Eka Guramishvili vs. Evelyn Evans

Eka was so slippery now. She had all of her weight directly on top of her opponent, with the focal point being her arm. One might have thought that she was in a more stable position with that much of her arm on that much of Evelyn's neck, but she did not realize her mistake until Evelyn started undoing Eka's hold. It wasn't long before her forearm slid right off, and the choke was released. The Georgian girl cursed in her native tongue. Just a moment ago, she was looking into the redhead's eyes with the taste of victory already in her mouth, and now she was off to her side. She quickly got up and appraised the situation.

The Georgian girl's cardio and her submission game meant that shew as still ready to go. She paused for a second. It seemed a little too early to go for her finisher, but the Georgian girl was going to shoot for it. She hoped that the choke took enough out of her opponent to go for it. And even if she didn't she was still pretty confident. Her finisher was nothing short of torturous and the contact points were such that she was confident it would last longer than the last choke.

She didn't have any time to lose from going slowly earlier. The Georgian girl moved quickly to roll her opponent over and fling herself on top of the woman's back. It was funny to her that their butts would be touching each other. What was less funny to her was when she got her opponent's legs in a figure four with her legs interweaving Evelyn's. Then she leaned back, applying a ton of pressure to the redhead's back. That pressure was compounded when Eka's fingers interlaced under Evelyn's jaw, and she pulled up. Her body was on display, but she wasn't thinking about that. The only thing that she was thinking about was getting the finish.

For the last minutes of the match Evelyn had been not only one, but many steps behind her rival. It was as if Eka had reached complete understanding of how the Bandit’s mind worked and then found a way to foresee anything Evelyn could devise or try, and then think of a strategy on her own in order to complete counter any of her moves and nullify her actions. There was no way around it, she was getting served, completely unable to overcome this trial moment she was in the middle of. A proud submissionist as her had found someone who could defeat her at her own game.

And what a submissionist Eka was. It looked like there was no escape from the barrage of hold after hold that the Georgian was capable of. Any time Evelyn managed to endure whatever punishment Eka had for her and escape a new and more painful hold was waiting, and no matter how she escaped the hold, the damage was done. Evelyn was now feeling tired and in agony, her body moving slower and with heavier moves by the seconds. She could feel her reflexes and instincts fading, she just had too much.

When Eka began locking her finisher there wasn’t much Evelyn could do to prevent her from doing so. She could only look in despair how Eka locked her legs in a hold that even a flexible gymnast like her would suffer: the figure four leglock. Cries of agony flew from her mouth as she gnawed the mat, tilting her body to the sides as she tried to reach the ropes, but they were so far, feeling her hope fade with each passing second.

Eka breathed out. Every second lasted a lifetime. Her finisher had never been beaten before, and she knew that. But Evelyn was moving, tilting, doing things. And the clock ticked by excruciatingly, draining the life from Eka. While it did take a lot of physical strain to hold the submission together, the strain that she was under fell into the realm of her mind and her emotions. She had strung together enough moves, she thought, to win the match. But was she going for it too early? Evelyn had proven herself to be incredibly flexible, and maybe she had not done enough to secure a victory.

With a grimace, she held off those thoughts. The nice thing about getting a pin on your opponent was that it had a definite ending. The count was only going to get up to three, and then it was done. When it came to submissions, the opponent had to tap. That was the only way it could end.

The crowd were howling now, and she took that as a good sign. They had not seen her finisher as much as she would have liked them to, but it was nice that they were pulling for her now. The Georgian girl was going to take all of the motivation that she could, as she pulled just that little bit harder on the submission just to speed the process up that little bit more. Eka breathed in.

It was as if time had stopped, Evelyn had reached some kind of clarity in which she was able to get every detail in the arena, from the drops of swear rolling down her body into the mat to the blinding spotlights. The sound of the crowd was so distinguishable for her that it was as if she could understand what every single person in the stands was shouting. Life itself submitted to a halt in eternity.

And it was an eternity of pain.

