Bunnies and Death don’t make a good mix: Eshe Abdallah vs. Death Bunny

She was doing it, she was actually overpowering the Grimm Hopper. Eshe could feel her confidence booming back into her psyche as she wrapped her tanned arms around their pale waist. Hoisting the revenant of death itself uo high, her left hand slipping under their thigh to lift their leg high before stepping out to offer them the seat of a life time. She could feel the pain they felt, the emotion of humility and anger coursing through them as they rose up on their tip toes only to fall forward and massage their aching bottom. The Egyptians was now avenged, content with the scene Eshe was ready to make her next move.

The Egyptian could only imagine how vulnerable Death Bunny felt right now. If she was anything like Sara though, they were concoting a series of brutal punishments to enact when she recovered. A fate Eshe had no intention of suffering (or hoped not to at least). The violets hands reach down to catch her predator, to clear the misunderstanding that she was prey. Scooping up their chin, she scoots her body forward, aiming to flatten them out and slip those arms of theirs over her knees to lock in a hopeful camel clutch to press her advantage.

If she managed to do that much, she’d wrench back, tugging the hopeful pained Bunny back to work over their spine and crank their neck. ”Kind of a bad time-! But uh…big fan.” She states through grit teeth. A truth she felt she needed to share before the two of them got into any gritty business further down the line where conversation or even a sentence was no longer an option. She wasn’t expecting any “thank you’s” or “appreciate it’s” but she still felt obligated to tell them something.

If Death had the foresight to predict that Eshe would be seeking immediate retribution from what D.B. merely deemed a means to an end, she might have earnestly considered skipping to another maneuver in her wrestling playbook. Especially knowing that she'd be on the receiving end practically immediately after doling it out herself. Accompanied with clanging church bells in her ears, quaking agony thwacked upon her bunny backside, and of course the mortifying indignity of hobbling around with her hands on her bum. Death knew about the caveats of being obsessed with vengeance and how "an eye for an eye" could eventually become an endless cycle of retribution, but she was still sorely tempted to forego all of that sage wisdom in favor of administering some bottom targeted payback later on in the night.

Eshe capitalizing on that distracted mindset by smoothing Death out until she was splayed out on the canvas to a puffed exhale from being seated upon, and afterward shamefully situated as if into a wooden pillory in the town's square. The hands interlocked beneath her chin initiated the neck cranking submission and immediately ignited pain receptors. Death bristled and patted one booted foot against the floor once Eshe started putting the screws to her neck, arms left to dangle over the Egyptians tanned thighs as a decent subsection of audience members became captivated by the rookie's valiant comeback against the vaunted veteran. So of course now was when Eshe finally found the courage to speak. Freakin Perfect. "...MPH...Flattered. But yer right...it is a bad time..." Death muttered out when, after several seconds of being locked in the clutch, she gradually started soldiering up. Teeth gnashed and with Eshe riding piggyback if unobstructed.

The Egyptian could feel her heart beating out of her chest. Surprised with how much traction she had managed to gain but more so that she was dominating THE Death Bunny. Eshe felt the urge to pinch herself just to make sure the revenant hadn’t actually knocked her unconscious and this was all a dream. No, the feeling of their pale chin locked into her gold, their arms splayed over her own knees, and the sounds of teeth gnashing in anguish was enough for her to believe it. Eshe fathered if she could keep up this kind of pressure for the rest of this match that she could wear the Reaper down and pick up the win. A feat not so easily done but she had confidence now, confidence that wavered as soon as she heard the bells toll. The crowd seemed to urge her on, a pleasant reprieve then the roar they released when she was getting humiliated beaten.

The Violet cranks back to loosen up her ethereal opponent. She couldn’t give them an inch as the saying goes: give them an inch and they’ll take a mile. With her words finally off her chest, Eshe was now more focused on what to do next. DB wouldn’t give her that chance, the egotism couldn’t hear what the Revenant said nor could she even guess. That wouldn’t seem to matter: she felt her bottom raised first, boots leaving the canvas. There was no way this was happening right? Right?! The Bunny of Death was pushing herself up off the mat, hoisting Eshe up in like a piggyback position. She clung tightly as fear began to seep in again. How was she doing this, she had never seen anyone do this before and honestly, it shook her foundations almost to the core. All she could think to do was slip her arms around the pale woman’s neck and squeeze. Maybe she could bring them back down and go for another submission. She was desperate to avoid another attack to her poor bottom, she had a feeling this woman shared the ideology of “an eye for an eye” to the letter.

