Laxia von Roswell vs. Sheila Morgan - Lightning in a Bottle

[BlackAkuma]

…coward?

Something about that two-syllabled word let a small fire in Sheila’s brain. It was hard to properly hear the woman through all the chaos of the crowd and the match, but she was fairly sure she heard that word come out of this blueblood’s mouth, and it made her pause for a moment. Sheila Morgan had been called many, many things in her life. Pretty much every curse that the English language ever created, and no small amount of names in other languages, too.

But coward? That was new.

It was still in her brain as she landed the knees and rolled off of Laxia’s body, scoring a perfect Meteora. She rolled over to her feet and popped straight up, standing tall and looking over her shoulder at her fallen foe. The smart thing to do here, would be to press the advantage, keep this woman down while the moment was still on her side.

And she would. But first, she wanted to get some questions answered.

Sheila took a slight detour to the timekeeper’s area, where she reached over and grabbed a chair, scaring the hell out of the ring announcer in the process. She brought it over to Laxia’s downed form, as the woman rolled about. She planted her foot on her chest to keep her still, then opened the chair up, dropped it on top of Laxia’s chest, and roughly sat down on it, pinning the woman beneath the unforgiving metal as Sheila glared down.

With both feet resting beside Laxia’s head, Sheila leaned forward, her wild mane dangling about her face. ”Oy. Pro Wrestler Barbie.” Her eyes narrowed. ”D’you just call me a coward? Is that what I heard come out of your dumbfuck mouth?”

[Letta]

Sheila looked down at Laxia writhing on the floor, then, for some reason, turned and walked away instead of continuing her attack. Laxia did not understand why. All she knew was that she finally had a brief chance to catch her breath. As she lay on the cold floor and steadied her breathing, the dizziness slowly began to subside. Her eyes still stung, but the blurred outlines of her surroundings were gradually coming back into focus. She could not stay down like this. Gritting her teeth, Laxia tried to prop herself up on her elbows. Just then, Sheila’s foot pressed down on her chest.

“Aaaaghn...!!”

She had barely begun to sit up before Sheila’s foot forced her flat again. Under the pressure on her already-battered chest, her scream mingled with a faint moan. Laxia let out a trembling breath and struggled to look up along the leg pinning her down. Through her gradually clearing vision, she saw a metal chair being unfolded.

“Ah... what...?”

Before she could understand what it was for, the foot on her chest withdrew, and the chair took its place. Then Sheila dropped heavily into the seat, driving the metal frame mercilessly against Laxia’s generous rack. Her upper body was pinned beneath it, her shoulders and back pressed flat against the floor. Even when she twisted, the metal frame across her chest left her no room to slip free.

“AAAAAAH...!!!”

Laxia’s scream rang out around ringside. Every attempt to draw breath sharpened the pain in her breasts. She kicked her feet frantically, beating them against the floor. As Laxia shook her head in pain, Sheila’s feet settled on either side of her face. Then her opponent leaned forward, her wild mane hanging close enough to almost brush against her. Laxia could hear Sheila’s words. She knew how humiliating it was to be pinned beneath her while the woman demanded an answer. She wanted to snap back at Sheila, to tell her that she had heard correctly. But when she opened her mouth to protest, all she could manage was a strained groan.

“Nnngh... get...*pant*... this off...! Nnngh...!”

Laxia reached out with both hands and grabbed Sheila’s ankles beside her head. She tried to push them aside, but shoving at her ankles did nothing to relieve the weight on her chest. Finally releasing them, she moved her hands to the metal chair pinning her down. She gripped the cold frame with both hands and strained to lift it, her arms trembling with the effort. Even a little would do. If she could just ease the pressure on her compressed chest and make enough room to draw breath.

“And you... call this wrestling...?!”

Her face contorted in pain as she continued to push against the unyielding frame. Both of her wrestling boots squeaked against the floor as she struggled. The relentless pain in her chest made her sapphire eyes glisten, but she refused to look away, glaring defiantly into Sheila’s blue ones.

[BlackAkuma]

Sheila was a pretty light woman, even by her division’s standards. Only about 50kg or so on a good day, not exactly crushing weight. She’d always been a skinny little shit of a girl, could never seem to make her weight stick, was just too active all the time to keep her weight.

But you didn’t really have to be all that heavy to make sitting on someone with a chair a painful affair, as Laxia would likely agree with right now. If she could, you know…breathe properly and whatnot.