Not even a proficient gymnast like Evelyn, who was more than used to bend her body to limits some people wouldn’t even consider humanly possible, was ready for something like that. From the very beginning of the match Eka had subjected the British to strike after strike and hold after hold. In the end, no matter how resilient Evelyn could be, it was just too much for her to handle. The jolts of pain coursed all her body as her back and legs were bent beyond anyone’s limit. After some instants of desperate resistance she tried to buck her body and reach the ropes, but the hold was so tightly secured that was just impossible.

Evelyn didn’t have the strength to cry in pain anymore. It was so frustrating for her to find herself so helpless, so easily defeated when in a challenge in her own area of expertise, but this was just too much. She wasn’t going to escape that and the pain was going to drive her insane. With tears forming in the corner of her eyes and clenched teeth she began tapping against the mat with one of her hands. “I give!! Make it stop, Eka! I submit!” Eating her own embarrassement, Evelyn signaled her surrender.

Eka was listening. Not to the crowd. They must have been making noises, but after a few moments they all washed out into a dull roar that only came to Eka in the most generalized and indistinct way. No, Eka was listening into what Evelyn was doing. Her heart was beating in her chest, thumping against her ribcage, but just like the audience Eka was able to tune that out and listen for what Evelyn was doing. She wanted to win, dammit, and she was listening for that tap. But more than that, she did not want to cause any more pain than she absolutely had to, so she wanted to release the hold the split second that she won.

And there it was. Evelyn announced that she was submitting, and tapped the mat. Before the judges even had a chance to ring the bell, Eka relinquished the hold. It caused her some pain, moving that quickly after such a long match, but Eka knew that it was going to be hurting her opponent considerably more if she carried out the hold longer than she had to. She rolled off to the side. Her hearing skills were returning to her, and she was now aware that the onlookers had erupted into a bout of thunderous applause. But once more, the Georgian girl did not particularly care what they were doing.

She put her hand on Evelyn's back, and gave her a little squeeze. She really wanted to reassure the redhead. The ref girl approached to raise Eka's hand, but Eka waved her off. That could wait for a moment. There were more important matters at hand.

"You are okay, yes? You fought very well," she said. Her lilting Georgian accent had been flattened by fatigue, but there were still some notes of hope and joy and her sunny disposition in the way that she was speaking.

The sound of the bell should have acted as a wake up call for Evelyn. The British liked getting lost in the midsts of combat and exciting clash of wills, but that time she was more than awake for most of the match. No time for dreaming that night as for almost each minute of the match she had felt nothing more than pain and helplessness. Luckily for her, as soon as the Bandit signaled her surrender Eka showed the ultimate gesture of sportswomanship by letting her go immediately.

Evelyn was exhausted and pained beyond any kind of limit. The former gymnast was more than proud of her flexibility, but Eka had proven that she was capable of overpowering her with her submission prowess. There was no way around it: Eka was the better wrestler and the better submissionist and Evelyn had to accept that. It wasn’t easy though. Evelyn’s hand went to her pained back as she tried burying her face on the mat, embarrassment and disapointment taking over her as she just wanted to block any image and sound coming from the arena.

But that wasn’t to be. Instead of leaving her alone to suffer her defeat alone, Eka leaned close to Evelyn and put her hand on her back, asking politely about her well-being. That struck some sense into Evelyn. It was okay feeling bad about her loss, but reacting like that was just childish and Eka just taught her that. As she turned around to face the Georgian she noticed how her rival’s voice gave away how tired she was, and the amount of effort it must have taken her to get the win.

“Everything hurts, you know. But I will get better after some stretching. Thank you for the consideration and, well… Congratulations on the win. You were superior from the beginning of the match. I hope we can meet again when I train more, but now enjoy your victory!” Evelyn said smiling to her rival as she offered a handshake, before inviting her to go and celebrate with the crowd. That was her moment to go out of stage and onto the showers. Maybe a cold shower and some love from her fiancée would help her heal after that loss… Yes, that would work.

Winner by submission: Eka Guramishvili