Standard
Win via: Pinfall, Submission, KO or DQ
The Reinhardt emerged from the locker-room with slightly frizzled hair, holding her cheek gingerly. There were two well-dressed masked servants on either side of the door, looking out down the hallway. “Tch… That Hundchen really had the nerve to hit back. YOU!” She pointed, “Look at my face, do I have a bruise?” Her hand lowered and the servant peered after lurching over, shaking his head. Karla shoved his face away, “Good. Walk with me now.”
She strode on, with purpose, donned in a two piece with thigh-highs, ending in golden high-heels, latex arm-sleeves, latex over her chest and fingerless gloves. Topping it all was her patent symbol of KRR striped on her chest, and the golden dog leash dangling around her waist. She picked up the slacking end that was slapping her thigh and spun it around, grinning self-satisfied as they neared guerilla position. “I took care of my opponent the easy way, so now we’ll do things how I please.”
Spoiler
Slowly Karla continued, and reached ringside where the fans gave her the thumbs down and chanted ‘YOU SUCK.’ They’d all fall on deaf ears until a sign, held by a child, was presented to her that said, “KARLA RAY BRAT-HARDT.” And that made her stop, smile and even chuckle some before she whipped the leash so it pinged off the railing and the child was spooked into dropping their sign, and Karla stomped on it as the kid leaned over to reach, picking it up and tearing it in four before their eyes, then frisbeeing it back into their face. When they lowered it, Karla feigned a lunge at them to send them stumbling into their seat, misty-eyed and flushed white, with the parent getting in-between, but not before she snatched their blue baseball cap. She stepped back from the parent’s counter lunge and ignored their shouts, raising a hand up as one servant placed a sharpie in Karla’s leather palm. Then she signed it, dropping the sharpie for them to pick up and holding out the hat, to which the parent allowed the child to take it… until… Karla yanked it back, going to the opposite sector of the crowd and throwing it into the masses who each tried to snatch it.
Karla turned around to view them, so self-satisfied that she laughed and pointed at them, continuing to do so as she marched up those steps, and the two servants sat on the ropes to let her inside. Within the ring was the referee and a ring announcer, who stood confused in their dress, but not long did Karla let them take the ring’s centre, with a quick shove and trip to their ankles, she sent them to the canvas, then started kicking them until they rolled themselves out.
A hand combed back her hair as a ringside aide handed her a microphone and she took the ring’s centre again, licking her lips and looking up towards the lights. She laughed into the microphone, walking to one corner where she met the eyes of the kid whom she made sob.
“Listen, spoiled gnat, you want someone to blame why you won’t get your hat back, look at all these money-grubbing little thieves who won’t give it back. See, my name is now on it, which means it’s worth money. And if you can’t take it, well, try asking loser mommy and daddy for an extra big allowance because you’ll need at least a hundred grand to even make the first bid. Oh, wait a minute, that’s probably a hundred times more than what they’re worth. You know, whatever dirt is valued these days-HAHAHA.”
Karla started walking back while leaning forward to laugh at her own line, to which she ended up bumping into the referee. That made her turn around and snap into a death glare, and the referee backed up to offer space, hands up shoulder-height. She stared for a moment, then lifted the microphone as boos rained down. “You know what’s something I figured. Ever since I sought to prove that I am worth every ounce of the spotlight, these reactions have gotten worse and worse.” Her head shook as she started pacing around the ring, “No one has respect for authority anyone. It seems to me everyone lacks parental figures to know even what respect is. I am someone who can buy anyone in this world and do anything. I can walk into Dan DeFranco’s office, spit in his face and he’d say thank you. That’s my power. What’s yours? Other than smelling like wet hundchens who can’t even remember to brush their teeth.”
The crowd loosened another gale of disapproval on the woman who gestured out to the crowd with her hand, “My point exactly. You’re all pathological liars. I offer only the truth. And I am your Main Event, and I may not be six foot, but every night, I stand tall, and I may not be a heavyweight, but I crush any comers to my untouchable record. SO, you know what. As my scheduled opponent is too scared to show, I figured that I’d use my benevolent power and charitable heart to give anyone the opportunity to come out and wrestle me. Fair and square in a normal contest. You hear all these people, LAW Locker-room? They’re itching to see just which one of you I’ll defeat next.”
The microphone was thrown behind her. It flew so that a ringside attendant had to slap it down before it struck a fan. Karla was none the wiser, and just waited to see who would trudge through to give her what she wanted.