Death wondered if there were any other instances where having an ardent and enthusiastic fanbase were as detrimental to one's health as in this profession of hers. Rookies whispering to you their hidden admiration was par for the course once someone reaches the apex of the mountain and has attained a certain degree of iconic infamy, but those types of fawning adoration tends to become bittersweet when it's accompanied by that same newcomer outwrestling her heroine with flawless technique. Effectively taming the veteran she so adamantly revered and demonstrating thusly by expertly locking her down into the humbling submission, one that puffed out her abundant curvature against her stretched thin top and had her panting heavy breaths against Eshe's netted fingers. Death beginning to feel the fatigue settling in from Eshe riding out the Reaper to a stirred ovation in favor of the Egyptian's sheer dominance over the idolized veteran and the prospect of being witness to an upset win unlike any other tonight.

Except arising from the mired depths was the inevitability of Death herself. At first shifting one leg at a time beneath until her jeaned rump was nestled upon her ankles, the same ethereal strength and determination unhooking her arms from over Eshe's thighs until both of Death's hands clutched onto the back of her adversary's knees. The Dead Woman defying all semblances of logic to the shocked aghast of the audience and referee herself with each one sharing Eshe's disbelief, who opted to double down on her predicament with a strangling sleeperhold. Death gagging at first with a stifled groan and downward hunch to her posture, which along with a quivered shudder to her legs indicating that the fitness beauty had perhaps put the leash back on the beast. "...tch." Until Death stamped one foot in the canvas and exhaled through her nostrils, teeth gnashed and undead eyes ablaze as she started hefting her piggybacking foe towards a corner turnbuckle. Undauntedly climbing the ropes until both of her feet were balanced upon the second ropes...where with one bucking heave backward would pancake Eshe into the floor. Allowing a frazzled rabbit girl to bounce off and roll to the side once freed.

The Violet clings to the Revent of Death for dear life. She isn’t sure if she should let go and knock them down a peg or hold on and hope to tire them out. Opting for the later, she locks herself tight against the Bunny. Unbenoucned to her, Deatg Bunny had a plan of action and was poignant on demonstrating her logic defying feat. Pushing up her own weight but the Egyptian as well. Eshe squeezed the pale woman tightly with fear. ”On the ground, put feet on the ground…please. The Violet asks, she had to think of something she could do to save herself but she wasn’t quick on the uptake and left stranded to deal with the consequences and they came for her swiftly.

If she wasn’t holding tightly then she definitely was now. Death Bunny made a bolt for the turnbuckle? At first she expected to be turned and slammed into the padding but that didn’t happen?! Her eyes were shut tightly as she expected the pain but when she felt the uprising wind take her ponytail she opened them to find DB climbing the turnbuckle only to jump back. It was to late to let go and even more so to save herself from her punishing fate. ”Guagh!”she cries out. With their combined weights she was flattened into the mat, her body jackknifing as the rabbit rolled away. Eshe laid on the mat spread eagle, her chest heaving with each labored breath she attempted to take in.

The Egyptian was vulnerable now ti one of the most ruthless veterans in the industry. She commands her body to move but the impact took a lot more out of her than she thought. Her center needed a moment to properly recover.

In spite of Death having no tangible experience in dealing with children, and with every fiber of her being content to maintain that status quo, she rightfully suspected that hauling ankle-biters on piggyback was just as uncomfortably vexing as this. Especially if they just so happened to be terrified of something and expressed that fear by unintentionally strangling the hell out of you from behind. In this case however, Eshe had every right to be overwhelmed with encroaching dread once she started piecing together just what Death's Avatar had concocted as her vengeance fueled reprisal to what had been a solid few minutes of the Egyptian running roughshod over the veteran bunny-girl. Death sensing the heightened heartbeat from Eshe's swelled softness mushed against D.B.'s back and quaking fear in her voiced pleas to be placed back on the ground. Probably not the best choice of words in hindsight, but in any case Death herself floundered off to the side afterward with laborious pants breathed into the ring canvas with interspersed coughs as well.

