Blaise Cameron vs. Makoto Takeda: Time to Say Goodbye...

Mako learned something new, today. She'd always thought the whole 'seeing red' thing was just an expression for when people got really mad. But, as she nailed Blaise to the floor and saw her baby, all beaten and broke and bruised, she discovered that this was a thing that literally happened. Maybe it was just the blood rushing to her eyes, but the world seemed to be washing over in a red tint, as her fury and fired focused on the annoying little fuck beneath her.

"Fucker!" She screamed, as her fists battered away at his guard. "Gonna rip your stupid hair and feed it to you, little fuck!"

He wanted to turtle up? Fine. Mako was more than willing to crack that shell. Instead of just bashing away, she grabbed his arm with both hands, pulling it towards her face, and took a bite right into his forearm. She didn't think about it, she just did it - every instinct was focused on hurting Blaise, in any and every way possible. Mako didn't just want him to scream anymore, she wanted him to squeel.

Turtling up seemed to be the only recourse! The teen huddles behind his forearms, head turned aside and one eye squeezed shut. He's definitely not used to girls going so savage, though this does feel somewhat reminiscent of when he tangled with Amy. But one thing Amy didn't do was steal an arm and chomp down on it.

"GAH!," yelps the teen. He tries to twist away, frantic to convince her to release him. "L-LET GO!" His free arm begins swinging wildly around her face, desperate and uncoordinated. The longer her teeth remain clamped on his flesh, the more his yelping turns into a consistent, pained cry.

Blaise tasted like pizza, for some reason.

That thought was somewhere in the bakc of Mako's head, buried underneath all the fire and fury. It was one of the few cognizant thoughts she had at the moment. Everything else was covered in anger, and as Blaise bashed her in the face, she only clamped down harder, fighting through the pain to give him as much of it as possible.

That worked for the first two blows, but the third had enough force to make her let go, stunning her for a brief moment. Mako's foot shot out on pure instinct the second she landed on her back, going straight for his ribs. It wasn't the most powerful or aimed attack, but she refused to stop attacking him for even a solitary second. Fuck getting him to say 'I Quit'. He could speak the words when he woke up in the hospital.

Fun, popular, a little cheesy, and with enough variety to appeal to a lot of different people, Blaise is totally a pizza. Why, this is even a joke he might have cracked, had he known this thought was a thing crossing Mako's mind. Well, that and if she wasn't eating him!

Blaise's desperation grows as she continues to gnaw on him like a shark on a tastily plump beach-goer. He's convinced she's about to break skin, if she hadn't already, and there's no telling what infections she might be carrying! Granted, she didn't look gross, but... someone with a personality this nasty has to have nasty things going on.

He's finally free! Blaise sits up immediately to inspect his forearm, which gives Mako ample clearing to launch her kick into his ribs. "Uh'hmph!" It wasn't the hardest impact it could've been, but given the beating his midsection has taken, it forces him to roll over onto his side and curl up. "Gh... rgh.." He pushes an elbow under himself to at least prop up, his gaze fixing on the ring. He begins scooting towards the apron, focusing out the throbbing pain as best he can.

Blood. Blaise's wild blow must've made Mako's jaw cut on one of her teeth, because she could feel that heavy copper taste start to swell up in her mouth. That was nothing new by itself, she'd bled in fights more times than she could ever care to count. But never like this. Not in the ring. And damn sure not to a little pussy like Blaise.

Mako rolled into a crouch, just in time to see him crawling away, trying to make his way back into the ring. Not going to happen. As much as she hated to admit it, the guy had skill when it came to the ropes, and she'd always been more of a fighter than a wrestler. If she wanted him to hurt, she had to keep him on the floor, where she had the homefield advantage. "Nah, bitch, not going anywhere!"

Mako pounced after him and tried to grab him from behind, wrap her arms around his throat for a vicious rear naked choke. She liked the sound he made when he was in a lot of pain. Wanted more of it. A lot more.

