Bashira Matsumoto vs. Halloween Sonohara - The Immovable Object

[BlackAkuma]

Match Type: Standard
Victory Conditions: Pinfall, Submission, and KO

***

Halloween Sonohara was not having what you would call a ‘good day’.

It had started up normal enough, or at least as close to normal as you ever got when you were a pint-sized horror-themed pro-wrestler. She’d woken up, had breakfast with Lovers, got in their training routine, then hopped on Twitch to stream some of the new Silent Hill game and make a few easy bucks. Her plan was to do that until evening, then order out, watch a movie, and call it a night, but LAW’s management team had a better idea for her.

They needed a quick fill-in for a match. Nothing special they promised. Come in, have it out with some new girl, call it a day. It was a headache, and she already had enough headaches in her life thanks to a certain Ms. Pendragon, but whatever. Easy money. Right? She'd strap into her

, make a paycheck, call it a night.

That was what Halloween had thought, verbatim, right up until the moment she got a good look at her opponent: Bashira Matsumoto.

Bashira Matsumoto was, to put it in the most politically correct way, a big woman. While Halloween was smaller than 99% of the roster, this woman was in a special 1% who were nearly big enough to affect her with a gravitational pull. She was, maybe, three times the Scream Queen’s weight, wrapped up in those bulky folds.

In no other sport but wrestling would Halloween be allowed to face a woman like this in the ring, but this was wrestling, and size mismatches happened all the time. She wasn’t about to let it break her stride. She was fully resolved to handle it the way she usually did. She even threw out a good-natured Blob joke, not wanting to pass up the chance to make a classic movie reference.

Senora Matsumoto was not amused, and she proceeded to let Halloween know about her lack of amusement by slamming Halloween from pillar to post for about ten minutes.

At least, Halloween assumed it was ten minutes. It was hard to tell, because she was fairly certain she’d been knocked unconscious a couple of times. When she was fully awake and aware, she spent her time being ragdolled and trying to attack, which was about as effective as a Nerf bat against a brick wall. Everything she threw at this woman backfired; every move was swatted. It didn’t matter what she did.

Bashira just…kept..coming.

That led to Halloween in the present moment, where she was crawling across the canvas, drenched in sweat, with one pigtail undone and makeup dribbling down her face. Not exactly the best look. She didn’t have a plan beyond just getting to the ropes. Plans were for people who could feel their spine.

”Don’t…” She managed a weak chuckle as she looked over her shoulder. ”Don’t suppose you’d be up for a draw?”

[killcarrion]

Considering that ringside announcers have seen more wrestling matches throughout their storied careers than even the most diehard of online journalists, it tends to say a lot whenever the terms "absolute mauling" and "savage thrashing" were bandied about alongside pleas for the referee to end the match out of concern for one of the competitors. And here Bashira figured tonight was going to be an outright bust once she caught wind of LAW personnel apparently struggling to find wrestlers willing to accept a match with her. Specifically once they learned they would be pitted against a three-hundred-pound behemoth with a sordid wrestling history involving a preposterously long list of opponents she'd send to the infirmary. Bashira figured this twin-tailed pipsqueak neglected to read the fine print when she was offered tonight's match. Well, let this be a lesson to the shortstack. Provided she's capable of remembering anything about this match whenever she wakes up again.

"Draw? Hmm, that's an interesting proposition. Tell you what? Here's my counteroffer..." The circular shadow eclipsing Halloween encroached closer with each hefty step taken, blotting out the luminous ringlights above as the colossal predator encroached ever closer. Whatever offense attempt perpetrated by H.W. having been shirked or quite literally bounced off Bashira with nary a scratch visible on the rotund powerhouse cracking her knuckles on her approach. The dullness in her hazel iris belying a feral savageness unleashed the second Halloween was within arm's reach as her gloved extended forward and snatched a handful of Halloween's hair. A tucked yank slotting the seasonal pipsueak between the chubby entombment of her thighs before seamlessly hoisted onto Bashira's shoulders into the cataclysmic devastation of her Grizzly Meteor finisher. Whether cognizant of it or not, a firm boot would become planted on Halloween's face for a pin count that was as perfunctory as you could ever see.

"1!..2!!..."

[BlackAkuma]

This was a good news/bad news situation.

