L.A.W. - League of Anime Wrestling

Previous Thread

A couple of days after the match, the stretch room at the L.A.W. training center was empty save for Veronika.

The lights were dimmed low, the hum of the building distant, almost soothing. She’d claimed the far corner of the room, mat laid out neatly beneath her, phone and water bottle set aside.

Spoiler

Her yoga outfit was simple, functional—and impossible not to notice. A teal sports bra hugged her torso snugly, the fabric stretching smoothly over defined shoulders and a toned midsection that tightened and relaxed with every controlled breath. High-waisted, dark compression leggings clung to her hips and legs, stopping just above the ankle on her left side while the right side the leggings were cut to at her thigh to reveal her menacing spider tattoo. Lightweight trainers stayed on, grounding her movements, while fingerless gloves rested loosely on her hands out of habit more than necessity.

Veronika exhaled slowly as she eased into a deep stretch, arms lifting overhead before folding forward. Muscles lengthened, back arching slightly as she sank lower, fingertips brushing the mat. Her breathing was steady...each inhale expanding her ribcage, each exhale melting tension away.

She shifted positions fluidly, rolling her shoulders, rotating her hips, easing into a long lunge that put her flexibility on full display. The movement was unhurried, almost intimate in how comfortable she was in her own body. A slow roll of the neck. A deliberate bend. A faint, content hum under her breath.

She had no reason to be on guard here.

No reason to think anyone was watching.

Veronika lowered herself into a seated stretch, one leg extended, the other folded in, torso twisting as her hand slid down her thigh for balance. Her eyes closed for a moment, a faint smile crossing her lips as she leaned into the stretch—relaxed, exposed, completely unaware that the space was no longer as private as she thought.

Army could admit it. He was being a little creepy, right now.

More than a little creepy, maybe.

In fact, it probably wouldn’t be too far off the mark to say he was veering dangerously close to full-on stalker territory.

There was really no other way to describe the act of following an unsuspecting woman around, sticking to the shadows, all with the plan of ambushing her when she was alone. Horror movies had been made about that kind of thing, and typically, this wasn’t what Army would do. He was more about handling his business straight up, to his opponent’s face, in the ring. Not skulking in the shadows and watching as his target did yoga.

In his defense, though, this was a special case. And Veronika was a special woman.

Her beating him in their match wasn’t what bugged him. He could get over losing. He lost all the time, it wasn’t that big of a deal, just a reason to get better. She hadn't cheated during their match - fought dirty, sure, but fighting dirty and cheating were two different things. He could let that go.

No, what still stuck in his craw was their first meeting. When she tricked him, pinned him, and knocked him out not once, not twice, but three times. That was personal. That was some shady shit. That, he was not inclined to let go, not without some major repercussions.

And today was the day for them. He finally had Veronika right where he wanted.

Stealth wasn’t in his usual skillset, but for a guy dressed in a bright blue Gundamn t-shirt,

thought he was doing a good job. He hadn't exactly come to the LAW building with the intention of doing an ambush - funnily enough, he was here to see if he could set up another match with Veronika, when he caught sight of the woman herself heading towards the training facilities.

It was too good of a chance to pass up. Army had been peeking from the door behind the stretching room, waiting until she looked relaxed - comfortable, seated, smiling like she had absolutely nothing to worry about. He slipped into the room, moving as silently as a guy his size could be expected to. One step. Another step. One more. Closer and closer…

He moved in quick with the last couple of steps, reached out, wrapped his arm around her neck, and pulled Veronika back into a sleeperhold. At the same time, he clamped his legs around her waist to hold her in place. He applied real pressure right away, knowing how lethal she could be if he gave her even an inch to work with, but that didn’t mean he was all business. He couldn't help but throw in a taunt.

”Hey.” He whispered in her ear, with the same kind of tone she liked to use on him. ”You looked lonely in here, though I’d join in. You mind?”

Veronika’s breath hitched the instant the pressure snapped into place.

