L.A.W. - League of Anime Wrestling

Another day, another intergender match.

When Karen had first come to LAW, she had stressed to the management that she would take on ANYONE. It didn't matter how big they were, how skilled they were, or whether they were guys or girls: Karen was willing to fight anyone. The tougher the opponent, the better, she had declared. The management must have listened, as they had been throwing her into more and more intergender matches as of late: first against Finlay, then against Black Severin, and now against this new guy...Matteo? Metei? Matthew? She couldn't quite remember his name, if she was honest. She would pick it up again when he was announced, no doubt: her main concern was whether he would be worth fighting against.

In her locker room, she took a last few seconds to limber up and get ready for the match, as much to boost her own confidence as to get physically ready. Doing a final few stretches, and admiring her fit form in the mirror, she heard her music playing in the background, and confidently turned to stride out into the arena.

Spoiler

Spoiler

She was met by a chorus of cheers from the crowds as she stood on the walkway, wearing a New Zealand All Blacks t-shirt over her ring gear while Nagual’s signature haka trap remix blared around her. Hopping down the ring, she enthusiastically hi-fived her fans, all the while eagerly lip-syncing the blared haka lyrics. Though she had only had a few matches so far here in LAW, she was already accruing a not inconsiderable fanbase, and was overjoyed that people were this excited over her and over one of her matches.

“Our first competitor, standing at five-foot-six and weighing one hundred and fifty pounds…from Dunedin, New Zealand…KAREN GAAAAALE!”

Striding into the ring, Karen eagerly hopped up onto the ring and dropped to her knees, arching back to raise her arms to the crowd, basking in their cheers. Finally, she stood back up and, peeling her shirt off, stepped back to the center of the ring, waiting to see who the lucky newcomer would be tonight...

“And her opponent, standing at five-foot-eleven and weighing one hundred and ninety-eight pounds…from Jalisco, Mexico…MAAAAAATEO SALIIIIINAS!”

Do U Like It - Kinky

The opening chords of Mateo’s music rolled through the arena, and he stepped out onto the stage with a small smile. They days, he wasn’t the type to burst through the curtain with fire and fury. No, his charm came from that easygoing, approachable air. Still, when the crowd picked up in general cheers,

straightened a little, shoulders squaring as the energy carried him forward.

A few fans near the barricade waved handmade signs, one with his name scrawled in bold letters, another that read “¡Vamos, Mateo!” He chuckled, pointing toward them with a nod of gratitude before heading down the ramp at a steady pace. The more he walked, the more the cheers picked up, as if the crowd was warming to him step by step.

On the way, Mateo took his time to interact with those closest to the barricades. He leaned in to bump knuckles with a teenager bouncing on their toes, then clasped hands briefly with an older fan who had leaned far over the rail to reach him. A small girl in a pink LAW t-shirt stuck out her hand hopefully, and Mateo crouched mid-stride to give her a quick, gentle high-five, grinning when her face lit up in surprise.

The young man’s grin grew wider as he neared ringside, the nerves giving way to genuine excitement. He picked up his pace into a light jog, then slid under the bottom rope with practiced ease, popping up in one smooth motion. Rising to his feet, he immediately bounced lightly on his toes, rolling his shoulders loose and shaking out his arms to stay limber.

Finally, his gaze drifted across the ring to Karen, the weight of the moment setting in. She was waiting, confident and poised, and Mateo answered her presence with a respectful nod and a boyish, disarming smile, equal parts acknowledgement and challenge. "Looks like you're the crowd's darling tonight. Hopefully, I can keep up." He gave a soft chuckle and a shrug, making light of his own comment.

Well, Karen's opponent certainly knew how to make an entrance.

From the moment he made his entrance, Mateo was practically radiating chill, leisurely energy, a good-natured vibe that the crowd immediately picked up on and was drawn to. Though it also looked like Mateo had an established fanbase that had come to see him, judging by all of the signs that were being waved his way. And he responded by interacting with them, fan by fan, as he made his way to the ring. The crowd had been enthusiastic for Karen, but they seemed to generally love Mateo.

And then Mateo was in front of her, all charm and smiles as he greeted her. Karen took the quick opportunity to give him a look over: Mateo had a definite edge on her in height and weight, and his lean body was corded with tight muscle. He looked tough. And, admittedly, easy on the eyes; his easy charm was definitely not helping matters.

Visibly suppressing a blush, Karen nonchalantly crossed her arms. The fact that Mateo was already starting the conversation with some humble, yet jokey self-deprecation also wasn't helping matters: Karen was much more used to opponents who trash-talked right out the gate: Mateo's sheer niceness was disarming, to say the least.

"Hopefully you can," she quipped back with a wry smile. "I came all this way for a good match, after all. I'd hate it if you made this too easy for me." And with that, she took a step back and dropped into the gorilla position, never taking her eyes off Mateo as she waited for the match to start.

