WELCOME TO THE OUTBACK
TIA HARRIS — HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP PROMO PACKAGE
The video didn't begin inside LAW's arena. There were no flashing lights, screaming fans, entrance music or carefully positioned cameras waiting to capture some heroic shot of the Australian heavyweight. Instead, the screen remained completely black for several seconds before the unmistakable sound of metal being struck rang through the speakers.
CRAAAAANG!
The camera suddenly flickered to life, though whoever was holding the bloody thing apparently hadn't received much training. The first thing viewers saw was dirt. Then a pair of work boots. Then half of an old ute before the camera finally swung upward.
"Ah, fuck me! Hold the bloody thing straight, would ya?!"
"I am holding it straight!"
someone protested from behind the camera.
"Mate, you're filming the fuckin' ground!"
After another awkward adjustment, the picture finally steadied.
There she was.
Tia Harris sat atop the battered hood of an ancient ute that looked like it had survived several decades of questionable decisions. There wasn't another wrestler, LAW banner or wrestling ring anywhere in sight. Instead, the Australian countryside stretched behind her beneath a merciless afternoon sun. Dry earth and scrubland surrounded the weather-beaten property, rusted fencing disappearing into the distance while an old corrugated-metal shed stood farther behind her.
Tia herself wasn't dressed like someone preparing for the biggest opportunity of her wrestling career. She wore a simple black top, denim shorts and battered work boots, while her long white hair hung freely behind her shoulders. Resting across those shoulders was a massive sledgehammer.
She stared silently into the camera before that familiar crooked grin crept across her face.
"G'day, LAW. How ya goin'?"
Tia waited several seconds as though she genuinely expected the prerecorded video to answer her. Eventually she shrugged.
"Actually, don't answer that. Couldn't give a rat's arse."
Sliding off the ute, Tia dropped onto the dirt and started walking toward the shed while casually balancing the sledgehammer across her shoulders. The cameraman hurried after her.
"Apparently there's been a bit of news while I've been busy mindin' me own bloody business. Heavyweight Championship's sittin' there without an owner."
Tia glanced sideways toward the camera, her grin becoming noticeably wider.
"Now THAT got me attention."
She continued across the property, boots kicking up little clouds of dust with every step.
"And I've already heard all the usual rubbish, haven't I? Everyone's hungry. Everyone's ambitious. Everyone's dreamed about holding that belt since they were knee-high to a grasshopper. They've sacrificed everything. They've worked their whole lives for this moment. Blah, blah, fuckin' blah."
Tia stopped and sarcastically wiped an imaginary tear from beneath her eye.
"Beautiful. Inspirational. Bloody adorable."
Then the smile disappeared.
"I don't give a shit."
The head of the sledgehammer came down into the dirt with a heavy
THUNK.
"I didn't turn this camera on to tell ya some heartwarming story about how little Tia Harris sat at home dreamin' about championship gold. I'm here because that belt's supposed to belong around the waist of the toughest heavyweight LAW can produce. So if somebody out there reckons that's them..."
Tia leaned against the handle of the hammer.
The grin returned.
"Beauty. Come prove it."
The footage abruptly cut to black.
---
[ THREE DAYS EARLIER ]
THOOM!
A fist buried itself into a heavy bag.
THOOM!
Another.
This Tia looked completely different from the woman lounging around the Australian countryside. Her white hair had been tied securely behind her head, while a black sports bra and shorts replaced the casual clothing. Sweat covered her muscular frame as she hammered away at the battered heavy bag inside an old gym.
There wasn't any dramatic music playing over the footage. There didn't need to be. All anyone could hear were Tia's breaths, the chains rattling above the bag and the increasingly violent impacts of leather against leather.
Another right hand buried itself into the bag, sending it swinging violently away. Tia followed rather than waiting for it to return, planting her feet and smashing another fist into the leather.
"Heavyweight. Funny bloody word, innit?"
The bag swung back toward her. Tia slipped beneath it and buried another shot into its side.
"Everyone hears that word and thinks it means bein' the biggest bastard in the room. Nah. Plenty of big cunts walking around who fold the second somebody hits 'em hard enough."
A knee slammed into the center of the bag.
"Heavyweight means somebody hits ya, you hit the cunt back harder. Means when you're knackered, hurtin', and every sensible part of your brain's telling ya that you've had enough..."
The bag returned. This time Tia didn't dodge. It slammed directly against her shoulder, and she barely moved.
"You keep fuckin' going."
She caught the bag underneath one arm, staring directly into the camera.
"Means when somebody's standing across from ya thinking they've finally found the thing that'll make Tia Harris quit..."
Her expression darkened.
"You make 'em regret finding you."
