The curtain loomed in front of Michaela like a gateway to another world, and she couldn’t stop herself from casting a glance at Iya. The gothic powerhouse stood beside her, radiating a calm, almost eerie intensity as she adjusted the black leather straps of her gear, looking all too hot, as usual. Michaela, meanwhile, looked down at herself, giving her snug, white bodysuit one last tug. The outfit hugged her curves in all the right places, accentuating her athletic yet elegant frame. Her sleek, white wrestling shoes gleamed under the backstage lights, and the matching jacket she wore, trimmed with silver and blue accents, added a touch of flair to her entrance. She’d ditch it as soon as they hit the ring, but for now, it added just the right level of showmanship.
“You know,” she said, tilting her head and placing her hands on her hips, “I'm still mad about you getting a solo match before our tag team debut."
Iya turned her head, raising one perfectly arched eyebrow, utterly unimpressed. Michaela couldn’t help herself. Her grin widened, her expression melting from mock irritation to pure mischief. “Nah, not really,” she admitted, shaking her head. To be honest, she had only broken the silence to settle her nerves. Her considerable nerves.
Iya gave a derisive snort. But before she could speak, assuming she even planned to say anything in response, their music hit. Michaela felt the vibrations in her chest. The crowd’s cheers surged like a tidal wave behind the music, and Iya didn’t hesitate for a second. With a flick of her blonde hair and a determined shove of her shoulder, Iya pushed through the curtain, stepping onto the stage as if the world belonged to her. Michaela lingered for just a moment, watching her partner stride out with that raw, fearless energy.
Michaela, she... she needed a moment to gather herself. She took a deep breath, adjusted the lapels of her jacket, and stepped through the curtain to follow her.
Michaela
Iya
A sharp tug on her wrist snapped her out of it.
“Keep up,” Iya growled, her tone low but carrying an edge of impatience.
Michaela blinked, then grinned sheepishly. “Right, right,” she said, bouncing on her toes as she fell into step. She shrugged off her jacket, letting it fall to the ramp for one of the crew to scoop up, and finished her entrance routine with a gleeful hop, pointing one finger toward the sky. She made the decision to drink it all in, slapping hands with fans as she made her way down the ramp.
Her energy contrasted starkly with Iya’s. While Michaela radiated warmth and joy, her smile big enough to light up the arena, Iya stomped her way toward the ring with an intensity that seemed to dare anyone to challenge her.
By the time Michaela slid into the ring, Iya was already standing in the center, her imposing frame claiming the space as she surveyed the crowd with that chilling, predatory stare. Michaela stepped up beside her, and for a moment, their eyes met.
“See?” Iya said, a rare smirk tugging at her lips. “Told you it was cool.”
Michaela paused, her gaze softening as memories rushed through her. Years of fighting together in smaller venues, the grind of traveling and training, and now this. This wasn’t just another show; it was LAW. She grinned, her voice brimming with emotion as she replied, “Yeah, you were right.”
They climbed opposite turnbuckles, striking their poses for the crowd. Iya’s was pure power, her arm raised to flex and her gaze sharp enough to cut glass. Michaela’s was graceful and playful, her hand waving to the fans as she threw in a cheeky wink.
And then they turned, stepping down and waiting for their opponents, their energy perfectly balanced: the cold, focused ferocity of the Tsarina of Shadow and the warm, eager confidence of the Golden Aurora.