Knockin' On Heavens Door

[killcarrion]

*...I know...I packed...the stupid...little...*

Dressing Room

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Fluttering around the innards of one particular LAW dressing room were the scattered belongings of an irate Wrestle Angel fresh out of the shower after having dried herself off. The fabled angelic distinction still somehow carrying weight amongst the wrestling community in spite of the fact the mismanaged federation went belly up years ago in bankrupted disgrace. Even the wrestlers who kinda sorta sucked back than (In Blade's opinion) were still getting work on the independents so long as they flash a smile and make sure to emphasize who their last employer was with every syllabic inflection. She could certainly accept that being a former Wrestle Angel opens doors for her that are closed to others, but Blade certainly hoped she wasn't still getting signed to contracts merely based on her affiliation with that...eclectic, roster and that alone. The mere notion grinds her gears something fierce and makes her want to show up to work twice as eager to showcase why she's one of the best in the business. Now if she could just find her freaking wrestling boots in her goddamn-

Blade

"Found em!!! You little pricks you..." An overjoyed Blade triumphantly showcased her booted treasure after unearthing them from deep in her tote bag...now flinging them to the side as she started dressing from her lone jacket into her wrestling skivvies. Now doing so in the secluded comfort of her own private dressing room, which was practically about the size of a one-bedroom apartment she crashed in once. Such a swanky luxury was never even afforded to her back in W.A. You wouldn't hear Blade complaining though. Chauffeured rides to and from her home. Executive training gyms. A cool little mini-fridge in the corner. Hell she could get used to this kind of upper class treatment so long as LAW kept footing the bill. The prosperous wrestling organization recently sparing no expense if it meant getting certain talent to sign on the dotted line, the only hesitance on Blade's part being that she'd need to be wrestling...well, let's just say a different caliber of opponent than she's used to wrestling alongside the norm.

Blade shimmying her waist side to side scoot up her wrestling trunks and tugging down on her fishnetted top amidst what was already a disheveled dressing room, somehow becoming unkempt in record time thanks to Blade's penchant for the disorderly. She was in no rush though, she'd arrived early enough with time to spare and hours to kill until it was showtime. Intent on getting in some exercise stretches and perhaps even take a leisurely stroll down the hallways to familiarize herself with the new surroundings. And hopefully find some who can explain to her the point behind a Loser's Championship Belt...

[CyanDimitrik]

Knock. Knock.

The sound would echo shortly after Blade had successfully tugged on the essentials - fishnetted bralet top, the trunks. Poor boots will have to go wanting for a little longer, unless the new Wrestle Angel alumna opted to make the figure outside her door wait. Though even if she did, said figure would wait patiently.

Well. Maybe not patiently. There's some fervent bobbing on feet going on outside that murky-glassed door.

Blaise Cameron, recently dubbed The Phoenix, hasn't been back long from his lengthy training escape. It saw a great many things change in his approach to wrestling, and indeed felt that it put at risk the very thing he enjoyed most about it: simply having fun doing it. Living the life of a superstar, win or lose. Now, winning had to matter. It had to mean something. It wasn't just his reputation riding on his success rate, but the reputation of the trainer who'd been barking in his ear from the start. The reputation of the people who gave him that extra training. But the different feeling? It's not all bad. It feels pretty good to win. It feels great to actually have some fans starting to get behind him. And, admittedly, it feels stellar to not feel like a loser at the end of the day.

His re-debut had been marked with success and a thrill for the crowd. But what came next? Well... a part of his old self flared up when he saw the card for the night. He's wrestling Blade Uehara. The Wrestle Angel. Clearly he made a strong impression with the management, if they're putting him in the ring with her. But there's more to it than that, at least for him. When he arrived at the arena, it was certainly early. Earlier than he'd normally be there, but it's for a reason! Not one to easily bat down impulses, Blaise got an idea in his head and just... went with it. Tension and excitement has been building for the most of the day, and by the time he'd gotten there, it was really all he could do to try to make it into his gear to prep!

