Welcome to Gaia! ::

It was pretty hard to guess what Thompson and the rest of the crowd was expecting. As for Blair, she was pretty sure about what was going to end up happening. That was cheating, though. She was the one pulling all the strings, after all! And, as the music signaled that the show was ready to arrive, she was ready, too. The initial electronic trill was accompanied by the monster-esque growl of her ride, decked-out Ducati lurching to life just as the lights out on stage flickered out. Now, darkness reigned supreme in the stadium. That is, until a tron-tribute bike came screeching out onto the top of the ramp.

Glowing decal lined the outer shell of the now purring Ducati, and matched in-full with the form hugging, ultraviolet lines that were stitched into the curves of her biker suit. Unfortunately for the crowd, the rev and romp of her bike as the throttle and brake were nursed quickly sent her into a calculated spin, Blair and her bike now lost in a full donut that scraped the ramp floor and left a light trail in its tracks.

By now the music was in full swing, chorus shouting through the drum'n'base, whereas Blair was poised enough to have her bike landing a 360 in recurringly quicker intervals. Until, of course, the savvy biker bit-- er, "witch", stunted her glide just in time to have her and her Ducati slide down the ramp, Blair riding side-saddle in an attempt to help slow the skid of her bike down toward the ring just in time for the lights to start going up again.

By now she was digging her heels firm into the ramp and lovingly meshing back into her bike with a thuggish lean. Though hidden underneath the black sheen of her helmet, she was all smiles. If she'd really timed this right, she'd be making her stop in 3, 2, 1...

And, as her Ducati stalled to a halt she slinked away from the scene of the "crash" with the grace of a feline, the ramp her catwalk now while she mowed down the last few steps to the ring and climbed on up to the ropes, clinging the first, hiking her way up the the second, and bringing herself up to the top rope before flinging herself over and onto the mat, folding into a crouch as her heels clanked the floor and ensued a sudden cut-off of her theme music via a loud, abrupt drum beat.

It was now that she'd roll herself back up into a standing position, taking a step back before she confidently dipped backwards and cradled herself against the ropes, knocking Thomson a smug little wave that spoke bigger volumes to just how wide she was grinning right about now than if he could see it plain as day on her face.

"Evenin'," a feminine voice drawled, Blair's pre-recorded voice rocking the speakers in a slow-tempoed sort of speak. "Blair's here, all the way from Carolina, an she's pretty stoked about makin' her debut in the arena. Too bad it'll be ah brawl between ah 225 pound sucker and ah 150 pound wild cat. Saddest part? I'm doubtin' Thompson's gonna make it outta the ring without gettin' his a** handed to him by a 5'5'' lil' lady.~ Ain't that right?!"

With that, Blair was off the ropes, arms raised in both a challenging and questioning sort of pose, with the nose of her helmet centered on the man who'd been patiently waiting for her in the ring tonight. From there she relaxed her arms and gave her signature strut, meeting ol' Thompson head-on and making a spectacle of how truly different they were in size, which seemed to garner some laughs from the crowd as she struck a sweet pose and gave her mat buddy another little wave.

The leather-clad "toots" happened to be feeling pretty generous tonight, so instead of getting fussy with her friend Sexist Thom, she instead played around with him a little before the bell rang. Immediately after he'd stripped off his shirt she was fanning herself and slouching like some swooning schoolgirl, her gestures over-the-top so as to be obvious enough for Thompson to notice her mocking him. Lucky enough, the resounding ding of the match bell came just in time for Blair to stretch out an arm and beckon him with a curl of the finger, goading him on like she couldn't take this wannabe Hulk seriously.

Now she was playing coy with him, apparently too timid to jump into things without primping a bit. She was a classy girl, after all. No use in being on camera and having helmet hair! So, before humoring Thompson's little bondage kink, Blair would unhook the latch of her helmet and deftly slide it off her, a bundle of dark brown hair falling over her shoulders in a mess of curls. Finally, the masked Ducati tamer was revealed, and DAMN, was she a looker!

Automatically Thompson won himself a short, sweet little wink from the green-eyed vixen, and without further stalling she'd take him up on his tie-up offer.

