Summer Splash 2020: River Styx Hardcore Title Open Challenge

The Friction audience had all been here before. River Styx was on her way to the ring for a promo, storming down to the ring with Abattoir close behind.


The two members of WAR had done this plenty of times for a variety of reasons. Sometimes they came out to piss off the crowd, sometimes they came out to call someone to the ring for the fight, sometimes they came out just to piss off management and get something they wanted. It had been a fairly common theme with the group in the years since they hit the scene, and it didn't seem subject to change anytime soon.

But today was different, for several reasons.

Firstly and most obvious, they were at the beach for Summer Splash. A bright, sunny day didn’t exactly work well with River Styx’s theme, but it was just something she’d have to work with today - wasn’t the first time she’d had to throw down in a weird environment. Came with the hardcore wrestling territory.

Second, while the group was called WAR, they were technically just ‘AR’ now. With Jessica Wright gone, their trio was down to two, making them less of a faction and more of an informal tag team. Rumors had abounded about what they would be doing next, if they were going to fill up the missing spot, but since Styx avoided social media - and society in general - like the plague, it was hard to get a read on what her thoughts were.

Third and final, River Styx had come to the ring before, but she’d never come as a champion.

She made her way to the ring with the Hardcore Championship slung on her shoulder, hauling it like her prized kill after a long hunt. In a way, that was exactly what it was. She’d been searching after this damn belt for years, had it snatched away from her time and time again. Styx was the best hardcore wrestler in this league, one of the few worth the title, and she’d known that all along. Now, finally, there was no denying it. As long as she had this gold, she was at the top of the heap, and after being snubbed for so long, there was no way she was going to miss this chance to rub it in everyone’s face.

With a microphone in hand, she slid into the ring alongside Abattoir, popped to her feet, and proceeded to just that.

”Guess what, you little fucks!” She held the gold high and paraded around the ring with it. ”I told you! I fucking told you!”

Hissing, booing, cursing, all of it came from the crowd in waves, a furnace of fiery hate the likes of which few could ever muster. It wasn’t surprising to Styx. The Friction audience had been holding her back since day one, hating on her because she wasn’t one of their little porn princesses, because she was a real fighter, born and bred. This belt did a better job of giving them all the middle finger than her own hand ever could.

”Years. Year after year after year, I’ve been walked over for this title. When I won that tournament for the shot at the title and Liberty dropped out? They should’ve just given it to me. What’d they do? They handed it to Brittany’s dumb ass. Then it went to fucking Adrian Kytes, who shouldn’t have even touched the thing. It was only ever worth a damn when Jessica-” Styx stopped herself for a second, realizing where she was going with this. It wasn’t the way she wanted, she knew that much, making her think of that match, what she had to lose in order to get this belt in her hands…

The moment passed, she shook her head and snapped out of it. ”All that shit, all of that, and guess what? I got the damn belt, anyway. It’s mine, you little fuckheads, and there’s no a single thing you can do about it.” She gave the title a good pat on its face, rubbing it, putting a nice shine on it. A few people in the crowd looked like they were ready to jump the barricade, but security stopped them cold. The irony there wasn’t lost on her.

”But I’ll tell you what - no one can pry this title out of my hands, but I’d love to see someone try. So how about we make that happen?”

Styx pointed towards the area she’d just come from and leaned over the ropes, shaking her belt in the air. ’It’s open season. Anyone in the back think they can take this out of my hands? Get your narrow asses out here, right now!”

Gauntlet thrown. Who’d pick it up?

WAR...one of the longest running heel factions in the entire federation. Their butal battles and heartless attitude had earned them a level of infamy few other groups could claim. Even just the idea of facing one of the three titans that made up the warmachine would terrify not only newblood, but serious veterans of the fighting circuit. At their height, they were truly the boogymen of the entire league.

But time has a way of changing things...all things. Now the whispers in the locker rooms and the audience were mixed. Some held onto the beliefs that the remaining members of WAR were just as strong now as they were back then and possibly even stronger! But there were those that believed that WAR’s time was soon coming to an end. Other Heel factions were beginning to emerge from the shadows, with member’s growing infamy of their own at an alarming rate. With WAR losing one of it’s most prolific members, the smell of blood was in the water. The top Heel faction...weak like a wounded animal, ready to be knocked off it’s throne of skulls! The only thing keeping it standing was the prestige of the belt in its possession, and what it meant when Styx took it.