He managed to get as far as removing his shirt. The sweatpants, shoes, and gloves are still on him by the time he left his room.

Current Look

And now, the young man stands outside of Blade's dressing room. Having just knocked, he shifts his hand behind his back to join the other. A part of him can't believe he's doing this, while another part of him insists he do this now, because pretty soon, they'll be fighting each other. The clash of feelings leaves him bobbing on his feet, nervous smile worn.

[killcarrion]

Once upon a time Blade may have been reluctant to lock horns with those bearing a Y-chromosome. A hesitance fostered from overhearing fellow trainees gab about the types of guys who'd even be interested in squaring off with the ladies. To say they were of the disreputable and predatorial persuasion would have been an understatement, believe her. But in the end Blade knew better than to allow locker-room chatter perpetuated by gossipmongers skew her perception of those just trying to make a name for themselves in the business. Most of whom she was assured were no different than her in that regard...of course, Blade hedged her bets on that by signing up with Wrestle Angel, a strictly female only federation. Her Father didn't raise no fool. Now though it was time she put her optimistic viewpoint to the test and see if she was right in offering all those dude bros in spandex the benefit of the doubt. Besides, it was a different time now. Gender equality dictated she at the very least gives guys a shot before she pops them in the mouth for copping a feel of her-

Knock. Knock.

"...shit...YEAH, JUS A SEC..." Blade whispered the obscenity before hollering back to the stranger at her door who based on your perception either had excellent or awful timing considering a minute earlier and they'd be seeing more sides to Blade than she was comfortable in sharing. The Okinawan taking a few seconds to check herself out in the mirror to make doubly sure she was presentable first with her mind now racing to ascertain as to who came a knocking considering she doesn't really know anyone here. Well, aside from fellow former Angels whom she highly doubted would go to the trouble of tracking her down on her first day on the job. Not when she was scarcely all that close with but a few of-*Ah, dammit. Must be more of those gladhanding corporate cronies. Keep asking me if these accommodations are to my liking and stuff.* Blade mouthing those oft repeated words as she approached with an exaggerated rolling of her eyes to the ceiling, opening the door but turning her back and not sparing them a sideways glance as she started walking back into the dressing room.

"Yeah hey listen thanks for checkin' up on me, you LAW guys are real cordial and everything but I don't need a babysitter, alright. I've been navigating wrestling arenas since I was sixteen, ya know? Whatever welcoming bouquets or whatever you have, you can just place them with the others alright? Tryin to get my game face on here." Blade halfheartedly wafted her hand in the corner of the room that housed all of the extravagant gift packages LAW offered her, now propping her foot against the leather couch as she started slipping into her wrestling boots one at a time...

[CyanDimitrik]

Blaise really had no idea what to expect here. No matter what the magazines would say, or what he'd see on television, it felt like all of that could be tossed out. Because this is real. This moment, the interaction about to happen, her reaction to him, whether or not it would be seen as too forward, unprofessional, weird- oh crap, is he being weird?

Naw, surely not. Right? Oh crap. Oh crap.

Blaise is starting to really second-guess the wisdom of this choice he's made here. Eyes dart sidelong, then back to the door, and aside again. Yeah, this was dumb. She-

Oh, that's how she sounds in person. Cool. Sure, it's muffled through the door and she's probably a little stressed, or- no, not Blade Uehara. She's chill like a cucumber. Wait, crap, he means ice. Cucumbers are cool. Who decided that, anyway? And why would ice also not be cool? Vanilla Ice thought he was cool, but he's neither ice nor really cool by anyone's standar-

The door opens. Blaise, thoroughly off the beaten trail with his train of thought, is caught off-guard. He suddenly snaps to attention, eyes wide, mildly agape, and perhaps most fortunately for him, entirely unnoticed. But there she is. Slender, toned, kind've punky hair, wearing the short-shorts, and the fishnet back, perched on the couch to pull on one of those boots. He's scarcely even comprehending what she's saying.