Air rushed out of her lungs in a sharp, startled gasp as her hands flew up on instinct, fingers clawing at the forearm cinched across her throat. The hold was clean—too clean. Tight, high, no wasted space. Her back pressed into his chest, her center pinned by his legs, balance gone in a heartbeat. Not a playful grab. Not a tease.

An ambush.

Her eyes widened for half a second before narrowing with furious recognition.

“…you,”

she rasped, the word scraped raw as she twisted her shoulders, trying to wedge an elbow back into his ribs. It barely earned her an inch. The pressure only increased, his forearm grinding tighter as he adjusted, cutting off the angle she needed.

“Son of a—”

She sucked in what little air she could, teeth bared as she fought the hold with sharp, controlled movements rather than panic.

“You sneaky, pathetic—!”

Her heel scraped against the mat as she tried to hook a leg, to find leverage, anything. No room. No slack. He’d done his homework.

Veronika’s hands slid from his arm to his wrist, trying to peel fingers, her breathing turning ragged as irritation flared into real anger.

“Let go,”

she snapped between gasps, voice shaking more from fury than fear.

“You don’t get to do this. Not like this.”


Another sharp twist of her shoulders. Another failed attempt.

Then, through clenched teeth, a low, venomous hiss meant only for him:

“You’d better finish what you started, Army… because when I get free, I’m going to make you regret ever thinking this was a good idea.”

‘You.’

Those might’ve been the sweetest three letters Army had heard in a long, long time.

It wasn’t just the word itself, but the way she said it. ‘You.’ The shock in her voice. The surprise. The utter disbelief when she realized who was coming after her. It honestly blew his mind. Where he’d come from, you didn’t just get to do something like what she did and get away free of any Scots. There was always someone looking to even the scales. There was always payback. But Veronika had honestly never even considered that the person she screwed over might want some measure of payback.

Well, good. Tonight would be a learning experience.

Army clamped the hold tight, riding down her struggles at every turn. While this wasn’t his usual wheelhouse, he’d done enough digging on the techniques that he could execute them reasonably well. Maybe not spontaneously in the middle of a match, but on someone who absolutely hadn't seen it coming? Oh, yeah, he could make that work.

He didn’t clamp down all the way at first, letting her get out her piece, and then he began to ramp things up. Inch by inch. Tight and tighter. His muscles surged around her waist, and his arms bulged, keeping her on the cusp. ”You are really mouthy for someone getting knocked out.” She couldn't see his face, but he made sure his tone conveyed the smile. ”Let’s see if I can’t fix that.”

And tighter and tighter and tighter…

Veronika fought it at first—but even she couldn’t deny what was happening as the seconds stretched on.

Her curses broke apart into rough, uneven breaths. The strength in her hands faltered, fingers slipping from his wrist to clutch uselessly at his sleeve. Her shoulders tensed, then sagged, the fire in her resistance burning down into something heavier, slower.

“…damn it…”

she muttered, the words slurred as her head tipped forward for a moment before snapping back, stubbornness carrying her longer than her body could. She tried one last time to wrench her elbow back, but it lacked the force it had before.

The pressure around her neck felt distant now, like it was happening to someone else. Her breathing stuttered, shallow and unfocused. The tension drained out of her frame in stages—arms first, then her legs, until her weight sagged fully against him.

Her head lolled to the side, eyes unfocused, then closed.

Just like that, she was asleep for now.

Veronika went slack in his hold, unconscious, the stretching room falling quiet again save for the sound of her slow, steady breathing as the moment finally, decisively, belonged to him.

Army had to admit, he was never the sort of guy who got off on this kind of thing—but doing it on Veronika, someone who definitely had it coming? He could see the appeal. There was definitely something mesmerizing about watching another human being get knocked out like this, and feeling them fade in your grasp. The moment she struggled at maximum tension, all that buildup, and then…poof. Nothing. Like someone turned off a switch in her brain.

”And that’s one.”

Army let up on the hold the moment he felt her go limp, not wanting to do her any real permanent damage, here. Not physically, anyway. Mentally, he hoped this one would stay with her for a nice long time, and he had some good ideas on how to make that happen.

