Fury Rising

[PuroQueen]

The backstage area was bustling with activity, as wrestlers and crew members scurried back and forth as they prepared between shows. Kuroi stood off to the side and in the shadows, arms crossed over her chest, scowling at the thought of having to address the crowds. As far as she was concerned, her words were meant for the ears of one woman only. But no, management just had to make a spectacle of their little feud. Standard practice in the world of wrestling, but as naïve as it sounded now, Kuroi never thought she'd ever be subject to the whims of the league's handlers. She'd have been perfectly content with something dark, something where she could tear her rival to shreds without the prying eyes of thousands of horny onlookers. She was a martial artist after all, not a wrestler - she was a trained killer in every sense of the word. She was supposed to be beholden to nobody.

So it goes without saying that when Kuroi joined LAW, she hadn't done it out of a desire for fame or fortune. She wasn't looking to engage in petty Twitter feuds, or chirpy television interviews. Luckily she hadn't been sucked that far down the wrestling rabbit hole quite yet, but then again, she never envisioned herself publicly airing her grievances to a crowd of thousands either. No, she had joined LAW to fight the best there was, plain and simple. She had done all she could in the underground pits to the point where she truly believed she was unstoppable. She'd only come to LAW to prove that fact true once and for all. So imagine her surprise when her debut, the match that should have cemented her name as one not to be trifled with, ended in catastrophe. Imagine Kuroi's fury when the match that followed, the one that should have set the record straight, ended in failure.

If there weren't so many people backstage right now, Kuroi might've screamed.

Which was exactly the kind of energy management was without a doubt trying to get Kuroi to channel out tonight. And whether she would admit it or not, it was working. Kuroi didn't have the gift of gab, the ability to work the crowd, to entertain with words. But she wouldn't be needing that tonight; rage would do all the talking for her.

As Kuroi made her way towards the entrance of the arena, the energy in the air was electric. The audience was buzzing with excitement, eagerly anticipating the show that was about to unfold. The lights were dimmed, and the sound of her pounding music filled the air. The crowd erupted in jeers as Kuroi emerged from the curtains, her messy black and red hair trailing behind her like a cape.

Kuroi Kamikaze

She marched down the ramp, her steps heavy and deliberate, eyes fixed straight ahead. Kuroi's fists clenched at the memory of her defeat, the bitterness and rage bubbling up inside her. After finally reaching the ring, Kuroi snatched the microphone from the announcer's hand, the metal scratching against her skin. She lifted it to her lips, and the crowd fell silent, waiting with bated breath for her to speak.

"Two times," she growled, holding up her middle and index finger in a pointed V for further emphasis. "Two times I've stepped foot in this ring. And two times victory has... eluded me," Kuroi hissed, barely able to enunciate those last couple of words. "First it was because of your stupid rules, then it was because of an even stupider bitch!" Kamikaze spat out, before descending into laughter. "Don't you worry about that now though, because I plan on rectifying that in the very near future. But first, a treat for all of you - My past" Kuroi said with an enticing whisper. The reverence in Kuroi's voice fueled the audience's excitement as murmurs and whispers spread throughout the crowd. Kuroi lowered the microphone, a sneer curling her lip as she glared out at the sea of faces. She let the words hang, wanting everyone to know just how important her admissions here tonight were.

"Believe it or not, this league ain't the only place for fighting. It turns out that there are all sorts of places where people like me tear each other to pieces, places I shouldn't even be talking about, places that quite frankly, make your little league look like a petting zoo." Kuroi giggled dismissively, much to the resentment of the audience. "These... promotions let's call them, well, they were my home for the longest time. The only place where I could really pull out the big guns without fear of rules or reprisal. And let me tell you folks, I did well, really well. I spilled enough blood, broke enough bones, and ended so many bitches I've lost count! I've hurt people in ways you couldn't even begin to imagine, I've -" The crowd suddenly reacted with a chorus of boos, a collective rejection of the skilled martial artist's claim. Kuroi's eyes twitched wildly in response as she surveyed the sea of incredulous faces, angry that so many would refuse to believe her otherworldly abilities, even after they had witnessed them firsthand. Kuroi should have known by now that all these people cared about were the L's permanently attached to her name.

