PhDoom vs. Big Barda - Comic Book Women

It seemed like a good plan, on the surface.

Barda wanted to get Doom off her shoulder before she could do any real, serious damage, and at the same time, hurt her in the process. Gravity was her friend, here. It would be no difficult thing to just hurl her off the ropes and toss her hard on the floor. Big damage. Minimal effort. Huge payoff. She liked it.

She threw her off, thinking this might do enough damage to end. She was wrong. Painfully wrong.

By the time she realized what Doom was doing, it was too late to do anything but accept the pain. Barda's neck snapped against the rope and she went spiraling away, falling onto a fit of choking and gasping as she rolled about on the floor, too much pain to even care what happened to her opponent.

Doom's limbs thrust and pounded, as she tried to muscle her way off of Barda's shoulders. Knowing that Barda was going to be dropping her at any given moment, anyways, Doom put her every effort into wresting herself free of the cosplayer's grip. None of this would keep Doom from being sent over the top rope and down to the ringside area, of course, but Doom clung for all her life to Barda's face as she was sent tumbling out of the ring.

While Doom gleefully pulled Barda after her, there was nothing Doom could do to spare herself from coming down hard on the ringside area. Letting out a loud, angry shout of pain, Doom came down hard on her shoulders, making solid contact with the arena floor. Convulsing and stretching, Doom tried to massage the pain out of her back, and compose herself so that she could bring the fight back to her opponent. Despite the pain, Doom grinned slightly, listening to the confused cheers and jeers of the audience, as they waited to see which of these young women would get the advantage, next. Almost immediately, Doom rolled onto her side, and reached beneath the ring apron. While she had no idea what Barda was going to be able to pull off, next, Doom knew that she wanted to have some sort of implement of violence firmly in hand, when Barda tried it.

Doom wasn't immediately following up her attack - that could be for a myriad of reasons.

Ideally, it meant that she was just as drained from the fall as Barda was, if not, moreso. She doubted she was that lucky, though, and judging from the chorus of boos from the audience, the bitter brawler was up to her usual antics. none of which spelled anything good for her. Barda took a moment to lie there, gasping, getting her breath back from the assault on her neck while the ref looked on with a worried face, the match getting painful and perilous in a hurry...but it was hardcore, really. Copious amounts of pain were the order of the day.

Not really feeling like getting up, but not wanting to let Doom do whatever she was doing down there, Barda rolled over to where she guessed Doom was and fell out of the ring, once more using gravity to great effect and she came down with an unorthodox senton.

Half-buried beneath the ring apron, Doom was paying no mind to Barda, no mind to the referee, no mind to the concerns of the audience or to anyone else, as she groped beneath the ring for her next implement of violence. Once again, Doom had been paying attention to the only person that, according to Doom, was worth paying attention to- Doom.

As she continued about her work, Doom heard a slight reaction from the audience, as if something important was suddenly happening. She paid it no mind, until she felt Barda's body come slamming down on her back, rolling across Doom's ribs and bring a shout of pain and frustration from the brawler's lips.

The temptation was to pull out of the ring, to focus on the pain and try to respond. Doom, however, kept at her business, wrapping her fingers around the nearest object at hand and bringing it out with her, from beneath the ring apron.

A wide, nasty grin spread across Doom's face, as she pulled herself out from beneath the ring, pulling a utility sledgehammer with her, as she emerged. Doom's back and ribs were sore, aching, but taking a firm handle on the hammer, Doom vowed that regardless of what condition the brawny cosplayer was in, she'd soon be in the same state.

And once again, gravity came to her aid.

Falling off the apron wasn't pleasant business, but with Doom's body to cushion the fall, it went a lot better than it would have, otherwise. Hard, musclely, but not too solid - she made a good landing mat, and Barda crashed down hard, flattening her lower body and rolling off. She would have to come up with a special name for that move, she would wind up doing it so often.

Barda expected Doom to come out, wracked with the pain, but somehow she did the exact opposite and stayed inside, rooting up the ring as Barda rolled away, coming to a stop against the barricade. She reached up and grabbed the top, rising to her feet as Doom came out...with...a...sledgehammer.

Oh. Crap.

"Hey, whoa." Barda started backing up. "Put that thing down before you get too serious."

Doom couldn't help but let a grin creep across her face, as she watched Barda backing away. Doom's legs and lower back were still stiff and aching from taking the weight of the well-built cosplayer coming down on them, but the satisfaction that Doom was taking in, right now, nearly made all of that worth it. Nearly.

Doom tightened her grip slightly, on the hammer. One hand just below the head, one just below the handle's center, Doom began sizing up Barda with a predatory gleam in her eye, trying to figure out where to begin her assault. At the very least, Doom figured, it was preferable to swinging a trash can around ...

