L.A.W. - League of Anime Wrestling

Match Type: Standard Match
Rules: Victory by pinfall, submission, or knockout.
If there was anyone at LAW who didn't recognize Alena Stepanova from her MMA career, they certainly remembered her from her debut match. She had decided that if she was going to make herself known to LAW, then she would certainly make an impression that wouldn't easily be forgotten - and it was hard to deny that she had succeeded at her goal. Even when she was put up against a girl who hardly seemed to know what was going on and appeared to be on the verge of a panic attack as soon as she stepped through the ropes, Alena treated her entrance like she was main-eventing a PPV, with all the grandeur and seriousness that entailed. She had made one thing perfectly clear - she was here to make an impact! In her mind, she was the greatest fighter LAW would ever see, and she played the part to the letter! With that match behind her now, everyone was asking themselves what Alena's future in the company might look like.

As a matter of fact, for her second match, Alena had something even bigger planned.

Spoiler

As her music blared over the speakers, Alena marched out from the curtains, her head held high with pride. As she was last time, she was accompanied by a small group of security guards in suits and sunglasses who stuck close behind her, which only emphasized how important she was - or at least, how important she held herself to be. She held her hands high in the air to no shortage of cheers and applause from her fans, and as she came to the ring, she hoisted her fist over her head as she climbed up onto the apron and grabbed the top rope. There, she slid through the ropes and into the ring, where she held her hand out for a microphone - and the referee was quick to oblige.

"Goooooood evening, ladies and gentlemen! Or, as we say in Russia, dobryy vecher!" She carried herself with all the fire and enthusiasm she'd shown in the ring; one might argue that she seemed to think she would do the ring announcer's job better than the actual ring announcer. "It's a pleasure to be here in LAW on such an occasion. I'd like to thank all of you for your warm welcome last week. I can't be happier with my first match in this promotion! But...I do want to make a proposal, for my second!"

Alena stopped to crack her knuckles before continuing. "In my first match, it was the promoters who chose my opponent for me. It's all fair and good, I suppose. It's how the business gets done. But, and pardon me for perhaps jumping the gun here...it may be only my second match, but I don't think that sort of business works for me! Nyet! If I'm going to be proving myself against the biggest names LAW has to offer, if I'm going to be showing the world I can be the main-eventer I was born to be, I would ask a favor of the gentlemen in charge of booking these matches. I'd like to request I choose my next opponent!"

A few murmurs went through the crowd; even a few faces in Alena's entourage went tense. It was awfully presumptuous of the girl to make a challenge like this in only her second match - but whatever the case may have been, that fact did nothing to deter Alena from her mission. "This company has no shortage of worthy foes among its ranks! But among all the men and women, the champions and challengers, the heavyweights and the lightweights and everything in between...there is one name in particular I would like to try my hand against! The woman called...Spectre!"

Alena's proclamations already seemed quite bold. But as soon as she named her next opponent, an audible gasp went through the air. Though she too was relatively new to the company, Spectre had established herself as no one to be trifled with. She had displayed nothing short of ruthlessness and brutality in every match she was in. Her very being was shrouded in mystery - no one knew who she really was, or where she'd come from. She almost seemed like something more than any other wrestler, like some malevolent force of nature - indeed, like a virus, something that seemed to disrupt the company by her very presence. She'd left devastation in her wake, and her threat was a palpable one. And yet, Alena, in her second-ever match at LAW, wanted a shot at her!

"I know this Spectre has a fearsome reputation!" she added. "But I assure you, that's nothing that intimidates me - not one bit! My skills in the octagon are tried and true! I can fight my way out of any bind! Even the opponents I've lost to, I still gave them a hell of a fight! If there is to be anyone who can stand up to this Spectre, who can show she has a chance...let it be me! If I win, I'll put a stop to this Spectre's reign of terror once and for all, and cement myself in the annals of LAW history! And if I lose...bah, I have no intention to lose! But if I do, I won't go down without giving this virus the fight of her life!"

"So!! Spectre, the ball is in your court now! If you accept my challenge...I'm waiting!" Alena got a few cheers for her courage alone, but the arena was watching with rapt attention to see what the next few moments might bring. The very thought of anyone picking a fight with Spectre seemed like suicide...but Alena, it seemed, didn't even have the shadow of a doubt! The question was, how would Spectre respond?

