SD III: The Dasher Challenge

The punch landed, Dasher went tottering away, and the crowd went wild.

Time seemed to slow in that moment. Suddenly, there was one more set of ropes in the ring than usual, the mat was harder, and there was a hot ring girl hanging somewhere nearby. She was in her element - wrestling was her style, she’d come to accept it, but it was like learning to write with her right hand after a lifetime of using her left. Sooner or later, old habits would come back.

She let Dasher dance for a moment as she hung to the side from her first punch, waiting for him to get back into position. He was stunned, clearly, in more ways than one. Skilled as he was, she was getting the picture of a man who’d dedicated his life to wrestling and rarely paid attention to anything outside of it. If he’d been more of a boxing aficionado, maybe he’d see what was coming next. Or maybe not.

Carmen swung back towards him and threw a left hook this time, right into his face, putting her body weight into the blow for added speed and power. A scant moment later, she swung back with the same motion, only with her right hook this time.

Carmen would repeat that process, over and over with lightning speed and pinpoint efficiency, weaving a figure-eight in the air with her body movement as she pushed forward. The Dempsey Roll - a move she often used in her boxing days, but one she rarely broke out for wrestling.

Dasher was special. For him, only the best.

Dasher's gargantuan and nigh unbearable pride was not entirely unjustified, especially considering his extensive catalogue of defeated opponents and how he had honed his muscled frame into the peak of Adonis-like perfection he believed it was. But if there was one thing anyone who had even the faintest knowledge of boxing could attest to, it was that one powerful and properly placed wallop to the jaw was all it took to have you be waking up several hours later in the infirmary wing.

A simple fact of boxing that Dasher was learning for the first time himself as he wobbled under unsteady legs as leveraged himself against the ropes to keep himself upright. A vacant and wide-eyed expression of stunned disbelief as the ringing in his ears was only trumped by the stirring cheers of the riled up audience, the burly grappler only just than noticing Carmen come back into his field of vision as her left hook rocked his prodigious jaw once more.

"OOPH!!...HOPH!!" The flurry of fists came one after the other and without any sign of relent, each impactful blow echoing through the cheering arena and whipping his head left and right with sparkles of sweat dotting the air. The bewildering movement pattern and dynamic strikes of The Dempsey Roll keeping Dasher too rattled to block and too confused to know which side he could escape from which consecutive punches coming from both left and right.

Eventually the answer would come to him naturally as one particularly stiff right hook would have him lose his equilibrium and tumble down and to the right, Dasher soon afterward rolling out of the ring to land flat on his back in a heady daze.

Even though she loved boxing and combat in general, Carmen didn’t consider herself a sadist. She was competitive, loved the art of it all, the notion of two well-trained and determined individuals putting it all between the ropes to see who was truly better. She’d never taken joy in inflicting pain for the sake of inflicting pain, never set out to hurt anyone more than need be.

Except for today. Except for Dasher Inoba. As her fists flashed back and forth, crashing against his face with resounding impacts, filling the stadium with the sound of exploding bombs, she savored the damage she dealing out. Took pleasure in the look in Dasher’s face, the sensation of her fists against his cheeks, and the notion of what was going through his head, as he was pounded back and forth by her attack. A woman’s attack.

She could’ve done it all day, and frankly, she very well might have. If Dasher hadn’t gone with better part of valor and ducked straight out of the ring.

Her first inclination was to follow him out of the ring and continue pummeling him, but she canceled that idea after a single step. A much better idea had come to mind. A more fitting one.

Carmen began to pace about the ring, circling left and right, her gaze like a tigress in her cage. Stalking him. Watching him. Waiting for him to get back in the ring, so she could finish her meal. She was looking down on him, and she had the strong feeling that would sting worse than any strike she could throw.

As justifiably enraged as Dasher was after tumbling out of the ring, no one could tell him he didn't outright ask for it. Demanding Carmen "give him her best shot" were his exact words, and the fiery Latina delivered on his command with much more fervor and power that he was expecting. The bloviating puroresu champion only just than pushing himself off of one knee to get back up at the referee's seven count after languishing on the mat and attempting to regain his swirling senses. Dasher cupping his prodigious chin while wavering on unsure legs until he finally regained his sense of balance.