"What? WHAT!? Are you all calling me a liar!? You think I'm some sort of gimmick, that this is all some sort of game!? Well, you're wrong about that, bitches! I'll show you!... I would've shown you if it wasn't for..." Kuroi grimaced, her eyes slowly wandering back down to her feet. She wasn't here to fight the crowds. After her abject defeats, she almost couldn't blame them for denying her heritage, denying her abilities. After her last match with her rival, she'd come scarily close to not believing it herself...

No, she had to save her anger for the woman who deserved it most. No use wasting breath lamenting to a crowd who, just like everybody else in the world, would never understand her.

"SHEILA FUCKING MORGAN!" Kuroi boomed into the mic, her eyes blazing with fury as her muscles visibly rippled with pure intensity. "I know you're here, honey. I can smell your musk from a mile away!" Her eyes scoured the arena, as if Sheila might be lurking somewhere out of sight in preparation for another sneak attack. "No funny business this time, ya hear? Just come out, come out wherever you are, bitch! Don't worry, I just wanna talk... You and I still got a score to settle, and I figure we oughta set the terms!" She scowled as she paced around the ring, eyes madly bouncing around in every direction in search of her elusive enemy.

[BlackAkuma]

Sheila was, in fact, in the building, and she even believed the comment about her musk. She’d been told that she had a distinct scent to her ever since she came to Japan, with the place being a lot cleaner and people being way more sensitive than back home. She’d never thought she was all that dirty of a person, but she was downright grimy by their standards, and hardly a day passed when someone didn’t let her know it. Management had been giving her hygiene tips for weeks, sending her unwanted emails about complaints, all of which she summarily ignored.

There were a lot of things about Japanese culture that she didn’t get, and she found herself dealing with culture shock every day. It was something that she had resigned herself to. This wasn’t Outback Wrestling, it wasn’t her promotion, not her rules. Stranger in a strange land, and all.

She accepted that. Right up until the moment Kuroi Kamikaze stepped into her life.

The two of them didn’t wrestle - they fought. They went to war. She’d battled this woman twice so far in her LAW career, weeks apart, and both of those matches had been the most brutal, violent, unforgiving brawls she had ever taken part in, the kind of bout that would’ve been a perfect fit for any card she could’ve dream up on her own best shows. The last match had been utter hell, an insane bout that had seen her going through tables, flying across the ring, left her bloodied and broken bones, and even gave her two orgasms to top it all off. Even now, days later she was still showing the signs of all that damage, walking around the LAW backstage area with her ribs taped up.

She should’ve been home, healing up. Instead, she came around because she had something she wanted to get off her chest - her bruised, aching chest - in front of the fans, and a certain person she needed to have words with. She had every intention of doing that, too, right up until the moment that the target of her ire beat her to the punch.

Good. Time-saver, that. Sheila found a microphone backstage and promptly stomped her way towards the curtain, listening to Kuroi ramble on every step of the way. As it turned out, she had a lot to say, and she waited until all of it came out before she burst her way out onto the ramp, standing at the top with one hand on her hip, glaring down at her rival.

Spoiler

”Hey, KK.” She chuckled and rubbed her chin, waiting for the audience to die down a bit more before she spoke. They seemed hyped enough for whatever was about to go down, and she didn’t want to deny them, but she had her own things to get out. ”If we’re throwing out life stories, sure, let me tell you mine. In case the accent wasn’t a dead giveaway, I’m from Australia. Not the nice parts they show you on the postcards, but this dirty little place out in the middle of nowhere. You wouldn’t know it, doesn’t matter.” Sheila began to pace around the stage, resisting the urge to kick this off right now, keeping her raw emotions in check. If this was going where she suspected it would be going…

”Point is, there wasn’t a whole lot to do in backwaters like that, not much entertainment. Until me and my friends went and made our own little wrestling promotion. The places that make LAW look like a petting zoo? Yeah, I owned one. Made it from scratch. Fought in it. Bled in it. So don’t go around talking like you’re the only big bad bitch on the block. I’ve been through the same hell you came from, and I got the scars to prove it.”

With that dick measuring out of the way, it was time to get to the meat of things. Sheila folded her arms and sighed, doing her best to stay calm and lucid before she let another word slip out. ”But, yeah - you’re right. You and me have some bizzo to settle. We need a match, but here’s the thing - I don’t want a regular match with you. I don’t even want another hardcore match. If we do this, we make it the last time. No questions, no doubts, no escapes. We bring it to an end, and there’s only one way I can see that happening.”

