Dasher Challenge : Part 2 - Like Fine Wine

[killcarrion]

Standard Match
Victory Conditions: Pin, Submission or KO

Reminiscing about one's wrestling career typically comes within its twilight years when beset with gray hair and numerous health issues. Yet here Dasher stood. At the peak of his profession (in his opinion) and having become somewhat of a divisive figure within the world of puroresu with those either rallying behind his manful warcry or decrying him as a villainous and chauvinistic figure in the sport he so cherishes. Dasher having now secluded himself within his private and practically palatial dressing room as he gazed over the trafficked streets beneath him having long since donned his wrestling gear and robe tied around his waist. The ignominious challenge he issued some time ago having taken on a life of its own thanks to online discourse. Once upon a time there was no shortage of challengers eager to etch their name in the annals of wrestling history by besting the strongstyle legend, but now those numbers were beginning to wane after having seen what becomes of those that rather than leave the ring with their head held high...leave on a stretcher with their head in the clouds. Dasher thinking upon the wrestlers of his generation and how the times have changed before swiveling around with a huff once his time had come.

Dasher through opened doors and was now being escorted out of his dressing room by his trainers and wrestling pupils in tracksuits. Cameras flashing and his name being echoed down the hallways as Dasher calmly waltzed towards the gorilla position while clad in his pitch-black robe with a white sash around its waist and the Japanese caricatures for "Muscle" on its broad back. The broad-shouldered grappler would keep his head tilted down with all the taciturn professionalism of a champion prize fighter as he strode throughout the hallways and besieged by peppered questions from journalists all going unanswered. Only once Dasher and his tracksuited entourage step through the curtains did the naysayers denying his inclusion within LAW's roster become permanently silenced, die-hard fans chanting his name alongside the cacophonous reverberation within LAW's Tokyo arena bringing a championship level aura to what was still merely one innocuous match scheduled around many.

Inoba Bom-ba-ye

Several attendants dutifully clearing the way for him and widening the gap in the top and middle ropes as he climbed inside, black and white streamers now flying all around the ring. The pulsating enthusiasm of his LAW debut dying down after several minutes alongside his theme music, Dasher then calmly raising his mic upward to address the crowd with particular attention directed towards the hard camera in the audience. "...To think. There was once upon a time where this hallowed profession was once practiced by true gladiators. Warriors who dared not to profane this sacred ring with debauched chicanery, provocative perversion, and those who actually believe in the misconstrued fantasy that women have any place engaging in a grappling competition with a hardened veteran of my own renowned ilk. However, it appears that I have favorable news to report on this front. The line of challengers stepping up has drastically dwindled it appears. Those frothing at the bit to prove me wrong have now become meek and timid pups. Those who once dared to step up have apparently stepped aside. And I cannot blame them after seeing what becomes of my so-called challengers. Perhaps my lesson is finally beginning to take root, and my point thoroughly proven. Nevertheless, I will carry on until the day comes where none dare to step through those ropes. For now...I once again issue HEREBY DECLARE THE DASHER CHALLENGE!!! Come forth whoever is left that dares to test their luck!!!" Dasher bellowed before beginning to discard his robe, revealing his newly acquired arm tattoos and even trimmed haircut.

Dasher Inoba

[BlackAkuma]

Dasher always loved a good speech. Angela was refreshed to know that some things just never changed.

She had been in the back, getting ready for a match, when he’d come out and made his presence known. It was only by happenstance that she was near a screen when he’d started up, with her only paying half attention to what was happening, but his words drew her attention right away. More specifically, the sound of his voice - God, how long had it been? Years. Decades? Maybe. It was hard to keep track of things now. It wasn’t uncommon for her to remember something happening one way, then look back on a tape and find it went down the opposite.

But she remembered his voice. That boisterous baritone, the perfect fit for a man of his stature. It was a little different now, tinged with the wear and tear that came with age, but the tenor was unmistakable, as were the feelings that came along with it. A warm summer night, a hotel room, champagne…

Angela had a deep, happy sigh with a warm smile, one that grew wider when he made his challenge. His views on the world of wrestling hadn't changed. It had been something she chided him for even back then, and from the sound of things, he was long overdue for another lesson, one she was more than eager to give.

Change of plans. Her arranged match for the night would have to wait. After a quick stop by the booth to make the queue up her

, she was ready.