Those aware of such a situation could only imagine the pressure Styx might be under. The worst of the worst eyes were all on her, just waiting for the slightest bit of weakness! The Wolves were licking their chops, Nurses wanting to eradicate them like a disease, while a darker entity wanted to experiment on their corpse. All they needed was an excuse to swoop down on WAR, to see it’s leader falter even once and have their victory assured!

Whether WAR knew it or not...this “Open Challenge” may be the end of the line.

--

“Abattoir? I haven’t seen her in awhile. I guess I thought she moved away or something. What’s it been? Seven or eight months?”

“I guess. Not like anyone actually missed her around here.”

“She got lucky, riding on Jessica and Styx’s coattails this long.”

“Did you guys hear the rumor that Jessica and Styx were a thing? Makes you think about that match a bit differently.”

The idle locker room gossip and chatter was nothing new. More white noise to throw onto the ever growing pile thanks to the television and it’s own annoying spouts of audio. It seemed no matter where she went, all Christie ever heard anyone do was talk. They talked about wanting to beat someone, they talked about gaining prestige in the ring, and they never stopped talking behind each other's backs.

Ever since she had been sent here, Christie couldn’t help but feel like she’d been seated next to a bunch of kids and told to play their little games. This federation preferred to use pretty little girls in skimpy outfits and no muscle mass to carry out the bulk of their matches. The fights, if they could even be classified as such, were akin to those a guy would find at a strip club with the fighters either fucking each other or close to it. Even looking around in the crowded locker room was a lesson in disappointment. Not one of these girls even registered as a threat, much less an equal. The fights Christie had to look back on herself Gave the federation little credit. One decent brawl with a former champ, and two absolute jokes of a match. What was even the point of being here?

The Grave Keeper couldn’t help but ponder that question every time she had to come into this place. The girls weren’t a challenge, she wasn’t here to make friends, and the goals her landlord gave her were vague at best. If it weren’t for the fact she was getting free room and board on top of getting paid for participating in this place, she’d have left this place behind her a long time ago.

Maybe I can get out of here if I burn this place to the ground...at least then everyone would want out as much as I do.

”I told you! I fucking told you!”

A sharp tone. One that was cutting enough to finally drag Christie’s crimson eyes over to the obnoxiously loud Television set. The screen showed off two women in the center of the ring. Nothing particularly new there.

”Years. Year after year after year, I’ve been walked over for this title.

The bigger one of the two was the one speaking, and to Christie’s surprise she didn’t look like the dime a dozen barbie dolls that infested this place and its roster like fleas on a stray. There was some actual meat on her bones...and a shaved head to top it off. Nothing to grab in a fight.

”All that shit, all of that, and guess what? I got the damn belt, anyway.

The taller of the two did indeed have a belt. Something Christie had only just noticed. The woman seemed proud of it, shining it as best she could and laying it across her shoulder for everyone to see. The crowd's disgust was evident, but what was clearer than that was the pride in this woman's voice.

All for a stupid toy.

”But I’ll tell you what - no one can pry this title out of my hands, but I’d love to see someone try. So how about we make that happen?”

A few murmurs and chuckles could be heard in the locker room. An open challenge with a belt on the line? The women disregarded it entirely. Who would fight that behemoth who was infamous for her brutality with an ally ringside? Nobody believed she was going to fight fair, not with the belt on the line. A few girls even talked about how embarrassing it will be when no one even shows up to her challenge.

As if that wouldn’t prove her point all the more.

So, while the girls snickered and began to chat with each other once again, Christie got up from her spot in the corner and began to walk towards the entryway. She placed her gloved hands deep inside her leather jacket after zipping it up just underneath her chest. Her wrestling attire was underneath it all, partially hidden with only the skulls being easily visible. Her devilish eyes glaring straight ahead as the white noise began to fade away….

--

There was no entrance music. No lights, no shows for the audience to get hyped for. This wasn’t a ‘Good vs Evil’ thing nor an attempt to upstage anyone. The only noise that filled the arena as Christie entered was the hateful hiss of the crowd and the last part of the bald woman’s challenge. Seeing her in person, in the ring and holding the belt...it felt wrong. The woman looked like any thug she might fight on the street, but nobody she knew gave a shit about something so transparent as a belt or an award. To most, it was about being the last one standing, and that was enough. Why so fixated on something like that?