Sheila leaned in and looked to her left and right, building up some tension as the audience waited. She kept it up, almost to the point of awkwardness, before she spat it out.

”Hell. In. A. Cell.”

[PuroQueen]

By the time Kuroi's head had whipped back around to look at the entrance, Sheila had already materialized center stage, emboldened as ever as she stood proud atop the ramp.

And she stayed there too, probably for the better. The mere sight of her was almost enough to make Kuroi explode. Her body twitched with a mixture of emotions too visceral to imagine, her blood already reaching a high simmer in her veins. Kuroi's eyes narrowed into a deadly glare, her lips snarled and menacing. She gave the same look any predator would give its prey before they pounced, but Sheila wasn't the only one far from fighting condition tonight. The stitches around the bridges of Kuroi's nose still looked fresh, as did the assortment of blue and purple bruises dotting her body. So, as much as both of them may have wanted to just have at it, Kuroi was left with no choice but to compose herself, nails biting into the palm of her hands as every fiber of her being fought the urge to attack.

Hearing Sheila's voice certainly didn't help. It was like nails on a chalkboard to Kuroi, the sound grating on her ears and setting her teeth on edge. Every word that came out of her mouth felt like an insult, a sharp reminder of all the wrong this woman had done to her. As Sheila continued to speak, Kuroi's rage only grew. Her mind was muddled by thoughts of revenge, of making Sheila pay for every slight she had ever suffered at her hands. But beneath it was a yearning that burned just as bright, a desire to feel Sheila's supple skin in the heat of battle once more, a longing to once again bask in shared cries of equal ecstasy and agony. Kuroi could feel the heat of her passion radiating off her body, a fierce aura that seemed to surround her and fill the entire arena. She hated that bitch, hated her for making her feel like this!

Hearing her rival's backstory did little to cool the tensions. So what, she got in a few backyard tussles? Did Sheila really think that compared with the bloodbaths that Kuroi Kamikaze had been through, the ones that she had personally been the cause of? Kuroi raised the microphone to her lips, her vanity too strong to just let that point slide - until Sheila said something that caught her off guard. This blonde wasn't satisfied either. She wanted to end this once and for all, and her suggestion for how to do it?

Perfect.

"Hell in a Cell..." Kuroi repeated into the microphone, her eyes never leaving Sheila. "Yeah... it'll be hell alright - for you." She licked her lips, taking a few steps closer to the edge of the ring to get an even better look at her rival. Yeah, she was busted up alright. They both were. "I want to hurt you Sheila. I want to make you suffer. And if that's the way you want it done... then I'm aaaaall game!" Kuroi spat, the acceptance causing a fervor among the audience. But Kuroi wasn't finished; she held up a fist, silencing the roaring crowds to a murmur.

"But if you think your hell is gonna end in that cage, you got another thing coming, girl. I want POW stipulations. You know what that means, right shit for brains? Prisoner, of, WAR!" Spittle flew from Kuroi's mouth as she hurled the words in Sheila's direction. "That's right, after I beat your sorry ass - and I will beat it - I'm gonna drag it home with me," Kuroi hissed before climbing up to the middle ropes, leaning so far forward that she risked flipping right over. She closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath of air as the thought of Sheila beaten and bloodied on her bed sent warm tingles up her spine. "The things I'll do to you then..." Kuroi fantasized with a half-whisper before her bloodshot eyes popped back open into cold reality.

"So this is your last chance, sweetheart! Last chance to get on the first plane back to that backwater you came from, last chance to hug mommy and daddy goodbye, or whoever's stupid enough to love you! Because after that night..." Kuroi's voice dropped to a growl, her words seeping through gritted teeth. "You're gonna be unrecognizable, bitch." Suddenly Kuroi's free hand moved towards her neck, an open thumb drawing a straight line across her throat. "I'm gonna fuck you up real good, Sheila! Real good!" Kuroi broke out into laughter, her cruel intentions booming into the mic and reverberating out into the open air.

[BlackAkuma]

Yeah, Kuroi agreed. Of course she agreed. It would’ve been weird as fuck if she didn’t.