Time goes by so slowly…
Time goes by so slowly…
Time goes by so slowly…
Time goes by so slowly…

She came out from behind the curtain, microphone in hand, and made her way down to the ring as the crowd cheered her on. Though it had been a good while since her last match, wrestling fans had a good memory, and her instant classic with Alicia Soto stuck in their mind. Though she’d come out losing against the talented Hollywood Siren, she had still shown the world why she was a force to be reckoned with, and by the looks of things, she was about to do so again.

Angela made her way up the steps and slipped through the ropes, facing off with Dasher, looking her fellow veteran over from top to bottom. She kept her face cool and placid, giving nothing away, with only the barest hint of a grin to serve as a clue for what was going on underneath. For a moment, she said nothing, did nothing. She simply stood and contemplated.

When that moment passed, she stepped forward, opened her arms, and embraced her old friend with a genuine hug, happy to feel his warmth again. Whether he reciprocated or not, she pulled away and nodded, just happy to see and be seen. ”Dasher Inoba, it’s been too long. You look well.”

[killcarrion]

By now Dasher had backpedaled a few steps until he was back in the vicinity of his corner ringpost where his student trainees were huddled around outside, bounding hops taken from one foot to another before stretching his arms from side to side across his torso. Ensuring he'd remain limber for whomever answered his notorious challenge since he'd been proven in the past to not underestimate the caliber of adversaries willing to exchange grapples with the vaunted veteran. Much to his chagrin several ladies had become irksomely close to accomplishing what he proclaimed to be an impossibility, which was tallying a victory against him. Dasher honing his training regiment and coming into this challenge with the sole purpose of not having history repeat itself tonight. Still, varied and diverse though these womanly adversaries were, one trait a vast majority seemed to share was impudence. A genuine lack of respect for this sacred canvas and the heralded champion he is...Dasher harrumphed to himself as time passed, reminiscing to a time when even lady wrestlers possessed the same values he had for this sport. Honorable, disciplined, strong-willed, of stout mind and body. Wrestlers whom he once even considered companions and close colleagues. Wrestlers such as...

"And his opponent...Angela Belti, La Donna Perfetta!!!!"

"Yes, exactly. Ladies like-WHOWHAT?!!" Dasher's nostalgic thought bubble being burst by the ringside announcer proclaiming the name of his next challenger, striding down the ramp to his own gobsmacked bewilderment. The veteran's disbelief subsiding once he verified this was indeed the same Angela he'd known since his years as a hotshot rookie being primed for greatness and the main event scene. Only Angela could traipse down an entrance ramp with that level of gravitas and commanding authority to her aura. As a matter of fact, one could say there only a scant few gentleman could claim they knew Angela as well as he did...Dasher shaking his face to jostle him out of a certain amorous memory as Angela encroached upon the ring. Hastily patting down his hair, clearing his throat and breathing into his mouth to ensure his mint mouthwash thwarted any semblance of halitosis. Dasher confidently approaching the middle of the ring to cordially greet his former colleague with stern facials and respectful nod, except his stance faltered when unexpectedly taken into her embrace. The stoic curmudgeon taken aback with widened eyes and arms akimbo but eventually collected himself to return the cordial clutch as well, perhaps the only one capable of hefting Angela up to her tip-toes in process. Dasher making note of how her muscled warmth and beauteous aroma had not changed one iota as he backpedaled with arms folded, projecting an obvious effort of regaining his composure.

"YES!!! Well...Er,AHEM!!! I could...very well say the same of you, Angela. I see the years have treated you kindly since we've last seen eachother. Heh, yours was a wrestling career I'd wish I could have seen flourish into the stratosphere...but, I understand how parenthood can drastically rearrange one's priorities. I take it...you are here today to reclaim yonder wrestling glory, aren't you?"

[BlackAkuma]

Angela’s eyes weren’t as good as they once were - truth be told, she needed glasses - but even she couldn't miss the hurried makeup session Dasher had when he realized who was coming down the ramp. It took her genuine effort not to burst out with a cruel laugh, but she managed to keep it under control, by some miracle. She didn’t want to ruin the moment.

Before he said a word, she could tell he was still much like the man she remembered. Serious, stern, stoic, often to a fault, but with a softer side that few had the privilege of seeing. At his core, he was a man who cared deeply for the sport and those in it, and wanted nothing more than to leave the wrestling world better than he had found. He could also be oddly shy when you pushed him in the right way, which was part of the reason she had gone for the hug. Mission accomplished.

