Abbey Abraxas Vs. Nathan Weed

Abbey grunted as Nathan's hard knuckles mashed into her forearm. She hissed and would have reached out to try and grab his arm if it wasn't for the second punch that he drilled into her side once more. Abbey continued to step backwards, feeling a little embarrassed that she was already turtling so early in the bout.

However, when it seemed like Nathan wasn't following, Abbey brought her hands down. One went to her side and she rubbed it. She looked at Nathan and grinned. "Ok, Nate. I gotcha. If I try and lock up, you're going to punch me. That's fine."

Abbey then began to bounce on her heels, her chest wobbling a bit as her eyes looked up and down. She pushed away from the ropes and began to get to the center of the ring before she pivoted and raced at Nathan. Coming in slow wasn't an option but there were ways to get a striker down. When she was close enough, she bent her knees and launched a dropkick at the scruffy striker's chest.

Nathan dropped all pretense of being a grappler now. He’d retreated back near the safety of ropes, and, while he didn’t bounce, his feet were light, ready to move at an instant’s notice. His arms were low around his body, positioned to counter rather than to defend. And, finally, he held his torso slightly turned and slightly forward; Abbey had the height, Nathan realized, but their reach was virtually identical. Every inch would count, here.

Then Abbey went and spoke. She changed her stance in accordance with her declaration, beginning to bounce and seemingly throwing off her grappling expertise, making Nathan blink. Abbey had experience with strikes, that much was clear, but they were certainly not her forte. If the match were going to be decided by trading blows, Nathan was going to come out on top. Fine by him.

Nathan moved away from the ropes to meet Abbey in the center of the ring, still a little surprised by her decision- cockiness? He tensed when Abbey made her move, launching off of her back foot and throwing herself at where he stood. That wasn’t going to work; Abbey was fast, but she wasn’t going to get a fist past him by being reckless. Nathan turned his body to face the rapidly nearing wrestler, shooting a punishing straight right at where her face was.

...Would’ve been. Nathan forgot about that crucial third dimension to wrestling; not locking up didn’t default to strikes. Not when there were aerial attacks to consider.

His fist whipped harmlessly by Abbey’s two steadily flying boots, which rammed neatly into his chest. The impact knocked his body backwards, and his head and lower body followed helplessly behind. He slammed into the mat, his mouth wide open and his arms clutched close to his chest, where it felt as though he’d been struck by a wrecking ball.

Abbey hit the canvas after her feet buried into Nathan's chest and sent him flying to the floor. That was always satisfying, but she knew that she couldn't really just sit there and watch him writhe.

Abbey scrambled as soon as she bounced, looking to capture Nathan's leg and wrap her own legs around it and put the boy into a knee bar submission with her butt nestled firmly against Nathan's hip and her calf pressed between his legs and both hands gripping Nathan's foot.

Nathan came into the fight with a plan. Hit and run, play it safe. Stay on your feet. Hang out near the ropes so you have an out if she happens to take you off those feet. Keep your hands to your chest so she can’t destroy your arms. It was his intention to be hyperalert to and suspicious of every move she made, never straying too close to the edge of the safe zone.

Well it turned out that even that wasn’t enough. Abbey, Nathan was learning, could do plenty of damage without targeting his arms at all. Just moments after his back hit the mat, Abbey was already scrambling all over him. Before he could wrap his mind around what was going on, her legs had scissored his own, and she was well on her way to extending his leg out and securing the knee bar.

“No!” Nathan sat up and yanked at Abbey’s closest knee toward him, trying to open up her legs, all while trying to bend his knee back to where it wasn’t in danger of being snapped backwards. They weren’t even a minute in; if he could pull his leg out, fine, he’d need to be even more careful than he already was. If not, well, at least the crowd got to see big bad Nathan humiliated in record time.

"Nnn..."

Abbey grunted at the quickness Nathan displayed in his desire to not have his knee shredded. Though, if that happened, it was probably his own fault for not submitting. Still, Abbey couldn't quite secure the good knee bar quick enough for her liking and let him try and slip away.

Still, that didn't mean she was just going to let him have his leg back just because she couldn't lock anything in. She clasped both of her hands on Nathan's ankle as he yanked and began to wrench it as hard as she could, transitioning to an impromptu ankle lock as her body slithered on the mat. She brought her legs around so she could get to her knees and help keep a hold on his ankle by putting her weight on it and pushing it into the canvas.

Her usual demeanor was gone. Her eyes held a feint gleam of pleasure to them, though not the sadistic kind, but she wore no smile and looked like she was concentrating fiercely on what she was trying to do to Nathan's ankle.

The pressure in his knee subsided, and Nathan gratefully started his scramble away from Abbey... only for the pressure to reappear lower down on his leg, effectively halting his escape. Nathan gasped as Abbey ground his foot into the mat. The pain wasn't so bad when he turned a certain way on his hip, but, once she had her knees under her, she had license to drop her full weight down into the hold, and even that tiny spot of relief was locked away from him. Eyes wide with not-quite-panic, Nathan shifted toward his trapped foot and snapped his free leg repeatedly into his captor's side. He wasn't expecting to accomplish much, at least as far as damage went. But if he could remove her grip on his ankle for just a moment, he could slip out, retreat to the ropes, then return to his feet- hopefully. He'd have to see about that ankle.

Abbey looked to slowly start turning Nathan's ankle once she pinned it to the canvas. She knew that any MMA fighter would be scolding her for how terrible the submission was, but she didn't care. She was doing the job she needed to. At least, until Nathan began kicking at her.

As the first kick hit her in the side, she grunted and curled yup her cheek, flashing Nathan an odd look. Her smile then returned and she backed away, standing straight up and lifting her hands up in the air. "Ok, ok! You can have your leg back, Nate. Wouldn't want you kicking me in the boob!" She teased. Nathan didn't seem like that kind of guy, which made teasing him even more delicious.

It didn't mean she was just going to let him get up and get back into a fighting stance though. She watched and waited for him to rise before she went back in with a straight kick to try and topple him back down.

Nathan grabbed the ropes and used them to pull himself to his feet. The ankle twinged; footwork was going to be messy for a bit, but he felt that he'd be back to normal given a minute or so.

The problem was finding that minute to recover; Abbey wasn't about to just back off. When Nathan finished his diagnostic, he looked up, just in time to see Abbey take a wide step toward him and push forward with a straight kick that buried itself deep in his gut.

Nathan stumbled and wheezed, but he kept his balance using the ropes. He was NOT about to let Abbey at his legs again. He pushed himself off of the ropes and brought his arms in nice and tight, fists coming up so that they terminated just below his cheekbones. Bring it on.

With the ropes there, Abbey had succeeded in kicking Nathan in the gut, but not really knocking him over. She didn't even kick him out of the ring. Doubling him over, she supposed, would just have to do. As Nathan covered his face, Abbey decided to try and reach out for one of his arms. Now would be a good time for an Irish whip, she thought.

Nathan’s guard served two purposes. One, if Abbey were to move to hit him again, the blow would glance off his forearms instead of into his body or face; obviously. Two, if her hands started turning grabby, he could ensure that his upper arms would be safe.

So, when Abbey reached out for his arms, Nathan pulled them in even tighter, and when Abbey yanked at his wrist, the arm refused to peel away; instead, Abbey got the whole body, forearms and elbows first, as Nathan translated Abbey’s pull into momentum for a quick standing blocking tackle.