Army vs. Charlie: Boxer Against Flyer

Charlie saw Army stagger back and got to his feet as quickly as he could. His left leg still hurt, but not enough to keep Charlie from running forward. Army was using the ropes for support which was a good thing. Charlie wanted to jump up onto Army's shoulders, wrap his legs around his neck, and hurricanrana his big opponent into the center of the ring.

Of course, he could miss his mark or get tossed outside the ring and fall flat on his face outside the ring. No risk, no reward right?

Army could take a lot of things. Kicks. Slams. Any punch you'd care to throw out. Submissions. You name it. He didn't mind getting damaged, that was the name of the game. But there was no way, just no way, he was going to stand for having the crotch of another man shoved in his face. Some things just could not be allowed.

Charlie came in for the hurricanrana, and Army started to lurch forward into it, but he didn't do about three hundred crunches a day just for shits and giggles. Instead of flying over heels, he planted his foot down, stopped the twist, and just dropped straight down instead, driving Charlie into the floor with a sitdown powerbomb.

"Boom."

Charlie let out a cry of pain and surprise as he found himself splattered against the mat. That really didn't go as he expected. He landed so hard his back was numb for a second before the wide spread pain set in. "Motherfucker....."

That was all Charlie could do at the moment as he was still stunned from the reversal and heavy impact. At least this guy didn't know too many submissions right? It was at this point that Charlie really wished he'd done a bit more homework before this match started....

And down, down, down Charlie went.

Army was tempted to just pound Charlie into the mat, flatten him with a barrage of punches, but there wasn't any real need to. He could feel the energy going out of the guy, see the pain in his eyes, the slack in his body. He was done like dinner, no reason to overcook him. Army liked a good fight, but he wasn't going to push it that far.

"Just lay back and let it happen, man." He grabbed Charlie's leg and pulled him up, going for the pin. "Beer's on me after this."

"One!"

Charlie heard the referee count and still felt like he couldn't move for a week. He tried to wriggle his way free but Army had a good hold of him. "Shit shit shit...... this isn't good, I gotta get out of this. I can't let this meat head have hammered me like this." Charlie thought to himself. He had to save his energy for one big kick-out attempt, flailing weakly wouldn't get any kind of kickout on this guy.

"Two!"

Army could feel some life brewing down in Charlie's gut, still a bit left in the tank, and sure enough the guy had enough to break out before the three count. Army wasn't sure whether to clap with appreciation or grunt with annoyance, so he settled for just rolling his eyes. "Okay, Shaggy, we'll do it the hard way."

He stood up and grabbed Charlie by the head, lifting him along the way. Once they were all the way, he jerked to the side and tossed him into the corner, throwing him back first into the turnbuckle. A good place to do some more intensive, detailed work on the guy.

"Unghh damn.... these aren't gonna be Scooby Snacks are they?" Charlie grunted out as he was thrown into the corner. Great. He knew he was set up to be a glorified punching bag which would really put a damper on his day... and chances of walking out with a win.

Charlie did his best to look limp in the corner, and play dead. As soon as Army got within range he would hang onto the ropes and mule-kick him in the chest. Charlie had himself a little plan and this would be a nice way to buy some much needed breathing room.

Army was feeling pretty confident, something his father and sister were all getting on him about. But why the hell shouldn't he be? He had this guy in a corner, the one place you never, ever want to be against a boxer. Dead to rights, sealed and done. All Army had to do was go over there, batter Charlie to pieces, and knock out whatever life the guy had left. He was on his last legs already, a few good shots would be more than enough to get the pinfall. Or, hell, a knockout. He wasn't picky.

Unfortunately, Charlie wasn't quite as dusted off as he looked - he still had enough energy to kick out of the corner and smack Army in the chest, making him stagger to the side as he rubbed his winced at the pain. "Getting a little tired of the kicks, not gonna lie."

Charlie wasted no time after the kick connected. As soon as Army staggered Charlie jumped up to the top rope and squat down like a predator about to pounce on its prey. "Tired of kicks huh? He probably didn't see this coming then..." Charlie thought to himself.

Charlie jumped straight out at Army looking to bury his shoulder in the bigger man's chest with a flying spear from the top rope. He needed to get back into the match, so why not go big or go home?

Good Lord, where was this kid getting his energy from? Army had fought tougher guys, plenty of times, but they'd always been in his own weight class. Charlie was a middleweight at best, but he was surviving shots that would have floored guys three classes about him, easy.

Army was starting to run low on tricks, but he didn't have time to contemplate more - as soon as he turned around, he was greeted by an IFW - an Identified Flying Wrestler, heading straight for him. They crashed and Army went down, landing flat on his back with a mighty crash.