Tension Elimination Chamber Match

Felina was aching, her back was a mess, her stomach felt like it had just taken a cannonball. To make matters worse, fatigue was starting to set in - she had good stamina, but she’d always been trained for the quicker, fast-paced bouts that kickboxing favored. Wrestling matches tended to be longer, more drawn out affairs, and there were no rounds to break things up and catch your breath. Even after being a wrestler for this long, she still hadn’t come to fully gronk it.

All that she could endure, though. Dasher’s taunting, however…

”’Rodriguez’ is a pretty common last name, but yeah.” She grumbled, as she tried to plant her feet on the floor in something resembling a solid fashion. ”Carmen says to say ‘Fuck-”

Before she could deliver that message in its full, Dasher delivered one of his own. With his hand. To her chest. Repeatedly and painfully and with a speed reminscent of lightning strikes. Felina was stuck in the corner, battered back and forth, gritting her teeth hard to keep the shrieks inside, enduring as her chest was lit on fire.

And finally, finally, the end came with one final, powerful strike, one that was more than her legs could bear. She fell to her knees, covering a chest so red that it even showed up on her darkened skin.

In an odd bit of happenstance and undeniably rotten luck for the Rodriguez family, this was now the second time that one of their own was subjected to Dasher's blistering knife-edge chops. A dreaded maneuver honed to painful perfection by the grappling chauvinist having repeatedly brought grown men to their knees by ferociously snapping his massive hand against their chest to the point where certain wrestlers still hare palm-sized scars on their pecs. Felina perhaps now being the latest inductee into that particular group of wrestlers after having withstood his full-forced ending slap. Delivered with every ounce of his raw strength and one that caused fans to reflexively wince as Felina crumpled to her knees.

"Hmph...You can tell that "Carmen" lady that the feeling is mutual." Dasher sneered downward at the soon to be humbled Rodriguez before reaching down to clamp onto her pony-tailed hair. Dasher than dragging the battered kickboxer towards the middle of the ring while still on her knees and positioning them so Dasher was facing the hard camera in the audience. Felina's day not getting any better as she would be tugged upward to be arching over herself before having her head unceremoniously stuffed between Dasher's tree-trunk like thighs. A bit of strong-man posing than taking place at Felina's expense as Dasher flexed his biceps before reaching down to clamp her arms around her waist and hoist her up unto her shoulders for what would be one helluva ring-shaking powerbomb.

Ow.

Seriously, ow.

Carmen had described how painful a chop could be, and she’d seen - and laughed - at a few chops that Army had taken in the past, using it as good fodder to tease him with in a pinch. But from now on, she might cut back on that a bit, having actually experienced how excruciating the move could be on the receiving end.

To put it in the mildest way, Felina felt like her chest was on fire. Dasher wasn’t just strong, he was fast, far faster than you’d expect a man his size to be, and his strike came out like a whip. It had her down, aching, stunned, gasping, all with the knowledge that it would only worsen from here.

And it did. Oh, did it.

Before she could even hope to escape, she was pulled away from the corner, yelped as the jerk dragged her by her ponytail to the center of the ring, struggling like an unruly child in her parents grasp. She was forced in between his legs - not the most pleasant position - and hoisted up with a startling lack of effort, lifted into the telltale powerbomb position. There was only one way out of it that she could see.

”RyoRyoRyoRyo-”

Time for a little backup.

While the crowd was watching Felina bravely attempt to fight Dasher on her own, Ryo was on the other side of the ring, finally opening his eyes and squirming on the mat. He'd been in an absolute daze ever since his crash landing after rebounding off the ropes.

Where the hell was he? Let's see...bunch a people screaming around him...a giant cage...cold wind, indicating a lack of pants...was he suntanning again with that colony of nudist Mormons in Canada? Was it St. Swithins day already?

Ryo blinked rapidly, seeing visions of small speedos with wings floating in his eye-sight. He shook his head violently, several times, finally clearing himself of his flight-induced daze and sitting up. Right. Japan. He was in Japan...Tension. Elimination Chamber. Title Shot. Cute bunny girl. Sexy fighter girl...Dasher...

The sight of Dasher charging at him, filling his vision...he'd be seeing that in his nightmares for sure.

With nobody seeming to notice him at the moment, Ryo was able to recover without issue, and get a measure of what was going on. Crap. Dasher was still in this, beating on poor Felina. A quick look around showed him nobody else was out of their pods yet, and as the teen looked back, he ended up hearing his name, catching the eyesight of Felina, who was now stuck on Dasher's shoulders in a dreadful powerbomb position!

Well...he couldn't let a fair maiden in need of rescue down, could he?

