The Mouse and The Monarch

4

~MOUSE~

The scent of sweat lingered in the air as Ophelia maintained her unwavering control over O'Conor.

It had taken her four minutes to drop him on his face.

The muffled sounds of exertion echoed around her, punctuated by the rhythmic pounding of blood coursing through her veins.

Ophelia's body language spoke volumes.

Her knee firmly pressed against O'Conor's throat as she sat on top of him.

She could feel the subtle tremors coursing through his body as he struggled to free himself.

The harsh yellow lights cast shadows across his face, highlighting the beads of sweat on his forehead and the strain etched into every muscle.

His face was turning as red as his beard, his lips trembling with effort.

She had been holding him down for a while now and he still hadn't tapped out.

He was too proud and he was going to kill himself for it.

Callisto and Roze were smiling from across the room as they watched.

More than likely because he had launched sexist comments their way at some point.

He was definitely that type of guy.

Oni and Hongari were watching from their spot at the small metal table that made up the dining table in the corner of the room.

Klaus and Zero stood at the edge of the ring with small smiles on their face as they watched her glare down at O'Conor.

While König stared from his corner of the room. His blue eyes tinged with red, stared at her as she held the man down with her knee.

His eyes flashing with an emotion she couldn't discern as he stared at her.

Her dark brown eyes, devoid of mercy, locked onto the panic-stricken green orbs of O'Conor.

Ophelia's gaze was a force of its own, unyielding in its hold.

She wouldn't let go until he gave up.

She told him as much in her look.

Klaus, leaning against the white dirty ropes on the side of the ring, watched with keen interest and a smile.

Unbothered by the fact his teammate was being choked to death.

"He won't tap out," he declared, his voice cutting through the ambient noise, a note of scepticism and amusement underlying his words.

Ophelia's lips curled into a triumphant smirk.

She knew that already.

"Then he'll choke," she retorted, her words carrying an air of cold confidence as she pushed her knee harder into his throat.

The room seemed to hold its breath as Callisto, erupted into laughter, the sound echoing like distant thunder.

Ophelia was surprised the terrifying woman had laughed like she had just told the funniest joke of all time but didn't turn to look as she kept her gaze trained on O'Conor.

She wanted him to regret what he'd said to her.

To know he was wrong.

For him to be the small one.

He could see it, he knew it. And now his team knew it too.

He was the weak one. She'd shown them all.