A part of Christie couldn’t help but wonder why. Maybe Baldy was just a pretender. Someone who looked the part to make the barbies look more barbie or something but had just as little experience in the ring as them. Maybe even less. Looking at the company she kept. The masked woman reminded Christie of a child's toy. Something that would have an oversized weapon that glowed in the dark. Mask girl just screamed “Merchandising” to someone as cynical as her.

Either way, Christie would find out soon enough as she began to stroll towards the ring. Occasionally a fan would recognize her from previous matches, and unlike most combatants she wasn’t afraid to backhand anyone that decided to hurl obscenities at her too closely. She wasn’t shy about showing her genuine disdain for the audience members. Glaring at them, smacking the ones that got too close, throwing insults right back. It only took a few moments to get into the ring, but in that time, three audience members learned to watch their tongues.

Face to face...Christie could see the finer definition in Baldy’s arms. If it weren’t for the belt and the cartoon character standing next to her, she looked like she could actually handle herself. Maybe even last in a street level fight. An interesting change from the others Christie had seen, but that wasn’t saying much.

”I thought preening over jewelry was something only girls in middle school did...sad to see even the champs are deluded by such a false sense of grandeur.”

Christie’s eyes went from the masked woman to Baldy, well aware of the potential for a double team and silently preparing for such an attack.

The barbed tone of the sadistic succubus rolled off her tongue with such ease it was hard to believe this was her first time facing WAR. True, she didn’t know the rumors, or the deeds they had done. She didn’t even know their names. But Styx alone exuded an aura that had made security guards hesitate in the past when she got serious. Even laxed, she was no easy woman to approach.

”I guess not...can’t be too hot shit if you brought backup to an open challenge. Was I supposed to bring a partner, or am I going to get to fight you both tonight?”

When Styx issued the challenge, she really had no idea who would come out, though she had her hopes. She wouldn’t have minded fighting Manami again in a real match, but she knew the wolf bitch had her own problems to deal with tonight, so that was right out. There were a few fresh faces on the hardcore scene that she wouldn’t have had a problem going toe-to-toe with. Laila Nazari? That would’ve made for a good fight. She wouldn’t have complained about another bout with Rebecca Tomko, could be fun to to do that over again. She’d even heard rumors about this crazy blind chick, Persephone, that she’d heard some interesting things on. This was a big opportunity, and sure, a lot of people would be squeamish about starting shit with her...but Friction had a big roster. There was always some hungry fish in this pond, ready to nibble on the first piece of meat that came their way.

And there was always-

”It’s Christie.”

Styx turned at Abattoir’s words, looking over towards the ramp, and sure enough, that was who was coming their way. Out of all the new faces that had come into the AFW over the past year, the Grave Digger had been one to catch her attention right away, seeing her take on Liberty Vella and gain some notoriety. She and Jessica actually had a little argument over in her in bed, with Styx thinking about expanding the faction, seeing if she was up to snuff. Bare minimum, she pushed Jessica to give her a title shot, but it never panned out. Funny how life turned out.

The woman was confident, Styx would give her that much off the bat. She came into the ring, didn’t seem the least bit bothered that she had the numbers against her, talking mad shit the whole time. Hell, she probably would’ve fought them both if Styx had pushed for it.

That wasn’t the plan, though.

”No. Just you and me.” Styx handed the belt off to Abattoir, who promptly slung it over her shoulder like a deer carcass. The hint of a smirk crossed her lips as she stepped forward, meeting”She’ll watch. That’s it.” The referee made her way into the ring as Abattoir stepped out of it, taking care not to get too close as Styx came over and looked down at her soon-to-be foe. There wasn’t much need to look down, though, since she only had an inch or two on the woman. Well built. Solid. Definitely looked like she could take a hit. Hot, too, though Styx pushed those thoughts down for now.

She leaned forward, tapping their foreheads against each other. A small touch. ”Ready when you are.”

Christie was still relatively new to the AFW. The Grave Keeper didn’t keep up with the politics, the agendas, or the relationships between each and every individual there was in this place. Even if Christie had any interest in this federation or its people, which she really did not, with the sheer amount of combatants and eccentric staff they had on their roster, it would be a chore to do so. Every fight she had in this place was with a stranger. Nobody she ever seen or heard of before.

So when she entered the ring, and stared at the supposed Champion of the Hardcore devision...It was strange to see what looked to be familiarity in her eyes.