Sheila didn’t know what it would mean for the crazed Japanese woman, but for her, the idea of being in Hell In A Cell was a long held dream. She had always wanted to do one with Outback Wrestling, but could never quite find the funds to make it happen. Cage matches? Those were easy. She’d set up those all the time. But putting together something that big, that expansive, was always beyond her means. It was the kind of wild setup that only a place like this could provide. Whatever her feelings on the way LAW handled things, they would have the scratch to make this happen.

And with Kuroi on board, it didn’t seem like there was anything left to say. All she had to do now was irritate the right people until they gave her what she wanted, shouldn’t be too hard. She turned about on her heel, prepared to ignore whatever craziness was about to come from Kuroi’s mouth, when the woman had to go and threw one of a hell of a wrench into the whole equation.

A POW match. Fuck.

Sheila looked over her shoulder down the ramp, straight to Kuroi, and she could’ve sworn she saw the gleam from the salivating bitch’s mouth from there. Yeah, she’d heard about those kind of matches, and she figured that,sooner or later, she would get drawn into one, but she’d never imagined that Kuroi would be the one. It made sense, though. Ever since they’d met, the bitch hadn't been shy about all the nasty things she wanted to do, all her wild intentions for Sheila’s body. She’d gone far in their last match, sure, but that was when she had to worry about actually winning. Alone, in her house, with no one to keep her in check and nothing to stop her, there was no telling what she’d sink to.

Sheila should’ve said ‘no’. With anyone else, she might’ve. But not to Kuroi. No way was she backing down against her.

”You’re on.” She snapped back after a moment of thought, and pointed back down her way. ”I don’t much like the thought of having your mangy ass in my apartment, but fine. I’ll slap some tape over that big gob of yours and let you sleep on the terrace.” As hot as Kuroi made her, she didn’t have the same taste for ravaging her that applied the other way around. As funny as it would be to rub the loss in her face, she could see even that getting old.

She started to leave again, when another idea occurred to her, one last thing to add some spice to this match. ”One more thing. Just to make sure this is final, and there’s no bullshit end. This match? Thirty minutes, Iron Man style. Whoever gets the most falls - pin, orgasm, submission, whatever - they win. No chance for anything to go wrong, no way there’s any question. When I beat you this time, it’s 100%. Got it?”

[PuroQueen]

The arena was alive with tension, the air thick with anticipation as Sheila considered Kuroi's added stipulation. The audience held their breath, watching and waiting for the blonde's response. Kuroi fidgeted, her fingers tracing the seams of her freshly tailored outfit. The previous iteration had been ripped to shreds at the hands of her rival.

The thought only reinforced why Kamikaze was here in the first place. The two enemies had already agreed to fight it out in a cell, but Kuroi wanted more. She craved the chance to bring the action home, to prolong the pain all night long. It was a humiliation she would willingly inflict on herself if she lost, a deserved punishment should she fail for the third time in a row. Her opponent, on the other hand, would have to be downright mad to want to entertain the notion of being Kuroi's prisoner. It was clear to every soul in the arena that Kuroi sought to conclude their rivalry in the most deranged of ways possible, to push beyond the boundaries of the ring and into the realm of torture. Luckily for her, the one woman crazy enough to consider it stood right in front of her.

And then, Sheila accepted.

Kuroi's grin widened, a mixture of excitement and anger coursing through her veins. She had longed for this moment since the last time they had clashed in the ring, and now it was finally within her grasp. She raised her hand to give Sheila one last goodbye, her middle finger halfway extended, before the other woman threw one last challenge into the mix.

Kuroi's excitement turned into pure, animalistic lust as she heard the words. The thought of being trapped with Sheila for thirty minutes, with every pinfall, orgasm, or submission going unhindered until the very last second, made her heart race vigorously. That cell wasn't going to be some fiery inescapable pit of despair. It was going to be heaven.

"Oh, I've got it, Sheila," she giggled with eerie delight. "You just signed your own death warrant." She licked her lips, her eyes never leaving Sheila's form as she imagined all the ways she would dominate the other woman. "Run along now girl, I'm not sure how much longer I can contain myself," Kuroi hissed from across the arena.

The threat hung in the air, palpable and terrifying. Even from across the arena, Sheila could feel the heat emanating off of Kuroi's body, could see the muscles twitching with desire. They both knew full well what they were getting into, but it was too late to turn back now. The match was set, and both women were ready to shed blood.