Laila Nazari vs. Sara Conner - Collision Course

This wasn’t the way Sara usually won her matches, usually opting for more efficient routes. Knockouts were good, but she was fine with getting the submission, and pulling one off on a bitch like Laila would’ve been satisfying all by itself. That was what her instincts were telling her to do, at least.

But she could ignore those instincts for a little while longer, just a little, because planting her foot into Laila’s throat was just too satisfying. While it lasted, at least, which turned out to be nowhere near as long as she anticipated.

Laila was strong. Sara knew that going in, yes, but she’d underestimated just how strong, and more importantly, stubborn, this woman was, a fact that was made shockingly clear as she started to power her way out of the corner. Sara was just preparing to put this act of rebellion down, when the dark-skinned demoness twisted her leg around and jerked it down hard, smashing her leg into the canvas, and holy shit, it sucked.

Sara cried out at the impact and rolled away, clutching her knee and hissing through her teeth. It wasn’t the end of the world, nothing broken, but it left a tingling, numbing sensation through her bones, one that she knew wouldn't’ be going away anytime soon.

Laila heard Sara cry out in pain as her kneecap was rammed hard into the ring. The blow was enough to send Sara rolling away now, angry pain no doubt lancing its way up her knee now. Sensing that her tormentor was now on the defensive, Laila pulled herself upright on the ropes, her own arm still throbbing with agony in turn. She made to pull herself up onto the top of the turnbuckle...then thought better of it: this bitch needed to be taught a lesson, and Laila was going to give her one she wouldn't soon forget.

Following up after the injured American, Laila would grab a hold of her injured leg and lift it up off the mat. Wary of any kicks Sara would launch with her other leg, Laila would move to drag Sara towards the edge of the ring: unless Sara did something to stop her, Laila would slide under the bottom ropes, before grabbing a hold of Sara's foot and breaking into a run, aiming to yank Sara's leg hard into the turnbuckle! Again, if all worked out, the impact would fall on Sara's lower leg: she wasn't out to break the limb or put Sara into the hospital, but she did want to make the blonde bitch hurt.

Sara mashed her face into the canvas and tried to move beyond the pain, knowing things weren’t all that bad. Yes, this situation was less than ideal. Yes, she was stupid for getting here in the first place. But this was nothing she couldn’t come back from, especially since Laila still had to be the worse off between them.

Which brought up an important question - what was Laila doing?

Sara had just started to refocus on her opponent when that question was answered in an abrupt fashion. A tight grip seized her by the leg, dragging her back. Her first instinct was to try and pulled it away, recoiling at the mounting pain. By the time she realized what was going on, Laila was moving too fast and hard for it to be stopped.

”Don’t you fucking-” He threat probably wouldn’t have worked in any case, but Laila rammed her leg into the turnbuckle before she even had time to finish it. The Android jolted away and went into a fit, flopping about the ring as she grasped her hammered leg. This was a new level of pain, even by her standards, a searing agony that took over her entire leg. Was anything broken? She couldn’t tell, and it hardly mattered in this moment. ”You goddamn, fucking-” She mashed her fist into the canvas as she crawled away from Laila. ”Gonna fucking kill you, swear to god…”

Sara didn't scream-- Laila had to give her credit for that, at least-- but it was plain too see now that she was in a world of hurt. The blonde was flopping uselessly on the mat as she tried to crawl away from the edge her battered leg a dead weight dragging behind her. She was not going to be moving anywhere fast any time soon...which meant that Laila had her right where she wanted her.

A limb for a limb, she thought to herself, still clutching her hurting arm as she slid under the ropes and strode after the retreating Sara. Glaring down cooly at the downed American, she would grab a hold of Sara's injured leg with her good hand, tucking her foot under one armpit. At the same time, she stepped down authoritatively on Sara's upper back, pinning her to the mat: using her injured arm as little as possible, Laila twisted to the side, bending Sara's trapped leg painfully at the ankle, making sure she felt the hold as she was pinned down to the mat.

"Last chance to give up," Laila breathed as she worked in the hold. If Sara tapped, then that would be the end of it. If not, then Laila would simply have to finish her off the hard way...

Had she been in a clearer state of mind, Sara could see that, yes, she’d kind of set herself up for this by targeting Laila’s arm, and that, yes, she couldn’t really complain about having the table turned on her. If she had the chance, she would do the same thing to her opponent’s leg. Hell, she’d do much, much worse. At worst, Sara was going to take a trip to the infirmary after this. Sara would’ve sent this woman to the hospital, easy.

But she had a bit of a hard time seeing things that way at the moment.

Growling through her gritted teeth, she yelped as her leg was seized and a boot was put against her back, pinning her down. The implied ultimatum came soon after, with Laila lording her position over her, trying to get her to tap out, no doubt wanting the satisfaction of making another submissionist submit.

And what did Sara have to say about that? ”Go fuck yourself with a wooden dildo, bitch.”

Yeah. She wanted to flip her off, too, but her arms were too busy trying to alleviate the pressure.