Was Baldy here somebody Christie knew? The Grave Keeper got the chance to take a closer look as Styx casually tossed the hardcore belt to her masked subordinate and marched right up to the challenger.

“Shame...if I have to take a toy from one of you, I would have preferred the mask over a belt.” Christie muttered, as the referee made some distance between herself and the remaining WAR faction.

The ring gently shook with every step from the Champion's heavy boots, tension between the two fighters building as Styx seemed to take the initiative and cut away distance they had with one another. Without any hesitation or respect for personal space, Styx pressed her forehead down onto Christie’s. The Champion’s prideful glare boring into the Grave Keeper’s hellish red eyes, a silent test of her opponents will as the entire audience watched on with anticipation.

Even this close, Christie still couldn’t recognize her. Though, the Grave Keeper pushed any concern about that out of the way as she pushed her own head back against the taller woman. There was just a bit of give, but Styx quickly corrected the pressure until it seemed the two were at a stalemate of sorts. The Champion’s dominating gaze met only a defiant glare, Christie’s own smile growing a bit larger as they already seemed to be testing one another.

What took Christie slightly by surprise was the offer Baldy had made. Ready when she was? Most of the skanks around here had to wait for a bell to chime before they fought, like trained dogs waiting to jump at their master’s will. Whether this was some form of intimidation or just some smack talk, Christie decided to take it literally.

Without waiting for a bell, the referee, or even for the two of them to be seperated, Christie’s knee swung forward quickly and forcefully. The target was an age old one. The spot right in between the legs. Maximum damage with minimum effort in a fight was often the best way to go.

Sure, the audience may jeer and boo as the challenger started off with a low blow, but they weren’t in the ring. Christie wanted to make a point about the talent around the federation, about how it stunk and writhed in amatures masked as professionals. Christie had been fighting practically her entire life, and seeing the porn stars that filled the locker rooms be labeled as fighters made her already short fuse even shorter. If the woman she was facing really was the best of the “hardcore” division, then beating her would be a nice and easy Fuck you! to the management and the heads of this federation.

If Baldy wanted to play rough girl, then she should be able to handle rough fights.

Styx decided that she liked Christie. She came to this conclusion after the bitch kneed her in the cunt, which was probably the first time in history that had made any like their attacker more.

It wasn’t the only thing to like about the woman. There were the muscles, the hair, the way she carried herself. While she normally wouldn’t have been into the bikini, it was rare to see this kind of outfit on this kind of body, so she wasn’t complaining. Styx liked that her future foe pushed back against her forehead, locking horns with her before the bell even started. Aggressive this one. Eager to prove something or eager to make a name for herself or just eager to get into a fight with someone who could keep the pace. Before the bell even rang, she knew she was in for a good fight.

But that was her mistake. Christie reminded her of something that she’d somehow forgotten after spending too long at the sidelines: the bell doesn’t mean shit in a real hardcore match.

As such, the knee in her cunt caught her by the surprise, slicing between her legs. It had some real force to it, didn’t just hurt because of the kneepads. The woman had some real power behind her, enough to ensure there’d be a bruise there for a few days. Not a problem, she could use the reminder, and the pain was excellent fuel.

Styx staggered back, gritting her teeth, hissing...and grinning. A wicked, twisted grin forming over her face, right before she surged forward and closed the gap in a single, powerful stride. She swung her arm out in a wide arc, looking to return fire with a lariat aimed straight at her opponent’s face.

For someone who was the champion of the hardcore division, Styx seemed a bit surprised by the underhanded attack that came before the bell. Perhaps she had grown complacent through the years of fighting sub-par competition, or maybe whatever edge she might have once had was dulled by time itself. Either way, Christie didn’t hold back. Her knee found its target and managed to land a direct hit, a bolt of surprise cutting it’s way through Baldy’s eyes before she retreated. Like a wounded animal, she was cursing, hissing even! The view was excellent for the Grave Keeper. Seeing the Federation’s most brutal champion already retreating in her own open challenge was an excellent opener for the statement she was sending to this entire federation!

No matter how strong you were, she was stronger.

