W Y V E R N vs ̶L̶e̶o̶n̶i̶e̶ ̶B̶o̶w̶e̶n̶ - Falls Count Anywhere

[winner3]

Falls Count Anywhere Match: Victory to be awarded via Pinfall, Submission, or Knockout anywhere on the cruise ship.
No disqualifications

[Hills]

15 Minutes Ago

Nerves are not, generally, a part of Wyvern's life, at least as far as matches go. Unmotivated by success or acclaim, her main concern has always been the fight itself. Whatever happens, happens. She wins, great. She loses, fine. She learns, she gets stronger, she moves onto the next one. Why be worried about that? The concept had never made sense to her. Now, however, her usual indifference is nowhere to be found. First, her usual preparations had been disrupted. Unable to find a private (or at least abandoned) bathroom to change in, and wanting to avoid being recognized, she had been forced to make her ring preparations in the backstage area of the arena, surrounded by the general bustle of wrestlers and crew that accompanied the pay-per-view. Being around this many people was never comfortable for her, and the inability to ready herself in a quiet area had already put her off her balance. Which lead to the second issue. She had mostly gotten used to ignoring the crowds, but her usual layer of mental defense was inadequate to protect her from the sheer scope of this event. A house show was fine. Even a televised match she could handle. But this? Hundreds of thousands of people would be watching her. Her parents would be watching her, having promised to get up earlier to watch her match.

Too much. It was all too much.

Finishing the wrappings around her hands and forearms, Wyvern reaches to the side of the crate she had sat on, where she had left her gloves leaning against the wall. Her hand closes around the glove. A singular glove. Her anxiety spiking, the Irishwoman snaps her head down to look around for the other. It was gone. Not on the floor, not on the wall, not anywhere nearby. She couldn't have misplaced it. It couldn't have been taken by accident, the gloves had been together as a set. With so many people moving around, though, she hadn't noticed it missing, and now there was no time left. Hissing quietly to herself, she slides the remaining glove over her right hand and forearm. She looks up, just as a tech from the backstage crew approaches her.

"Ms. Doyle? It's time."

Whatever happens, happens.

Now

"The following contest is set for one fall, and is a Falls Count Anywhere match!"

The announcer's voice penetrates through the walls, the noise in the arena no doubt defeaningly loud to be heard over the crowd. Gritting her teeth and forcing herself to suppress nervous shakes, Wyvern bounces on the balls of her feet near the exit of the gorilla position. Glancing over at the tech who has been helping her, the older woman holds up a set of five fingers and begins counting down. Wyvern nods, keeping an eye on the countdown until only one finger remains, at which point she faces forwards, sets her shoulders, and waits for the sound of her entrance music to begin with closed eyes. She doesn't need to see the darkness setting over the arena outside, already attuned to the slight hush that begins in response to it.

Wyvern's Entrance Theme

Moving forward but leaving herself hidden from the crowd, Wyvern waits through the opening chords of her entrance theme. She was told to expect a cloud of mist as part of her entrance, and to make sure to time her entrance with that in mind. Hearing the song approaching the start of its lyrical section, she begins to step forward. Unable to move at her usual, stalking power walk without exposing her nervousness, Wyvern slows her pace and forces herself to move with deliberate, controlled steps as she passes through the entrance. The usual strobing lights accompanying her entrance cut short as she makes her way in, replaced with the flat red lights that follow as she slowly becomes visible to the crowd. Between the lighting and the smoke she can barely see, but she had memorized the layout of the stage ahead of time. She knew what to do.

"Now making her way to the ring! From Drogheda, Ireland! Weighing in at 137 ibs..."

Wyvern fully emerges from the mists onto the entrance ramp, dense curls of it still clinging to her for a few moments before dissipating. She doesn't stop or hesitate. If she loses this controlled pace, she might not be able to get it back. She refused to show the weakness she felt. That wasn't what the people were here to see.

"WYYYYYYYYYYYYYYVEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERN!"

