L.A.W. - League of Anime Wrestling

Context is here

Standard match
Victory by Pinfall, Submission or Knockout
Note: Not a normal beginning to a match, instead, one that happens "suddenly" due to forced circumstances.

Story mumbo jumbo that can be skipped

The whole of this was hideous. She remembered only the faint dream. The rushing voices, how she was moved, then whatever came next was a blur. Then the pain… A Reinhardt sprawled out backstage concerned all five present in LAW. The shame of being pinned in her bed, then lounging around, a perpetual drill in her skull for days that lingered. t wasn’t the first time, but it was her maiden experience with Karolina in attendance. She always that mocking grin and said nothing but a whisper in Adelaide’s ear. It made her sick. Maria was snoring at her bedside with her head rolled back over the chair. Johanna was just outside.

“Care to tell us what happened?” Adelaide asked.

“Just a fight. I was blindsided.” Karla replied.

“And where was your security?”

“I have nothing to explain to you.”

“Hahaha, of course not. However, this attitude is what starts fights. I, in particular, am starting to feel a little sympathetic to whoever attacked you.” Adelaide stepped over and put her hand on her forearm, and it slid up further until her fingers brushed on that pallid cheek.

“You want to play leader, and that’s fine. But on behalf of your mother, you should already know that we can’t look like pin-cushions to whoever wants a piece of us. We’re Reinhardts, not deer on a highway. We don’t get preyed on, we are the predator. So, as our front-runner, we think it’s best-“

“Don’t tell me what I should or should not do, you snake.” Karla reached, grabbed Adelaide’s collar and pulled herself to sit up. Her legs threw over her bedside, and she scooted up.

“I’ll kill that woman. You and the others just be ready to answer my summon, if I decide on it.”

Adelaide remained still, helping as Karla pulled herself to her feet. Karolina cast a brief glance, then looked away again, and Karla walked right by her. Adelaide chuckled, “This will be fun. She's so overdramatic.”

Maria snapped awake after the door slammed, choked on her spit and pointed at the bed. “Could I lie there now that she’s okay? My Reinhardt maximus hurts.” That was a comment they all looked at her for.

It would be a little while before Karla’s rage could be satiated…

But on that night…

The crowd’s white noise became Karla’s entrance music. She took to the stage, dressed in her two-piece attire. A black spade-shaped leather over her breasts, the rest swallowed by latex, and both spades bore her emblem with one red and yellow insignia over the chest. Short-shorts that creased with her legs’ swing, of similar aesthetic with red trim, golden laces and her name patterned across. Just below were tight shin-high black and gold boots that squeezed her thigh-highs, cupping her muscly legs and also bore her emblem. Further sashed in latex sleeves and a black collar, and that red waist-length mane, lipstick and shades was jewelry all in itself. Her stride was elegant and deliberate, but that’s all that maintained class on this night. For those eyes, through those lenses, were crazed. One brow cocked, the other squinted. Those hands curled into hammer-fists, swung at her side, and she quickened her pace as she went down the ramp. Jeers rained down, and in tow, the sharply dressed Adelaide walked out with a closed-eyed smile; her hand clutched on a referee’s nape. She forced them to hunch and scamper, wore a permanent grimace, winced when they tripped. Adelaide had a constrictor’s clutch.

Spoiler

Karla moved like a shark at ringside, “MIC!!!” She screamed at any ring attendant, and her vigour threw hair needles into her eyes. When she got the microphone, she threw herself onto the apron, rolled beneath the ropes and retook her feet with stomps. Adelaide wasn’t far behind, who took a fistful of the referee’s waist to lift and shove them into the ring. They rolled, held their nape, and Karla stepped on their head. She held the microphone up, waited for the thoughts to come down, then took a breath to speak…

“Alright! I am not going to make this long! This will not be a speech! You all know what I think of other wrestlers not worth their place, and you all know what I think of these disrespectful crowds. And frankly, if you all could just look in the mirror, you’d understand my point of view. But no, I think we’ve sung that song too many times already, so let me be concise.”

