Summer Splash 2020: River Styx Hardcore Title Open Challenge

Okay, so getting back at Styx with a headbutt this late in the fight was a bad idea.

Christie’s skull cracked hard against her opponents forehead! Scoring a direct hit and actually managing to topple the hardcore champ for the first time in the match! It was a massive victory, but it was one that Christie didn’t have the time nor energy to actually celebrate. The second Styx and her hit the ground, the cut in her leg felt like someone had just slapped it with a block of salt! Her injury flared up, making her gasp in pain and distracting the Grave Keeper from realizing the position she was in. The sharp blow to the head managed to daze her just a little, and after shifting around to look at her leg, Christie had begun to realize that she was still on top of Styx. The snake eyes of Styx’s opponent wandered around to lock onto her dazed expression, with an annoyed sneer being the first thing that would greet the champion. The bitch was still kicking, officially earning the title of most annoying opponent in Christie’s mind. The Grave Keeper was in a bad spot, but with her leg in the condition it was, she would have to crawl away if she wanted to escape.

And that wasn’t going to happen. Christie would rather try and walk on the damn useless limb then crawl away like a beaten welp! The adrenaline in her blood was fading, and the pain all over her body was growing more intense with every passing moment. Having Styx in this condition, and in this position could be bad...but it might just be her last chance to at least fuck the Hardcore Champ over!

Styx was starting to sit up, giving Christie only about a second or so before she was on her! In one last cruel act of defiance, Christie reached over towards Styx’s side and began grasping for the long handle of her shovel! As soon as her fingers wrapped around it’s smooth body, she quickly pulled it towards her! Those crimson eyes of Christie’s were quick to flick towards Styx’s scowling face! Even with blood running down her bruised leg, even with the dull ache of her bak and the bruises that covered her body, Christie had one final cruel ace up her sleeve to make Styx’s night just a little worse!

Just as the champ was sitting up, Christie would attempt to shove her down, using the shovel as a barrier between them just like she had done before. Only this time, rather than keep it as a simple barrier, the Grave Keeper seemed to live up to her name, and position the shovel’s body towards Styx’s throat! The woman was going to try and suffocate the champ! Her damaged leg made her wince and growl as it moved to straddle Styx’s waist to aid in Christie’s balance! Even if she succeeded, she would have to deal with a bucking bronco of a woman beneath her.

But that was fine. All Christie wanted to do was show Styx that she still hadn’t won yet. Christie was still fighting, and at that moment it was Styx that was underneath her.

God, how many headbutts had Styx taken in her life? It had to be a thousand, easy. It was rare for her hardcore matches to not have at least one, and they were a constant thing in her street fights. Something about her bald head just attracted other skulls to it like a goddamn magnet, and you would think, after all this time, she might have developed some kind of low immunity to that sort of blunt force trauma, or at least learned how to deal with it. Some kind immunity.

Nope. Still sucked. Totally.

It left her dazed and stupefied, but not so much that she didn’t realize her position. Christie was on top, but that didn’t mean she was at an advantage. Styx had the power push her off, and once she got on her feet, this match was hers to take. With that bad leg, Christie was dead in the water, and if what happened next was any indication, the Gravedigger knew it.

In a flurry of motion, the woman was all over her, putting that shovel she loved so much to good use and pushing it against her neck, using the leverage to her advantage. With gravity on her side, she pushed down hard, crushing Styx’s neck. Harder, harder, harder...trying to choke her out.

Trying.

She was doing a good job of it, to her credit, but Styx wasn’t going to sit around and let that happen. Instead of thrashing about like a livewire, she ceased moving. Tensed her body. Waiting. Pooled her energy. Closed her eyes.

Styx made herself like a tightened coil, and after a moment of concentration, she focused and let it all go at once - one, single, hard push with all of her power, trying to throw her foe off in a single damning burst.

At this point, Christie’s body was tired. The wound on her leg was beginning to fester and bleed even more than before. An instant acute pain like thin needles jabbed at the outer edges of the wound, a stream of scarlet liquid slowly starting to soak her opponents waistband as Christie continued to try and bury her shovel into Styx’s windpipe. The entire interaction was primal, possessing more in common with two animals trying to kill one another then two people fighting. Much as she hated to admit it, Christie had thrown away any pretense of strategy or planning after suffering serious damage to her leg. Styx had hurt her. In a way no opponent had prior, Styx had managed to create a nasty shredded scar that wouldn’t leave for the rest of her days. The fact that Christie was going to have this bald bitch’s face stuck in her head was one of the driving forces that were keeping her going with this fight!

Her arms continued to press the shovel down further and further. Styx’s was strong and would easily overpower the weakened Sadist if they were on equal footing. But with Gravity and leverage on her side, Christie had a bit more of a chance at actually suffocating the champ. She ignored the wounds and bruises all over her body just to try and keep Styx on the floor, but those earlier blows were already ebbing at her energy. With her adrenaline gone, her fatigued body was practically running on fumes, pushed only by Christie’s boiling blood as she forced her muscles to push the Shovel’s grip further down on Styx. The Champion’s defense was valiant, and for a while it seemed that two might have been evenly matched.