She violently shoved the bag away.
CUT.
---
The Australian sun had returned when the footage resumed. Tia had changed back into her black top, denim shorts and work boots, her long white hair hanging loose once again as she approached the old corrugated-metal shed.
She reached the doors and shoved them open.
Sunlight flooded inside.
There, buried among old equipment and years of accumulated junk, stood a wrestling ring. Calling it pristine would have been generous. The ropes were worn, the canvas had collected more stains than Tia cared to count, and the turnbuckles looked like they had survived several generations of people stupid enough to voluntarily be thrown into them.
Tia stepped through the ropes and slowly looked around.
"This is where I learned."
She slapped the top rope before immediately reconsidering.
"Well...not HERE specifically. This place is a bloody shithole."
The cameraman snorted.
Tia's head snapped toward him.
"Don't laugh, dickhead. You're still shit at filming."
The camera immediately steadied.
"Anyway..."
Tia walked toward the middle of the worn ring, running one hand along the top rope.
"People watch wrestling and see the good stuff. Lights. Cameras. Thousands of people screaming your name. Fancy gear. Big arenas. Everybody wants the moment where they stand in the middle of the ring holding something shiny above their head."
Tia looked around the empty shed.
"I see this. Heat. Sweat. Blood. Getting dumped on your fuckin' head in front of twelve people and being stupid enough to stand back up because eleven of 'em paid to see whether you could."
A little laugh escaped her.
"That's why I reckon this Heavyweight Championship business is bloody perfect. Two wrestlers eventually stand across from each other. One belt waiting for 'em. Bell rings, and suddenly all the speeches don't mean shit anymore."
Tia walked directly toward the camera.
"No excuses."
Her grin returned.
"Fuck, that sounds fun."
CUT.
---
[ TIA HARRIS — THE BOMBER ]
The music suddenly kicked into overdrive.
What followed was no longer training footage.
It was Tia Harris doing what Tia Harris did best.
RANKO HONJO vs. TIA HARRIS — FALLS COUNT ANYWHERE
Ranko's green hair was clenched in Tia's fist near the edge of the stage as the Australian hammered punches toward her bitter rival, the two women brawling dangerously close to the drop.
BAM! CUT!
KIRIE KATO vs. TIA HARRIS — AMBULANCE MATCH
Kirie launched herself through the air with a flying forearm. Tia planted her feet and
punched her straight out of the air, sending the smaller wrestler crashing onto the canvas.
THUD! CUT!
Another match flashed across the screen. Tia hooked her opponent, muscles tightening as she ripped her from the canvas and sent her crashing back down with a
heavy suplex.
BOOM! CUT!
Another opponent. Another night. Tia used her raw strength again, muscling her opponent upward before
driving her into the canvas with a power move that shook the ring beneath them.
CRASH! CUT!
The next clip changed the pace entirely. Tia seized her opponent's legs, stepped between them and turned her over, dropping her weight backward into a
Boston Crab as her opponent clawed desperately across the canvas.
CUT!
Then came the other side of Tia Harris.
A brutal impact sent the Australian crashing hard onto her back. For a moment she remained there, chest rising and falling as her opponent watched from across the ring. Then one hand planted against the canvas. Tia rolled onto a knee, shoved herself upward and slowly stood again.
"C'MON THEN!"
Tia threw her arms outward, roaring at her opponent to bring her more.
The montage accelerated.
PUNCH!
SUPLEX!
SLAM!
SUBMISSION!
Tia hitting people.
Tia getting hit.
Tia falling.
Tia getting back up.
The final clip showed the Australian wiping the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, looking at whatever she'd found there before raising her eyes toward her opponent.
And laughing.
The footage froze on Tia's grin.
CUT TO BLACK.
---
The next shot was almost unsettlingly quiet.
No Australian countryside.
No battered training ring.
No opponents.
Tia Harris stood alone in the middle of an empty LAW ring.
This time she was dressed exactly as the audience knew her: black-and-silver ring gear, purple boots, long white hair hanging freely down her back. The arena surrounding her was completely empty, most of the lights extinguished except those hanging directly over the squared circle.
Tia rested both arms across the top rope and looked out toward thousands of vacant seats.
"Now, whoever gets picked alongside me..."
She chuckled quietly.
"Good luck to ya."
Tia pushed herself away from the ropes.
"But if my name comes up, understand something before ya start celebrating. I'm not interested in having some beautiful wrestling match with ya. I'm not interested in getting five bloody stars. I'm not interested in shaking your hand afterward while everybody tells us how much heart we showed."
She shook her head.
"Nah."
Tia slowly began walking toward the middle of the ring.
