The Princess and the Tiger: Katsumi Oshiro VS. Bengal

[BengalTheBlazeTiger]

Thanks a lot to CyanDimitrik for reaching out and helping me set up this match!

Match Type: 1v1, No DQ

Katsumi Oshiro, the Punk Princess

Spoiler

Bengal, the Blaze Tiger

Spoiler

Bengal enters the arena first, striding down the ramp to the sounds of "Combustion" by Meshuggah. A flare of pyrotechnics erupts behind her, the firelight reflecting off the shiny black vinyl of her tops and trunk. While she keeps her face perfectly composed, her heart is beating as hard and fast as the pulsing drums. This will be her first official match in the L.A.W. women's arena, and everything here is on an entirely different scale - more fans, more noise, and much stronger opponents. It's a far cry from the dingy underground leagues where she first cut her teeth. She's been hoping for an opportunity like this for years.

Before Bengal can reminisce on the past, she's brought back to the present by the ring announcer's voice: "Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is a No Disqualification match! Introducing first...standing at a height of five foot, seven inches, and weighing in at one hundred and forty pounds...from Kolkata, India...THE BLAZE TIGER! BENGAL!" The crowd roars in support of the new talent. Of course, if they had known Bengal's history of using underhanded tactics, they might not be cheering quite so loudly.

Usually, rookies in L.A.W. are matched against each other for their first bout, but not Bengal. Instead, she'll be facing off against an already-established talent - Katsumi Oshiro, the Punk Princess! Bengal had seen footage of this joshi wrestler's matches before, and she knows that she's in for a tough fight. Whatever. That just means it'll feel even better when I win, she tells herself, trying to quiet the pounding in her chest. She vaults over the ropes and takes her position in the corner of the ring, waiting for her opponent.

[CyanDimitrik]

Once Bengal had settled into her corner, the lights in the arena dimmed down. Low, low, low, until the stadium was a sea of black bedazzled with twinkling camera flashes. Then, the music began.

The Music

Vivid purple and green lasers dance along the edges of the stage and ramp. Searchlights begin canvasing the audience. When the hard electric guitar intro hits in full, they converge at the top of the ramp in time to see the Punk Princess rush out into the open, arms thrust into the air with a bright, if cocky, smile on her pixie face, framed in a shower of purple cold sparks. The arena is awash in mixed reaction; half the audience cheering the proverbial hometown hero, or having a particular preference for her impish or brutal ways, while the other half scorns her for the very same. But regardless of which side, the volume is staggering. She's known around these parts.

She's foregoing her typical entrance attire tonight - no jacket, no sunglasses. The gold studs of her bralet gleam under the light, her slender, toned waist and stomach left bare before the gold studs of her belted hip-hugging trunks continue the tradition.

One arm lowers, angling a pointing finger to the ring to single out the dark-skinned girl already in the ring. With a smirk, she shakes her head while giving a disapproving side-to-side waggle of the digit.

"And her opponent!," begins the announcer.

Katsumi starts down the ramp at a confident, hip-swaying strut; both hands raised to either side with palms outturned as if simultaneously acknowledging and dismissing the fans and haters to either side of the aisle. People lean in and reach for her, begging for high-fives, hugs, or even a look, but Katsumi only has eyes for her opponent in the ring.

"Standing at a height of five foot, seven inches, and weighing in at one hundred and twenty-four pounds! From Osaka, Japan! The Punk Princess! KATSUMIIIII! OOOOSHIROOOO!"

The punkette trots up the corner steps and gracefully maneuvers onto the apron, facing out at the audience she'd just passed. Her left fist lifts, the right hand moving beside it to... crank.

...slowly, her middle finger raises.

She feigns surprise at the result, only to follow it with an air-kiss. "Muah, bitches."

With a perk to her energy, Katsumi arches back over the top rope to smoothly roll over it and into the ring, only to rush into the far corner and rapidly ascend, boots perched on the middle ropes. Her right fist thumps against her chest a couple times before whipping her arms back, head raised, soaking in the spike in volume from the crowd.