This was meant to be a recon night.
Stay up above, chill out with snacks, try not to spill too much below and maybe, just maybe, fuck with some shit that can be rounded off as technical error. All in all, a good time. Spectre even had her setup. A cushion underneath her butt in the rafters, her legs dangling over the railing. Her two laptops arrayed on one side, then a small popcorn on the other.

Next up: Alena Stepanova.

A Russian MMA Fighter — Gifted, hard worker. Submission City.
She knew this girl from an MMA career. Primarily by articles that touted a noteworthy MMA fighter jumping over to wrestling. But her details were slightly shallow. One of the logistical challenges of her combat doctrine is just not having the time to research every interesting opponent to a proper degree. Well. Now was the best time as any.

She put her computer in her lap, opened a browser and searched for the name as Alena Stepanova gave everyone their greeting. Right — Crowd pleaser.

“Hmmm…. Stepanovaaa.” An immediate pile of hits! Articles and YouTube videos. Anything from interviews to matches itself. Speculations, her entrance into LAW, top ten victories and more. She settled on videos that aired highlights of her MMA fights, then watched, dividing her attention between this and Stepenova herself. She rewound the videos frequently, slowed the playback and observed how she countered a strike into a flying armbar. It was a strong glance, mostly. Admiring craft than truly deciphering how to beat it, just yet. That phase would start when she got back to the clinic—draw up proper regimens and ideations on her white boards. And while she watched, she instinctively tried to pop a popcorn piece into her mouth. Only to realize…

She’s masked.

Her brows furrowed. “Ugh.”

“I would like to try my hand against! The woman called...Spectre!"

"huh?"

Yeah, she started listening afterwards. Half-amused and half fuzzled she’s being put on the spot for something. And right after the Great Missed Popcorn of Thirty Seconds Ago. She was annoyed, but had to listen. The audience’s reaction and Stepanova’s speech was crucial information into how she was progressing in her mission.

"So!! Spectre, the ball is in your court now! If you accept my challenge...I'm waiting!"

Spectre didn’t want a precedent that she can be summoned by yelling on a microphone. Let alone by an able and ready opponent. But everything about Stepanova pointed towards forwarding her objectives in the LAW Universe. Embed herself, climbing the ladder, putting down tougher names. Accrue name-power. And Alena was an opponent with a proven name already. Alena was shiny, and fucking cocky. Deliciously cocky.

Her fingers poised over her second laptop. Her eyes closed and she mused.

Hmmm...Now... Or Later...

Boop! Mouse clicked. Spectre’s symbol popped on the Titantrons, glitching with its spinning purple nuclear eye. Her entrance wasn’t far behind.
Church bells ( one… two… three )! Techno!

!

Time to go! Spectre got up from her cushion and unhooked her crowbars from the railing. She hooked them to her belt and its pouches of goodies. Then she ran for the edge, jumped the railing and grabbed her cable and hook, which began descending faster than normal. Spectre balanced on the hook with an arm grabbing the cable above her head. The audience spotted her, peered up, and pointed!

Her brows remained fixed to the ring and furrowed, miffed, but intent on destruction. At the usual six foot mark, Spectre dropped from the hook and landed on the top turnbuckle pad. Ankles together, knees out, hand on the pad. She stood up, drew both crawbars into her hands and held them

.

“A shot at me isn't free.” Spectre’s synthesized voice remarked.

”You really want to do this?” There was VERY much a right and wrong answer.

Spectre's entrance onto the LAW scene might have still been young, but it had set off a furor of discussion nonetheless. No one could deny what a threat she was, and her presence was felt throughout the company, with many wondering when the next time she might strike without any warning was, and what form that strike might take. Alena had caught wind of that tension as well - and she wanted to make a point that she wouldn't let it hold her back. She was going to take her shot and call Spectre out, regardless of the dangers. She wanted to prove she could take on some of the most fearsome and renowned names in LAW, and if Spectre was on everyone's mind, to Alena, it only made sense that she would cement herself in the annals of history by being the first to put the masked woman in her place.