But what was strange was how Styx seemed to be taking it all in stride. She could probably alleviate herself some misery if she at least tried to buck the malevolent marauder off, but she remained unnaturally calm. Even as that shovel began to compress her neck just slightly, the bald bitch just closed her eyes, like she was trying to concentrate and shut everything else out. It was immature, but that really pissed the Grave Keeper off! The way she saw it, Styx was trying to ignore the situation she was in. Trying to ignore Christie’s attempts and avoid looking at her face. Christie had been here the whole time, and the Champ wanted to shut it all out now? At the end?

How annoying.

Since the champion wasn’t bucking around, and decided to try and check out from the world the Grave Keeper decided to advance her position. While continuing to press down on the shovel, Christie would pull her good leg up, swiftly scooching herself up so that her knee pressed down on one side of the shovel while her hands focused on the other. She was essentially adding her body weight to Styx’s delayed execution, the Bald Bitch’s arms already starting to shake a bit. But she still kept her eyes closed, earning an annoyed glare from Christie’s snake eyes.

Her nasty glare didn’t last long. Just as Christie thought Styx’s arms were about to give out, she found out what the Champion had actually been doing. Styx suddenly pushed with what felt like triple her previous strength, tossing the Sadistic Specter off of her throat on back onto the concrete floor with a rather unpleasant impact! Christie still felt the dull throb of the barricade smashing from earlier, and this toss didn’t do her any favors.

Christie hit the floor before her weapon did. She only knew because the twisted sound of metal smacking against concrete happened after the blitzing pain shot up her bruised back and torn up leg. By the sound it made, the fucking thing had been tossed quite a ways away. Well out of her reach. But Christie wasn’t even sure she could hold it if it was right next to her anyways.

The Grave Keeper’s arms felt sore and heavy after using everything she could to try and choke out Baldy, only to be roughly shoved back despite their protest. Did she tear a muscle in them? It hurt like a bitch, but she never tore one before so how could she know? It didn’t hurt any more then before when she tried moving her fingers, so that was probably a good sign.

But the fight wasn’t over yet. Christie clicked her tongue to herself, irritated by how things had turned out. This place was filled to the brim with bimbos, morons, and perverts. Figures she ran into someone who was the unfortunate combination of clever and too dumb to quit! She had taken the fight too lightly and now she was bleeding all over herself and her back was screaming bloody murder.

But she wasn’t going to just lose on her back. Despite the fatigue and despite the pain, the Grave keeper began to sit back up, wincing a bit as she adjusted her leg to a more comfortable position as she climbed into a seated position. Styx would probably have the luxury of standing. Something Christie couldn’t yet reciprocate without some bandages. Didn’t mean she wouldn’t try.

The glare that Styx received was as full of malicious intent and cruelty as before, but now it had something else in them. There was clear hatred, though that was likely more for the situation Christie found herself in...but beneath it all was something the Grave Keeper would never admit to…

Beneath that fog of anger and resentment...was actually some respect.

And here they were.

Styx couldn’t recall the last time she’d been this pushed in a match, the last time she’d been tested like this. Had she ever? The only thing that came to mind was Jessica, and that was a special case. Everyone else struck her as unworthy and undeserving. The AFW was littered with opponents like that, those only out for a good fuck or a quick shot at fame. It was the chief reason the hardcore division never seemd to catch on. Nobody had the stomach for it, the fire, and the masses never pushed for anything but the tepid sex shows and cheap porn they craved. They lacked the stomach, the passion, the energy for real violence, and were in dire need of someone to correct them.

Who would have that honor? She wanted it to be her. But after all these years of grinding in the AFW, after taking the belt that she so rightfully deserved, it still didn't feel like she was there. Not yet. She needed something else, something to fill the gap that Jessica had left in WAR, something to push them back on the path and put the AFW on notice, but she didn’t know what that key ingredient was.

That was, not before this moment. Not until now, when she couldn’t shake the distinct feeling that was what she was staring at, right here.

After she flung her opponent away, Styx was expecting to see a battered woman across from her, wrecked from all they’d went through. The Grave Digger was in good shape, sure, but she was the smaller woman between them, and a body like that could only take so much damage. She had to be running on empty. Done.

And she was, in a way. She wasn’t getting up, wasn’t making a move for that shovel. Styx would’ve stomped her flat if she tried, but there was no need. It was too far away, and she didn’t seem to have the energy to hunt it down. It was clear that, while they were both a wreck, Styx was still a functional wreck, while Christie was on flat tires.

But you wouldn’t have known that from the look on her face. Defiance, pure and blistering, an inferno behind her eyes. There was determination there, and Styx knew for certain that, if she could get back up, she would continue this fight until everything just gave out.

She could respect that. Like it. It was the kind of thing she wanted to see so much more of. But that alone wouldn’t stop her from snuffing that fire out, if only for a little while.