A captivated audience letting their approval be known via a stirring ovation for the competitive spirits on display. Taken aback moreso by Death's uncanny strength, endurance, and how swiftly D.B. was beginning to collect herself after the unconventional counter. She arose underneath one bent leg at first before gingerly climbing back to her feet, caressing her neck and now unobstructed windpipe with a side-glance directed towards the splayed out Egyptian beside her. At first striding toward her legs and clasping them at the ankles, raising them into the air in a spread open V-shape with her half-lidded soulless expression briefly giving off the innuendo that Death was aiming to strike where no one appreciates being targeted..."You're lucky that I'm starting to like you."...before instead angling one of Eshe's legs behind the other in a Figure Four position before twisting them both over. Death's jeaned backside nestled on Eshe's lower back as she she squats into a Texas Cloverleaf submission, torqued strain now bearing down on Eshe's thighs and curved spine.

She pants harshly as she lays flat in the canvas spread eagle. The pain surfaced again, exploding from her back and shooting down her legs before heading back up into her brain. Eshe grimaces, getting up now wasn’t much of an option let alone a right. She couldn’t bring herself to roll on her side to breathe, her eyes were practically blinded by the over head lights. The Revenant kneeled beside her, also seemingly out of breath themselves. She was was thankful for that bit at least but her position didn’t really grant her any favors in the grand scheme of things. At the end of the day, she was still at Death Bunny’s mercy and from what she could sense there wouldn’t be any of that, not by a long shot. She could only imagine what was in store for her, she didn’t push hard enough to completely overtake them, but that was the natural order of things. No one could always outright squash people without the tables turning on them, case in point.

Death’s Avatar made it clear what her punishment would be. The Egyptian felt her ankles nabbed and lifted upward, she managed to lift herself up slightly to see her impending doom. Her legs lifted into the shape of a V, those half-lidded eyes telling her the possibilities of pain that awaited. Her face went white, DB wouldn’t do that…would she? Some vile miscreant might, but surely not the Revenant…right? It was only when she finally heard the pale woman speak did her heart settle. ”Y-you do?” She sheepishly asks only to be silenced and thrown into a fit of groaning and sharp cries as Death crosses her legs between her own. The tanned woman finds her stomach rolled onto the mat, her back occupied with the others backside. Her hands grip her hair tightly as she bites her bottom lip to silence her cries of pain. Her legs shriek in agony as she panics, desperate to free herself.

Her Violet pools look about for the ropes, hoping for them to be close by but they were anything but. She doesn’t have a choice, through pained groans, Eshe makes a bid for freedom, pushing up in her hands to push herself towards the one thing that could break this up: the ropes.

Death believes some clarification might need to be in order. Whatever niceties shown towards her adversary by not risking disqualification via ferociously stamping down with one very specific target in mind...does not mean that mercy is anywhere to be seen on her agenda tonight. Being a clean fighter with no duplicitous shenanigans so far was what had primarily saved the Egyptian from that under the belt fate. Although Death had to admit she enjoyed the sadistic thrill from pretending she was indeed that diabolical and the paralyzing fear within Eshe's peepers as a result. Retribution for the last few minutes of this match was all the Grim Hopper was scheming up for now, although that should instill its own particular brand of terror within Eshe as well. Death settling her supple rump comfortably on the unnaturally curved spine of the tormented Egyptian after twisting her legs into a intertwined pretzel around the Reaper's own thigh. Now Eshe can experience what it's like being saddled within a strained submission by an opponent who expressed mild admiration beforehand.

A speck of sweat dripped down D.B's forehead as she concentrated on upholding her hunkered down balance act, the submission itself being no walk in the park to maintain either. Except one can imagine how much unbridled agony the victim must be enduring if it’s a taxing exhaustion just to implement it. The muscled fibers of Eshe's legs being taxed and fatigued with each passing second until the Egyptian ultimately decided on her course of action by army crawling towards the roped tethers. Reaffirming the submission took some shifting footwork on Death's part once Eshe started her compelling trek as a steadied stream of applause aided in encouraging Eshe's crawling plight. The Reaper peeking over her shoulder to gauge the distance towards the ropes...until ultimately abandoning the hold right as her adversary came within arm's reach of her salvation. Death unsympathetically taking hold of Eshe and positioning her to have her arms dangled over the top rope whilst facing the audience. Cupping Eshe's chin with her puffed out boobs getting walloped from the "Ten Bells" volley of strikes before relenting.