Blaise wasn't even aware he'd bloodied the biker. He had a very short, very concise list of priorities, to which his mind was solely devoted; get Mako's chompers off of his skin, get Mako's self off of his self, get back into the ring where he's more used to doing things. He really doesn't like brawling, and despite knowing deep down that what's what this is - a fight for survival - his best shot is between those ropes.

Imagine his disappointment when Mako lands on him again.

"Gghhk!," is all Blaise manages to vocalize as he's locked down on the floor. Instantly panicked, the teen's technical savvy flies out the window in favor of wild thrashing. Each sharp twist and turn he takes likely wears more on his body than Mako's, and the pain shooting along his abdominals and up to his chest easily doubles the strain.

Wide blue eyes lock onto the ring apron, a mere half a foot away from him. But from this position, it may as well be a mile. A part of him realizes grabbing onto it wouldn't really do him any good out here, but it's drowned out in that growing, permeating desperation.

Now this was a feeling Mako knew well. The sensation of a body twisting in her grasp, held tight while she squeezed the life right out of her opponent. It had been a while. Far too long. And this was the first time she'd ever done it with a guy. But, despite that, she was quite pleased with the results.

"That's it, that's right." She bore down even harder, riding down his struggles. "Waste your energy, make it easy for me. Want to take my time tearing you apart, bitch. Make it last."

Mako gave him one, final wrench before letting go off the hold, allowing Blaise to get the air he was craving. It wasn't an act of mercy, just pure pragmatism - she needed her hands free for other things. More important things. More painful things. She started to stand back up, but not before she grabbed Blaise by his brown hair and gave his face a good slam into the floor, trying to make sure he stayed nice and dazed for what was coming next.

Blaise's struggling gradually became less and less pronounced as he weakened. He could hear what she was saying, but it did nothing to convince him to stop. He needs air! He needs to not... be contorted! And in a weird way, he feels like it worked!

Of course, this could also be the lack of oxygen screwing with his mind.

Thankfully, Mako releases him. Blaise drops flat to the floor in a sprawl, and it doesn't look like he's going anywhere just yet anyway. "Nng!" His scalp stings as she pulls on his hair, and then what mental processes he had going are promptly shut down as his head collides with the floor.

The teen lies flat under her, not unconscious, but not struggling.

Mako stopped. Just for a moment. Only for a moment.

She needed to catch her breath, take a moment to calm down, so she could more methodically beat the shit out of Blaise. Make it last. Her fury was still burning hot, but now that the fucker was down and at her mercy, she could be a little more creative than just mindless wailing on him.

The chair. She needed the chair. "Where was I?" She looked out the corner of her eye, right to where she'd dropped it. "Oh, yeah."

She walked over to the chair, shoeing away the crowd with one hand while she rubbed her aching face with the other, picked up the chair, and quickly made her way back, barely wasting any time in between. She decided to start off simple, here - she gave Blaise a hard, old-fashioned, traditional chair shot right in the middle of his back, making sure she hit with enough force to get a good crack throughout the stadium.

Blaise has a little time to breathe - though breathing hurts right now. It feels like his ribs are too tight, and every breath strains against them. He can hear the crowd urging him to get up and fight back. Even if it's just for the sake of prolonging a beating, any kind of support is welcome.

As he tucks a forearm under his chest to start pushing up, he has to wonder who all is seeing this. Is Amy in the audience watching with a smug look on her face? Is she readying a 'told you so'? Did Suzumi make it to the arena? Did she leave already to find someone else to be with? Someone who isn't about to get deported? Did his family start watching? Are they groaning at his awful showing?

The teen struggles to all fours when a loud, metallic smack rings up through the arena. Blaise is borne down to the floor again, his back screaming in pain while the most he can manage is a yelp. He abandons trying to get back up in favor of hooking his left arm behind his back protectively.