Spectre's presence was palpable, all right, and when Alena called her out, her previous exploits were on everybody's minds. That aura of fear fell over the stands; a shudder rippled through the crowd. But no one realized just how close Spectre really was - until she hurled her grappling hook down from the rafters!

A few gasps rang out at the sudden knowledge that Spectre's presence was so close at hand. Alena turned to face the noise, but when she looked up to see Spectre standing right above her, it didn't break her confidence at all. If anything, it just left her emboldened! She planted her hands on her hips, standing as tall as her smaller stature would allow, and flashed a winning smile toward the redhead. Even as Spectre began rappeling down to the ring, to the cries of "Holy shit! Holy shit!" from those in attendance, the look on Alena's face was as ready as ever! To her, this just meant that her challenge would be answered after all - and she was prepared for it!

"Aha! So, my challenge approaches!" Alena boasted. Spectre's harsh words crackled through the speakers of her mask, and she glowered at Alena with the sort of piercing stare that could make lesser opponents quiver in their boots. But Alena wouldn't be daunted. She only saw potential - potential she was ready to reach out and claim for herself!

"I wouldn't be making the challenge if I was unsure!" Alena huffed, flexing a bicep. "Don't try to talk me out of it, because you're wasting your breath! I will face you, and I will win - my mind's already made up!"

Alena Stepanova appeared too courageous for Spectre’s liking. She wanted a rise in the LAW podium—to create a certain omen amongst the peers that she shared the ring with, where it was less about whether tonight was their night, but how long their night would last. Getting that far would be a process. Five matches was not enough. Even so, she knew she couldn't let Alena pose in front of her like so. Talk to her like so. It didn’t anger her, no. Not even annoy her, but it was still incorrect. So it became a challenge. Her mission to see her skin shake when she touched it.

Clay to which she wanted to mold through submissions of all kinds. Spectre wanted to smile about it. Grow some distance from thinking this face was even a face, but a squishy, breathing, talking ragdoll with no human soul, so she can stretch and twist them until they made the—perfect—noise.

"I wouldn't be making the challenge if I was unsure!" Alena huffed, flexing a bicep. "Don't try to talk me out of it, because you're wasting your breath! I will face you, and I will win - my mind's already made up!"

“...”

Her brows furrowed. She was, quite literally, being flexed on. Funny. Two can double down, Stepanova.
Spectre stood. Then she backflipped with forward momentum, otherwise known as a gainer. Now standing on the same canvas as Stepanova, Spectre, armed with her crowbars, approached with the same stare she dropped down with. Her arm fully extended into a crowbar swing, pointed, and stopped right before Alena’s face.

“Name your rules.” Spectre told her, “I'll still win.”

The crowd now waited. Many leaning forward in their seats to learn what came next. What match type was to be chosen? Who—will—win?

It's all in Alena's court now. Everyone's watching. The fans, the ring announcer and the referee. Clock was ticking, and the bell wasn't ringing.

Spectre might not have been the tallest woman around, but her presence well made up for it. Whether it was the ruthless reputation she had already accrued, or the threatening mask she wore, or the way she clutched two crowbars in her hand with every indication that she wouldn't be afraid to use them, she had an aura about her that had more than established her as one of LAW's most feared women, even if her tenure in the company had only just begun. Anyone who found themselves in a staredown with her would've no doubt felt at least a moment's hesitation about what they were getting into. Spectre wasn't just a ruthless opponent; she was an inscrutable woman of mystery, and everything about her was a puzzle even to the executives at LAW. She played by her own rules, and she wouldn't allow anyone to stand in her way. She couldn't even be understood or bargained with. She was practically a force of nature.

...And yet, none of that even seemed to faze Alena at all. The smirk on the Russian girl's face was as bright as ever, and she didn't even flinch for a moment, not even as Spectre was talking her down. She heard all the warnings. She knew what she was getting into...she just didn't care. What was an impossible test for anyone else was just a challenge to Alena - and that just made it all the more appealing. If she could succeed where no one else would even dare to tread, she'd have proven all she'd come here for. And by all accounts, right now, she was entirely convinced in the ability to do just that!