Oh dear. His brain has completely short-circuited. It needs a second to reboot, and all he can manage in this moment is staring stupidly at the girl he's about to wrestle. Impulsive thoughts take advantage of his brain's disabled filter, and:

"You're shorter in person."

Blink.

"Uh- I mean," he stammers as Blaise.exe starts running again, hands raised with palms out. "I was a- am! Am a fan! And I'm not a weirdo!"

Which is totally something a weirdo would never say.

"I mean- yeah, no, I'm- uh-" He plasters on a crooked smile that's somehow as sheepish as it is hopeful the last ten seconds would disappear into the aether, "I'm Blaise. Your opponent. Tonight, I mean. You- probably figured that out. The, uh, tonight part. Listen, I'm saying a lot of words right now, and I'm totally hearing it as it happens? But- okay. Fan. That's me. You're cool. Was wanting to, like, say that, you know, before. So I could get this whole," he vaguely gestures with his hands, "looking real stupid and gushing thing outta the way here where the cameras aren't rolling. Y'know?" He prompts with a hand at the back of his head, wide smile, and squinty eyes.

Meanwhile, a few people are staring at Blaise's bizarre behavior, since he's technically still standing in the hall. Awesome.

[killcarrion]

Given that throughout her storied career Blade has shared a wrestling locker-room with such paragons of humility as Beauty Ichigaya, whose contract mandated that sparkling champagne be chilled to certain exact temperatures whenever her private limousine chauffeured her to the arena...Blade considered it a point of pride not to be treated like a primadonna wherever she worked. Perhaps it was a byproduct of her humble beginnings in a single parent household where the value of a hard day’s work was hammered into her at a young age...or maybe she just wanted to stick it to those pompous windbags like Beauty and that insufferable cackle of hers. Regardless, the Okinawan simply wasn't accustomed to being outright spoiled like this with her own private dressing room and all the excessive LAW accommodations. Blade's cordial graciousness at the beginning was now starting to show fissured cracks as she started badgering whoever was at the door in prickled irritation as she yanked upward on her wrestling boot. Her tongue protruding out the side of her mouth as she tugged and waited for the backstage personnel behind her to deliver whatever flowered bouquet they had and closed the door on their way out. Overhearing what they said and replying on automatic without even acknowledging what was actually said.

"Yeah I get that all the time. It's cause of the lifts in our wrestling bootsWaitWhat?" Blade balked and swiftly swiveled in place to give this person her undivided attention, even if she was only wearing one wrestling boot. Locking eyes with the befuddled intruder seemingly only revving up his motormouth even moreso as she approached the fanatic until Blaise could probably ascertain the auburn hue of her pupils. Blade cocking one eyebrow in confusion with a frowned grimace out the side of her mouth as the fanatic rambled onward, as if she were feeling embarrassed for him at this point. "AlrightAlrightAlright!!! I get the gist already. Let's just get you inside before people start thinking we're breaking up or something." Blade interrupting his babblings with waved arms and hands than placed on his shoulders, urging him inside the dressing room whose door she'd close behind him. Thankfully the veteran discerned the main bullet points from whatever the hell that was. "Just take a breath alright. Heh, you might need to switch to decaf there. But whaddya say we just start over since I was kinda actin' like a jackass myself back there. So uh, Blaise, huh? It's a pleasure to meet ya. And I guess welcome to my humble abode." Blade flapped her arms up to gesture around her locker-room, showcasing an awkward smile to match the awkward moment. "Syooo...what can I do for ya?"

[CyanDimitrik]

Blaise is at the top of his game on this one, only made worse the moment Blade turned to face him. Because, and let's try to be understanding here, she was facing him. With, you know, her face. With those wide, exotic eyes presently looking at him as though he were an extraterrestrial. With that lovely pixie-ish face, and those cute, distinct eyebrows. With her figure, mostly ready in ring gear save for a boot - her tight stomach, the line of her smooth waist, the subtle flare of her hips, her long legs, the curvature of her chest- FACE! Her face!