To her credit, Laxia proved herself to be one hell of a fighter, struggling hard beneath her, even as the pressure poured down. Sheila had to spread her legs out a little wider and apply more downward force to keep from getting shaken off, but at the end of the day, it just wasn’t going to happen for the American. She wasn’t going anywhere that Sheila didn’t want her to, and right now she wanted her on her back.

Sheila was waiting for an answer to her question, but didn’t get much of one - instead, Laxia was deadset on pushing her way out of the situation, straining hard beneath her.

”Fuck yeah, I call this wrestling. This is the only kind of real wrestling there is.” Sheila gave Laxia one quick bounce on the chair, driving the metal hard into her ribs, before she abruptly push off the chair and granted her the relief she was craving. She wouldn’t be allowed to enjoy it for too long, though. ”Let’s go for a walk.”

That ‘walk’ consisted of Sheila reaching down, grabbing Laxia by the hair, forcing her up to her feet, marching her a few feet away, and attempting to smash her face on top of the announcer’s desk. So not much of a walk, really.

[Letta]

Laxia lay on her back, straining to push the chair’s frame upward with trembling arms. Each push bought her a short breath, but nothing more. While she could barely breathe, Sheila sat casually above her, demanding an answer. That nonchalance stung Laxia’s pride just as sharply as the pain. Gritting her teeth, Laxia glared up at Sheila through glistening blue eyes.

“You must be... so proud...!”

But despite the defiance in her voice, her arms were shaking harder. As Sheila spread her legs wider and pressed more weight downward, Laxia’s straining arms began to bend again. The pressure against her chest cut her breath short. “Ghk...!” When Sheila bounced in her seat, the weight on Laxia’s chest briefly eased. Laxia instinctively tried to inhale.

But the metal frame came down hard against her ribs, forcing what little air she had drawn in back out with a scream. “Gwaaah...!!” Her grip tightened around the chair, and both feet jerked against the floor. Laxia squeezed her eyes shut and endured that brief, brutal pressure. When Sheila finally stood, Laxia let out a ragged breath and gingerly pressed her hands to her chest and ribs. The pressure was gone, but every breath renewed the pain. She wanted just a moment to recover. However, Sheila had no intention of giving her one. Fingers dug into her orange hair, and a sharp pull at her scalp forced her head upward.

“Owww...! M-my hair... let go...!”

Laxia hurriedly grabbed Sheila’s wrist. Before she could pry the hand away, however, the upward pull forced her to follow. She brought one knee beneath herself, then struggled onto unsteady feet. Still unable to straighten her back, she shuffled awkwardly along. Whenever she fell even slightly behind, another tug at her scalp left her no choice but to keep moving. There was no time to catch her breath or even see where she was being taken. When she lifted her head a little, the announcer’s desk was right in front of her. Only then did Laxia realize what Sheila had in mind. She tried to reach out a hand, but..

“Ah...!”

THUD...!

Her face struck the hard surface of the desk...! “Guh...!” She could not even manage a proper scream. The dull impact sent her vision reeling. Still reeling from the earlier blows, Laxia felt her stomach turn at the fresh impact. Her upper body bounced upright from the impact. Laxia stood almost absurdly straight in front of the desk, as though she had just been called to attention.

A few spectators applauded. To them, it must have looked as though she was stubbornly standing her ground despite the blow. But the announcers and fans closest to her could see her knees wobbling. Her half-lidded eyes were unfocused, giving her a dazed, almost sleepy look. She seemed oblivious to the applause. “Unngh...” The cheering sounded distant, and she had no idea what was keeping her upright. She stood there for a beat.

Then she began to tip forward, sluggishly reaching for something to hold. Her fingertips brushed the edge of the desk, and that was as far as she got. Before her hand could do its job, her upper body had already pitched forward. So perfectly upright a moment ago, Laxia now flopped facedown across the announcer’s desk. Her outstretched arm slid limply across its surface, and she lay sprawled there…!

[BlackAkuma]

”Fuck yeah, I’m proud.” Sheila snorted at that little critique. ”Why wouldn’t I be?”

Laxia wasn’t being too forthcoming with her opinion at the moment - a distinct lack of oxygen had a way of doing that to people - but the Wild One could make a few guesses as to what was ruminating in that hollow braincase of hers. She knew the type, the sort of technical wrestler who always looked down on the hardcore scene. Her old backyard wrestling league had gotten more than a few negative reviews from people like her, who accused Outback Wrestling of ‘tarnishing the sport’. Like wrestling was some sacred, holy thing, and hitting people with a chair somehow defiled it.