At Spectre's offer, Alena balled a fist and planted it against her open palm, sinking down into a fighting stance. "My request isn't a lot," she explained. "All I ask for is a good, clean match. You and I, standard, victory, pinfall, or submission. I don't need any fancy gimmicks to be able to beat you - and I want the world to see that! So...what say you, hm?"

Brave, Brave, Brave.
That was her key opinion of Alena after this point.
Grand speeches, grand declarations. Sounded almost familiar. But. What she saw with Alena was something more purely honest. Simple, in a better way. She couldn’t smell the insecurity or a sense of fear when she did it. No hesitation. No waiting. No bluster. Fanfare. Just: a fight.

Spectre can almost commend it. Of course, it was the incorrect input on many other fronts. There was points to make with such a proud, courageous and fight-hungry woman. You don’t target Spectre. Or, really, you shall be afraid to attempt such a thing. Because what lurks at the end of losing… Will never be worth it. And to that, she can only rummage up scenarios for Miss Stepanova. Our Heroine of the Hour. Hm~Hm~.

“...” For a few moments, she didn’t react.
Stayed still, rather. She stared deeper into Alena’s eyes with a gradually increasing squint. Just: looking. Turning the world blurry around her and adding a sweat drop to the referee’s hairline.

At last. Spectre flipped her crowbar around, flung up her second one, caught them both in one hand, laying horizontally across. She handed them to the referee, who nervously accepted them into her grasp with a meek “O-Okayy… I guess I’ll put these…” Spectre glanced their way. They stiffened up, going white. “R-Right! Okay-over-there-then!” And scooted off to place them beneath the bottom turnbuckle.

Meanwhile, just a moment after Spectre handed off her crowbars, she instantly stepped up to Stepanova, virtually putting them a hair apart. Spectre stopped abruptly.

Now...
Face-to-face.
Masked apathy versus a brave smirk.
Malevolent Virus vs Grand Duchess of the Octagon. Set to begin at any moment!

Spectre would finally respond. Simply... “Bring it.”

Alena had picked this fight. She knew that she was going head to head against one of the most feared women in LAW, and she didn't even care. Alena was here to make an impression. She wanted to cement her name in the annals of history, and if that meant taking on the very woman whose presence alone held the whole company under her thumb, she was willing to do it! She hadn't even expected Spectre to answer her call in the very same night, but the Virus was ready for her, whether she was or not. And yet, even when Spectre showed up unannounced, coming out of the shadows as though nowhere was safe from her; even when she didn't show the slightest hesitations about what she might do...Alena didn't either. The Russian girl was already convinced that no matter what Spectre threw her way, she could handle it - no, even better; she could conquer it! Some wrestlers would have shied away from even the idea of going up against Spectre - but Alena had chosen it. Alena wanted it. She wanted Spectre at her worst, to truly put herself to the test. And now, it seemed, that was exactly what she was going to get.

Not even when the referee withdrew in fear did Alena have the slightest of hesitations. Even when Spectre leaned in closer to get in her face, Alena met that by planting her hands on her hips and drawing in closer with a confident grin. This was exactly what she'd wanted, all along - a match against a truly fearsome foe, and one that would prove to the world that she was every bit a force to be reckoned with as she'd built herself up to be. When Spectre challenged her, Alena had no qualms about saying the words many would never dare to say to Spectre - "Do your worst!" But she was fully convinced of it - whatever Spectre's worst was, she could handle it!

*DING DING DING*

And now that the bell had run, Alena was ready to throw herself right into the heat of battle! Without a moment's hesitation, the Russian girl let out a battle cry as she threw herself in to close the distance, aiming a forearm straight to Spectre's chest. She was hoping to push her back - and if that worked, she'd tail after her and throw her full weight against her to take her down with a shoulder tackle! Alena truly excelled when she could make her moves from the ground, and for now, she'd focus on getting Spectre there!

Spectre was ready for her most difficult match yet.
Since the moment she dropped in. Alena was to be an extremely deadly adversary. Accomplished, powerful and brave. The kind that overcame adversary. She loved to study these types, to learn and criticize. And to avoid losing to them, because she would always be ready. Ready to face a warrior. The risk here is huge. Just not bigger than the prize itself.