His sense of manly pride having taken a much more significant blow as he glared daggers back inside the ring, at one point kicking off the top half of the steel steps in rage-induced frustration as he began encircling the ring from outside. Dasher taking all the time he needs to recoup and collect himself as the professional he was, the burly grappler knowing he had a full twenty seconds before being counted out since he specifically requested this match to have traditional, Japanese match rules.

Only at the fifteen count would Dasher have recovered enough to re-enter the fray and hop back up on the apron, the numbing pain in his jaw still not receding and only fueling his chauvinistic agenda as he entered the ring. Now as stone-cold silent as Carmen, Dasher reclaimed his wide grappling stance with his beady eyes centered onto the Latina striker he inched closer towards...

The crowd was going wild now, cheering and roaring and goading Carmen on as she put Dasher - the veteran, the master, the hallmark - on the outside of the ring. A little sacrilegious, maybe. A younger wrestler treating an old mainstay like this, showing him up. But this was a Tension crowd, and a Tension crowd at a PPV on top of that. Many of them paid good money to see women bashing around men, and Carmen was determined to give them what they'd paid for today. Hell or high water.

She stalked about the ring for a few moments, expecting Dasher to, well, come dashing into the ring. He didn't, and when he didn't Carmen decided he needed some prodding.

As he laced around the ring and had his little temper tantrum, she made her way to the nearest corner and started slapping the turnbuckle, bringing her open palm down hard on top.

One. Two. Three.

Three slaps and the crowd took over from there, clapping in rhythm, urging the boisterous bruiser on, daring him to get back into the ring. It wasn't too long after that he did just that, and the man who came back inside the ring was notably more resolute than the one who'd left it. She could see it in his eyes, in his movements, even in the way he breathed - he was taking her serious, now. As serious as he ever would, anyway. This was the real Dasher Inoba.

Carmen let herself have a quick smirk. ”Better.”

And from there she moved back into her striking stance, easing towards him as he eased towards her, both of them cautious for different. On Carmen’s part, she knew the element of surprise was slipping away. Her strikes were quick and fast, but Dasher’s skill could go a long ways to taking that advantage away if she was careful. She had to get in, do her damage, and be out before he had the chance to make her pay.

A few feet of distance apart from Carmen and a leisurely stroll around the ring helped Dasher not only recoup from strikes he wrongly assumed were going to be mere mosquito bites, but also temper his anger and keep it from playing into Carmen's favor. She had only found an opening in his defenses because of his enraged goading, and he wasn't going to repeat that mistake for as long as could allow it. He intended to wait until the advantage was his once more...and only than would he vent his frustrations in as excruciating a manner as possible...

Rhythmic clapping and a palpable sense of heightened anticipation fueled the arena as Dasher once again began his steady approach towards the equally cautious Latina striker ahead of him. His encroaching and looming presence seeming more imposing as he raised his arms up and ahead of him to make himself seem almost larger than life, his steady footwork gradually motioning him forward with his beady eyes zeroed in on Carmen. He could acknowledge that this insignificant amateur threw a passably competent punch. But just because you could punch, doesn't mean you could wrestle.

Dasher intending to demonstrate that fact by ducking low once within grappling space of Carmen and attempting to wrap one of his burly arms around her left leg with a a heaving tug upward intending for her to flop onto her back. Followed up by some fierce stomps to her inner thigh and her gut with her leg still elevated should the takedown go off without a hitch...

Careful. Careful.

As much as she had a distaste for Dasher’s attitude, a small part of her wished she could get the man to teach her for a few things. There was an economy to the way he moved, an efficiency that even some of the best boxers she’d fought against couldn’t quite master. She kept looking for openings or wasted movements to take advantage of, but there was nothing she could see. Every step had a purpose, every twitch had a plan to it. There wasn’t that much movement overall, but each one was significant.

When he finally did make a move, it came so quick that she scarcely had time to anything but attempt to slide back and avoid it, an effort that ultimately failed. He grabbed her leg, he lifted up, and down she went.

The landing itself wasn’t too bad, but what followed after it was, as Dasher moved in to stomp away, relentlessly hammering her into the ground. Two shots hit her thigh, making her yelp in pain, while the boot to the gut instantly silenced. It also served as a great wakeup call, which was exactly what she needed at the moment.