"If I'm fighting for that championship, I'm dragging whoever stands across from me somewhere fuckin' miserable. Somewhere your lungs burn, your legs stop listening, and every bump hurts twice as much as the last one. Somewhere all that confidence you walked down the ramp with starts disappearing and there's nothing left except you, me and the question of which one of us wants that belt badly enough to keep getting up."
She stopped.
"That's where we'll find out what heavyweight really means."
Tia curled her hand into a fist.
"Because anybody can call themselves tough before the bell rings. Anybody can stand backstage and tell a camera they've got fighting spirit. Anybody can scream about how nobody wants it more than they do. That's the easy part."
She crouched slightly, bringing herself closer to the camera.
"The hard part comes when you're lying right here..."
Tia slapped the canvas.
"Your back's fucked. Your ribs hurt every time you breathe. Your arms feel like concrete and that little voice inside your skull is begging you to stay down because you've already done enough. That's when all the tough talk disappears."
Her voice became quieter.
"And somewhere through all that noise, you'll hear me telling ya to get up."
She straightened.
"That's where I wanna meet ya. That's where Tia Harris lives."
The montage briefly returned. A punch. A suplex. Tia being slammed. Tia getting back up. Her opponent being driven into the canvas.
Then back to the empty ring.
"I've won fights. I've lost fights. I've been knocked silly. I've had me arse handed to me. I've walked backstage wondering what fuckin' truck hit me."
Tia spread her arms.
"And guess what? Still fuckin' here."
She slapped herself firmly across the chest.
"THAT'S heavyweight. Not being undefeated. Not pretending nobody can hurt ya. Not padding some pretty little record so everybody thinks you're invincible."
Tia pointed directly into the camera.
"It's knowing damn well somebody CAN hurt ya..."
Her grin became almost feral.
"And showing up anyway."
CUT.
---
The Australian property appeared one final time.
Night had fallen.
A small fire burned outside the shed while Tia stood beside it, once again wearing the black top, denim shorts and work boots from earlier. This time she held something in her hands.
A cardboard replica of the LAW Heavyweight Championship.
Tia stared down at it proudly.
"Pretty good, eh?"
There was a pause from behind the camera.
"Looks like shit."
Tia slowly looked up.
"Mate, took me twenty fuckin' minutes to make this."
"Still looks like shit."
Tia stared at the cameraman for several uncomfortable seconds.
"You're dangerously close to becoming part of the promo."
Silence.
Tia nodded approvingly.
"That's what I thought."
She looked down at the cardboard championship one final time before tossing it directly into the fire. The cardboard curled almost immediately as the flames consumed it.
Tia watched silently.
The joking expression disappeared.
"I don't want a pretend one."
Her eyes moved toward the camera.
"I want LAW's."
Tia stepped closer.
"So put me name in the bloody draw. Pull it out. Put whoever you like across from me. Biggest woman you've got. Strongest. Meanest. Find some six-foot-whatever brick shithouse who thinks she's indestructible and send her my way."
Tia shrugged.
"I genuinely don't give a fuck."
Another step brought her closer to the camera.
"Because if that bell rings and the Heavyweight Championship's waiting at the end, I'm not coming to wrestle carefully. I'm not preserving myself for next week. I'm not worrying about whether I'll be sore tomorrow morning."
Tia cracked her knuckles.
"I'm coming to find out which one of us breaks first."
She leaned toward the lens.
"And whoever you are...pack a fuckin' lunch."
A pause.
"We're gonna be there awhile."
Tia turned around and started walking toward the house. Apparently believing the promo had ended, the cameraman finally lowered the camera slightly.
"That it?"
Tia stopped.
Slowly, she looked over her shoulder.
"Nah."
She marched straight back toward the camera.
"Nearly forgot the important bit."
Tia stopped directly in front of the lens. Her face filled almost the entire frame as she stared straight through the camera at whichever heavyweight would eventually find herself standing across the ring from her.
She tipped an imaginary hat.
"To whichever poor cunt ends up standing across from me..."
Her grin widened.
"Welcome to the Outback."
Tia winked.
"Hope ya survive the fuckin' tour."
Her palm suddenly covered the lens.
BLACK.
Several seconds passed.
The recording continued.
"Was that good?"
"Yeah."
"Fuckin' oath."
Another pause.
"You weren't actually recording when I called ya a dickhead earlier, were ya?"
"Yep."
Silence.
"Delete that."
"No."
Suddenly the sound of hurried footsteps filled the recording.
"OI! GET BACK HERE, YA LITTLE --!"
The cameraman apparently started running.
"I SWEAR TO FUCKIN' GOD, MATE!"
END.
if you wish to have a match with any if my ocs you can ask on here. All can do intergender. Also I am blade ocs on the discord 