It was just a glance! Right!? Just like a half-a-second glance! No way she noticed! Right!?

Hands snag for his shoulders, and Blaise is repositioned into the room like a stiff but compliant mannequin. For a few seconds, he stands there in silence looking down at her, bright blue eyes expressively round; deer-in-headlights for two, please.

"Hah! Decaf. Right," says Blaise finally with a blink, and instantly hates his delivery. With a strong inhale to try to level himself out, he takes a glance around the interior. It's about on par with every other private dressing room, he figures. He's had one a time or two on LAW shows. They feel very swanky to him, what with his terribly humble beginnings being every federation's punching bag. He didn't get many perks.

The question she poses to him, however, draws his gaze back to make eye contact with her. And at last, there's a natural smile; pleasant, patient, and softly illuminating his features. The answer wasn't one he'd pre-planned, but it came as easily as the exhale after the breath.

"You can be you."

It wasn't meant as a quip. He normally might've followed it with a jokey remark about how she's the best at that, or how no one does it better, but it was too sincere for that. He's a fan. His interest is in her - not anything she can facilitate, or some function she could serve for him. He just wants to see Blade Uehara, no strings attached.

His hand lifts again, sheepishly setting to the back of his neck. "Like I said, I'm a fan. Been one since you were in Wrestle Angels. Always thought you were cool, had great moves, and... this, for me? Kind'a like a dream. Knowing I'm about to wrestle you. Never would've thought I'd be doing that." He shifts the hand to thumb over his shoulder, "I'll be honest, my mind's still back in my locker room trying to catch up with reality."

"So I know I've been a total dork so far. And I can't promise that'll stop any time soon. Because you're," he gestures vaguely towards her, allowing his gaze to dip briefly over her painfully appealing figure, "y'know, you, but I'll give you a good match. And I'll fight to win. And if I end up beating you, that'll be incredible. But if you end up beating me... I'll still have your posters up."

[killcarrion]

Just for the record, and this especially goes to any wannabe Lothario's who think they have game...yes, ladies can notice a guy's wandering eyes quite easily. Not that this is meant to discourage those aspiring heartthrobs out there since some girls can actually find it kinda flattering under the right circumstances. Although for now Blade was merely chalking it all up to the overenthusiastic instincts of a flustered Wrestle Angel aficionado and not some lecherous perv eyeing her goodies. An aficionado whom she graciously invited into her private dressing room before the rumor mills started swirling. Tawdry gossip can travel especially fast within a wrestling locker-room filed with hyper competitive women athletes, believe her. Once inside she gave Blaise a proper assessment now that they were free from prying eyes and he could now piece together coherent sentences again. Blade easing back to sit on the side of the couch, hands clasped onto the same cushioning and legs extended outward. A polite chuckle offered to his decaf reply, somewhat cringe-worthy but earning him some points for being a little cute when flustered it seems. Except now it was time for her to share in the same feeling as well once Blaise started heaping on the praise and appreciation for her career out of nowhere.

"W-wow...Well, uh, now I'm really grateful I didn't just slam the door in your face earlier. You sure don't hold back when it comes to expressing yourself, do ya?" Blade sheepishly quipped with an index finger scratching the side of her face, standing upright with a perky smile now that she's understands the situation here. "But thank you, Blaise. I appreciate you taking the time to come back here, all the kind words, and letting me know how much this means to ya...eeeeeven if ya did come off like a dork, yeah. OH, but a brave one!!! A brave one for sure!!!" Blade showcasing her own propensity for Foot-In Mouth-Disease, saving it as best she could with her fumbled addendum meant to assuage Blaise's ego. The Wrestle Angel veteran attempting to buck up Blaise with a slap on his shoulder and wholesome smile to alleviate the tension in the room. "Hey, come on!!! Lighten up a little. In the end I'm just another competitor lookin' to serve you your keister on a silver plate, and I intend to do just that bucko~..." Blade mischievously winked with a grinning smirk as she walked back towards her couch, sitting down to start tying on her other wrestling boot. "Well we got some time. Why don't ya tell me a little more about yourself? May as well know all I can about the first dude I've ever wrestled..."