Before he could stomp her again, she reached up and tried to wrap her arm around his ankle, hoping to give it a good twist and bring him down to the mat. Not that she wanted to mat wrestle with the large, more experienced grappler she was dealing with, but it would definitely be better than letting him plant his boot in her colon.

There was a method to Dasher's madness, and a sound reason as to why he targeted the striker's leg in the hopes of bringing the impudent Latina off her feet. Standing high above her with her leg in his muscled grasp meant that he was well out of reach of those meddlesome fists of hers. Not that he considered them much of a threat anyway considering her obvious lack of a more manly physique, but even amateurs could get lucky if given enough opportunities. And that's all Carmen was to him, someone who had gotten lucky and nothing more.

Regardless, her strikes were not doing her much good at the moment anyway once he began pelting her inner thigh and abdomen with assertive stomping. Dasher relishing the feel of being back on the offensive and intending for this to be a precursor to much more before he felt a sudden tugging on his ankles, the burly grappler losing his balance and falling back and to his side.

"Tch..." Dasher scoffed and squinted from his sudden downfall, landing him on his backside with some amused chuckles from the audience enjoying seeing Carmen take him down in just as efficient a manner as he had done to her. The notion that Carmen was going toe to toe with him and was seemingly on equal footing did little to sweeten Dasher's sour mood, though his newfound position was perhaps no less beneficial than where he was before.

Now seated at Carmen's feet, Dasher would make for a grabbing attempt for the Latina's previously tackled leg and stuff her ankle into his armpit while wrapping his muscled legs around hers in a figure type position. Dasher's shuffling and twisting movements all were an attempt to cinch in a dreaded heel hook submission. Which if it wasn't stopped, would be applied with great satisfaction.

And down Dasher went again. Not quite as satisfying as the last time she’d pulled that off, but a small victory was a victory all the same, and it was a big improvement over him being over her, looking down on him with that smug grimace while he stomped her into the mat.

Her thinking had been that putting him on the mat would even things up a bit, give her a way to work back into a dominant position. With the smaller guys she often fought, it probably would’ve been the most viable strategy. But Dasher clearly had the distinction of being one of the few men on the roster that could actually match her pound for pound, and unlike many of the Tension males, he had the brawn to throw it around. Not a good thing.

She knew trouble was coming the second she felt him grabbed her leg and pulling it under his arm, smelling the beginnings of a submission hold she wanted no part of. Carmen tried to squirm out of it, but there was no chance. The veteran was too quick, too skilled, and too smart for her escape attempt - her scissored her leg, pulled back, and the hold was locked.

A reflexive scream escaped Carmen’s lips before she clamped down, silencing it as fast as she could. Fighting this hold would’ve wasted too much time even if it could work, and she didn’t have the knowledge to reverse it, which left the ropes as her only option. Desperate, she started to claw her way to them, dragging Dasher along for every desperate inch.

Nearly a decade of rigorous physical fitness training had sculpted Dasher into a hulking mass of muscled precision. That, along with high-octane endurance workouts that tested the limits of what any normal man could endure, meant that he was well and duly prepared to capitalize on any opening his opponent offered. And seeing an already worked over leg instantly triggered his wrestling instincts.

Dasher had built an esteemed wrestling career built upon the backs of numerous defeated adversaries that were consisted the elite of the puroresu community. Many of these giants among men reverting to whimpering children and tapping out swiftly once Dasher applied the right submission on the right limb at the right time. Carman herself having the dubious honor of being the first woman to ever experience that excruciating sensation.

"ORA!!!" Dasher bellowed while twisting his hips to the side while Carmen's ankle was firmly fastened into the crook of his armpit, his muscled thighs applying the figure four lock on the same contorted leg to keep it in place while pulling her leg the other way. Despite the purpose of any submission being to wrench a surrender out of your opponent, Dasher would have been perfectly been with simply hearing the stoic Latina screaming in pain instead.

He noticed himself being dragged sluggishly along the canvas, inch by inch, until he felt the referee tapping on his broad shoulder and signaling him to yield. Carmen had made the arduous trek to the ropes, but only after four excruciating seconds would Dasher willingly comply and shove her leg away before rising back up.