A cry erupts from the Egyptians lips as she feels the tension in her leg scream in pain. Sweat begins to coat the mat as she claws for the ropes, the submission hold felt so much worse then what she could’ve imagined. DB didn’t show an ounce of mercy as she lowered themselves to her back. Muscles felt almost as if they were tearing in response, just as she was within reach of freedom, she immediately felt the canvas grow wider as the Revenant pulled her away just to force her to work all the back. She slams her fist into the canvas out of desperation and pain, her Violet hair drops over the sweat stained canvas as she makes another bid to free her leg but then suddenly she felt her leg drop. A sigh of relief left her lips as she grabbed hold of her thigh, the pain still lingering and her body is forced to adopt to the pain. Death Bunny wasn’t going to let her get a second of rest, Eshe could sense that this was just the beginning and she wasn’t excited for what was coming next.

Luckily for her she didn’t have to wonder how she was going to get back on her feet but, unlucky for her, she was now trapped in the turnbuckle. The Revenants cold aura surrounded her, she slumped against the ropes, her gaze weakly staring up to that vicious gaze in front of ger. Her focus was ripped from her thoughts as she felt a sting grace her chest. She bent forward to cover her aching breasts onky to find herself pushed back and anchored in place for another sting. Eshe cries out as another smack lands across her top, only for a third and fourth male their mark. She lost count after six but the fierce volley seemed to stop after ten or was it eleven? She couldn’t think properly. Her whole body was in pain and breathing seemed to make it worse. The Violet hunkers herself against the ropes, attempting to recover for just a moment, she had to come up with something, DB was relentless and she now understood more than ever why she was feared.

Soft pants are all she can manage as her pools look up to Death. With her left arm now uncurled from the ropes, she covers her aching from while her right clings to rope. Her mind drawing a blank on her next plan of action but she needed it to come quickly. The last thing she wanted was to be a rag doll for this scary force, for now, her fate was sealed in the palm of DB’s hand. Her time would come but she had no idea how to counter right now.

The obvious physical repercussions of the Texas Cloverleaf submission aside, being denied the alleviating relief inherent with a rope break could be construed as just as devastating to one's mental psyche and fighting spirit. Corny as that may sound. But willpower is a factor today's wrestlers may not take into account when first entering the business. Mental fortitude accounting for whether or not you can withstand having your back disjointed or limbs hyper-extended long enough to figure out a counter maneuver. Whether it's reaching the ropes or reversing the submission altogether. It's a survival instinct to help keep your cool when you're in excruciating torment and it's a crucial skill you can't attain on a piece of exercise equipment. Or learn from watching tape footage. So color Death impressed when a relative rookie was showcasing some true grit by soldiering onward towards the ropes, and apparently steeling herself to make the journey once again had D.B. not denied her the opportunity altogether this time. One ruthless slug after another hammered into her until the count reached ten with the audience counting along to keep track...

...prompting the Rabbit-Eared Reaper to backpedal one step and take a breather all her own. Panting through pursed lips while passing a hand through her violet locks now matted with perspiration. Upon comparing her own frazzled fatigue with Eshe's, it was plain to see that the spirited fitness/adrenaline junkie was effectively on her last legs. Wobbling and weak-kneed that they were. The match's ending was perhaps perfunctory and a mere formality at this point, but this was a battlefield where the Egyptian may have attained another type victory she may not even be aware of yet. Death, now knowing what needed to be done, approached Eshe and gingerly yanked her off the ropes to wind up being the support structure for her adversary. The Revenant's arm circled behind Eshe's back for an embraced escort back towards the middle of the ring. A humid warmth shared between their sweat swathed frames as Death panted against her adversary's neck...but made a cutthroat gesture to the hard camera. Death springing to life and ensnaring Eshe's arm between her thighs, shin positioned against her foe's neck for the Hell's Gate submission finisher.