“Doom would have expected you to love this, fool,” Doom taunted, as she approached Barda. “It's practically straight out of a comic book. 'And whoever holds this hammer, shall possess the power to wreck some over-muscled nerd's shit ...” With that, Doom took a quick lunge step forward, giving the hammer a firm upswing in both hands, aiming squarely at the lower abdomen of her foe.

"Yeah..." Barda stepped back again, looking between Doom's axe-crazy face and the sledgehammer. "Kind of forget the 'If he be worthy' part. Somehow I kind of doubt you'd qualify as 'worthy'. Besides, if you really have to make a comic book reference, Steel would make a lot more sense. Are there any Marvel heroes who use a sledgehammer? Not counting that stupid Fear Itself event, of course. I know you'd like to pretend that didn't happen, so-"

Barda wasn't exactly know for her speed or agility, but it was amazing how fast one could move when a sledgehammer was swung at them. She hopped back and let the hammer swing just in front of her, far, far closer than she would have liked, then jumped back towards Doom, trying to grab it and wrestle it away before the psycho could get someone hurt. Namely, her.

Doom let out a string of nigh-unintelligible curses, as she felt her hammer hit the barricade wall with a crashing sound. Having put all of her weight and her will into driving that strike home, right into the center of Barda's toned body, Doom was a bit shocked to find her blow hitting nothing but the barricade. However, at the very least, Doom took some satisfaction in watching the fans- the leering, sweaty fanboys that comprised the AFW audiences that so thoroughly disgusted her- suddenly flinch back in shock and fear from her strike against the dividing wall.

That quick moment of satisfaction, however, was all the distraction it took for Doom to lose her focus, and let Barda get a grip on the hammer. While Doom certainly wasn't going to give up her new favorite thing (and certainly not to a powerhouse who'd get more than adequate use out of it), she wasn't prepared to enter a tug of war with a woman built like an actual super heroine, either. Not giving up her grip, but loosening her stance, an instinctive response came to Doom. For a second, Doom wondered if it would get her disqualified. In another second, Doom realized she didn't much care.

“Doom enjoyed the part where the burly, muscular hero died, in that event,” the brutal punk said, with a malicious glint in her eye. She kept a hold of the hammer, but tried to roll the thing, instead of firmly jerking it away from Barda, trying to keep herself loose and fluid. “Somewhat like this!” While still keeping hold of the hammer, Doom shot forward with a front-snap kick, aimed squarely between Barda's legs, aiming for a sharp and merciless low-blow to settle their current tug-of-war.

Well, she had a hold of the sledgehammer, at least. That was progress. Sort of. She had absolutely no idea what to do with the stupid thing, but keeping Doom from employing it was top on her list. So, mission accomplished there, at least.

She held on tight with Doom and struggled for a bit, but she was pretty sure she wrestle the sledgehammer away from the preening punk princess. She had the leverage, of course, but on top of that she was just flat out stronger than the little spitfire. It was only a matter of time before she got it free, which meant Doom would be acting to put a stop to it.

"Did Thor even really die in that event?" She squirmed about and twisted, trying to get it free. "It didn't seem like anyone really cared, and he was back, like, an issue later in his own book. Did anything really last from that event? I don't think anyone even draws Cap's shield with that crack in it. Colossusnaut was the coolest thing, and even he's normal again, now."

Barda was getting a little caught up in her geekery, so much so that the low blow took her by surprise and hit her square between the legs. A cheap shot, but this was a hardcore match - anything went.

She gave Doom a hard shove and pushed away, grabbing her groin and trying to rub the pain off.

Doom stumbled back toward the ring, with Barda's powerful shove. Aside from a grunt of pain with the collision, however, Doom even seemed to enjoy it, too caught up in Barda's current suffering to mind anything that might happen to her. More importantly, however, Doom clung to her hammer. Doom was truly beginning to enjoy having a hammer.

Watching Barda trying to massage the pain out of her body, Doom practically licked her lips in appreciation of her handiwork. Squaring her shoulders, taking a firm footing on the ringside floor, Doom stepped towards Barda, her lean figure bent forward, her every muscle tense with anticipation of the next strike.

“Honestly, Doom can't remember,” she said, responding to Barda's geekery. “Perhaps the Thunder God did not stay buried for so long, then” she said, taking a firm grip on the long handle of the sledgehammer, before snapping forward with it, shouting “I wonder if you'll be so lucky, nerd-tart!” With that, Doom would lunge forward, bringing the long handle of the hammer towards Barda's throat, hoping to deliver a blow that would allow her to bring the frustratingly well-built cosplayer down to the ringside floor.