Standard Match: Oscar Orelash vs Spectre — Princes and Ninjas

[Monsy]

The Malevolent Virus took a drag from her cigarette on-top of the LAW rafters. She didn’t enjoy taking many of those. Oftentimes, she just needed one, then to get release from blowing out second-hand smoke before squashing it on a rail. Healthily inefficient you might say.

But the opponent she faced tonight was a greater health risk. He was massive. Not just the ordinary massive. REALLY massive. Not just some average height blubber bear that broke the scale. This was a fucking cyborg, T-900, break your back in one punch type of regime god sparton.

His record was incredible. Three losses, a draw and twelve victories in all. Clean ones, like a true hero. Ick.

And as expected, Oscar was a power wrestler that loved to squeeze and stretch. His bearhug was the most lethal in all of LAW, to her estimations. His bodysplash potentially the most debilitating, with all that raw cast-iron in him, her tummy already started clenching and trembled when she managed taking one.

She touched her naval, looked down from her laptop, then slid a finger beneath the latex. A small fleck of sweat had built. Nothing from exhaustion. And nothing from fear.

Quite the opposite, actually. She was feeling this one. The prize of breaking a Barbarian right to her whims. In her tiny paws, filled with his hair as he was presented to a cascade of believers.

Your prince is nothing to a Virus.

Hm~Hm~

She was ready to go.

One… Two… Three…

!

On-screen, the respirator skull laughs at everyone in its silence. It glitches on to screen and follows a pattern of failing spotlights once pointed at the stage. They were controlled, from afar, automatically to point at the sky. The crowd looked… and pointed! The Cyberninja herself, standing on a hook and being lowered on a cable!

“This is a standard match, scheduled for one fall! Introducing first, standing at five-foot-one and weighing one-hundred-pounds! The Malevolent Virus! Speeeeeeectrreeeeee!”

Her entrance was pitched with a wave of noise and thumbs down from the crowd. After much of her early matches that gave the crowd initial distaste for her cruelty and games. The stadium’s temperature would raise just by the anger from the crowd alone.

At about six-feet, she dropped off her hook and smacked the top-turnbuckle pad. Ankles together, knees apart and a hand between her legs on the pad. She didn’t carry her crowbars with her today. She didn’t want them.

No. Today is all about punching and kicking directly up. Just to show that she can do anything.

And everyone better be terrified of that.

Now jumping into the ring itself, she walked over to her side of the ring and began to pace, adjusting her sleeves, fixing her mask. But mostly just watching the rampway itself.

.

[MappleMan7]

Spoiler

center][/center]

Oscar just finished up lacing up his boots as he looked in a mirror to check his face and hair before starting to prep his prop torch and canteen of ultra-pure lantern oil. While LAW'S resident Barbarian Prince was scheduled to appear in the upcoming unofficial intergender championship tournament, he saw little reason to accept more matches in the meantime. In Oscar’s eyes, it was just another way to practice and prepare. The only difference Oscar saw was that he could have the added bonus of putting on a show for the beautiful people in the crowd! Hearing his signal to get ready, Oscar nodded and took a swig of the oil before lighting his torch and heading to the ramp.

"Coming in at 6'5 and a two hundred and twenty-five pounds... you know him as LAWs Barbarian Prince... as Leviathan Inc.'s Lord of Fire... and as WFPW's first world television champion! OSCAAAAAR OOOOORELAAAAASHHH!!!"

Spoiler

As Oscar's theme dropped, the young man emerged and spewed the lantern oil into the torch- blasting his signature fireball high into the air, much to the crowds delight as the cheers exploded from the audience! Oscar passed the props off to the crew and made his way down the ramp, taking the time to greet audience members with smiles, high-fives, and fist bumps before climbing into the ring. Settling into his corner, Oscar got a good look at his opponent. Based on how the crowd greeted this virus lady beforehand, Oscar figured she was a less than friendly and/or beloved face- and she certainly looked the part. Still- Oscar wasn't going to discriminate or judge a book by its cover as he walked forward and offered his opponent a sportsmanlike handshake.

