A/N: I read a fun fact about the brain and how it starts to deteriorate when we get to 27 or thereabouts. It got me thinking about my head and what I can do to help stimulate it. Makes me sad but...
So apparently, the last version of this chapter did not upload correctly, so here it is again. There will definitely be a bit more bulk of storytelling in this chapter. We left off with Webby preparing to hit the Spear on Dewey Duck. Let's find out if she nailed it.
Webby let out one final yell as she prepared to advance. Dewey eventually found himself back on his feet, and that's when Webby launched herself from the corner. She ran at him at full speed, almost like a freight train. She lunged forward when she reached him, extending her arms with the objective of catching his torso and bring him down with all her weight and momentum, almost splitting him in half. The match was right there in front of her. All she had to do was bring him down for the count.
Dewey's quickness, however, was once again the ultimate game changer. He, as quickly as possible, clutched her head underneath his arm and let himself fall to his back, planting Webby hard on the top of her head. The DDT earned an entire yell of shock from the audience as she was driven right into the ground with a booming thud! After letting her collapse on her back, Dewey quickly rolled over onto her into the cover.
1! 2!
There is something about the granddaughter of ex-agent Bentina Beakley, other than the fact that she was the granddaughter of ex-agent Bentina Beakley, that just could not be deciphered in terms of the will to continue. Whenever it seemed she was completely out, something always propelled her to stay in. This was one of those instances. Webby shot her arm all the way up to break the referees count, throwing the crowd into a whirlwind, and slightly enraging Dewey. Now it was his turn to try and finish the match. Once he got back to a vertical base, he set his sight like a laser on a crucial limb: Webby's ankle, gazing at it almost animalistically to the mixed reaction from the crowd. Was it just him or were the boos starting to grow louder? Never mind that. He bent down to pick up the ankle.
Mauro Ranallo (yay, he's back up): He's got it locked in! The Ankle Lock! Dewey Duck has been known to force many an opponent to submit to this submission maneuver.
Launchpad McQuack: Is it only a matter of time before Webby taps out?
Dewey wrapped one arm around the ankle, reaching over to his other arm, whose hand reached up to push upward against her foot. He gave it a strong crank, causing Webby to yelp and squirm in deep pain. Dewey applied as much pressure as possible, squeezing the ankle tight against his chest and twisting it as inward as possible, firmly maintaining his upright posture to maximize the pain. Webby screamed, clutching her head to try and ignore the pain, but it was of no use. It was sharp and it yanked at her ankle, nearly pulling her up into the air. She desperately began reaching for the ropes, attempting to crawl toward them, but that was also unsuccessful.
"C'mon Webby," the referee continued asking her relentlessly. "What do you say? You tap?" She almost did. She raised her arm, but in bringing it to the floor, she closed her hand into a fist, clutching the air, giving a throaty scream. The ref took her response as a "no" and signaled to the timekeeper that the match was to keep going.
The sound of the stadium was nearly deafening. Through the boos that were gradually overcoming the cheers, all of which were directed toward Dewey, the Webby chants restarted. Once they grew loud enough, an idea popped inside her head. She scowled as she tucked her own head and rolled forward over her shoulder, forcing Dewey to trip over her and bounce face first on the middle turnbuckle. Wasting no time, she rapidly yanked his leg back as he came back up, letting go to reach over and trap his stomach onto the floor with her side, trapping his near arm between her legs. She wrapped her arms around his head, and locked her wrists onto his face, compressing into it right above his beak. She gave it a tight squeeze, stretching his neck up as she extended the arm between her legs. The crowd, reacting almost instantly, erupted into loud cheers.
Launchpad McQuack: What a counter into the Crossface!
Mauro Ranallo: Look at the torque she's applying on his back!
Dewey only had one arm to use to inch toward the ropes. However, the tension in his neck and upper back was too heavy. Webby pulled up on his face as hard as possible, closing her eyes and yelling as she pulled up. Dewey screamed in pain. His torso was being stretched like rubber, his arm about to be pulled completely out of its socket. He could hear the people cheering "Tap! Tap! Tap!" But he had to find a way to power back out. He needed to revert control of the match into his own hands.
"Looks like you've finally met your match!" Webby grunted as she applied further pressure.
"Ggggrrraaahh! Not," Dewey gritted his teeth, pausing, "yet!"
He wound up using his legs to crawl over by his side to the ropes. Webby continued applying further pressure onto his back and pulling back at his face, but ultimately Dewey was able to grab the bottom rope with his free hand, prompting the referee to begin counting. 1! 2! 3! 4! Webby exhausted the full legal count of the referee to apply as much pain as possible, ultimately letting go right as the referee was about to hit 5.
Webby rolled over toward the middle of the ring, fatigued from using up all her strength to trap Dewey in a submission hold as well as from being trapped in a submission hold herself. Both competitors laid on the ground to catch their breaths. The last minute of submissions nearly drained them completely, leaving them both breathing heavily. The crowd began to quiet down from their frenzy and counted along with the referee as she began counting.
1!
Webby tended to her right ankle, almost yelling in pain at the touch of it.
2!
Dewey favored the arm that was trapped between Webby's legs. He coughed a couple of times.
3!
Webby began rubbing her ankle to try and soothe it and ease the pain. She winced with every massage.
4!
Dewey's hand returned to the bottom rope, gripping it ever so lightly. The submissions sapped a majority of his own base strength.
5!
Webby began desperately crawling toward the ropes to pick herself back up, letting her leg go limp.
6!
Dewey gripped the bottom rope and began crawling up to the middle rope.
7!
Webby sat up weakly, facing Dewey while pulling herself up by the middle rope.
