Jiao Jocelyn vs. Iggy Skelly: Clash of Tigers

Iggy met Jocelyn's eyes with her own furious pink blinkers.

"I said you're a miracle-fighter, what I see, and real comic-show, too. You move all fluid without ever bringing the hard knocks--but you get the slicers in the ribs alright alls the same, and that's something beautiful ironic-like, miss."

Or to shorten it in plain English: Gosh, I sure respect your style ma'am. And the thing was, Iggy's face--deranged grin notwithstanding--had nothing but sincerity about it. There wasn't a moment the whole match she looked to be more seriously attentive, more down to earth.

Then she hopped out of the way of Jocelyn's kick and spun around to aim a spinning back-handed fist across the side of her head.

Jocelyn now understood what it might be like for others to listen to her. The girl didn't make much sense at all, but she got the gist and her cheeks flushed nonetheless. Unfortunately they couldn't exactly sit down and have tea about it at the moment. Jocelyn's eyes widened as her kick sailed wide.

"Ungh!"

She felt the strong fist slam into her head, causing her to lose her balance and stumble to the ground on her hands and knees with her butt facing Iggy.

She knew that she had to keep moving at all costs, unless she gave Iggy a chance to pounce on her. The girl already proved to be fast enough and Jocelyn tried her best to scramble to her feet before Iggy caught her.

The crowd's reaction to the knock-down was decidedly...ambivalent.

Iggy had spent quite a bit of time thinking about the kind of person she wanted to be at the AFW. It wasn't the average fighter who got in here, and she wanted to respect it. Not to be a crowd pleaser, not to be shallow, not to be some diva who took it all for granted. Instead she wanted to be... well, completely someone completely nuts about what this promotion meant. To catch onto and embody exactly the viscerality she loved about the sport.

So she'd developed a nutty slang to set her apart as something not-quite-normal. Except folks didn't seem to see it as crazy--just indecipherable.

Bleh. It would be something to figure out for later matches.

For now she shut her trap and focused on bursting to Joc before this slippery dancer of a fighter could escape. She would try to knee the Chistralian in the gut to get her back on her back, and then Iggy'd try to mount her.

Jocelyn was halfway up when Iggy came at her. The knee was fast and being behind and hunched over caused her to take it with out getting a chance to realistically dodge or block. She was doubled onto her back and soon felt Iggy's frame upon her, nestling comfortably on her hips.

Jocelyn held her hands up, ready to keep them from being snatched up or blocking punches if need be as she stared at Iggy with a grin. "Dish lickin' twat.' She said coolly. "Just like every other scungy freckle 'round here!" She added distastefully, still keeping a smirk and waiting to see what Iggy would do with the mount position.

Iggy would try and proceed up Jocelyn's core so she could settle her weight on the smaller girl's chest. That would limit her arms nicely and make any sneaky-tricky-awful submissions harder to lock in.

She grinned all while she was moving, holding back for a moment while her hair formed a sort of ragged, sweaty, hollow column between them.

"Ah, keep talking, miss, it'll distract you from the pain when I burst open your kisser."

That's when, if Joc was fool enough to let her, she'd move into her ground-and-pound game--left, right, fake down the middle, right, until the lovely red came bubbling out her nose.

Jocelyn watched as Iggy scooted up her body. She kept her arms above her, ready to use when she felt the girl settle upon her petite chest. She watched her coldly, waiting to see what she might do, though she could figure it out well enough. As Iggy spoke, and then began to launch punches down at Jocelyn, the Chistralian knew what to do. She flung her arms over her head to try and mitigate the damage as fists crashed into her forearms, a few sneaky shots slamming into her head.

In truth, she was grateful that Iggy scooted forward. It gave the rest of her flexible body the maneuverability she needed as she snaked her legs upward, trying to catch Iggy's neck with her ankles so she could squeeze tightly and hurl the punky brat off her.

Legs. It was always the fuckin' legs. Grapplers and guarders and all these kinds who tried to snake their way around you and to turn the fight into some kind of grounded chess game.

At least, that's the thought she thought she'd thought. But then, she'd never actually been guillotined and catapulted onto her front before. The real full-blooded experience of that was something a lot more muscled and brutal and tricky than the mere idea-in-the head of it.

Maybe Iggy would try and learn a few tricks of her own someday.

Iggy would cough after her chest hit the floor. And smirk--and snicker to herself. And then she'd put her elbow on the ground and take stock.

Was Ms. Chinalady-style trying to keep her head locked in? Then she'd push something mighty to get on her feet, her enemy hanging from her neck, and start spinning until Joc's kisser started to drown in its own blood.

Was Joc nice enough to let her be free? Then she'd scramble to her feet and put up her boxer's guard.

Jocelyn let go once she got Iggy off of her. That's all she was looking for and rolled away to her hands and knees. She took a second to watch Iggy while she stood up. Jocelyn herself took a moment to assess her face. One of the punches was going to redden her face. Hopefully not give her a black eye. Her face was peppered with soreness but she wasn't going to be out of the fight just yet. Not from a few punches like that, for sure.

Jocelyn slowly rose and looked at Iggy and pulled up her fists. Jocelyn looked over the girl and checked the spring in her step as she lifted her heels off the ground a few times. Once she felt ready, Jocelyn came at Iggy. She pivoted on her foot at a distance away to lash out a side kick towards Iggy's stomach. Fairly predictable kick, but her legs had been giving Iggy some trouble. She also wasn't just trying to hit. If Iggy dodged, Jocelyn wouldn't try and pull her leg back but instead keep going so she fell into a split, hoping whatever follow up Iggy might be planning was caught in the wind from ... not having an opponent to punch.

So Iggy was starting to process Jocelyn and that nice fluid style Igz found so appealing and different. And she'd come to a few conclusions, one of them being: don't expect her to do anything at all straight-forward like. If you see an obvious move--don't do it.

So she saw the kick coming and half-expected it to turn into a hip-check or a head-butt or a fuckin' white rabbit or somesuch. But her boxer's agility and instincts got her out of the way, and she saw an opening to hit. Oh, she chomped at the bit to go in there, but her analytical part of the mind niggled and said:

Ah, wait and watch, Iggerz, this isn't the street anymore.

And sure enough.

Iggy grinned--Aw. A pat on the back for me--clasped her hands together, and came in for another swinging blow.

But damn. Her arms were starting to get tired.

Jocelyn pulled her legs inward after the split. Iggy hadn't committed to a punch but she had hesitated a bit and Jocelyn curled her legs inward, looking quite turtlish as Iggy swung her arms downward at the Chistralian. "Fuck!" She growled as she tried to use her knees to deflect the blow. This would be dicey but if it worked out, she could capitalize with a good shot.

All she needed to do first was to deflect Iggy's blow in a way that would allow her to jam her feet upward as hard as she could into Iggy's chest without having the spry girl thwart her with a grab or another punch.