"Spectre, eh? Well- I dig the outfit. Love the entrance too! Makes you look like quite the badass if I do say so myself. Let's have a good match, yeah?"

[Monsy]

A breathing fireball…

That was the first time she seen that when it wasn’t a video.

She would’ve loved to get her hands on the lantern, but unfortunately, he didn’t bring that with him. Instead, what he brought was name, presence and kindness. Leviathan Inc’s Lord of Fire, a former Television Champion. OSCAR. ORE-lash. It had that punch. The history in brevity. Where words become the neck hairs standing on your nape. And still having the ‘character’ to apply high-fives, fist bumps and smiles.

They were signs at ring-side that showed their support. Signage of Leviathan Inc, WFPW and cutely drawn Oscar faces. Others like: “We <3 Oscar” and “WE WANT BEARHUG!!” all in the mix to show their support.

How cute.
Not.

Now standing in the ring with him. The top of her head was about his upper man-boob if she was standing tall. Which she was. Her poor neck had to crane and look at him. Then glance back down to see his hand. Huge.

“Os-car!” “Os-car!” “Os-car!”
“Os-car!” “Os-car!” “Os-car!”

Spectre looked left and then right, slowly and almost mechanically. She read the room, then raised her own hand. Much smaller. Dainty, even. Covered in latex from her fingers to her mid bicep with purple trim. Just when it seemed Spectre was to recuperate his gesture, she tipped her chin up further…

And shooed him away.

Then gave her back.

The crowd would boo.

The official gave a judging stare. And Spectre would see a wave of people give their thumbs down. Such an arrogant little virus, they’d think… So, she’d add to that.

If he kept his hand there for a little bit longer, Spectre would rotate her shoulders, adjusting her footwork to turn towards him and ROUNDHOUSE the back of his hand!

[MappleMan7]

Oscar continued to smile and blink as he looked down at Spectre, waiting for her to respond as she slowly looked left... then right... Oscar wondered if the lady was trying to play a character or was just being dramatic. Just when he thought he was going to get that sportsmanlike handshake... Specter turned away from him, instead using her hand to silently wave him off. At first, as the crowd booed Specture for her reaction toward his handshake, Oscar looked puzzled for a moment before his would-be opponent suddenly spun around and landed a roundhouse kick to the back of his hand!

"OW!! Hey! Rude..."

Oscar hissed as his hand was kicked, pulling it back away from Spectre and holding it for a moment as the boos from the crowd became louder and louder. Oscar would stare down Spectere for a moment with a squint before shrugging and going back to his corner of the ring, shaking the struck hand out. It was clear to the young man that Specter wasn't going to be the talkative type... or friendly either. Not that it bothered him. While heels weren't something Oscar was used to dealing with, it certainly wasn't the first time he's had to teach rude fighters some manners. The Barbarian Prince just had to remember to keep his head on straight and focus- that was all there was to it.

[Monsy]

Fat chance she’d shake anyone’s hand.

Easiest choice of the night.

And it seemed to knock some sense into his attitude to not try that kind of silly thing. Expectantly, he left to take his corner. Spectre turned to hers and began to pace between the adjacent sets of ropes, walking one way, turning around, then taking a few steps. Repeat. She was just itching to get hands on him.

And the crowd was similarly thirsting for Oscar to slam some respect into her.

So with no further ado. The bell rang!

DING DING DING!

The opening moments brought a rush of excitement in a wave of crowd noise that eventually simmered into focus. Spectre walked with her shoulder pointed at Oscar, commencing a circling and maintaining a good distance to avoid his reach advantage. And… Just about every advantage.

Her hands raised with one elbow pulled back, fist made, then another one extended forward with a half-bent elbow, fingers curled in except for her middle and index.

Her stare steeled.
Determined to make the first move, she shuffled into his range. Or rather, hers. She’d attempt to spin clockwise, turning her ankle, shoulders and then hips. Faster than a blink. All the torque was channeled into her back leg now coming around, aiming to plant her boot into his belly with a spinning back kick! The most powerful kick you can do!

