Hardcore Rhapsody - Death Bunny vs Brawlin' Brynn (D)

[Nova]

Match Type: Hardcore
Stipulations: Anything goes, no disqualification, weapons available and encouraged
Victory Conditions: The winner must pin, submit, or knock out her opponent.

"Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?" The lyrics to the iconic ballad couldn't help but play through the rockstar's head as she gazed upon the ring from behind the thick black curtain. While her debut wasn't taking place in one of the mega complexes that LAW was famous for, Brynn couldn't have been any more satisfied with tonight's venue. An underground arena provided for a more intimate battleground, a haven for enthusiasts with a ravenous hunger for chaos, blood, and all things hardcore. Brynn's kinda crowd.

The transformation from underground fighter and rockstar to professional wrestler had been a seamless evolution for Brynn. Yet tonight, the tremors of debut jitters still fluttered within her. Perhaps it was the surrealism of landing a match against a hardcore legend as her maiden voyage into LAW: Death freakin Bunny. The daunting realization was still settling in. Never in a million years would she have envisioned her first bout in LAW to be a literal dream match against an even dreamier opponent. The hardcore rocker wasn't one to be humbled easily but this... this just might have done it.

A familiar, low rumble cut through the reverie, the telltale start of a familiar tune Brynn had performed dozens of times before. Grabbing a mic from a nearby stagehand, Brynn suddenly burst onto the arena floor, her lips pursed tight before she unleashed into her theme song with a deep throated death growl! Roaring in at 6'1" and weighing 184 pounds, the cutesy debutante rock idol was a mesmerizing juxtaposition to behold. Her pink frills and jacket giving way to a heavy metal thrashing that immediately commanded the crowds attention, her raspy growl defying every norm and expectation one would expect from the colorfully-clad girl in a skirt. But despite the initial shocker, it didn't long for the crowd to get into the groove of things, roaring along with the rocker as she slowly made her way to the ring. Brynn's free hand pounded her chest, each thump unleashing a cacophony of raw, unbridled power that resonated through her vocals.

Theme

Brynn's Performance

Approaching the apron, Brynn flung the microphone inside before ascending the ropes, letting the music carry her entrance to it's climatic height. Perched on the middle rope, she thrashed her head wildly to the rhythm of her song, fists raised high in an untamed display of fervor. Once the audience had ascended to a fever pitch of excitement, Brynn plunged into the ring, reclaiming the microphone and maintaining her intense performance as she traversed the corners, scaling the turnbuckles, and repeating her signature head-thrashing spectacle. It was only after the thunderous echoes of her theme had faded that Brynn's metallic voice transitioned into it's natural, high-pitched, schoolgirl-like cadence as she addressed the raucous crowd.

"WHO'S READY TO SEE ME ROCK THIS BITCH!?" she declared, her question swallowed by a chorus of exuberant hoots and roars. Satisfied, Brynn strutted to her corner, flashing her thumb and forefinger at the camera in the shape of a heart before throwing her jacket over the ropes and laying back against the buckles. The stage was set for the opportunity of a lifetime - a chance to confront a hardcore legend and kick off her career with an absolute banger. She had inaugurated this pivotal moment with the grandeur and fervor it deserved. Now, all that remained was to deliver in the only manner she knew how- in a blaze of blood and metal!

Ready to Rock!

[killcarrion]

Shrouded in darkness and her tattered trenchcoat, a lone figure would bide her time with a glass of whiskey in hand and the solitude of an emptied owner's box overlooking an oceanic swath of thrashing headbangers. She'd been taking the time to savor rather than swill her vintage brand given that it was a tradition of hers before matches of this ilk dating back several years, but suffice to say it had been quite some time since she'd broken out this Maccalan bottle. The underground fighting arena she oversaw having grown a thriving pulse ever since signing on one specific talent who started swiveling heads once the first lyric was snarled into the microphone. As to be expected, word on the street traveled fast about an adorable hardcore punk-rock idol who’s doling out broken bones and bleeding facepaint after tearing the house down with melodic death metal sets whenever booked. Metalheads, headbangers, heshers, moshers, thrashers and probably a few others the owner was forgetting all coming in droves with mosh pits and crowd surfing all becoming quite common place...

But one can't start racking up a winning streak like hers without certain questions starting to be asked and speculations beginning to be aired. Started in secluded backalleys and betting circles until it had grown to be noticed even within earshot of the club's infamous proprietor...."Yo, I think Brynn can take her man. Could be the new Hardcore Queen 'round here."..."Nah, what'er you smokin?! S'what you get for thinking with the wrong head, freaking dumbass."..."Fuck, I jus wanna see'em go at it already."...Those within her organization cautioned against this move of hers given the potential for outright losing one of the club's scorching hot talents, but the bottom line was that this was as inevitable as the morning sunrise. Publicizing it as the chaotic spectacle it was meant to be and arranging for it to be an official LAW sanctioned match were all the preparations needed to make this dance a reality as Brynn's theme starting to peter down back in the arena. Death taking one final sip of the liquor burning down her throat before setting her glass down and taking her leave with her trenchcoat slung over her shoulder...