The Grave Keeper let Styx fall back, every step a victory. Still, that didn’t mean Christie was growing cocky. Her knee to the clit was clearly effective, but she could feel that the Champ had some weight to her in that blow. The wind might be knocked out of her sails, but Styx wasn’t even close to being down. If anything, all that stunt would accomplish would be pissing the champion off, since Christie didn’t pursue her offense further. The Sadistic succubus could already see the lunkhead in front of her devolving into a short fused punk that thought all she needed to win was some biceps and a nasty attitude. A simple game of wearing her down before finishing her off like an executioner's blade. Merciless and effective.

But, rather than the avalanche of threats or curses she expected, Styx would usurp Christie’s expectations. After the Champion retreated a few steps, she stopped dead in her tracks. Almost like a tank that hit the brakes. The hissing sound that escaped through clenched teeth was no more, instead replaced with a wide, sinister looking grin!

Well now...that's not supposed to happen.

Christie barely had time to finish that thought before her opponent came charging at her like an enraged bull, her arm cocked back like a loaded cannon ready to fire! The ring shook even harder than it did before as Styx’s rushed footfalls were like heavy artillery beating the canvas! Any lesser fighter would surely lose their wits were such a violent train of unbridled aggression chasing after them! But the Grave Keeper was a violent, heartless brawler herself. Perhaps she just hid it a bit better.

With the look of a demon, Christie’s expression contorted into one that rivaled Styx’s own! A crooked smile that looked as though it didn’t belong on her beautiful features made its way onto Christie’s face as she quickly ducked down underneath her opponent’s powerful arm! For all the rumbling Styx’s feet made and the terrifying visage she produced, she wasn’t very fast. At least, not compared to the snake-eyed woman she was facing off against.

Like a matador torturing a bull, Christie returned Styx’s charge with a sharp blow of her own! The Grave Keeper threw a nasty kick aimed at the center of the Champion’s lower back as she passed by, continuing to put pressure on Styx while maintaining a bit of distance. It was nice that Styx didn’t go down after the crotch shot, and an even welcomed surprise that she could push on and still fight with such vigor while still keeping her wits about her. Though Liberty was still at the top of her list, Christie could see the champ was already climbing up the ladder of the opponents she had beaten...perhaps the current champ will be just as fun, if not moreso, to throttle!

From the sidelines, Abattoir watched all of this unfold with the belt on her shoulder. She scarcely noticed it, save for the weight on her shoulder, making her need to readjust it every now and then to keep it from falling off. The belt was just an annoyance, as far as she was concerned - Styx had been fixated on it for years, had formed WAR pretty much to get her hands on the gold, but it was always a satellite concern. It kept Styx motivated. Kept her sharp. It was the carrot that the woman was always chasing after...and now she had it. Abattoir had been wondering if the loss of Jessica and obtaining the object of her desires would result in Styx losing her edge, getting her claws filed down, and now she had her answer - the woman still had some fire in her. How much still remained to be seen, but it seemed like Christie would do a passable job of drawing it out.

Styx would agree, too. There was a heat building up inside, one that she was feeling more and more as time went on, and it was only getting better with each passing moment. There was some surprise on Christie’s face as she came roaring back from the cunt punt. Did the bitch really think it was that easy? One shot and she’d go down? Had her stock gone so low in the AFW that people expected that kind of response from her?

A sobering thought, but one she could work on. Starting...now.

She swung out hard with a decapitating blow, one that would’ve leveled her foe in a heartbeat if it hit. To Christie’s credit, she was smart enough to not take it head-on, ducking out of the way just in time to avoid the hard hit. Probably the smart move - while the woman looked tough, she was the smaller one between them. Didn’t make it any less annoying, though.

”Fucking-” Styx was interrupting by a sharp kick to the spine, right on the dot. It wasn’t enough to make her cry out - she wasn’t anywhere near that point just yet - but it did suck, making her wince. If it was a preview of things to come, this might end up being one of those matches, the kind where she spent a lot of time trying to catch her opponent and lower the boom. Styx wasn’t a big fan of that shit, but she knew the routine and what it required - pressure. Lots of pressure.

Hardly losing a step, she spun around and moved in on Christie again, this time coming with wide open arms in an attempt to grab her and force her back to the corner. If she could just get this woman in one place, where she couldn’t run or hide…

Big and stupid...that's all Baldy was.

A woman who likely prided herself on being the biggest, toughest bitch around in a federation filled to the brim with smaller women with nowhere near the muscle tone. A big walking hunk of flesh that thought because she was bigger and could take a few hits then it meant she was top dog. Just looking at her was enough to irritate Christie and eat away at her short fuse. Even the names she heard from the crowd, Styx and War, were gross nicknames that only sounded like they came from the mind of an overinflated egotistical brat. She couldn’t tell which name belonged to Baldy, but judging by half the crowd jeering the name Styx, chances were that one was hers.