8!
Dewey remained on his knees, pulling himself up by the ropes. He almost slipped on the way up to the top one.
9!
Hints of worry could be heard coming from the crowd. The concern could be felt anywhere within the stadium. Could either of their favorite superstars make it back to their feet in time?
"Te—okay, they're both up!" the referee finished. The crowd cheered loudly as the referee decided that the match should continue.
Both superstars found some sort of random surge of energy, pulling themselves up using the ropes back to their feet. Webby let out a couple of coughs to catch her breath. They limped their way back over to each other until they made eye contact once more. The two could now see everything through each other's stares as they both breathed heavily. Pain. Intensity. Fatigue. Resilience. Fear. Grit. Scars. Passion. The match was only going to get longer. Only when one of them was put away for good could it all end. Once they realized it, Dewey and Webby were finally ready to pick up where they left off.
Webby lunged forward, clocking Dewey in the jaw with a right hand, causing him to crouch over. This elicited a short cheer from the crowd. A beat. Dewey responded with a right hand of his own, sending her reeling backwards, causing a mixture of cheers and boos from the crowd. Webby bounced back forward with another jaw-jacking punch, letting out a grunt. The crowd cheered. Dewey struck back with an elbow right across the cheek. The boos began to grow louder. Webby knocked him back with her own elbow. Cheers. Dewey leaned forward with a hefty slap to the cheek. Boos. Webby threw a resonating knife edge chop, leaving a red mark on his chest. "Yeah!" Another elbow smash from Dewey. "Boo!" A double open palm strike from Webby. "Yeah!" A headbutt from Dewey. "Boo!" Each strike dealt more and more damage until one finally did the trick: a vicious clothesline from Webby, that knocked Dewey down with impact…from which he bounced back up to his feet unbeknownst to Webby. Upon realizing something seemed off, Webby turned her head ever so slowly, an expression of shock growing at an equal rate at the sight of an upright Dewey Duck behind her. The initial cheers from the crowd slowly turned into oh's.
Mauro Ranallo: BOOM! An impactful clothesline knocks Dewey down for the—whoa, whoa, whoa…
Launchpad McQuack: Wait a second…
Mauro Ranallo: The look of rage on Dewey's face out of pure adrenaline…OH MY GOD! He just blasted Webby with a backflip kick! Mamma Miaaaaa!
A bigger "Oh!" from the crowd has all that could be heard. However, the kick was only strong enough to send Webby bouncing back off the ropes, upon which she almost immediately regained consciousness. Moving forward, she jumped up and ferociously crushed his cheek with her knee, sending him back to the ropes. The same effect. With every move, the crowd reaction was amplified. Dewey rebounded and pounded her with a clothesline of his own. Again! She bounced back to her feet off the ground. As Dewey turned to make sure, Webby spun back around to deliver a roundhouse kick, stiff as can be, to his beak. The kick sent Dewey spinning into the ropes. At the same time, however, as Webby's foot came down, she began to stumble back into the opposite set of ropes. Almost like magnets attracted to each other, the two haphazardly closed in on each other again, lifting their right legs to meet each other's faces. BOOM! They knocked each other down with the exact same move.
No words could aptly describe what the fans have born witness to. Everyone in the stadium was at a loss of words. All they could do was clap. Stand up and clap. As both competitors found themselves laid out on the floor, everyone in attendance began to offer a standing ovation, rising from their seats and applauding one by one. The end result was a thunderous unanimous response of approval. Absolutely nothing could encapsulate the sequence of events that just occurred within that set of ring ropes.
Dewey began to stir. Ever so slowly, he made his way back up, first to his knees. He favored the side of his beak, tending to a sharp pain from that vicious roundhouse kick. He found himself on one knee, surveying the scene. He looked at his hand. It was lightly smeared with red, wincing at the sight. But he didn't let that deter his demeanor for long. It was time. He had to put this match away. Then he saw her. Laid completely out face down, panting. Once he got back up to his feet, he approached her slowly, grabbing her head. The crowd reacted appropriately. And they were louder than ever.
"You put up a good fight," he shouted to her over the crowd, "but it's over! Just stay down!" he finished through gritted teeth.
Dewey tucked Webby's head underneath his legs, her barely holding herself up by them. After a couple deep breaths, he swiped his thumb across his neck, signaling that the end was indeed near for Webby Vanderquack. He reached down to pick her up and seat her on her shoulders before hoisting her high and leaping into the air.
Mauro Ranallo: Dewey Duck says "the end is here!" He's setting up!
Launchpad McQuack: This could be it!
Mauro Ranallo: DEWEY DRIVER RIGHT THROUGH THE CANVAS!
Dewey rolled back, leaving Webby laid out completely, her legs falling limp to the floor. Thinking fast, he realized that there was no way she could stay down after just that. As powerful as his patented Dewey Driver was, he knew it wasn't gonna be enough to keep his opponent down for the 3. But he knew just what was. He scrambled his way to the corner of the ring, climbing quickly up to the top rope. The boos grew louder as he ascended to the top rope. He took one final deep breath, raising his arms, pointing to the sky, before leaping off high into the air, soaring gracefully toward the middle of the ring. He adjusted his position sideways in mid-air so that the first thing that came down was his elbow, leaving his legs to free fall. A crunch was all that could be heard when Dewey drove his elbow directly into Webby's heart as he came crashing down. The match was right there in front of him. All he had to do was crawl back over and drape his arm across her shoulders for the count.
The ref's hand hit the ground once.
The ref's hand hit the ground twice.
...
A/N: Did the ref's hand hit the ground a third time?