Aisha vs. Abattoir - Two Days Notice

The sound of Aisha's back hitting the floor was better than music, not that Abattoir had much taste in that anyway, and her expression in the air, as she'd realized what was happening, was perhaps the best of all. Now things were going her way again.

Abattoir capitalized, as she always did, with massive overkill. She grabbed the entire section of guardrail next to them, undid a clasp on one side, headed to the other end, and started undoing that one was well. A couple fans were close enough to the action to be in the way, but a quick "Get the fuck out" sent them scrambling for the hills, and after a moment Abattoir had the barrier section free.

With a flourish, she tipped the entire thing over onto the supine Aisha, then took a few steps back, got a running start, and leapt onto - then off - the steps for a flying double-stomp aimed right at the barrier!

Get up. Get up.

Aisha was vaguely aware of some strange sounds nearby. Metal-somethings. She couldn't figure out what was going on with her eyes screwed shut as they were, but she'd fought Abattoir enough to know that anything with her and metal objects was an extremely bad thing for her health and genera well-being. She rolled over and started to push her way back up, defiantly rising back to her feet...

...until the guard rail came down on her back and laid her out once again, sandwiching her with the floor. It wasn't the worst thing she'd experienced all day, since it was mercifully not all that heavy, but it exacerbated the growing pains throughout her body.  "Come on, come on..." Aisha panted hard and began to defiantly rise back to her feet once more, this time with the guard rail laid over her back...

...until Abattoir dropped down on the barricade and hammered her back to the earth. That hurt, and Aisha voiced her agony with a long banshee wail, as every bone in her back cried out in protest. This time, there was no defiant rise. She just laid there, crushed under the metal, gritting her teeth hard with her arms and legs splayed out. Roadkill.

Abattoir rose and fell in a graceful arc, and when she crashed down onto the guardrail she actually bounced off from the sheer force of the blow. The 'holy shit' chants were coming back in earnest.

Well-deservedly, too, because frankly Aisha looked kinda dead. She wasn't really, of course, given the way the guardrail rose and fell with her ragged breathing, but one could be forgiven for a spur-of-the-moment wrong conclusion. Abattoir grabbed the edge and flipped the heavy length of barrier back over, freeing her opponent from its weight, then crouched down next to her head like a spider about to wrap up a fly.

"Here's the thing," the nak muay said, her voice a low rasp distorted by the mask's filters. "The end is nigh. Don't ask about details, not totally clear on that yet. But we've all gotta be ready for whatever's coming." I figured you were a lost cause there." She grinned a little, hoisting the Dancing Sistah up by the back of the neck (and smearing a streak of blood on her in the process). "You proved me wrong. Good job on that."

With that, she rolled her dazed opponent under the ropes, slid in after her, and made a very cursory cover.

The ref, thankful for having not been caught with a stray shot yet, dove into place. "One!"

Aisha's last two matches had went poorly, but this wasn't quite the same thing. What was happening now? Kind of worse. The other two bouts had been more humiliating, yeah - one had ended with her getting squeezed to death by an Amazon, the other had ended with her face getting sat on - but in terms of sheer brutality, Abattoir had them beat. Hands down. Full stop.

She didn't have much to say as Abattoir speiled off her miniature speech. Well, no, that wasn't true, there was a lot she wanted to reply with, but her jaw had hit the floor after the double stomp, and it was feeling all sorts of numb at the moment. Not broken, but she got the distinct impression that if she talked, it would hurt like hell.

She put up some weak, token resistance as she was hoisted and tossed back into the ring, but she saved the bulk of her energy for the moment. She had precious little left, and she knew she would need it all.

The time to use it came sooner than she'd hoped, though, as Abattoir drapped across her for a pin.

"2...!"

Aisha was in bad shape, there was no getting around it, but she would be damned if she'd let whatever-the-hell Abattoir was get the better of her. She was Aisha. Dancing Queen. Rumble Rose. She'd never lost a street fight, and today wouldn't be any different. She wasn't sure how she'd beat Abattoir just yet, but she would figure it out. She just had to survive until then.

The referee's hand came up for the final count, start to descened, and Aisha kicked out just before it could slap against the mat, beating it by the narrowest margin.

It had been generally assumed that this was a done deal, and so when Aisha got a shoulder up at 2.9, the entire place erupted. Encouraging cheers rang out like thunderclaps from the gathered crowd, who were on their feet with excitement at the sudden show of life from the diva.

Even Abattoir was impressed, evidenced by the fact that she didn't immediately go back to beating on her opponent and instead swung a leg over and straddled her waist. One gloved hand swiped at the side of her face - huh, still bleeding. She was actually losing a little more blood than she'd thought. Fair enough.

"See, case in point." Her bloodied fingertips came to rest on Aisha's temple and began drawing a steady curve around one eye. "You can't really blame me for making that mistake. So many of them here, they're caught up in the sex appeal and the...titillation--" There was a visceral note of disgust in her tone as she crossed the bridge of the nose, painting an infinity symbol in blood around Aisha's eyes. "--and then when it comes down to it they couldn't actually fight to save their lives. I swear some of these girls want to get mauled. Like, they're getting off on it. One-track minds. Whatever's on its way, it'll go through them like a bullet through a kleenex." Having finished the intersection of the symbol, she continued it upwards into a branched staff on her opponent's forehead. "Not you, though. Mmm. No." A final pair of slashes, and she'd drawn a picture-perfect leviathan cross.