Wyvern has grown accustomed the mixture of cheers and boos that accompany her entrances, but the sheer scope of the event means that the reaction is louder than any she'd ever gotten before. It takes all of her self-control not to wince at the crashing torrent of noise, but she manages to do so. Reaching the ring itself, she pulls herself up and rolls under the bottom rope, lithely coming to her feet in a practiced motion. Rather than take her usual seat in the corner, she paces back and forth in the ring to burn off nervous energy, her stride slowly shedding any remaining hesitation as she assumes her usual, predatory gait. People? Showmanship? She didn't know much about those. But here, in the ring? This she knew how to handle.

Keeping her eyes on the entrance the whole time, Wyvern waits impatiently for her opponent to make her appearance.

Ready or not.

It was time.

[FreestylePoet]

If the crowd noticed Wyvern's introverted apprehension, they didn't show it. They cheered the rugged Irishwoman on as if she were a gladiator riding in on a chariot! If anything, her steely focus on the ring ahead spurred them on even further. After all, this was a Falls Count Anywhere match. Cunning and willpower alike were necessary to win, and every bit of Wyvern's body language promised both in spades.

Their rabid applause cascaded across the deck of the ship, all but filling the Gulf of Mexico with anticipatory glee. All this for someone who'd been in LAW for all of 4 months. They didn't see her as a rookie, though. They saw her as a rising star! An instant main eventer whose matches were never anything less than as high-octane and competitive as she could make them. Wyvern was the future of LAW, in all its fierce and spirited glory.

Still, neither the intrigue of a prowling warrior nor the thrill of untapped potential was enough to sustain the crowd's energy ad infinitum. Luckily, it took two to tango, and as their eyes turned back towards the entrance ramp once more, the announcer didn't miss a beat.

"And her opponent! Standing at 5'6 and weighing in at 145 pounds, coming to us all the way from the rugged Minnesotan farmlands of the USA, for her Pay-Per-View debuuuuut... representing Team Stanza: Leonie! The Lioness! Boooowennnnn!"

Leonie's Entrance Theme - Unstoppable by Eminem

The audience immediately lifted back into an uproar, hooting and hollering from ringside to standing room. From the stands and platforms set up on the deck all the way to the bars and TVs below, the ship rumbled with renewed excitement.

It wasn't hard to see why: Team Stanza was an up-and-coming stable in LAW, and Leonie was becoming well-known as the most fierce and physically powerful of the bunch. She also had a massive chip on her shoulder and enough grit to withstand almost anything Wyvern could throw at her. It truly was a match made in heaven between two rising stars, eager to put their stamp on Fight the LAW 2! So when Leonie's name was announced, the fans all but tripped over each other to get a glimpse of the Lioness of LAW as she made her way to the ring!

...Except she didn't. While her music played and her few fans held signs with the orange-haired woman's face, the wrestler in question was nowhere to be found. They waited... and waited... and waited. Eventually her music died, leaving only the murmurs of the crowd. Concern, confusion, disappointment, outrage, but mostly just asking one question:

Where was Leonie?

[Hills]

As Wyvern finally has a chance to really listen to the crowd once she's in the ring, she notes a surprising number of cheers compared to her usual, more mixed, reaction. The stage is most likely influencing it; this is a huge event, and the crowd has already been whipped into a fever pitch by the night's earlier matches. This is the first main card match to promise real violence, and for whatever other problems LAW's viewers might have with her, on that front, Wyvern always delivers. Moreover, the crowd had an unusually large quantity of Americans due to the event's location. Wyvern is pretty sure she remembers hearing about "variance in demographic appeal separated by geographical location" from one of the meetings she'd been forced to have about building her brand. Of course, that was the meeting she had mostly dozed through.

Which is to say, it was one of the ones she had bothered to show up to in the first place. That venn diagram was a circle.