The bad news was that Halloween was pretty much fucked at the moment, to a royal degree. Bashira had utterly thrashed her, and whatever slim chances she might’ve ever had of toppling this tower had dwindled to zero. She wasn’t winning without an act of god, and given that Halloween was an occult-obsessed wrestler in a sexfighting league who dabbled in Wicca and had even held a couple of seances, she doubted that was going to happen.

The good news was that she was about to see that cute nurse in the infirmary who seemed to have a thing for smaller chicks, and was always checking out Halloween’s butt when she thought she wasn’t looking.

That was assuming she would be conscious, of course, which was starting to look like an increasingly distant prospect.

”Owowowowmyhairletgoofmyhairletgo-” Halloween squeaked and squirmed as she found her stuck between Bashira’s legs, completely disappearing in those folds for a moment, before she was hoisted up and brought up on her foe’s shoulders. She waved her hands and wiggled as hard as she could, but there was simply not fighting gravity.

Funnily enough, Halloween didn’t remember the actual impact. She remembered the rush downwards, the feeling of weightlessness, but everything blacked out for a moment after that. The next thing she knew, something hard was against her face, and the referee’s voice was sounding off nearby.

”2…!”

It was a foot. Bashira was standing on her face. She twitched when she realized it, but it was the only response her body had. All she could do was lie there and wait for the inevitable.

She wouldn’t have to wait long. ”3…!”

[killcarrion]

The backstage banter of various personnel shifting blame and pointing fingers at eachother was the backdrop to the thrashed mauling of a matchup that ended up becoming noncompetitive from the start. Calls were being made to LAW's legal team to ensure absolute deniability on the company's behalf as the scene continued unfolding within the ring, one of a towering colossus disrespecting the shambled remains of her adversary with boot treads blanketing Halloween's vision. The callous disregard continued as Bashira reached down to grasp Halloween by her collar and dragged the flaccid Halloween towards the ropes, chucking her through them with a hocked spit as tacked on disrespect. Medical officials swarming around her and deeming the situation grievous enough to warrant carting Halloween off onto a stretcher out of an abundance of caution. The malicious perpetrator herself circling the ring with a feral intensity that even scared the referee into scurrying out of the ring, obviously holding up the rest of the show but nary a soul possessed the testicular fortitude to confront the rotund menace...however, as Bashira's decimated opponent was being ushered into the crevice between the entrance ramp and the fan barricade, a lone figure in a smooth marble white suit and derby hat traipsed on by down the ramp. Possessing an aura of charismatic courteousness and suave debonair as he journeyed up the steel steps and into the ring, microphone in hand...

Johnny Atlas

"WELL...Guess the Halloween season ends earlier this year. But in its place, I'm afraid something truly terrifying has supplanted whatever fake chills and thrills you people are accustomed to. Allow me to introduce myself. My name...is Johnny Atlas, CEO of ATLAS WORLDWIDE. A renowned talent agency seeking to enlist premier paragons of athletic ambition, undaunted titans of talent possessing insurmountable skills the likes of which this industry has never seen before...but who've been neglected in favor of white meat, corporate approved, milquetoast and pedestrian "so called" talent whose only tangible skills involve smiling vapidly for the cameras and selling merchandise. Beauty Queens who think putting on a six pack and flexing for the camera makes you a badass. Who think they can use wrestling as the gateway into becoming movie celebrities. People...I am here to somberly declare that what they've done is nothing but sell you a fabrication of reality. The truth is...that the world is ugly. It is heartless. And only a champion who is more interested in utterly annihilating their adversary is worthy of becoming heavyweight champion and representing the remorseless brutality of reality itself. And I ask you...who is more fit for the task than the unconquerable behemoth standing over my shoulder!!! A remorseless beast who can use over half this roster as toothpicks after a meal!!! A beastial force of nature given corporeal form!!! Who else but my esteemed client...BASHIRA MATSUMOTO!!!???" Johnny's rhetoric echoing throughout the stadium, Bashira in question standing in the middle of the ring hyping herself up with jaunting hops in place and a feral glare homed in on the hard camera in the audience.

Bashira Matsumoto

"...No-one, that's who. Everyone out there who's here to see carnage unleashed and brutality unmatched...a new day is dawning. Because I hereby declare my client's eligibility for the vacated Heavyweight Championship. And whether she's chosen or not...may the entire locker room be placed on notice. A beast is on the prowl...And May God Have Mercy On The Soul Whom She Sets Her Eyes On..." A flippant chuck of the microphone concluding the talent agent's promo as he exited the ring one step behind Bashira, the duo trudging up the ramp with the message sufficiently delivered...