Winner declared by Pinfall, Submission, or DQ
The flight to Japan was long, much longer than any of the Reyes family could've predicted. For three out of four members of the family, it was even their first time flying. Lola's hands were full with taking care of Marisol's fears; thanks to the warm and comforting presence all grandmothers seem to possess for younger children, she'd manage to lull the girl to sleep a few times. Diego was the opposite, full of wide-eyed wonder and questions for the flight attendants and any nearby passenger who would humor him. Whether or not they could speak Spanish.
Camille was somewhere in between. Long periods of her forehead resting on the glass of her window watching clouds roll by, her spirit wrestled with the uncertainty of what they were all getting into. Life's recent upheaval with the death of their mother and father and the transfer of custody to Nana Lola was chaos enough, but it feels like in short order everything has been uprooted a second time. This federation wanted her badly enough to move her entire family to Japan as a condition of her signing. That spoke highly of the faith they put in her as an investment. And she's getting to continue the pursuit of her dreams, and not only that, but on a much, much larger stadium with greater accolades at stake. She gets to continue fighting to support her struggling family. But was it the right thing to do? Her younger brother and sister were looking at it as an adventure, but Lola is older. Wiser. More worldly. She'd know the risks they were taking. How it could all fall apart so easily. A part of her feels like she put the people who love her up as collateral on a high stakes gamble, and went all in on herself.
It's terrifying.
Everyone was jet-lagged and ragged by the time they landed. Fortunately the contract-signing was quick and painless, and everything looked - to her fatigued eye, at least - to be on the up and up. They would stay in a cramped apartment for now. It was the best they could hope for, and it was on the bottom level of a multi-rise complex. Translator apps on phones would prove invaluable in shopping and navigating the city. There was a quiet, nervous hopefulness in the family; a supportive veneer stretched dangerously thin over the growing realization that life had just become very different, very quickly, and all their hopes rested on the narrow shoulders of their eldest sibling.
The day came for Camille to prove herself. She hugged her family extra tight, and Lola assured her they would be there cheering for her; the loudest voices in the audience. It took Camille a long time to figure out how to make it to the arena, but it was fortunately still very early. Early enough to skirt aside to somewhere discreet, don her mask, and make her approach. So enters Bandita, quiet and discreet as a shadow, before the ring had even been unpacked for assembly.
-----
It feels like it got so loud so quickly. Like it went from quietly listening to stagehands milling about and craft services being set up to the distant but growing buzz of an audience. Now it was a steady roar just beyond a curtain.
Bandita takes a final moment to check herself over. There are no second chances to make a first impression, after all. Her stylized gear is all in place - trunks foux-belted with leg harnesses, frilly boots, and her top with a feigning similarity to a bolero jacket, all secure and snug about her slender being. The wrists are rotated to examine her bracers, and she pats a palm briefly over one kneepad, then the other. She straightens her posture and whisks her free hand over the ruffles over her flamenco skirt, letting it flare just enough to annoy a nearby technician. She self-consciously adjusts the tilt of her hat, and finally, at lasts, takes a breath and squeezes the coiled whip in her right hand a little tighter.
Time to make the wildest, most unique entrance this audience has ever seen. She hopes.
Her music begins.
The massive screen is lit in graphical flames as two words etched in distinct, scorched font scroll by with each guitar roll:
VIVA
BANDITA
Then the feed comes alive with a series of recorded moments of Bandita's highlights in Mexico; wild aerial finesse, dramatic submission holds, slick technical executions. And with it, she emerges from the shadows of the gorilla position and into the cascading light of two tracking spots, left hand on her hip and bright, confident smile on her face.
A pair of flaming pyrotechnics erupt behind her, and the whip held in her right hand deftly unfurls with a forward snap and loud *CRACK*! The whip whirls back and snaps again and again, each time in increasingly intricate displays of control, coordination, and flash, snaking the length of black leather around her gracefully spinning form and terminating each movement sharply in precise, miniature sonic booms.
*CRACK* *CRACK* *CRACK*
"INTRODUCING!," begins the announcer. "Making her LAW debut! At a height of 5'6", and weighing in at 117 lbs.!"
"From Cancún, México!"
"La Bonita Bandoleraaa~!"
"BAAANDIIIITAAAA!"
Bandita understood most of that, at least. She appreciated they worked in the proper accent for her home city and country, and even kept the epithet she'd earned working in the west!
With a smooth, fluid roll of the wrist, the whip is quickly drawn into a loose coil and the masked girl makes her way down the ramp. Her free hand lifts, waving cheerfully to the audience members who shout their praise near the guard rails. Rather than go straight into the ring upon reaching the edge, however, she circles the perimeter to set the whip upon the comms desk. Her hat is given a little twirl between her palms before it finds its resting place upon the bundle as well. She shoots them a wink-- then she's off! Racing at a sprint to finish the circle around the ring, slapping a train of high-fives along the way until she positions herself once again at the base of the ramp.
The flamenco skirt billows as she bounces twice on her boots, then flares as she rushes the ring. It's a vertical leap up onto the ring's edge, then a second vertical leap to flip over the top rope, landing in a handspring on the other side. Upon finding her feet, the girl twists over with a flare of the skirt, executing two clean handless cartwheels, legs scissoring through the air. It comes to a halt with both feet planted and her right hand raised, pointing to the sky with radiant enthusiasm.
Now the audience is ready. Now the audience has gotten their first look at Bandita and her mix of agility and athleticism. Her showmanship. Now they just need to see her wrestle. They need to see what she's got under the hood, so to speak. The real test.
Bandita moves to her designated corner and begins fiddling with the sash of her skirt to finish removing her entrance attire...