Mateo gave Karen a small, good-natured chuckle, his boyish grin never faltering as he reached for the edges of his open sleeveless hoodie. With an easy roll of his shoulders, he slipped it off and folded it neatly in his hands while he spoke, his tone light but respectful.

“Too easy, huh? I’ll try my best to make you work for it.” His grin widened as he gave a faint shrug, tucking the hoodie under one arm. “And hey, whatever happens, let’s give them a match worth remembering. Good luck.”

He offered her a subtle nod, an acknowledgment of respect, before stepping away to give them space. Moving to his corner, he leaned down to set the hoodie aside carefully on the outside apron tucked behind the turnbuckles. Meticulous, looking to keep things tidy before the real work began.

When the bell rang, Mateo exhaled, rolling his neck side to side until it popped, loosening up the tension. A slow turn back towards Karen which had she not been looking to do things right would have made for an easy opening to pounce. He bounced on the balls of his feet, testing the canvas with a couple of light taps from his boots, his eyes locked on the moment she was in his peripherals.

Finally, he raised his arms in a grappler’s stance and began to close the distance with steady steps, circling wide. The smile was still there, but there was steel in his focus now. As soon as the distance closed, Mateo lunged forward, aiming for a traditional collar-and-elbow tie-up, eager to test this woman’s strength firsthand.

God, stop being so bloody nice! Karen thought as Mateo casually brushed off her banter. She was far too used to opponents who engaged in trash talk-- even if it was well-meaning trash talk, as far as Karen was concerned it was almost traditional for two wrestlers to engage in banter before a match. But Mateo was absolutely refusing to banter, instead remaining friendly and good-natured towards Karen even as their match was about to begin. It made Karen feel more than a little bad about the fact that she was going to have to slam and pummel this guy to oblivion in a few seconds.

The bell rang, and Mateo motioned for a classic lockup, his eyes locking with hers. Karen met his gaze unflinchingly as she circled him. Alright," she breathed, "have a go if you think you're 'ard enough!" And with that, the Maori girl would lunge in, tying up aggressively with Mateo, her muscles surging as she sought to overpower her male opponent and force him back...

Mateo braced himself as Karen surged into the tie-up, the impact rattling through his frame. She was as strong as she looked, her raw drive forcing him back a couple steps before he hunkered down into the lock, his boots squealing faintly against the canvas. His arms flexed to absorb the pressure, shoulders rolling as he matched her stubborn push with one of his own.

“Heh, got some real fire in you,” he muttered with a grin, his tone carrying more admiration than complaint.

He shuffled side to side, his footwork tight and measured, constantly shifting his weight to bleed off her power. His hands were busy too, tugging, prying, wrenching, adjusting in search of the slightest crack in her posture. It wasn’t brute force he was chasing. It was timing and technique.

And then he found it. With a sudden drop, Mateo loosened his grip just enough to make her lean in, then hooked her forearm and wrist, sweeping a boot at her ankle to whip her momentum forward. The throw snapped clean: a sharp, fluid arm drag to try and flipKaren right over his hip and down onto the canvas.

Mateo never let go. He would flow with her descent, twisting her arm the instant she landed and stepping back to cinch control. By the time she would hit the mat if his efforts worked, she would be left sitting awkwardly with her legs folded beneath her, her arm stretched out and trapped in a snug wrist lock. He wrenched just enough to keep the joint burning, keeping her tethered from above and at arm’s length, her shoulder and elbow strained to the limit.

In an instant, the two wrestlers were meeting in a proper, classic, collar and elbow tie up. Karen gritted her teeth as she pushed against Mateo: those muscles of his clearly weren't for show, but all the same, she felt him being pushed back a few steps before he finally dug his heels in and managed to stop her. Her gritted teeth turned into a savage grin: she tried to keep going, to push Mateo towards the corner. Mateo's comment that she had a real fire got her smiling even more. "Heh, you've seen nothing ye--"

She was cut short, of course, as Mateo suddenly dropped low, and cleverly used her pent-up momentum against her to send her flying head over heels onto her back.

"AAaaaghh--!" Karen gasped, arching up from the impact, and silently cursing herself for falling for one of the oldest tricks in the pro wrestling manual. She kicked at the mat, but didn't have much longer to curse her ill fortune before her arm was suddenly grabbed and twisted sharply. She clenched her teeth, hissing in pain, as said pain shot sharply up her shoulder.

Thankfully, as this was one of the most common wrestling holds in the book, so too did it have a common counter. Getting her boots up underneath her, Karen pushed herself up to a standing position, still clutching her shoulder with her free hand. Once that was done, she twisted around to face Mateo, before dropping low into a roll, aiming to spin around to his side before pressing a boot against his chest to flip him head over heels in turn as she dropped backward!