Without a word and only a nod. Styx planted her feet, she rushed forward, swung her leg out and gave Christie a punting kick, right in the face. Quick, clean, effective.

It absolutely sucked sitting there...waiting.

With the shovel knocked away, and her leg practically torn to shreds, the Grave Keeper was stuck stewing in a small pool of blood. The barbed wire had torn some decent cuts into her limb, but it wasn’t deep enough to cause serious blood loss. A small comfort, considering her focus was on the gargantuan opponent in front of her. Both of them shared a glare with each other, Christie clenching her hands into fists so tightly her knuckles were turning white. Both of them knew that if Christie’s leg was even  a little better, the Grave keeper would have pushed on and continued the brawl. Despite the slams, the kicks, and the blunt force trauma, Christie still looked as though she wanted nothing more than to smack Styx’s head clean off her shoulders.

But despite knowing all of that, Christie kept her mouth shut. Styx was the last one standing in this fight and that was all that mattered to the Grave Keeper. Maybe the champ actually understood that, because she gave a nod in Christie’s direction. The Grave Keeper’s eyes narrowed, but she held her tongue still. It was about time this fight drew to a close.

Slipping her good leg beneath her, Christie propped herself up some more while Styx planted her feet. With a silent signal, Styx rushed forward, and Christie threw her last punch with the goal of going down swinging. Her hook was aimed for Styx’s bad leg, but she didn’t know if her attack ever landed it’s mark as an incredible force erupted just beneath her jaw. Her head flew backwards, her body suddenly relaxing as darkness began to eat away at her vision.

As the last few embers of light began to fade away from her vision, Christie couldn’t help but admire the brand of boot Styx was wearing. A silly thing to catch, but something she would remember even more so than the scars on her leg.

Timberlands, for the record. Styx always liked the support they gave her feet, worked well with her arches, and their composite toes gave her the advantage of a steel toe without setting off metal detectors. She doubted those details would register in Christie’s mind, however, because in the next moment, her opponent would be knocked right the fuck out. She took it well, facing up to the oncoming kick and surviving until the last second, but none of that would change Styx’s trajectory. She was ending this.

It wasn’t without some payment on her side, either. The damage that Christie had done to her leg over the course of the match made every step she took hurt, left her in blazing agony, and it only got worse when she took that last ditch punch to the leg. It was so bad that, right after the impact, she had to fall down, collapsing beside her opponent, hissing and groaning up a storm as she cradled her aching limb. In any other situation, it would’ve left her too open to fight back, too winded to do much of anything worthwhile.

So it was a good thing, a very good thing, that Christie was out of it, and an annoying reminder of how close this had been. Change things here and there, a missed opportunity, a blow taken instead of avoided, anything like that…

It wasn’t worth dwelling on, and while it gave Styx ideas, she could dwell on them later. There was just one priority on her mind right now - winning.

She threw her body over Christie’s chest, laying down right on her with a sloppy pin, the best she could do right now. The referee dropped down beside them and started up the count right away. ”1…!”

The kick that pounded Christie’s chin sent her form crashing down onto her back. The crowd was silent. Hushed not only due to the sudden and brutal way the newcomer had been dispatched, but also because of Styx collapsing right after finishing the deed. The Hardcore champion was clutching her leg, holding it in what looked to be excruciating agony. Few had seen the farewell blow Christie had managed to deliver before being knocked unconscious, but even those that did seemed surprised that a behemoth like Styx could even feel that much pain. It would have been one thing if Styx just fell and held her leg...but she did so for a few minutes solid. What few fans of WAR there was in the audience seemed to grow a bit concerned for the faction’s leader. Had the injury been serious?

Thankfully, Styx had begun to move again. She quickly threw herself onto Christie’s chest, growling at the referee to hurry up and start the count. They almost tried to say no, something about pins only being official in the ring, but one look from the Hardcore Champ was all it took to make an exception. The referee climbed out of the ring, and quickly began to count!

“1…!”

“2..!”

Even unconscious, Christie was stewing beneath Styx. The Grave Keeper’s arms were barely moving, trying to escape Styx’s weight as her chest continued to rise and fall in short, fatigued breaths. Of course, in her current state Christie likely didn’t even earn a glance from the powerhouse on top of her.

“3…!”

Finally, the open challenge had concluded. Styx, leader of WAR, maintained her title as the champion. The referee would try to raise her arm into the air, but knew pretty well not to get too close to Styx when she wanted space. Normally, they would have presented her with the belt as well, but again, this referee had been around for awhile and knew better then to approach Abattoir.

Paramedics would enter down the ramp. Both fighters had managed to draw quite a bit of blood from each other, and while Styx soaked in the win, they began to help Christie up and carefully walk her to the back. The Grave Keeper must have woken up halfway up the ramp, because she suddenly socked one of the medical team members in the nose and pushed the other one away, content with walking herself into the backstage area. Her teeth were clamped tightly together, eyes fuming at her loss as the Grave Keeper disappeared around the corner, two medical staff chasing after her...