The other reason was that it was just good to see him. Far too many of their friends and colleagues were either out of the business or, sadly, out of life. The two of them still kicking about felt rare and right. ”Yes, parenting is a…challenge.” She couldn't help but chuckle darkly. He had no idea. ”Especially being a single parent. But I think I did passably well, all things considered.”

She rolled her neck and stepped back with her arms raised, slowly slipping into her grappling stance. ”And if that’s your grandiose way of asking me if I want a good match, then…yes. I’m still the same woman you remember from all those years ago. I want to see if you’re still the same man.”

[killcarrion]

One could feasibly say that Dasher has now officially run the gamut in terms of possible interactions he'd have with prospective contenders to his infamous challenge. Competitors having greeted him with contemptuous scorn, nonchalant indifference, cartoonish antics...and now reverential affection. Certainly an unexpected development, especially once Dasher offered Angela the same cordiality in return. A sign of respect presented from a stoic veteran who seldomly did so, at least when it came to today's generation of competitors. Although any wrestling fan who was familiar with their storied history could have anticipated this interaction. Thankfully the internet was only in its premature infancy throughout their years together early in their careers, otherwise far more...private, matters between could have been sleuthed out and become tabloid journalism headlines spread around the world. This was just one more reason among a veritable plethora that Dasher was thankful his career flourished in a span of time before tock tick and the twitters.

The Puroresu Champion attaining a rigid and authoritative stance upon separating from the embrace, dutifully listening and wondering somewhat about Angela's daughter having never met the young lass in person. Trying to surmise how old she would be at this point in time before shelving the thought for another time. "AH...yes, well. I presumed that would be the case. You never were one to back down from a challenge, and I have never been one to not oblige others wishing to test their mettle. VERY WELL!!! LET THE CHALLENGE COMMENCE!!!" Dasher bellowed with a clap and signal to the referee who gestured for the ringing of the bell, the Dashing One rotating his neck from side to side before settling into his own honed grappling stance. "Hmph...if we are both still the same, then the outcome should be no different since the last time we locked horns. I trust you remember who emerged victorious, eh?" Dasher queried after locking up with Angela, but chaining it into a side headlock that encased her between bulging bicep and muscled pectoral.

[BlackAkuma]

Straight to business. Good. As much as Angela wanted to catch up with Dasher over the years, the ring was no place for a heartfelt reunion - not one with words. When she heard he was with LAW, she’d avoided watching his more recent matches, so that she could come into a match with him free of any notions. She wanted to form her opinion of his skills solely through firsthand experience.

So far, he did not disappoint. The two met up and locked horns, with him showing no shortage of his bullish strength. Angela was used to bullying anyone shorter than her, man or woman, but Dasher was one of the rare opponents who could keep up with her despite a noticeable height advantage. It was hard to say for sure before he dropped the tie-up, but she would wager they were evenly matched.

”That’s not the main thing I remember from that night, Takeshi.” It was hard to get her tone through, what with her head being crushed and all, but she suspected the use of his real name would convey her meaning - she was one of the few who’d ever used that name with him, and they both knew why.

She wouldn’t give him long to ponder it before she went into action. She stepped back, bringing him along with her, bounced into the ropes then charged forward and gave him a hard push at the same time, pulling her head free and sending him running to the opposite side of the ring. She came surging forward a moment later, so that when he turned around and came back, she’d have something waiting for him: namely, a powerful clubbing lariat, aimed at his face.

[killcarrion]

Whether despised or respected, the fabled Dasher Challenge has been a contentious subject that has been debated upon ever since its initial debut. However, in spite of the attention it's garnered, one intricate aspect of the trial never touched upon is the challenge not only presented to the ladies, but Dasher himself. The Puroresu Grappler going into each battle with no knowledge whatsoever of who is challenger and therefore zero prepwork. Dasher has so far contested with wrestlers ranging from stalwart Latinas to vagrant martial artists. Except this time Dasher has the foreknowledge that comes with having exchanged grapples with his contestant before. A sparring match with Angela during their younger years in the same federation that may have started with bandied about words over a libation or two, but ended with one definitive winner and an impassioned night that left one being pinned underneath the other for reasons that had nothing to do with a match...

...AHEM. And had no relevance on the matter at hand. An assertion of his professionalism that he wished Angela also shared as he accepted the lockup and afterward transitioned into a confining side-headlock that would have any other women gasping for air and clambering for release. Angela proving herself to still be like no other women he'd ever met as she instead made defiant remarks and allusions to when she called him by his God given name. Albeit repeatedly...and at decidedly higher pitches as that night went on. "AH. YES, well I suppose that night was memorable for a...variety of reasons." Dasher blustered out sputtered words as he was being unknowingly ushered backwards before he was abruptly catapulted into sprinting dash off the and back into a plastering lariat that cleaned his clock. Sending him into a warbled backpedal against the ropes behind him in a rattled daze, ones he'd instinctively bounce off of himself with an attempted lariat of his own.