Bullshit. She hated snobs like this back then, and she hated them even more now. But now, she had a chance to show people like Laxia exactly what she thought about their opinions. She hoped the message was felt, loud and clear, when her face was rammed into a table.

It had an effect, though not quite the one Sheila expected. She figured the woman would just fold over the desk like most people would normally do, but no, she went ramrod straight for a queer second. The Wild One stepped away, taken aback for a moment, before she saw the way her body was giving, those trembling legs, that quaking body.

Down she went.

Sheila snickered at the sight, but it was also giving her ideas. Fun ideas. And as she glanced back to the ring - and specifically, the corner - the crowd grew louder as they followed her thought process. ”One thing you gotta learn about me, powderpuff.” She dipped down, grabbed Laxia’s legs, and lifted her up onto the table, forcing her onto her back. ”I’m a ‘go big or go home’ sort of gal.”

Sheila gave Laxia a quick elbow across the face, before she scrambled back into the ring, popped to her feet, and scaled the turnbuckle, rising up like cat scaling a tree. She perched at the top, on foot on the pole, and spied Laxia’s body, taking a moment to work out all the little calculations. The distance, how much power she would need to bridge that gap, how she should come down to make Laxia take the lion’s share of the damage.

It only took a couple of seconds, and then she was flying. Leaping out of the ring, flying towards the prone Laxia with arms outstretched, hoping to come crashing down on her with an elbow drop from way uptown.

[Letta]

Laxia’s fingers twitched against the announcer’s desk. Her fingertips searched weakly for purchase on the tabletop, tensed for a moment, then went slack again. “Nnngh...” She had to get up. That much she knew. But her head was still spinning. She tried to summon what strength she had left, but her arms refused to cooperate. Then the crowd began to grow louder again. That did not bode well. Lately, those cheers had been followed by something distinctly unpleasant happening to her. Sheila was clearly planning something else. Yet all Laxia could do was remain draped over the desk, her rear sticking awkwardly out behind her.

Sheila’s unwelcome advice reached her from above. Hands caught her legs and lifted them, dragging the rest of her onto the table. Before she could offer any resistance, she was rolled over onto her back. The arena lights flooded her vision. Each light split into two, then three, before slowly drifting back together. Go big or go home. To Laxia, that sounded like nothing more than a crude invitation to gamble everything at once. Hardly her preferred approach.

Has she never heard of risk management...? You don’t stake everything on one gamble. Diversify your investments, minimize your losses... After so many blows to the head, even her thoughts were wandering. What Laxia needed was a way off the table, not a sound investment strategy. With an effort, she tucked her chin and began to lift her head. “Aagh...!” Sheila’s elbow promptly struck her across the face. Her head snapped sideways, then dropped back onto the tabletop.

A moment later, Sheila disappeared from view. The lights above Laxia were still splitting apart and swimming back together. Even turning her head to look for her opponent felt like too much effort. Instead, she caught sight of the commentators at the edge of her blurred vision. They looked worried. Their eyes moved from her to somewhere high above. Why were they looking up there? Before she could work that out, a shadow fell across her vision.

Sheila came hurtling down from above, driving her elbow deep into Laxia’s unguarded abdomen...! “PUUOGHH...!!” A strangled cry burst from her lips as the air was knocked out of her. The nearby announcer’s microphone caught every bit of it, sending the sound ringing throughout the arena. The desk shuddered beneath the impact. Both of Laxia’s legs flew into the air, and her dazed eyes snapped wide open. Her face twisted in pain as spittle flew from her parted lips.

She could not draw breath. Laxia curled around the pain, both arms clamped over her abdomen. She rolled onto her side as though she could somehow escape it, but there was only so far she could go. She rolled over the edge of the table and tumbled onto the ringside floor. “Ooghh...”

On both knees, Laxia braced herself with one hand against the floor while keeping the other pressed to her abdomen. Her supporting arm trembled, and she could not straighten up. With her head hanging low, a long strand of drool trailed from her lips before dropping to the floor. “Haa... *cough*... mmghh...” Every cough sent another flare of pain through her abdomen. Laxia pressed her hand more firmly against her stomach, groaning between short, broken breaths.