[CyanDimitrik]

And just like that, Blaise's soul evacuates his body, complete with streaming tears. He is, indeed, a dork. The girl confirmed it. She didn't have to, but she did it anyway!

Fortunately, it zaps right back into his body when she adjusts the focus, and he shakes his head vehemently. "You're definitely not just another competitor. I mean, maybe to those people? But to me, you're...," he pauses in thought before turning to sit beside her. "...you're Blade Uehara. Aerial Ace. Cool gear, great smile, pretty face..." His shoulders lift in a shrug as he looks ahead. "You've been beatin' people a lot longer than I have. So - I dunno, maybe it's weird. But you're pretty awesome."

The question turning onto him has him looking down at his knees in thought. "I'm your first, huh?," he says. "Well, let's see. I, ah.. I always loved professional wrestling. Ever since I was an applehead. Family enjoyed it, but they thought it was, like, dumb. So they laughed at me when I told'em it was what I wanted to do. And it when I turned eighteen, I told'em that's what I was gonna do. And they sort'a shrugged about it. Trainers thought I was pretty rad, but when it got time to actually lay the smackdown in the ring for reals, it just..."

He pauses, hands lifting with an uncertain shrug. "I dunno. I loved being in the ring, but I just couldn't pick up a win. Literally spent years just munching L's, 'til my family told me they'd stop watching altogether. Then my contract got sold out overseas, to LAW. And I started wrestling in Japan, but not much changed. Didn't mean I wasn't havin' the time of my life, or that there isn't some.. uh..," he pauses, trying to determine his wording, "...interesting elements? To mixed wrestling? The fans are sure into it. But yeah, I kept gettin' pinned."

"'Til finally, I got taken out of active rotation and sent into some hardcore training. Rewired the way I wrestle, made better use of what I could do, just... made it all work better. Got rebranded as the Phoenix when I made my return, and it was like a whole new me. Can't say it's as fun'n chill as it used to be, but.. I feel more like a winner now, y'know?" It's a modest assessment, but he's never been one to aggressively boast. The reality, however, is that his performance now versus back then is worlds apart.

His head tilts slightly, attempting to get a look at her face. "Doesn't mean I don't still geek out over some favorites, or have a few particular female wrestlers I totally crushed on ever since I was like seventeen or eighteen. Especially from Wrestle Angels, forget about it." He leans back, bright blue eyes lifting as he begins recalling the laundry list of the wrestlers he got all hype over. "Like Yui Naruse, Kanna Kamui, Teddy Cat Hori, Succubus Manabe, Kazumi Fujiwara, Tomomi Watanabe..." He eyeshifts aside to her briefly, clears his throat, then lets out a sigh. "Then there were the ones who were like... top tier. The hottest ones. Cuty Kanai, Hikaru Ogawa, Rei Tomizawa, Beauty Ichigaya, you, Chizuru Nagahara..."

It's slipped in there as natural as can be. She does make that list of his, after all! It's so obvious to him, it doesn't even require a second thought. Surely she knows she's killer levels of appealing, right?

"So yeah! Pretty much sums it up! Never figured I'd ever actually meet you. Or that you'd be kind'a just," he glances across to her with a small, boyish smile, "nice about it. But for that it's worth, the camera doesn't capture the half of it. You're way prettier in-person."

Just shorter, apparently.

