Match Type: Standard (Win by KO, pinfall, or submission)
Hentai Allowed: Yes
At night, alone with her friends in a bed that held her like a cocoon, Madeleine imagined a match with Jessie Finch. Finch was a gym rat. A typically pretty, typically vapid blonde with a tasteless firefighter gimmick, Jessie liked to loudly play anime while walking on a treadmill. When Madeleine imagined her heel whipping into the back of the rude young lady’s head, her foot tingled. The crack of the Countess’ elbow against the girl’s wind-pipe sent a glittering rush up Madeleine’s shoulder. As Madeleine’s knee pressed into the crook of Jessie’s neck, and she slid her fingers around Jessie’s ankles and felt her cool, clammy skin under her grip, Madeleine’s face grew hot. As she bent Jessie’s slender back until something popped—as Madeleine pulled Jessie’s smooth legs until the girl started to wrench, pried open Jessie’s trembling groin until her hair was limp with sweat and the gym rat started to beg—Madeleine groaned under her bedsheets.
Michelle had not yet annoyed Madeleine like Jessie. But on the other hand, she was real: Madeleine's second match.
—
In the day, a much more calm Madeleine in the backstage area reviewed a backlog on her project management app. There were a dozen or so tasks and innumerable subtasks assigned to her or to Dave—wrestlers to research, legends to meet, matches to watch, dinners to prepare. The whole mess with Charlotte. The interface soothed Madeleine. The neat rows of rational, actionable items were like a ground-wire for when LAW left the wrestler overcharged.
One task itched at Madeleine: research Michelle Diamond. After all her digging, she couldn’t even find a real name. In fact, the only sources were the official LAW blurb—useless except for the photo—and a single Tweet. There were (tentative) inferences to draw: Physically beautiful and professionally talented, the girl was likely an elite figure skater. Scared to go out at night alone, reluctant to accept praise, easily embarrassed (when Miss Satō started replying), one might also, tentatively, infer a personality profile simultaneously high in agreeableness and neuroticism. In a word, the figure skater was cute, possibly delicate.
Yet the task, research Michelle still ate at Madeleine. So much of the profile was tentative, all of it thin. And it left Madeleiene with a question: What did she want from Michelle? To win. Obviously. But how? And what would it mean for her and for the sweet, figure skating young girl whose photo in the LAW profile had such a charming smile?
The possible answers got the better of Madeleine. She had intended to intercept Michelle before the match, with all the poise and elegance befitting a first meeting. Instead, if she walked into the backstage area, Michelle would find Madeleine with her thumbnail between her teeth, glaring a crater into the wall.