She had been starved of real competition to beat. Her knuckles itched to squeeze a neck that felt like it earned its grip. And so, for not even a second, she kept her stare directly into Alena’s eyes as the crowd rallied behind the duchess—eager to see her success and hard work cash in against one of LAW’s terrifying villains!

The first blow struck her clean. Her breath skipped a beat.
It squashed her tits into her body and sent her torso leaning back. She stumbled a few steps, controlling it so she didn’t turn around and give her back, but continued facing her opponent, hands up. Alena charged and Spectre sharpened her gaze. Her back foot planted. She timed her jump to vault over their head before the shoulder tackle could crush her. The crowd made a wave of anticipated awes. Spectre went sprinting for the opposite ropes.

The wind picked up beneath her boots. Her back rebound off the ropes and she came at Alena at full speed. At the perfect mark, Spectre jumped, knees pulled in, feet pointed; she struck. A high dropkick aimed to take off their head! 

Despite the fearsome reputation Spectre had built up for herself, despite the air of menace that surrounded her and the imposing presence she cut from the theatrics of her entrance alone, Alena didn't even have the slightest hint of hesitation. She had already made up her mind. For her, defeat not only wasn't acceptable, it wasn't possible. She was going to strike with the fullness of her heart and soul, and Spectre was going to feel it - and her legacy as the woman who stood up to Spectre would be cemented in the process.

That showed in her willingness to challenge Spectre, no matter how many crushing victories she had to her name. And it also showed in the tactics she employed. Some wrestlers, against such a terrifying foe, might have exerted more caution. Not Alena - as soon as she had her cue, she hurled herself headlong into battle! She was putting herself well within Spectre's reach, and yet, she didn't care! She hurled her arm straight across Spectre's chest, and the masked redhead went staggering back from it! Already the crowd burst into cheers, from Alena's bravado alone!

A smirk came to her face as the Russian fighter took in the fruits of her labor. But she wasn't going to stop there. Her successes had emboldened her, and now, as she went to throw her weight after Spectre, she was hoping to make lightning strike twice! But just then, Spectre ducked down and rolled over Alena's back. When Alena came to a halt, she did so with her center of balance tipped forward and her feet apart, leaning all her weight over on one knee, while her other leg stretched out straight behind her. Her balance was compromised, but she wasn't out just yet.

Spectre had half a mind to change that, though! As she struck the ropes behind her, she came bouncing back, poised to slam her feet into Alena's skull! The girl looked back over her shoulder just in time to see Spectre coming closer and closer to her - but then, she wouldn't let that daunt her either. And if her last blow hadn't landed, she was sure this one would! In one swift motion, Alena shoved her weight forward onto the foot in front of her. That would pull her body forward and out of the way, buying her just a few more seconds before the impact. But a few seconds were all she needed, when her next move was to pivot herself around on her one foot, whipping her other leg back toward Spectre for a roundhouse kick!

One of the hidden laces that tied Spectre’s boots was her acknowledgement of certain… shortcomings.

She was a short girl. And she was light. So light, that even those in her division could pack a punch that she simply couldn’t stand firm from. Preferably, she would dodge. Block. But she knew, if she needed to take a strike, to always stay balanced then let herself fall.

And thus, it was her legs following her teetering torso. It stung, but not terribly. Then Alena came at her hard and Spectre reacted. She overcame their attack, then sprinted for her own. Faster and faster until she was able to jump high for the drop kick.

When her legs hit nothing but air, entirely exposed, her eyes gaped by the reactive speed of Alena to hit her clean in the chest. Her boobs felt squished into her ribs. The impact made a clap. The crowd stared in awe. To see Spectre receiving any punishment was always a drop of water to a droughtful desert!

Spectre whirled around into a two-hundred-seventy degree spin counter-clockwise and spanked the canvas on her front, bouncing.. She grabbed the middle of her chest with a clawing hand and coughed. Her legs were tangled, one over the other. She coughed again, pushed up with a hand and tried to assume a position that would see herself on one knee, curled over, but quickly rising.

Her flank was bare.

Open to potential counterattack!