[killcarrion]

*Over...Under...In and Out...That's what shoe tying...is all about...*

Consummate professional that she was, Blade Uehara continued her business of swirling laces through the holes on her wrestling boot while dutifully listening to everything her future adversary was saying. Blade acknowledged that she must have gotten through to Blaise about lightening up once he took it upon himself to take a seat beside her and seemed all too willing to open up about his wrestling career up till this point. She figured it must be a gift of hers to make people more sociable and ease the tension levels...whenever she wasn't the cause of those simmering room temperatures herself considering she didn't exactly get along with certain narcissistic co-workers like Beauty Ichigaya. Blaise's story earning a few perked eyebrows as she continued with her task, especially when he started name-dropping some of those co-workers. Nostalgic flashes of the glory days of Wrestle Angel playing in her mind as she reminisced about old friends who have either retired completely to pursue other career ventures, become stay at home Moms and concentrate solely on their families, or are still tying on wrestling boots like Blade was almost finished doing.

"Yeah, those really were the days-Wait, prettier?!" Blade balked at the notion which interrupted her wistful recollections, ceasing her threading motions on the spot as she swiveled her head to glance in his direction...a few uncomfortable seconds passing before a lighthearted chuckle broke the silence as she started putting the finishing touches on her boot. Averting her attention back to the task at hand in the hopes her blushed hue went unnoticed. "Heh...Umm, I think you're mistaking me for some other Wrestle Angel you're probably memorized in that encyclopedic noggin of ours. Whenever it came to those beauty pageants, calendar shoots, cat cafe's or whatever, it was always the other girls in the locker room who all the fans wanted to ogle and gawk at. S'not like I can blame them considering I was sharing a locker-room with veritable knockouts all around. Which was fine by me, of course. I didn't get into this business to dress like a maid, or put floppy bunny ears on my head..." Blade cleared her throat and knowingly stopped herself from divulging more since it was kind of a sore subject for her. Plus, she was sorta dismissing everything Blaise had just opened up about.

"Still though...that sucks to hear about your family. Not sure if I would have made it this far myself without my Dad having my back throughout all this. Well, I'm not gonna spout any condescending bullshit like 'I know how you feel' since the journey you've had through this wacko industry is going to be unlike anyone else's, including mine. But it does sound like you've really been put though the wringer in this business already. Beaten down. Cast aside. Left to smoulder in the ashes..." Blade callously remarked as if she were piling on the despair and overall gloom of Blaise's situation as she finished tying her shoe. Except afterward she bounded up to her feet and stood before Blaise with a beaming smile. "...And I'd say that's a perfect position for a guy like you, right? I mean. Bursting forth from the decayed embers of who you once were. Soaring into the sky reborn and brighter than ever. I'd say all of that seems right up the alley of a guy calling himself "The Phoenix", wouldn't you say?" Blade offering Blaise a hand out of the chair with an upbeat smile and brimming with confidence in the downtrodden fanatic. Dork or not.

[CyanDimitrik]

Blaise's head tilts faintly to the side as she dissects the complications of his life, reminiscent of an intrigued puppy. And yet, none of what she mentions seems to weigh on him whatsoever; like throwing rubber-tipped darts at a stone dartboard. It just bounces off, harmless in the face of simple unending optimism. But when she connects the dots to his new gimmick, she's awarded with a brighter smile.

Taking her hand, he lifts to his full height to stand chest-to-chest with her. His head is tipped downwards just a smidge to keep his gaze settled on hers, sparkling and vibrant. She's nicer than he expected her to be; though it may be more for sportsmanship than anything, he realizes. Still, even if that's the case, it's sportsmanship in a nice way. She doesn't have to be encouraging to him, but here she is, doing it anyway.

"You got it," he nods sharply. "Which is whyyy~ I'm gonna have to beat'cha tonight. Not just because wrestling you is like a fanfic I never even knew I wanted, but because taking down Blade Uehara would go a long way." His gaze hoods at her, his smile turning playful. "Hope your dad'll forgive me for whippin' on his baby girl."

Riding closely on the tail of that tease, his voice softens a little as he adds, "Just to be clear, though? Definitely not mistaking you for anyone else." His gaze flicks from hers, taking in her features at this close proximity - her small nose, the point of her chin, her wide, exotic eyes, those thick eyebrows - before finally meeting her gaze again. "Not that face."