[BlackAkuma]

All these years, all these matches, all these memories, and Dasher was still the same man. Oh, he hid it well, covered it beneath his bluster and bravado. It was his armor, but even the best vestments had their weakspots. You simply had to know where to poke.

As she suspected, Dasher’s holes were exactly where she remembered them, and she couldn't help a wry smile as he grew flustered. It was tempting to lay into with another taunt - and she almost certainly would. But it could wait for a little while as she handled business. She suspected this would go on for a while, and there would be more than enough time to push his buttons before the match was through.

Dasher once more showed his steel, taking one of her better lariats and managing to stay on his feet, more or less. She’d thought he was stunned enough for a followup, but that was a mistake on her part. The man had more than enough energy left to strike back, and did so straightaway, launching off the room and coming her way with a lariat of his own.

It hit her as she moved in, clean on the chest, and it was Angela’s turn to stagger back now. Two - no, three steps back before she slammed her foot down and brought her retreat to a screeching halt. Woof. The old dog still had some bite.

But so did she, for that matter. She didn’t relish the idea of getting into a lariat war with Dasher Inoba, of all people, but she would still rate her overall power as higher than his, and she aimed to prove it. Angela gritted her teeth and moved back in, throwing herself at him with full force. She ducked down, charged forward, and attempted to ram his chest and push him back to the corner with a powerful burst of her full strength. Not as fearsome as he might’ve remembered, but nothing to be trifled with.

[killcarrion]

Typically, Dasher would have no qualms upholding his Dasher Challenge against competitors of all wrestling pedigrees and training background as befitting an honorbound grappler such as himself. Although Angela's unforeseen appearance this day has made him come to the realization that those with whom he's shared a bedroo-...er, locker-room could possess advantages even the most seasoned of grapplers couldn't utilize. Such as knowing about backstage injuries undiscovered and unpublished by wrestling newsletters, blind spots to Dasher's wrestling strategies. Or in Angela's specific case, knowledge of a certain personal variety. His colleague perpetually having fun at the expense of the gruff warhorse with needling quips, poking prods and jokes that she knew could take Dasher out of his game. Dasher taking them in stride back in their day with a boisterous harrumph instead of a stern lecture usually. Mainly out of respect for Angela's exceptional capabilities as a wrestler and foreknowledge that it is all in good jest...

...however, he'd prefer that they keep today's combative clash between them strictly about their wrestling skill and hardened aptitudes. Well, for as long as Angela would allow it knowing that her whimsical side can scarcely be restrained for long. But for now, this most definitely seemed to be the case as Angela quashed any doubts about whether she still possessed the same degree of strength she previously dominated her own adversaries with. Dasher taking a stilted breath from the lariat jack-hammered into his pectorals, taking a moment before responding with one kind in an impromptu war of strikes between the musclebound titans. The audience astonished at Angie remaining upright from a meathook that had felled man and woman alike. Dasher smirking from the affirmation that his respect in her was well assigned, until he'd become powered backward into the corner turnbuckle to his own gawking befuddlement, smacking into the corner with a huffed breath and several seconds of time afforded to Angela in the process.

[BlackAkuma]

Angela was a little taller than Dasher - not as much as with most people, true, but it was a noticeable gap, and one that she had never let him forget about back in the day. To his credit, she didn’t recall him taking her jabs too personally, seeing them for what they were: the playful pokes of a friend trying to get under his skin, but not cut too deep.

Besides, it wasn’t as if her height advantage ever translated to much in the ring - not against him. Dasher might have been shorter than her, but the man was built like a boulder with legs. As she plowed intho him in the current day, she could tell that much about him remained the same, as she felt nothing but solid muscle when her shoulders sunk into his body. A sure sign that he could take all of her hardest hits.

Good. She intended to give them.

After driving him against the ropes, Angela gave Dasher no respite. She straightened up and pressed her hand against his chin, forcing his head over the turnbuckle to expose his chest. She took a fraction of a second to enjoy the view, then stepped back and quickly lashed out, swinging her arm like a whip to deliver a blazing chop to his chest, one with enough impact to leave ears ringing.