Finally, the vivacious Osakan drops with a spin to land facing her opponent. Bright green eyes dip, rapidly assessing the other girl while the referee gives her the pat-down; confidence level, height, body type, everything. She has a pretty face. Nice body. Good abs. Freaky eyes, though.

[BengalTheBlazeTiger]

Bengal thought the crowd had been loud during her entrance, but the pop that Katsumi receives in her hometown is even louder. Her heart is beating even faster now, but she tries not to let her nervousness show. She breathes deeply and rolls her toned shoulders back, limbering up to prepare for the opening bell. Then she locks her dark orange eyes onto Katsumi's sparkling green ones, sizing up her opponent. The Punk Princess is a few pounds lighter than her, her arms and waist a little narrower - but Bengal can tell from her well-toned muscles and confident smile that this won't be an easy fight. But I didn't come here to take things easy, she reminds herself.

In the past, during her career in underground leagues, Bengal was known for trash-talking other wrestlers before their match began. It was a good way to get them angry, leading them to make careless mistakes. But now, here, the crowd is so deafening that she's not sure Katsumi could hear her from across the ring. Besides, her mouth is dry, and she can't think of anything clever to say. Instead, she simply raises her hand and beckons her opponent, crooking her sharp, black-painted nails inward. The meaning of the gesture is obvious to everyone watching: Bring it on.

The peal of the opening bell cuts over the noise of the crowd. Bengal's first L.A.W. match is about to begin!

[CyanDimitrik]

The fingers curled, the beckoning gesture universal. The response it gets is such a pointed little eyebrow raise from Katsumi, as if offended at the notion that she'd want her to bring it. After all, doesn't she know what she's gotten herself into?

Affecting a deliberately haughty air, Katsumi tosses her hair and leans out of the corner. The referee-girl has already rung the bell and signaled the two to wrestle, but Katsumi's in the mood to play with her food. To see if she can be rattled, if she has any insecurities she can pick at and have fun with. Hell, that's practically her brand; weaponized trolling.

She stops near the middle of the ring, left fist propped to her narrow waist while making a grand showing of, once again, looking Bengal over.

"So what, you're like... Darth Cougar or something? An evil furry?" Of course she knows she's meant to be a tiger. It's obvious. Even she can figure that out. But maybe her exploitable foible is pride and self-image! "Look at'cha. You're like...," she pauses, waving her free hand towards her. "...a customer service sleep paralysis demon!"

She doesn't really mean that. She can carry the air that she does for the sake of the bit, but aside from the spooky eyes, Bengal actually has a pretty face and nice body.

"I can't even tell what way to go with this. No, I don't have viruses on my computer, no, I'm not into vore, and baby, when you're flat on your back tonight, you better believe I'm gonna have the high ground."

[BengalTheBlazeTiger]

Bengal grits her teeth with annoyance. She's heard it all before, of course: the furry jokes about her cat ear headband, the tech support references mocking her Indian heritage. Many of her previous opponents had enjoyed making similar remarks, before she rendered them unconscious. Still, a part of her had been hoping that L.A.W. would be different, that the competition here would be focused more on wrestling - or at least, that they'd have more original insults. Clearly, that isn't the case here. Oh, well. If she wants to troll me, I can troll right back.

"No viruses? That isn't the impression I get," she drawls, stepping toward the middle of the ring. "From what I hear, you're dirtier than one of those used panty vending machines." She hasn't actually heard anything of the sort, but Katsumi isn't the only one who can carry a bit. "Which one of us is flat on her back, again? That's probably how you got signed to L.A.W. in the first place, huh?"

As she approaches her opponent, Bengal notes Katsumi's casual posture, her hand propped on her hip. It's not exactly a fighting stance. She's not taking me seriously. That's going to be her last mistake. She opens her mouth, as if she's preparing another put-down - but nothing comes out. Instead, Bengal pounces forward, aiming a jumping knee strike at Katsumi's jaw!

