as it did for her old man. He was sharp, moved with crisp precision that many wrestlers half his age couldn’t dream of.

It was a sight to see. A disturbing sight, since she was in the ring with him, but a sight all the same.

Ryo - poor, sweet Ryo - put up a brave front, but at the end of the day, it was like a car taking on a freight train. One source just had way more power to work with, and Dasher knew how to use what he had. He answered force with more force, sending the guy she’d had so much trouble with a moment ago ragdolling away.

But it wasn’t a sight she watched on her knees. She’d started rising the moment that Dasher took off, and when he connected with his shoulder tackle, she decided now was the best time to act - before he realized he had two opponents to worry about. A little cheap, she knew, but that was the game.

She sprung to her feet, raised her leg, and came at Dasher with a snapping roundhouse kick, targeting the back of his skull. It was the sort of hit that could knock a man silly even if he was ready for it, and while she didn’t have the energy to make it really sting, she was hoping the element of surprise could make up the difference.

Full speed, full momentum, full impact. As he hit the mat, Ryo was certain that his dropkick had done some kind of damage. Had to. Even to a big muscled bastard like Dasher, it had to do something.

Getting up to his feet though, Ryo found out that he was wrong. Oh so very very wrong. Indeed, all he saw getting up was a charging mass of Bowlcut and Muscle, and, even quick as he could be, there was no getting out of the path of that freight train.

"Ha! How'd ya lik-OHSHIT!"

The crowd leaned forward in anticipation of the impact...and they were not disappointed. A hard thud, a burst of pain over his entire front...and then Ryo was airborne, sailing over the mat for several feet, coming closer and closer to the steel outside the ring...though, luckily for him, the ropes got in the way, his body bouncing off of them and rebounding, landing face first onto the mat, the crowd wincing at the impact!

The booming collision that transpired is an apt reason why sometimes the phrase, grabbing the bull by the horns, is the worst possible idea one can think of. Stunned audience members gawked in wide-eyed awe from the young Kamiya practically soaring through the air...easily clearing half the ring and would have no doubt covered even more distance had the ring ropes not been there to catch him in mid-air. The difference in their respective attacks being a quite clear example of the difference in strength between the two, though one could have probably made this assumption without needing to see the teenage heartthrob be walloped by a runaway locomotive of burly muscles with a bowlcut. The internet already making quick work of turning that ruthless impact into a repeating gif while rebranding Ryo with the moniker of The Flying Kamiya. Dasher himself lifting himself back to his feet with a bit of a disappointed scowl...

"Hmph...I was hoping it would have sent him flying much farther than tha-"

*Thwack!!*

Dasher's critiquing would be interrupted by the jolting connection of Felina's barefoot with the back of his bowl-cut noggin, the dashing chauvinist leaning forward slightly with a wincing grimace and a bit of a stutter-step...but was otherwise still standing. The residual pain still ringing in his ears as he gradually turned around at an eerie pace to face the dead person daring to blindside him...and was reminded of the Rodriguez woman whom Ryo had left sprawled out from before. Dasher snorting out air through his nostrils as he gave Felina the intimating attention she wanted. Grimacing with a hiked up temper as he continued to play the role of the rampaging bull. Though this time it was by dashing forward and clamping onto the back of Felina's thighs just below her backside, intending to drive the Hispanic fighter into the corner turnbuckle with every ounce of his bull-strength into embedding his broad shoulder into that toned abdomen of hers.

And Felina found herself regretting almost every decision that led to this moment.

As much as she really, really wanted to right off Dasher’s response - or lack thereof - to her kick as just a byproduct of stamina drain, the plain truth was that she’d thrown a kick to the back of the man’s head. A soccer mom on her first day of Tae Bo could make a kick hurt like that. She was a world-class kickboxer, trained around the world, at her peak...and he’d been somewhat annoyed by her attack. Oh, yes, this was going to suck.

”Crapcrapcra-” Felina started to backpedal as Dasher moved in, hoping to get out of the way, and utterly failing in that attempt as he came in with startling alacrity. The wind was knocked clean out of her on impact, and he took her off her feet with ease. From there, it was right into the turnbuckle. Right into the pain.

Felina would’ve made a noise when they hit, but she found herself lacking the breath for it. She didn’t have the breath for much of anything, really, aside from flopping about. She was hung there, broken in half and limping over his shoulder.

Not a good position.

Dasher's penchant for being obstinate and thick-headed had particular instances of coming in quite handy. Such as when an opportunistic striker thought that sneaking up on the hulking brute from behind to perhaps score an instant kayo victory seemed like a great idea. Only for her to instantly end up regretting her actions when all she would accomplish was giving him an aching headache, a bit of blurred vision, and a seething hatred towards the poor soul whom he was now going to give his complete and undivided attention. The stiff shoulder tackle having the bull-headed strength of a linebacker, with whom Dasher also shared a similar I.Q. with as he dislodged his shoulder from Felina's gut to stand before her...and only to just than begin slowly putting the pieces together...stroking his prodigious chin as he squinted down at Felina...

*Rodriguez....Rodrigueeeezzzz....*



"AHHHH...you must be related to the other Rodriguez girl, the bald one...The first woman to stand up to my challenge, and the first to become humbled by the Inoba Clutch~..." Dasher reminisced to that satisfying memory, brandishing a sneering grin as he tugged Felina's head back by her hair. "Hmph...well if you want to follow in her footsteps that badly..." Dasher's other hand would be reared upward to start his Stabbing Winds maneuver, a seemingly unending chain of scathing knife-edge chops with the crowd growing more silent to better hear the walloping and practically meteoric final slap of his massive hand against her full breasts. A maneuver that should be familiar to Carmen should she be watching...