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

[BlackAkuma]

If Laxia thought she'd get anything more than a disrespect-flavored ‘ma’am’ out of Sheila Morgan, she didn't understand the sort of woman she was dealing with. Her own parents hadn't been able to get that out of her, and she actually halfway liked them. Laxia was starting to feel real passion, and she had only scratched the surface of the disrespectful words she wanted to hurl at this woman. She was saving the really good stuff for the right moment.

For now, though, she was content to just take her by surprise and turn this thing around, if only for a few moments. The jawbreaker had been a bit of a gamble, but one that turned out paying off - while she couldn't guess what the look on Laxia’s face was, the sound in her voice told the whole story, as the shock of the moment got the better of her. It was just a matter of lifting up, getting the right leverage, and then…

Bam.

Not that any of that was easy, and Sheila was almost as surprised herself to pull it off, but the results spoke for themselves. Laxia was sent flying, coming down on her back, stunned, while Sheila rolled off and gasped a few feet away, still aching from the hold. Much as it hurt, much as her body was begging her to take a few moments to recoup and recover, she pushed past it. She had her own payback to dish out.

Growling - a coarse, feral sound - Sheila forced her way up and dragged her way across the ring. If she had the energy, she would’ve gone for all kinds of things - maybe a Coffin Drop or a Moonsault, or maybe she’d ever Herc Laxia up and hit her with a piledriver. But after the pummeling she’d just taken, options were limited for the moment.

So she went with the simple choice - pulling her over on top of Laxia, mounting her at the waist, and raining down heavy punches on her face. ”Fucking! Stupid! Bitch!” She punctuated every with a blow, each one directed towards her opponent’s face. No technique, no subtlety, just hammering lefts and right and lefts. ”Say it again! Say that shit again!”

[Letta]

Laxia groaned, cradling her aching jaw. She blinked a few times and cautiously shook her head, but the dizziness lingered. Just as she tried to gather her senses, a rough, animal growl drew closer. By the time she turned to look, Sheila was already climbing on top of her.

“Uuugh...”

As Sheila’s weight settled across her waist, Laxia’s breath caught. She could not even tense her stomach. Above her, the arena lights formed a halo behind Sheila’s face and tangled mane. There was nothing merciful about the expression beneath it.

“Kyaaah...!”

The first punch struck her mouth, snapping her head to one side. There was no trace of consideration for a fellow wrestler in that blow. Before she could even register the first impact, another fist came down, with a generous helping of F-words and B-words on the side.

“Guh...! Uugh...!”

No finesse, no restraint. Just punches from the left, the right, then the left again. One caught her near the eye, another struck her nose. Her eyes watered, and a metallic taste spread through her mouth. Laxia hurriedly raised both arms to shield her face. But that alone could not stop the onslaught. Fists battered her forearms and slipped through the gaps in her wavering guard.

Had she ever been beaten like this in her life...? Outside the ring, keeping trouble at bay was usually the responsibility of her burly butler, who doubled as her bodyguard. There would be no one stepping in for her here. As the punches kept coming past her raised arms, that difference became painfully clear. And it had to be her face.

Countless steps in her skincare routine. Regular facial treatments. She had lavished the sort of care on her face that others might consider excessive. It was like the garden of a grand estate, tended by gardeners down to the very last leaf. And Sheila had just driven a bulldozer straight through it. Not even the suitors she had reluctantly met had been allowed to touch her face so casually. Yet this woman was pounding it with her fists. As though trampling her chest had not been enough, now she was going after her face, too.

“Nnngh....!”

A low sound escaped through Laxia’s clenched teeth. Too feral to be merely a groan. She did not realize how much it resembled the growl Sheila had made only moments earlier. Anger surged through the pain. Planting her feet against the mat, she struggled and twisted her hips from side to side. Every twist sent pain through her abdomen and made her breath hitch, but she had no intention of remaining meekly pinned beneath this woman. Seizing the moment when Sheila’s weight shifted to one side, she pushed with both hands and rolled them over...! Sheila lost her balance, and this time, Laxia came out on top.

“You... vulgar little thing...!”

There was no composure left for another lecture. Her orange hair was thoroughly disheveled, and a smear of blood marked her mouth. With her teeth bared, she looked nothing like her usual poised, dignified self. If anything, she looked closer to the very woman she had been regarding with such disdain.

“How dare you do this.. to my face...!”

Laxia went for the cheek first. She struck it with a sharp slap, then tried to drive her opposite fist straight into Sheila’s face. Then another.. But the next punch cut through empty air. She had swung one arm before drawing the other back, leaving them awkwardly crossed in front of her. This kind of fighting was unfamiliar territory for Laxia, too. Straddling someone and wildly throwing punches had little in common with the techniques she had spent so long refining. In her mind, she had already paid Sheila back several times over. Her body simply could not keep up with her anger.

“Nnnngh...!”

The thought of the state her face must be in was infuriating. So were the arms that refused to do what she wanted. To fumble like this, with the woman who had just been pummeling her now lying beneath her, was more than she could bear. Finally, Laxia unclenched her fists. At least this was something she had already done today. She seized fistfuls of Sheila’s disheveled blonde hair with both hands. Precise timing and fluid combinations slipped from her mind. All that remained was the desire to give back everything she had taken.

“IYAAAAH...!!”

Laxia hauled Sheila’s head up and slammed it into the mat. Still clutching her hair, she did it again, and again. Once was nowhere near enough...!

[BlackAkuma]

Now, this was a fight. This was what Sheila Morgan was fucking born for.

She wasn’t completely without technique. She knew the wrestling basics, and the crazier shit took a keener mind than most people would ever give her credit for. You had to have good timing to be a daredevil, know the exact right moments to throw yourself off insane heights, and have a level of mental fortitude many couldn't touch. Sheila could learn when forced to.

But this - getting in the mud, the dirt, the blood, the sweat - this was what made her day and kept her coming back for more. It was the kind of beautiful chaos she lived for, and she was oh-so happy she got to share it with a certain special someone.

Laxia, unsurprisingly, didn’t much care for the gift.

The woman got her hands up at some point in the barrage, trying to absorb the blows, but that went about as well as an umbrella with holes in it. Some got blocked, but enough got through to satisfy Sheila, and before long she had her opponent good and tenderized.

As with all good things, though, it wasn’t meant to last, and soon enough Laxia bucked her off, and sent the Wild One rolling away, coming over with her on top. Despite the sudden shift, Sheila couldn't but laugh at the indignation in Laxia’s voice, as if she’d crossed some get line by daring to smack her in the face. ”Bitch, it’s a fucking improvement!”

Now it was Sheila’s turn to take punishment. Or, more accurately, it was Laxia’s turn to fail at punishing Sheila. The first slap was hard enough, but everything else was a muddled mess that barely connected. After a moment, the woman just resorted to grabbing Sheila by her mane and ramming her head into the floor. Crude, but effective, so points for her.

Sheila wasn’t going to endure it for long, though, and she planted her feet and threw them into a roll of her own, one she hoped would send them under the ropes and tumbling to the floor - back to her territory.