[CyanDimitrik]

Though the remarks Katsumi'd made may have been ones Bengal heard before, the reaction she has to Bengal's counter may be a bit different: an open laugh. Not a mocking laugh; one born more from amused disbelief. Given the way Katsumi came into the federation, the stand she took, the flak she caught for it, the fighting to follow with everything on the line... it's probably the least accurate insult anyone's tossed her way!

Though she is right about one thing; Katsumi was not taking her seriously. As a point of focus, in fact. A matter of her brand. The Punk Princess doesn't show respect in the ring. The very idea of it is absurd.

"Bitch, you haven't got a cl-AHN!"

Suddenly, a knee flies into the air and strikes her jaw. And that knee was attached to a woman who calls herself Bengal. The punkette is thrown back in a hard stumbling stagger, arms pinwheeling before hooking behind her and catching the top rope behind her. She interrupted the banter?! Who does that!? That's, like, half the fun of starting a match with someone! The irritation - and no small amount of pain - races through her mind as she untangles an arm to nurse her aching jaw.

[BengalTheBlazeTiger]

Bengal smirks with satisfaction as her knee strike hits its mark. "Maybe now you'll quit running your mouth," she hisses, as she watches the Punk Princess rubbing her bruised jaw. It's not exactly the result she was hoping for; instead of being knocked to the ground, her opponent is able to catch herself against the ropes. Still, Katsumi's new position leaves her vulnerable to some follow-up offense. Bengal decides to keep up the pressure. She charges forward, stretching out one of her muscular arms, trying to clothesline Katsumi over the top rope and out of the ring! It's a risky maneuver, though, especially so early in the match. If Bengal is even a tiny bit off, or a step too slow, she could end up getting thrown over the top rope instead.

[CyanDimitrik]

Quit running her mouth!? The remark gets a dry look from the Punk Princess; somewhere between annoyed and incredulous, with those vibrant emerald eyes narrowed on her. Not likely! She probably wouldn't be able to even if she wanted!

Bengal rushes in, and Katsumi's jaw firms. Gutsy. Very gutsy! Especially so early in the match! But she plays possum, biding for the right time. She watches the other woman on approach, the way she surges forth, each step like a rapid countdown. And there it is, the outstretched arm meant to catch Katsumi along the collar! She drops low, twisting at the waist to bring her other hand onto the top rope with the first, pulling the cable into a deep curve with the intention to let Bengal's whiffed momentum carry her forward to spill right out of the ring!

[BengalTheBlazeTiger]

For a brief, confusing instant, Bengal isn't even sure what's happening. One moment, her opponent is standing in front of her, seemingly stunned and helpless in the face of her oncoming clothesline. A split-second later, and she's vanished, like a magician dropping through a trap door. By the time Bengal realizes she's been tricked, it's already too late. The Tiger's furious momentum carries her over the top rope and out of the ring, as Katsumi ducks under her outstretched arm, quicker than a striking snake.

Fortunately, like the cats that inspired her costume, Bengal knows how to land on her feet. She twists in midair and rolls with the impact, before nimbly springing back into a standing position, a few feet from the ring apron. It's a quick recovery - but is it quick enough to prepare her for Katsumi's next move? Just like she promised at the start of the match, the Punk Princess now has the high ground, and there's no telling how she's going to use it...

[CyanDimitrik]

It was satisfying enough feeling the weight shift and roll above her and out onto the apron - and ultimately down to the padded external area. What's more, with the stipulation as it is, she knows they technically could have all the time in the world out there near the fans.

To wit, the referee-girl steps forward with the intention to start counting, but promptly halts herself with a stumped look on her face. Well, not a Hell of a lot she can do about this right now! So she plants her hands to her hips and looks indignant.

Katsumi, meanwhile, has her full focus on the dark-skinned girl beneath her. The coincidence isn't lost on her; she did, indeed, say she'd have the high ground. But she meant later! Not immediately! Whatever. Grabbing the middle rope, the punkette leans back to smoothly slide her body out of the ring beneath the bottom rope, landing on her feet with a liquid sort of grace. And the moment those gold-capped boots touch down, she's bearing in on Bengal, attempting to seize her by the shoulders and forcefully sling her back against the ring apron!

"Bet talkin' it out's lookin' better by the second!"