It didn’t really matter what her name was. She was only so different from the others Christie had fought before. Just a bigger target with a few more muscles, but no brain to use them.

Right after Christie ducked under the battering ram of an arm, it wasn’t hard to hit such a broad target. Although, it would have been false to say that Christie didn’t derive some satisfaction in hitting Styx’s spine dead on! The Grave Keeper could have sworn she heard a slight crack in the woman’s back. But before she could enjoy even that sensation, Styx made another heavy brake in her charge. Another foot slammed into the canvas and shook the ring before she turned herself around again, charging like the brainless brute Christie had written her off as.

For a ”champion”, Styx must not have been too much of a thinker. It made Christie wonder if this was going to be one of those types of fights. Where the bitch only ever tries to throw her weight around by charging, grabbing, and throwing. Those types never seemed to think for themselves, always reacting rather than planning ahead. Even now, the bulky woman was charging Christie yet again, arms outstretched so she might catch Christie if she tried to slip past again. It was a practiced response...one likely born from fighting in this damn arena.

Does she really think of me like that? I’m just another skank from the back whose only tactic is using guerilla warfare?This Was their champion?

Christie couldn’t help but reflect on it all...the world going in slow motion as Styx approached yet again. Her rabid expression drawing closer every passing second, her arms ready to grasp and tear whatever they could get ahold of. Looking at the way her arms were, there was no way for Christie to get through…

Not that she wanted to.

Rather than retreat, or try and juke to the side, Christie actually stepped [b]into[/i] the line of Styx’s charge! The Grave Keeper now in the very center of the behemoth’s path! The move seemed like suicide to the audience, whom viewed Styx as a living warmachine and Christie as a soon-to-be out of luck rookie! It very well might have been...but Christie wouldn’t pass up a prime target.

Stepping in right as Styx closed in on her, Christie would swing a fist off from the side! Putting her entire body into the hook, the grave Keeper seemed to be trying to use her own strength and Styx’s momentum against her as the ball of steel made of flesh and bones came hurtling towards the charging woman’s exposed face. Specifically, the fairly vulnerable pierced nose dead center of it.

Styx had dropped her defense trying to catch a speedy foe...and should she withstand the strike, she would find her opponent well within her reach. It seemed Christie was not afraid of gambling with her well being in a fight!

River Styx was willing to concede that, maybe, she was getting a little sloppy after having spent so long at the ringside. After Jessica won the belt, she still got into matches, but nowhere the same frequency as before, not at the same intense levels when she’d been chasing the belt. That could only make her rusty, slower, and that was one of the reasons she intended to grasp this belt for as long as she could, knowing it would draw the cream of the crop her way and helped her regain some sharpness.

Well, wish granted. She’d laid out the honey, and here was the fly.

Her slow advance would’ve been enough for a lot of opponents, forcing them to backtrack or roll out of the ring to avoid her. That was the sensible thing to do in this situation, but it seemed like Christie hadn’t received that memo, or just thrown it in the trash - Styx was more than a little surprised when the woman not only didn’t backpedaled, but moved in to meet her head on, closing the gap as she advanced.

For her troubles, Styx wound up eating a hook in the face. Not a baby one, either. The Gravekeeper might’ve been the smaller woman between them, but she was still capable of getting some decent force behind her blows, and she put that on display as her strike swung out, nailing her on the nose. Precise. Powerful. Vicious. It hit its mark and knocked Styx’s head to the side in an instant. In that brief pause, she couldn’t be sure whether or not anything had been broken, but given the impact, it was a safe bet that she’d be smelling blood soon enough.

That was what she hoped, at least. A little motivation would do her well, here, given the poor start.

She needed to retaliate. Immediately. But it was clear that swinging her arms around was going to get her too far, at least not until she had a way to catch this woman. So how about a little trickery, then? She started to move her body around as she recoiled from the blow, looking like she was going to swing her arm wide, but instead raised her leg up and lashed out with that. Styx wasn’t the most graceful kicker - in fact, this was probably the most agile move she’d ever attempted with her legs - but she could wheel them around far and get some decent power behind them. Here, she was banking on it being enough to send her foe flying.