But, what sucked for him was that she hadn't intended to drop her accessories before she came at him. That fact being known, if and when he met her in the tie-up, she'd have her left hand digging into his side while the right was free to dump her headgear on him, helmet being snugly fit onto Thompson's head... backwards. That would be the downside to getting distracted by a pretty face, and now poor Thompson couldn't even hear Blair while she laughed and vengefully scraped her nails down his ribs, taking this blind opportunity to weasel her way out of the embrace and duck over to his left side.

By then he'd likely feel a bit of a jolt as her hip knocked into his thigh, the rather forceful shove deliberately attempting to knock him off his balance while he was handicapped.

Even if she was pretty spry on her feet, getting completely clear of Thompson now that he was drunkenly stumbling around was pretty unlikely. Can't jump over him, can't go through him - Blair would have to go under him! Thus, instead of expending energy trying to dodge Mr. Blundering Bull, she just flat-out dropped herself to the mat once Thompson was headed in her direction. Catching herself with her hands, Blair would be the one falling on her a**, legs outstretched to snag Thompson's feet and send him down to the ground like the beanstalk giant. If successful, she'd get him with his face planted into the mat. Thankfully, he was wearing a helmet!

While Thompson worked in vain to get Blair's helmet off and jump back into this fight, his opponent wasn't at all taking her sweet time. Like a jaguar already primed and ready for the kill, she fluidly crawled her way on top of the poor wrestler. If he still had some wits about him, he'd take heed to the fact that, while he struggled, she'd have one of his ankles clamped between her leather-clad thighs, upper body sprawled across his back as she reached her way up to lock him in a grip that would leave one of her hands grappling underneath his chin, nails biting at a nerve above the throat that acted as a prime pressure point to use, whereas the other arm hooked around his throat and gave her the leverage she needed to yank his head backwards.

Now stretching his neck, back, and knee in tandem with stunting his air supply with her submission-esque pressure point death grip, he was ready to be finished. That helmet already restricted his breathing, his bloody nose left him at a further disadvantage, and when paired with her modified STF, the match was mere moments away from being called.

Blair's overconfident laughter only rubbed more salt into the wound at this point. A 150 lb. girl now had this hulk-man struggling for dear life to reach the ropes and gain some mercy, yet he'd get none. Because he decided to crawl instead of use his superior strength to simply shirk off her arm's grip, her pressure point abuse would now be taking its toll on his body. With him struggling and forcing his heavy frame to inch to the edge of the ring as quick as he was able, he was expending more oxygen. The bloody nose, the stuffy helmet, the overexertion, and the pinch she had on his nerve all conspired to asphyxiate him, whereas she loosened the stretch of his neck and instead slicked 'round to maneuver his arm into a hammerlock, her free set of nails chomping at his wrist and hooking him into place so that he now only had one arm and one free leg to sluggishly crawl with.

It was an inevitability - he was going to get dizzy soon, and the stadium was going to start spinning. His vision would blur, his hearing would get fuzzy, and if he didn't submit to her now then the mat and all else around him was gonna go black.

Darkness reigned supreme in the stadium at the beginning of this match, and after only a short while into the fight, darkness would reign supreme at the end.

It would be eerily easy for Thompson to pull his way to his knees, almost as though Blair were fully encouraging his attempt to ninja his way out of her submission; She was daring him to go ahead and try. Meanwhile, she readily relinquished his ankle from her hold in order to free up her own legs. Now, the worst bit about this situation was that, even though she'd moved on from her modified STF submission, Thompson was not going to be finding any relief. Why? Because, since Blair was quicker, she needed just a small window of opportunity to unclasp her hold on his throat while she swiveled herself around a full 180 degrees, Nails scraping at his wrist as she carefully held her hammerlock and now grappled his neck again once the two were facing back to back.

Surely he could tell where this was going, but most likely not in time to stop Blair from dropping her full weight onto the mat and dragging Thompson's head with her. Honestly, he should have kept the helmet on! At least then he would have had some extra cushioning for when he got slammed into the mat, being forced to take the brunt of the damage to his wrist, elbow, shoulder, and neck after planting himself back-first onto his hammerlocked arm, as well as getting his skull bonked on the mat.