Theme

A nocturne eclipse blanketed the fighting arena as was the norm, except those expecting Death's macabre theme similar to funeral processions would have expectations circumvented with dynamic flashes from spotlights spiraling all throughout a pitch-black stadium overcome with rhythmic pulsations from reverberated beats. Billowed fog emanating from unknown sources as the atmosphere was akin to pulse pounding nightclubs with a lone figure now noticeable in the distance. Shadowed and undecipherable yet whose identity was unmistakable given the dangling floppy-ears as audience members became unglued with roaring adulation. Blinking spotlights seemingly making the shadowed figure disappear until scarcely a second later another brightened up a circle within the middle of the ring, with Death Bunny stoically standing tall at 6'01 and 156 pounds. The arena illuminating with her theme ending just as Death unfurled her trenchcoat to reveal her heavy metal street attire. The coat flying off in the distance as she started cracking her knuckles. "I normally don't break out this outfit except for special occasions. But I guess you could see...I'M ready to see you rock this bitch..."

...and roll.

[Nova]

Brynn had anticipated the notorious tolling bells of her opponent's theme, heralding the woman's arrival into the arena. Instead she was met with an entirely unfamiliar yet electric tune, one that sent the crowd into a torrential wave of cheers nonetheless. Sure enough, there she was, bunny ears and all, a silent figured cloaked in darkness and mystery. Brynn perked up from her corner, head slightly ajar as she stared at the enigmatic figure from afar. The lights flashed and flared, shrouding the entire arena in a dizzying display of pitch-black and blinding white. Spotlights cleaved through the shadows, exposing the spot where Death Bunny had suddenly materialized in the center of the ring.

Even the ruthless brawler herself was momentarily taken aback by her daunting presence, but it didn't take long for her signature smile to return in full force. "Fuck yeah" Brynn muttered beneath her breath, the sheer awesomeness of the moment engulfing her in all its monumental glory. Her opponent was looking deathly menacing and cute, adorned in a crop top and short shorts that provocatively bared ample flesh and skin. "Oh it's a special occasion alright - huge fan by the way - Your funeral!" Brynn cackled, unable to hid her excitement ahead of her chance to smash the superstar's face in. "And something tells me it ain't gonna be open casket" She continued, her eyes lingering over the edge of the ring where an assortment of weapons lay in wait.

Without a moment's hesitation. Brynn lunged forward, unable to contain her bloodlust for even a single second longer. Her tongue hung out wildly from her mouth, her eyes wide open with unfiltered glee. At the forefront and leading the charge was her hefty closed fist, callused knuckled teeming with strength beneath fingerless gloves. The power encapsulated in her hand cut through the air, unhindered by the heavyweight rocker who commanded its momentum. It's destination was density, it's target a legend, for any second now, Brynn's fist would surely collide right into the jaw of her illustrious foe!

[killcarrion]

Only those within certain barbarous fight pit circles would remember when Death first darkened the scene in clothes not that dissimilar from what she was rocking tonight, tattered shirts with rhinestone designs and booty shorts that earned their name to a fabric tightened cling. Hearkening back to her earlier days cracking skulls and disfiguring faces was the main reason for the change of attire given it was these types of weaponry scattered settings were where she cut her metaphorical teeth in the first place, and in the process unintentionally crafting the thematically appropriate depiction of a punk rock bunny girl squaring off with a precocious thrash metal lead singer. Officially meeting Brynn was a long time coming given how frequently she tore the house down in Death's establishment and she sensed the rocker's feral bloodthirst even from her owner's box. However, Death chortled with a bemused smirk from Brynn sneaking in that affirmation of her fandom in between her malicious threats and funereal intentions. One of these days it might be nice to run into an admiring fan of hers who didn't want to see her buried six feet under as well.

"Well, my first funeral was. Can't see any reason why this one wouldn't be either. Just a shame that the only thing that's gonna be dead tonight are you and your vocal cords after I have this rock star singing bloody murder for me..." Death settling into an MMA fighter's stance with bent arms raised and chin tucked in with a frigid glare matched against the searing flames in Brynn's eyes. Fists clenched into a shielded guard around her head on her sides with a limbered bounce to her posture as she readied herself for the frenzied rampage stampeding towards her. Scarcely a split second given to adapt one as well given the breakneck sprint accompanying it with Death sidestepping out of the hammering haymaker's intended path of destruction. Whenever the cotton candy rockstar swiveled in her foe's direction it would be accompanied by D.B.'s clenched hands snatched onto the back of her head. Tucking Brynn's facials practically into the swell of Death's bosom that may serve as a pleasant distraction…at least until the first knee was caved into the rocker's midsection. The first of three until concluded with a righteous uppercut if uninterrupted.