Mateo’s eyes followed Karen closely, his grip steady on her arm. He gave the lock just enough torque to let her feel it dig into her shoulder without twisting with cruel intent, measured, controlled. He wanted to see how she’d answer the pressure, not grind her down with it.

Her boots planted, her body coiled, and he could feel the shift coming even before it happened. She had good technique, well practiced or well trained. His curiosity piqued.

When Karen suddenly twisted and dropped, Mateo’s gaze flicked down just in time to catch her boot pressing into his chest. He had been ready for her to duck and unwind, but this was a more aggressive but equally as valid escape. The thought barely had time to register before the flip came, momentum whipping him off balance.

He released her immediately, focused on his own situation he tucking his body mid-air. Instead of crashing flat, he rolled through, landing in a low crouch that drew a ripple of surprise from the crowd. In one smooth spring, he popped back upright, bounding forward a couple steps before twirling to face her. A boyish grin spread across his face, his tone more playful than biting as he called out:

“Solid fundamentals.”

The grin didn’t fade, taking a few slow steps then bounding ones backwards until he pressed into the ropes. Like a coiled spring he released, shooting forward into a spring charging straight towards her. He showed no signs of slowing, rearing back with one arm like he might attempt to throw a strike her way. When he neared though, nothing like that would come as he instead would attempt to leap frog over her, hands flicking down to help ease him over Karen’s height whether she was standing still or trying to throw an attack his way as he approached.

He intended to sweep over top of her and pivot hard, throwing his arms out to try and grab her around the waist and cinch his fingers interlocked if she wasn't fast enough to stop him. From there he would have options, and none of them good for her

Karen's counter worked almost flawlessly. Almost. Everything went off without a hitch at first: she was able to press a boot to Mateo's chest and flip him head over heels. His grip on her came loose at that point, and she was able to use her momentum to roll backwards, getting back to her feet and--

--and finding him back on him back on his feet as well, still smiling. He was still smiling as he backed into the ropes and came rebounding right for her.

Instincts kicked in, and Karen barreled forwards, dropping low to duck what she was sure would be a clothesline. Instead, though, she felt his arms around her waist, clamping hard, his chin resting just on her shoulder. Oh, so he wanted to get fresh now, did he...

Gritting her teeth, Karen would grab onto Mateo's wrists and pour her strength in, trying to pull them apart from around her firm abs. If she managed that, then, still holding onto Mateo's wrist, she would twist around and try to flip him over onto his butt. From there, she would immediately follow up by kneeling behind him, sliding one brawny arm around his throat as she tried to cinch in a rear naked chokehold.

"Still having fun?" she would ask through a bared grin as she tried to give her male opponent a nice squeeze.

With a breezy leapfrog over the charging bull that was Karen, Mateo snapped his arms tight around her waist, fingers weaving together into an S-grip. He cinched down hard, biceps compressing the softer line of her sides as he hunched in, chest pressed to her back. Boots shuffled across the canvas, searching for the leverage he needed. This was the trick, make her carry all his weight, sap her strength, and when she gave him an inch, roll her into the suplex or a submission she couldn’t be ready for.

But Karen wasn’t giving inches. She was tearing them back.

Her hands clawed at his grip, prying and wrenching until his interlock began to creak apart. Mateo gritted his teeth, straining to hold on, but she was too fresh, too strong, and he realized too late he things were about to turn in her favor. The moment her hips twisted, he knew fighting the throw would only make the landing worse. So, he chose the lucha way, he hopped with her momentum, throwing a flourish into the flip. It wasn’t graceful, it was fast, it was punishing, and the canvas rattled when he was slammed into it, but his fall was practiced, cushioned just enough to keep him in the game.

Only now, Karen was already on him.

Her forearm dug into his throat, her elbow grinding into his collar, her bicep curling against his jaw like a vise. Mateo’s face twisted, hands shooting up, one clamping her wrist, the other pressing at her elbow, to stall her choke from fully locking in. Her arm still bit down, flexing hard, her strength bending him toward the edge. He could feel the sweat slick between them, her power suffocating, his vision narrowing in bursts.

“Yeah…” he rasped, a croak more than a voice, his lips tugging at what might have been a grin if not for the grimace of pain. “I’m not a degenerate, I swear.” The words slipped out like a joke, but broke into wheezes before he could laugh.

Waiting meant death here, so he didn’t. With a grunt, Mateo tucked a leg beneath himself and surged to one knee, the motion just enough to shift his weight. One hand clung stubbornly to her wrist, futile though it was, while the other dropped, cocking back as far as his frame would allow.

Then he snapped it back.

His elbow drove into Karen’s ribs with a meaty thud. He hissed through clenched teeth, feeling the resistance in her body, then pulled back and hammered her again. And again. He didn't have the strength or the leverage to pry her off, but his elbow shots would keep coming until she granted him his freedom or she choked him out. She had to make the decision if it was worth letting him land these easy blows.