SS21 - Death Bunny vs Rebecca Tomko

Perhaps the singular benefit towards her current predicament is that the brewed alcohol still within her system aided in numbing what would have been an excruciating agony into a dulled yet nevertheless searing pain. Whatever headway Death may have garnered in the past few minutes seemingly vanishing in one fell swoop and disastrous plummet that left her sprawled over the bar table with even more incentive to see a chiropractor in the morning. Bits of shattered glass scattered underneath her as well from a few unfortunately placed shot glasses, her natural inclination towards lifelessly sliding off the table being halted by a pair of massive meat hooks strangling her to a cartoonishly exaggerated extent. "...*HACK*...*GASP*..." A thin stream of saliva trailed from the corner of her mouth after being rattled about to make her head akin to a bobbleheaded ragdoll, overwhelmed by the Enforcer's sheer strength but fighting back regardless via clubbing strikes against Rebecca's beefy arms with occasional pie faces from Death's gloved mitts.

If Death had the breathable air within her respiratory system to vocalize a rebuttal to Rebecca's malicious cussing, the Enforcer would have discovered that the spiteful sentiment was mutual. Unintelligible and hacked coughing probably not communicating that message well considering Death was bearing the overwhelming strength of one exceptionally pissed off Amazonian Titan on her windpipe. Eventually being granted her freedom, albeit with the unforeseen caveat of a stiff smack to her swelled abundance that felt like palm shaped lightning and in all likelihood left a scorching hand imprint to illustrate just that.

It certainly did it's job of subduing Death as she yelped in stiffened misery and remained right where Rebecca left her before she started backpedaling. Gasped lungfuls of air graciously indulged upon with her arms splayed out uselessly at her sides as if she were being offered on a sacrificial altar to the God Of Wine And Beer. Except that whatever omniscient presence Death felt coming from on high turned out to be Rebecca's tree trunk thigh before being bashed down on her breasts to the caved in obliteration of the bar table. Lost amidst the wooden remnants and stewing beneath the Ebon Amazon herself would be one inert and lifeless Bunny Reaper...

Fluttering papers wafted within the GM's office after rereading the specific cost estimate for the lavish cabana set currently buckled inward into wooden shambles. Assurances from the seller that the pub table had the durable craftsmanship to endure whatever physicality the night had in store for it were now as valuable as it's splintered fragments. Beneath which was a spread-eagled brawler with her facials masked underneath Rebecca's tree-trunk thigh, peacefully motionless as anyone would be after getting meteorically hammered through the mahogany wood table. Sympathetic grimaces directed towards Death, who could safely say felt about as good as she looked.

The titanic strength of the Bullet Club Enforcer was brought to bear and absolutely decimated everything in it's wake, including one beachside set and one ethereal reaper girl who was apparently on the threshold of merely becoming another squashed notch in the Big Gun's belt. Meekly stirring with a breathed exhale from the readjustment taken for Rebecca's compressing pin attempt that squished their breasts together and buried Death beneath her ebon musculature. Audience members counting the Grim Hopper out alongside the referee's more official pin count for her valiant but summarily inevitable defeat. Until a shuffled uptick from her shoulder off the floor miraculously stopped the pin...

Thoughts did start to cross Death's mind as to how she miraculously remained cognizant enough to unearth herself beneath the hulking giantess, and she why currently wasn't being stretchered off into the distance to the joyous jubilation of Rebecca and her heavy metal theme music echoing in the background. And the ultimate explanation was decidedly less compelling than any mystical elements involving ethereal necromancy, supernatural occultism, or over-hyped Ouija boards.

In fact, Rebecca slammed her fist into the answer possibly without even knowing it. The sand dune beneath them cushioning their mutual fall to the point where it was endurable, but The Grim Hopper's lucky rabbit feet were officially drained of any remaining lingering fortune as the faction enforcer schlepped Death's grumbling physique upward and back into her overwhelming clutches. Nothing except an upside-down view of Rebecca's chiseled six-pack to ascertain where she even was as Beck's brought the match back to its inception...

Coincidentally enough, enduring a bear-hug within Rebecca's inescapable arms alongside an upside-down viewpoint encompassing nothing else besides her crotch was a tantalizing fantasy for a certain subsection of the fanbase as well. Except that being potentially crushed would have actually been interpreted as a net positive rather than a deterrent. Although the fandom in attendance were united in disbelief from witnessing the fatigued Reaper apparently on the verge of becoming piledriven into oblivion, the degrading exclamation point of being defeated by her own finisher. Swayed maneuvering and jostled kicking by Death appearing to have Tomko timber backwards though...with D.B. unexpectedly landing on her feet, the titanic enforcer now on the cusp of Tombstone'd herself on the top of the ramp with a brief balancing act on Death's tip toes!!!