Without hesitation (something he'd criticize himself for later), Ryo kipped up, landing on his feet and charging towards Dasher, ducking low and throwing his body at Dasher's legs, trying to clip the back of his knee with his shoulder!

Something within the Rodriguez family gene pool must predispose the ladies to delusions of grandeur...such must be the lamentable reasoning behind Dasher once again finding himself educating another misguided woman from their family tree on the folly of their ways. Dasher's primary education tool when it comes to the honorable profession of puroresu regrettably being his massive mitts and the blistering red welts his knife-edge chops can leave behind. Such searing hand-shaped marks being manly badges of honor back in his heyday, but it was safe to say that Felina was feeling anything but honored as she slumped to her knees. Nor would she be feeling anything else but immediate terror and a fear of heights after being hoisted upon Dasher's broad shoulders.

After his muscle flexing posing finished appealing to precisely zero percent of the ladies in attendance, Dasher seamlessly positioned Felina up for a powerbomb of mammoth proportions. The dashing chauvinist clamped onto her thighs and opted to keep the Rodriguez striker on full terrorizing display before laying her out with would have been a match-ending explosion of a landing for her...had the infernal speedo heartthrob from before not made a timely intervention on the young lady's behalf. "NNNGHN!!!" Dasher bellowed out and buckled downward from being robbed of his verticality and balance, the bowl-cut practitioner hobbling to one side and taking a knee while sloppily shoving Felina off of him.

Ryo to the rescue. Thank God.

Felina was no doubt five seconds away from being pinned, so when she saw Ryo rushing to her aid, she was notably relieved - though that didn’t mean her troubles were over. She still had to deal with the problem of falling, which wasn’t too pleasant from the height that Dasher had her up to.

It wasn’t a fun landing, coming down on her back, but it was significantly better than the alternate. She rolled back to her feet and locked on straight ahead, spying the withered and weary Dasher ahead, knowing this was an opening she’d have to make the best of, aching chest or not. She wouldn’t be getting another like it anytime sooner.

”Thanks, cutie!” She threw a quick nod to Ryo before pushing up to her feet and leaping forward, looking to hit Dasher with a quick punch to the face before he could get his bearings.

Just when the Dashing Chauvinist had lifted Felina into the most precarious of all positions, her guardian angel would come to her rescue seconds before she would end up leaving a veritable crater into the canvas. Her speedo-wearing savior managing to perform a ramming shoulder charge square into the back of Dasher's knee and just in the nick of time too. The mighty redwood tree that was the muscled grappler being chopped down to the size in wincing discomfort, causing him to crumple down to one knee with stereotypical comparisons to David and Goliath already being hollered out by the ringside announcers.

Dasher only just managing to look straight ahead again before having his prodigious chin clocked with enough force to have him reeling to the side with a rattled grunt. A brief whirlwinding of his arms helped the colossal grappler steady his wavering balance on his one propped knee as Dasher appeared visually rattled and in the most vulnerable state he's been this entire match...

Dear god he attacked Dasher Inobu. It was ok. It was cool. He was brave, he was bold.

He was...going to die when Dasher got back up.

...Well...he'd just have to make sure Dasher didn't get back up then, didn't he?

He flashed Felina a grin, getting back up to his feet. "Anytime babe!" he replied, wincing at the punch she sent into Dashers jaw. "Not bad, but how hard can you KICK!?" he yelled, before throwing a hard kick right toward Dashers back!

That worked.

That actually worked.

It didn’t come without a price, what with Felina hitting Dasher so hard that it numbed up her fist, but whatever - it worked. That was the important thing, the thing most on Felina’s mind as she rose up to see her weakened foe. Oh, that, and the rather important question: what now?

Thankfully, it seemed like Ryo had an idea. A good one, in fact. When in doubt, kick it.

”How hard?” She took a step back then moved forward, swinging her leg hard into Dasher’s face with a punishing soccer kick. ”This hard!”

Dasher started getting the wherewithal to start putting weight on his legs...already envisioning the pretzel shape he was going to twist Ryo into...when a stiff right cross kept the lumbering giant right where he was, the newly formed tag-team sensing a momentary opening in the bowl-cut Goliath's defenses and taking appropriate advantage.

Dasher was teetering backward and in a bewildered stupor until a snapping kick cracked him in his broad back, the grappler now in seething back pain before being dealt another jarring punt right square to his well-defined chin. The back and forth double-teaming combination keeping the Dashing Chauvinist in the role of an unwilling kicking bag between the two. All to the hilarious delight for the fans at large who counted along with every kick until finally gravity took hold of the bowl-cut muscle-man...

...who would crumple to his back with arms splayed out, the giant in a groaning daze after having seemingly fallen from his beanstalk, with his detractors cheering on what they wished was a clear knockout!!!