Rising, Abattoir stepped over Aisha's downed form and began heading over to the pile of weaponry. She settled on a table, and put most of her strength and focus into hoisting it up, popping the legs out, and dragging it across the ring to get it into position. Presumably it'd take something a little bigger to put her opponent down.

Oh, shit. The talking. Abattoir hadn't said all that much during the match, but now it seemed like she was making up for lost time. On one hand, Aisha was thankful, because it gave her some precious time to at least get some feeling back in the rest of her body. On the other hand, though, it was creepy as fuck, she didn't enjoy having blood smeared over her face, and she desperately wanted Abattoir to get off her lap. More negatives than pluses.

She breathed a wheezy sigh of relief when the nak muay stopped using her face for an arts and crafts project. Her high hopes didn't last long, though, as she looked over and saw what Abattoir was doing - setting up a table. Bad. Seriously bad. It looked like their might be two first-times in this match - Aisha had never come up short in a street fight, and she'd never gone through a table. Rumble Roses always kept them from ringside as a strict policy.

As much as the crowd had been on her side throughout the match, they were still wrestling fans, and wrestling fans always loved to see someone go through a table. A good chunk of them began to cheer, but Aisha didn't have a problem denying them - she saw a small chance.

While Abattoir was busy setting things up, Aisha crawled forward towards the same police baton from earlier, desperately trying to get a hold of it before she could be stopped. It wasn't much, but she couldn't afford to be picky.

The crowd was already moving away from their sympathy for Aisha and focusing on the impending reality of table-based murder. Fickle types, Abattoir thought. She made sure the legs were extended just right, and set the table down on one side of the ring where it'd be easy enough to make into collateral damage.

It was important not to get overconfident now. She was winning, sure, but half-assing it could just lead to an unpleasant surprise. Better to go all-out and use the table, to make sure of it. Double-tap, if you will.

Turning around, she strolled over to the prone Aisha, who was now trying to crawl away from her - not surprising, given everything that'd just happened, but Abattoir didn't see the nightstick because it was blocked by the other girl's body. As such, she crouched right behind her, grabbing a shoulder and rolling her over to pick her up...

Abattoir was coming, Aisha knew it even though she wasn't looking to watch her approach. The woman seemed to have a weird aura around her, like everything became darker and murkier the nearer she was to you. Or that could've just been the brain trauma messing with Aisha's head.

Regardless, she could certainly hear the slight wheeze coming from the hardware on Abattoir's face, and along with the audience's cries and shouts, she had all the warning she could ask for.

She gripped the nightstick tightly in her hands, keeping it hidden under her chest, and took the deepest breath she could manage. She regretted that in an instant thanks to whatever internal damage the barricade had done, but that was okay. The pain just made her more aware. One chance. Just one

When Aabattoir flipped her over,  Aisha let out an Amazon's war cry and swiped the nightstick at her jaw, putting some of her precious reserves into the desperate blow.

It practically happened in slow motion. Abattoir was turning her downed opponent over, ready to drag her over for the coup de grace, and then in one fluid motion the baton swept between them and collided with the side of her jaw. There was a burst of shattered polyurethane and a thunderous crunch, and Abattoir went stiff and dropped.

She wasn't knocked out, thankfully, but from the nak muay's perspective there were a few seconds where she might as well have been. Images and white light flooded her subconscious in rapid-fire like a burst of agonizing static, and when she came to after what felt like an eternity she was face down and it felt like the world was on fire.

The audience, warbled though their voices sounded in her disoriented state, sounded split between excitement and shock. It became why after a quick glance at the tron - the left side of her mask had shattered, exposing a fraction of split lip and smeared blood. Probably wasn't going to do much for the popular theory that she was disfigured under it.

Abattoir shook her head in a vain attempt to clear the cobwebs, trying to at least push herself up to her knees. "Fff..." she hissed through the mask's remains. "Fucking..."

Aisha cursed and muttered under breath as Abattoir was knocked away. Her attack had worked, which was definitely a good thing, but she hadn't got nearly as much impact as she was hoping. That mask. That stupid, fucking mask. She wasn't sure if it was what kept Abattoir from getting knocked out, but she had to blame something, and her rep had already taken enough abuse.

She pushed the thought aside and refocused on the fallen Abattoir, who didn't look like she'd be that way for much longer. "Yeah, that's what you-" Aisha tried to stand up, but her aching back made her think twice about it. If she was going to finish this, it would be better on her knees. Doable. Hard, but doable.

She crawled forward, coming up behind Abattoir just in time to complete her sentence. "...fucking got you, bitch!" She reached out from behind with the nightstick clutched tight, grabbed the other end with her spare hand, and pulled back hard on Abattoir's throat, using it to choke her in a way that no actual policeman would ever be allowed. At the same time, she brought a single knee up and placed it against the nak muay's spine, pressing hard into her spine to keep her under control.