L.A.W. - League of Anime Wrestling

A hotel conference room at the Nebula Faire convention had seemed humble. In spite of the sign out the door—with its pink and looping font on starry black background, Magic of the Seelie Court—one did not scent the Hedge among a bunch of foldout chairs and a raised stage. But dim the lights, wrap the stage with rose silk and cobweb cotton, pour in some mist, pipe in woodland creaks and groans, and you can conjure your audience to a palace of your own making.

Shimmerlace called them up and knocked them down, each in their turn, girl or guy or alien fiend betwixt (betwixt being the norm at this con). Could you please place your signature on this card? Flick of the wrist, card slips into aether. A few more tricks later, the half-forgotten emerges (surprise!) with a puff of smoke out of her mouth. The assistant stares in gobsmacked glory.

Your girl regarded assistants as essential. A trick without a mark was a trick Shimmer discarded. She on this stage was the maître of her kitchen, and she liked to watch her food savored, up close. Some take it hot, a flutter of hands, palms to mouth, oh my gosh! Others take it cool, perhaps with a quirk of the eyebrow. Impressive. An exchange of gifts, magic and attention, trick and memory. Years back it started as one face and one snapshot, then it became two. Soon her memory landscape holds a hundred satisfied customers and their hundred looks of delight. That's why you pull an assistant to sit with you onstage.

For each flame there comes the final puff. Shimmer had one last trick for this group. "I shall require...One!" She'd held up her finger. "Additional wee helper!" As she scanned the audience, it did not take her long to find the ideal candidate. Indeed, this one was almost too perfect. She pointed her finger through the crowd, and if her mark wanted to hide, the instinct came too late as eye met eye.

”Howsa abouts...You!”

Having a convention in town was something that Kate could not miss, still, some part of her did not want to be seen here, somewhat still ashamed of her interests despite knowing there was nothing wrong with them at all. Then again, with how she carried herself there was little to no chance that she ever could avoid drawing attention to herself. Let alone now, with a "Flesh is weak t-shirt" that suspiciously was missing its midriff even though once like that seemed not to be sold on any of the stands, a pendant in the shape of the mark of sacrifice from Berserk and with a large bag of who knows what other kinds of nerdy artefacts.

Still, when she decided to go to a magic show, her instinct told her to hide herself in some dim corner to avoid getting spotted. The conscious part of her brain knew that she was only going to stand out more in that way but instincts tended to bring more comfort than logic and so she stayed there, watching the entire show in awe as each trick passed. Then came the time to pick another assistant and Kate already felt her stomach sink even before the finger pointed right at her.

"W-who? M-me?" She stuttered hoping to be proven wrong but it was painfully clear that it was her, no one else was even close to where she sat and so, with a defeated expression she stood up and made her way to the stage, all red from embarrassment.

”Our last contestant! You may recognize her from a wee promotion, pretty well known. A legal institution you might say, a law unto itself. But enough courtroom talk, let’s hear it for the Maulin’ Lioness, the Trainee who wallops like a train, the Wombat of Combat herself, KATE. Z!”

If even one pair of eyes hadn't lighted on Kate before, Shimmer had redirected them now. Spotlight literal and figurative fixated on the athlete like a giant, the purple-haired crusher making her way to the front. All this provided welcome distraction from Greg Karagi and the other black-dressed stage hands who set the background props. A fairytale oak table carved with curling flower runs was placed center-stage, then at either two tea party chairs with plump, pink cushions. Behind that came a man-sized cage, wheeled in on a trolley, complete with a white-painted wood top and base and a golden lock shaped like a heart with angel-wings.

”Thank you for joining us Kate! Please have a seat.” The Pixie followed her own instructions and settled, leaning forward with her elbows on the table, into the right-hand chair. ”Now. we did call ye a contestant, didn’t we? I bet you’re wondering on that, hm? Or is your mind elsewhere? Tell me how you’re feelin’, my dear wain.” As the Pixie spoke, she panned her hand over the table. Then she flicked her wrist and began to chop one open palm into the other. Chrk chrck chrk! Shimmer made shuffling card noises with her lips...but between her hands sat nothing but thin air.

Otherwise—A beat, a pause, as Shimmerlace waited. Spotlight’s on you, dear!

If her alarm bells weren't going off before, they sure as hell were now. She got recognised, announced and could hear the whispers spreading through the public, some of them pulling out their phones to apparently check who she was. Fighting against the growing redness of her face soon failed and it was already far too late to back down so she got onto the stage and sat in the appointed chair.

The words from the show master came too fast for Kate to answer any one of the individual questions, waiting for her to finish as a thought blossomed in her mind. "Do I know her from somewhere? She looks familiar..." Then the pause came and Kate chuckled nervously. "A bit out of my depth... You did call me a contestant, I expect you plan to enlighten me as to why..." She said, slightly tense, when it was an audience at any sort of a fighting event, she could let the fists do her talking, but this... This was a different beast altogether.