She took another breath and pointed her finger at the ramp, “Kahlia Katana! You and I have unfinished business. I normally set my sights on the undeserving who occupies the main event card, but you fancy yourself the puppy-dog who bites at the heels of giants. Your attack against me was nothing short of an evil, vile, and disgusting act, and from behind, no less! You never see me operate with such dishonour. You have no respect. None whatsoever! However, I’ve always been a generous woman, so why don’t you get out here, right now and face me one on one or else I take out my frustrations on the referee beneath my foot.”

To prey on the weak was the act of a villain. And to protect the weak was the act of a hero. Karla didn't need to do what she did. The Reinhardt family had already carved out a legacy of competency and excellence. But instead, the shortest and likely most spoiled of the bunch sought the need to be on the wrong side of the line in the sand. She chose to pick on those she knew couldn't pick back, for reasons Kahlia couldn't explain. Never got slapped hard enough in the face? Likely not, considering her time in LAW, and the fact that Kahlia had previously forced her brain to dribble in her skull like a basketball. Encouraged by her family? Possibly. Or was she just some insecure little brat who felt the need to take out her inadequacies on others? Who's to say?

But right now, Karla was calling out Kahlia, and even using the referee as a hostage for it. Very well.



The auburn-haired heroine of the locker-room, nicknamed the Enforcer, came out from behind the curtain, now dual-wielding sheening katanas. Her stare was as cold as when it locked with Karla's in that hallway, her face as flat as ever, seemingly unmoved by Karla's sudden appearance. If one had seen the footage, they would've assumed the redhead would be out for months. Yet here she was, ready for a fight and not leaving until she got it, along with her taller companion.

Usually women like Karla got themselves little chihuahuas, ones they can fit into their purses. But it seemed that she got herself a Great Dane, one that towered over her, yet still blindly loyal. Her presence would likely make a confrontation more difficult but... she did have two swords with her, did she not?

Kahlia began her descent down the ramp, the mere presence of those blades hopefully acting as enough of a deterrent to leave the zebra alone, but she broke out in sudden sprint. And with a mighty leap, she was on the apron, once more face-to-face with this devil.

Glancing away, the Enforcer beckoned an official over to take her swords for her. After their last encounter, Kahlia didn't count out the chance that the enraged Karla would try to stab her with one... not that she had confidence in the redhead's swordsmanship. She'd likely fall over trying to wield one.

Then Kahlia leapt over the top rope, expression unchanged, but muscles tensed and ready to spring into action. Would this be an actual contest, or an attempt at a mugging? She was ready for either, and would be happy to leave a signature on both of their skulls if they tried it.

This itch scarred deep into her brain, excavating her nerves, revealing new ones and unearthing this great desire that led to the now. Anything that battered against the shield needed to be swatted. The only things that made up whatever happened was an expensive meal, bottle service and a trip to the skies. A therapy. Alas, nothing really fixed it. Just this endless ticking, working herself up until she got to this point. The point where an official was underneath her boot. This situation was under her total control, and she knew how to run the stage like a puppeteer with just her own voice. These false egos and senses of infallibility were susceptible if one just yelled loud enough, shouted and spat on a name. Barbarians, she concluded.

“Tch… Weapons.”

Karla’s nose curled. She was no stranger to them, in fact, some of her biggest bouts were designed around them. Blades were another avenue entirely, though. The feasibility of using them without consequence was a matter she pondered a million times a minute. Nothing of the spider webbing brought signs of immediate alarm. She held her ground, for the time being. If not, well - this is why she had bodies.

Finally getting this Hundchen in the ring brought nothing short of a smile. Something went her way, just as it always should. Karla began grounding her heel on the referee, just to let the anger bleed so she may keep her composure steady. “Let me commend you. You showed up, willingly. Unlike all my adversaries who simply weep and beg when they hear the news they’ll be facing the Main Event, you just come when beckoned, I like that. And while it’s disingenuous to take anything back that I’ve said already - truth is - I just want to see just what kind of woman who stands up to me. What goes on in the head of someone who lays hands on someone who's the closest thing to god in modern times, it’s just baffling, silly and wrong. So what say you, Kahlia Katana? You’ve been nothing but quiet since we’ve encountered each other. Say something. Do you. Accept. My challenge for a standard match, no tricks, no ploys and only skill?”

Karla finally stepped forward off the official to approach her opponent, pointing the microphone near their mouth with a sideward stance so they didn’t even need to look at them, but off into the distance, pursing lips and this sense of impatience gazing at the ceiling.