She wouldn’t stay out for long, so he worked fast, calling to memory how things had gone the last time they’d had privacy like this. One thing that really stuck with him was how she’d woken him up the last time. So…

He wasn’t an expert at armbars, but he got the general concept, and working with a limp body wasn’t exactly a challenge. He pulled her arm between his legs, draped his legs over her chest and neck, but he didn’t apply pressure. Not just yet. He wanted her aware. Needed to see that flicker in her eyes. Wanted her to realized what was about to go down.

So he waited and waited, just long enough for that look, and the moment he saw it? ”There you are.”

Army fell back and applied pressure into the armbar, ramping up the pressure with each passing second.

Veronika’s eyes snapped open the instant the pressure hit.

Her back arched off the mat as a sharp, involuntary cry tore out of her throat, the sound raw and unfiltered. Her free hand flew to Army’s forearm, nails digging in as her trapped arm was forced into a brutal angle.

“Gah—!”

Her teeth clenched hard, jaw tightening as she tried to fight through the pain instead of giving him the reaction he wanted. Muscles in her shoulders and core tensed, her body twisting in a desperate attempt to relieve even a fraction of the pressure.

Her breathing turned ragged, every exhale coming out as a strained hiss. Sweat beaded along her brow as she shook her head, refusing to scream again—refusing to beg.

“Damn… you…”

The words came out through grit teeth, half-growled, half-gasped, as the strain on her arm only worsened. Even through the agony, her glare stayed sharp and defiant.

But the pain was undeniable.
And it was getting worse by the second.

Army had to be careful, here - while he was out to do unto Veronika as she’d done unto him, there were lines he didn’t want to cross. Notably, while she got off on bending him into all kinds of crazy angles, she had never actually broke him, so he wasn’t going to go that far with her.

So, while he did pull that arm further…and further…and further back, he took care to make sure he wasn’t exerting enough force to cause permanent damage.

But it was going to hurt. Oh, fuck, was it going to hurt.

”Welcome back!”

He gripped the hold tight as Veronika returned to the waking world and immediately went into a struggle, about like you would expect, twisting this way and that in the hold and clearly not having the best of times. For Army’s part, he increased the pressure, little by little, and leaned over to monitor her reactions.

”So, I don’t do this sort of thing often, I figured you could give me some positive feedback. Am I doing it right? Or should I, like…” Army leaned back and stretched his legs out further, pushing her back hard down hard on the mat. ”Put some more leg into it, like that? Don’t hold back, I’m all ears.”

Veronika’s head snapped back as the pressure increased, a sharp, pained cry ripping out of her before she could stop it.

“A kurva életbe!”

Her free hand clawed at the mat as her trapped arm was wrenched tighter, her body twisting in a futile attempt to ease the strain.

“Engedj el, te őrült!”

she spat through clenched teeth, breath coming in ragged, furious gasps.

“Ez fáj, a francba!”

Another sharp hiss escaped her as the hold tightened just a little more, her voice breaking into a mix of pain and rage.

“Meg fogod bánni… esküszöm!”

Army raised an eyebrow as Veronika proceeded to curse him out in…Russian? He wasn’t sure, really. Sounded European, kind of, though he wasn’t anywhere close to languages from the area, and most of his experience came from Cold War era spy movies. While he couldn't make out the exact words, the gist from her tone was crystal clear: She was pissed.

Army, on the other hand, was having the time of his life, finally getting the better of this woman who’d made a game out of torturing. Schadenfreude, that was the word for it, right?

”Wow, you do not sound happy. Not as fun on the receiving end, huh?” He gave her arm another quick jerk for emphasis. ”Fucking sucks to be you.”

As entertaining as this was, Army did have a plan with all of this - namely, he was following the same script that she’d used when they first met. From what he recalled, this was the point where he’d tried to ram her into the turnbuckle, and she’d flipped him around and sat on his face. He obviously couldn't pull off the end result, but…

Army abruptly let go of the hold, only to throw his legs over her chest, straddle her with widened legs, and secure her with a facesit pin. He even threw in a quick pose, just for fun, to complete the image. He was sure he arm would appreciate the break, but her dignity was a different story.