With a wooden dildo? Well, as far as insults went, it was imaginative, at least. Still, Sara had been offered a way out, and instead had chosen defiance. Laila wasn't going to let her live down her foolishness.

She continued to lean back, bending Sara's leg the wrong way, twisting it in a direction it was never meant to go, listening to the muffled sounds Sara was making as she tried not to scream. Finally, after a few more seconds of twisting her leg, Laila let it go, before stomping down hard on Sara's upper back, hoping to drive the air from her lungs and keep her on the defensive for what was going to happen next.

And what was going to happen next was going to be Laila yanking her opponent up by the hair, sliding around so that they were back to back, and interlocking their arms, before trying to hoist Sara up across her back and then bringing her crashing down head-first into the mat with a devastating suplex.

This was, probably, a stupid idea. Insulting Laila at this point wasn’t even like spitting in a bull’s face, it was like taunting the thing while it was busy trampling you to death. There was no way it would accomplish anything meaningful, no way it would improve her situation, and a myriad of ways it would make the situation exponentially worse.

But fuck it. She wasn’t giving this woman the satisfaction, and she damn sure wasn’t tapping out. Not to her. Not ever.

Thankfully - kind of - she didn’t have to. Laila let go of the hold, giving Sara a moment of relief, only to squash it with a boot to her back, hammering her into the canvas. Defiant, she started to crawl away, but didn’t get far before she felt a familiar hand gripping her hair. ”Get off me, get off-”

Sara let out an awkward squawk as she was lifted up and sent head over heels, coming down into the cavans with a rocking suplex. She came down on her back and went rolling away in pain, flopping from side to side.

The mat crashed as Sara was unceremoniously suplexed into it, the blow causing the audience to let out a collective gasp of sympathy for Sara as she was slammed down. Normally, a suplex would be an adequate prelude to a pinfall, a blow that would have softened the opponent up enough that one could try for a finisher on them. But Laila wasn't done with Sara yet, not by a long shot.

Standing back up, Laila would stride over towards Laila, looking for all the world like some bronze age war goddess out for blood. Grabbing a hold of Sara's blonde locks, Laila would try to unceremoniously yank her up to her feet. If she got that far, then she would pull her up to her full heigh-- a height that would not quite come up to Laila's own statuesque size-- and then slide one arm around her thigh and another around her shoulder, taking care the the latter would be done by her weakened arm so as to put less weight on it.

And then, with her expression set in a cold grimace, she would try to lift Sara off her feet, before tilting her sideways, and cracking her down, back-first, across her outstretched knee. Again, not enough force to break the woman's spine, but enough force that Sara would feel that, in a ove designed to soften her prey up nicely for the finishing blow.

”Fuck you. Fuck you, you fucking bitch, I swear to god, I swear to fucking god-”

The Android was clearly malfunctioning, her words breaking down into a stream of guttural curses and barely audible insults as she rolled about on the floor, swept away with the pain. She kept telling her body to get up, to defend, to do something, but that was the thing about true pain - it had a way of shutting down everything, and it left Sara in a mess. She couldn’t function, couldn’t operate, could barely even breathe right.

She made a weak attempt to roll towards the ropes, but that was cut off when she felt fingers gripping her scalp, hauling her off the ground. ”Get…” She struggled to put her feet on the floor and stand along with it, desperate to alleviate the pain on her scalp. Gritting her teeth, she spoke to with hissing words, spittle flying from her mouth. ”I fucking swear, if you don’t let go of my goddamn hair-”

Her wish was granted, as Laila did just that - however, it was only so she could lift her up and bring her down hard on the back of her knee, nearly folding her in half the wrong way. Sara fell to the canvas again, this time arching her back and kcing her feet, trying her best to deal with the monumental pain coursing through her veins.

Laila watched with seeming icy indifference as Sara flopped off of her knee, all of her defiance ended with that one, brutal backbreaker, the blow sending her flailing onto the mat in convulsions of pain as her nervous system was overloaded with agony. Laila could have been merciful, she knew. She could have decided to pin her then and there, to let this exercise in brutality finally end.

Yeah fucking right. She wanted to ensure that Sara wouldn't be kicking out this time, and that meant hitting her with her finisher. Besides, Sara had done enough to ensure that defeating her wouldn't be enough: Laila had to destroy her.

Grabbing a handful of Sara's hair again, she would pull the blonde American up to her feet and drag her towards the corner post. If she managed that uninterrupted, then she would grab a hold around one of Sara's thighs, trying to hoist her up onto the corner post...and if she manage that, then she would climb up underneat her, getting her shoulders under Sara's legs as she grabbed onto them, hoisting the other girl onto her shoulders as she climbed up...not an easy task, with one of her arms still a smouldering mass of pain.

But all the same, if she managed it, then she would finally propel herself backwards with her finisher, the Devastator, aiming to slam Sara back-first into the centre of the ring while she was still on her shoulders, hoping to put an end to her resistance and to her foul mouth once and for all.