[MappleMan7]

With the bell rung, Oscar stepped out of his corner and took a defensive stance as he would mimic his opponent- also circling her. His eyes caught the steel gaze Spectre cast upon him and narrowed onto her as he locked in on his opponent. Then it'd happen- Spectre made the first move- shooting out a nasty looking back kick aimed at his abs. With razor sharp reflexes, Oscar twisted his body and sidestepped the incoming attack- being quite used to dodging kicks thanks to having Antonia A. Aunt as a young lions instructor. Oscar would take it farther than that, though, and would attempt to get a little payback for kicking his hand by attempting to grab onto her leg and with a mighty swing; would look to give his smaller opponent a big ol' YEET right across the canvas!

[Monsy]

Spectre’s leg was dodged.

Her leg fully extended by him, leaving her otherwise open to his grab. Which, once on, she immediately knew she wouldn’t be able to yank that free.

Just where did this speed come from…

So she tried to stay on her feet.
Success lasted for only a second. Wind swept hair into her face. She winced, hitting the ground once with her shoulder-blades then hovering higher and higher as her ninja eyes chased themselves in a circle.

And then she flew! Farther than expected, right into…

The ropes! Her body caught on it like a spider’s web. Her right leg hooked over the top rope, left over the middle. Her arms fanned out prior to catching, then locked a grip on it. And her body was practically in-between the middle and top, like she was suspended there by binds.

Still, even if she got out of that, Spectre’s skull was chasing her eyes. They span and span in her head as Spectre’s neck was loose, making her head idly toss and turn like she was a boat on unsteady waters.

She untangled herself, stepped back onto the mat and continued to feel her dizziness. A little stumble here..

A bumble there… One-step, two-step, three-step, trip!

She shook her head wildly and then clapped her head with both hands. All the while, giving Oscar every opportunity to follow up!

[MappleMan7]

The crowd sounded to be having a hoot as the beloved Barbarian Prince sent Spectre flying through the air! Loud pops and cheers from the crowd, along with a little bit of laughter as Spectre got tangled up in the ropes! Being one not to waste opportunities in a match as Oscar watched Spectre untangle herself, the redhead would attempt to use the sound of the crowd to approach Spectre- hopeful undetected. If successful, Oscar would attempt to secure himself an early lead by snatching Spectre up with a side headlock as she freed herself- possibly squishing her head into the side of his pecs as pressure mounted on her skull!

[Monsy]

By the time Spectre’s over-calibrated bearings finally settled into something peaceful and tranquil, Oscar was on the move! The crowd loved to buzz, but now they were inching just a little more in their seats, seeing Spectre caught in a hold!

Her neck was pinched and torqued. An eye shut. Her masked mouth frowned. Her head was being smushed so her cheek and temple were rubbing up against pure man-muscle. A touch of sweat and body scent.

“Tch…”

And the squeeze.
The fucking squeeze.
It had her feeling like she was being turned into cardboard or that the blood pressure in her head would start to short-circuit her motherboards.

But the absolute worst thing about it…

Is that she looked utterly puny. Not just from height, but muscle mass. She already cinched a grip on his forearm with her black painted fingernails beginning to claw and scratch. Her feet planted on the ground, hips back, trying to shoot herself out the back end of this hold.

Although, for Oscar.
She doubted it made a lick of difference.

[MappleMan7]

Oscar winced and quietly hissed in pain as he felt Spectre scratch and claw at his arm with her nails- a response regarding being put into the side headlock by the Barbarian Prince. The good news was that with all the fuss Spectre was making to try and free herself from his grip, Oscar was going to release her head. The bad news, however, was that Oscar was just transitioning moves...

Taking a page out of his mentors move pool, Oscar fought with Spectre's resistance by attempting to take a few steps forward and yanking her along. If all went to plan, Oscar would leap up and quickly switch his grip on Spectre to release the headlock and grab the back of her head- looking to plant his opponent face-first into the canvas with a running bulldog!