Laxia von Roswell vs. Sheila Morgan II - Bushwacked

[BlackAkuma]

Match Type: Backyard Brawl
Victory Conditions: Victory by pinfall, submission or KO. Anything goes.

***

Kiwikurra wasn’t the sort of place tourists stopped by or people detoured to on their way somewhere else. It wasn’t the sort of place your travel app would recommend, or where you’d see a cute documentary on YouTube. Depending on how old or new your map was, you’d never find it if you searched, and you'd never know the exact sequence of dirt roads you had to turn off and on to in order to get to the right spots. Calling it ‘remote’ felt like an understatement; coming from Japan, or even the rest of Australia, it felt like entering another world. Like it was impossible for a place like this to even be in the same country as modern civilization.

But

called it home, and it felt damned good to be back.

She’d come off the plane a few days ago, wanting to start setting up the old Outback Wrestling arena, make sure she sent out the invites, and get all her old mates to drive down. To her surprise, they were already there, waiting for her and having done all the heavy work. The old wrestling stage sat smack dab in the middle of the abandoned football field where they used to hold all her matches. They’d scattered the usual trash and nonsense around the field: a rusted-out old truck, oil drums, a steel chair, tables, fluorescent light tubes, et cetera, et cetera. The invites had gone out, and word was spreading through the community: ‘Outback Wrestling returns, one night only’.

And now she was here. Back in the grass, the sun beating down on her face, she looked at her scattered countrymen in the bleachers and let a wave of golden nostalgia wash over her. Barely a cloud in the sky, the air blazing hot, insects buzzing, and what she assumed were a few vultures circling in the distance. She couldn't have

With a baseball bat in hand, she marched out from behind the bleachers as her

[media][/media]

roared behind her, its shredding guitar echoing across the field. The crowd wasn’t huge - no more than four or five dozen, maybe in the fifties - since more wrestling fans didn’t even know this piece of hell existed in Australia, much less knew how to find it. But the few there made enough noise to compensate for thousands. A place like this rarely got any outside entertainment. The camera crews, professional referees, and all the other amenities LAW provided seemed almost like they’d come from outer space.

The crowd was loud and energetic, and Sheila matched it as she made her way to the ring, skipping across the patchy grass with her hand held high and her bat pointed skyward. ”That’s right, fuckers! I’m back!”

Sheila tossed her bat into the ring, slid off her jacket, and let it fall where it may, then rolled under the ropes and pumped her fist as she made her way around the ring, soaking up the energy. Straightaway, she knew that having the match here was the best decision she’d made in LAW, worth all of the bitching she’d endured from management for strong-arming them into accepting this match and bringing their crew out in the middle of nowhere.

Almost everything was perfect. Now, all she needed was a certain blonde, stuffy rich bitch to batter around, and she wouldn’t have to wait much longer for that, would she?