Wyvern waits impatiently through Leonie's entrance music, her pacing increasing in speed and irritation as her opponent continues to conspicuously not make an appearance. From her research, she'd hoped the wrestler wouldn't be one for showboating, but apparently she was dragging out the entrance to soak up as much attention as possible. Or, maybe not, given the abrupt stop in the music. This, finally, prompts Wyvern to halt her back-and-forth, taking a few controlled steps towards the center of the ring. For the few people familiar with her body language, this level of precise movement means only one thing: overwhelming fury.

"This is bullshit!"

A voice, audible through the heavy silence that has descended over the crowd, rings out. Wyvern's head snaps to look in the direction of the sound, although the original speaker is lost in the audience.

"I agree! I agree."

The rare moment of solidarity between Wyvern and the audience ends as quickly as it began, and she turns her attention to a nearby member of the ring crew. She holds out a hand, her desire obvious despite her lack of verbal communication. Within moments, a mic is tossed over the ropes, where she snatches it from the air and directs her attention back towards the stage, and the staff behind it.

"I wasn't in a great mood before this." The understatement and calm tone bely her obvious anger, but she has no need to shout with her voice being projected through the entire ship. "And if I don't get an explanation or an opponent, I am going to make that everyone's problem. I came out here to fight someone, and I guarantee that before the end of the night I'm going to have blood on my knuckles. Where that blood will come from depends on the next 60 seconds. Clock's ticking."

An ultimatum delivered. With no more need of the mic, Wyvern tosses it over her shoulder without a second thought, folding her arms over her chest and waiting with apparent patience.

[FreestylePoet]

The microphone bounced on the canvas once, twice, thrice before settling to a stop. Feedback screeched briefly into the ocean breeze. The silence that followed was quickly broken by murmurs from both stagehands and spectators. Was this planned? Where was Leonie? Would this match still happen? More pressingly... What was Wyvern willing to do to get "blood on her knuckles?"

Ten seconds passed. The whispers became more urgent, and nervous shifting turned to action. LAW staff across the ship spoke into earpieces and walkie-talkies. The referee, who was closest to Wyvern, looked like she might try to talk the stewing hardcore specialist down before thinking better of the idea. She merely scampered out of the ring to consult with a PA.

Thirty came. Now the audience was getting antsy. Some pulled out their phones, ready to record the confusion and whatever carnage inevitably followed.

Then fifty. Fans near the ring started to back away from their seats, quickly forming a throng that lurched into the aisle. Even the camera crew started hastily packing their things to abandon their post. And just before Wyvern's deadline came to pass...

???

Every eye turned towards the entrance ramp. An unplanned musical cue? Themed after a phantom thief? It was the barest of hints, so only the most astute fans had an idea what was about to happen. Everyone else kept their gazes locked on where surely a wrestler of some kind was meant to appear -- before being turned around by a shrill-

"YAAAAHOOOOOOOOOO!"

There, a pink and black streak blazing down the cruise ship's zipline! Fans pointed and cajoled their neighbors to look at the source of the noise. Whoever they were, they picked up incredible speed, positively streaking across the cord. Then, at the midpoint of the zipline, the figure let go! Laughs turned to gasps and screams as down the colored shock went... before a long string flew from its hand!

One end wrapped around a light fixture, changing the course of the falling figure. It swung long like a pendulum before letting go and hurtling towards the ring. Now it -- she -- was in view. A woman, clad in black spandex with bright pink hair, flew through the air. She flung her grappling hook off its earlier perch and onto a short crane holding an elevated cameraman. This second swing was shorter, and the pinkette rolled through the seabreeze once she let go.

Hurtling through the cool air, she flew just over Wyvern's head before landing into the canvas. She rolled to break her fall before popping up and standing proud, arms akimbo on the corner of the ring! The crowd exploded, absolutely enthralled at the sight of the Extranational Woman of Mystery, the Lupin for the Information Age, the world's most famously infamous gentlewoman thief herself: The Impossible!

The Impossible, LAW's Biggest Mystery

She twirled to meet Wyvern's gaze, winking at the other woman. "Well, don't you seem starstruck?" she chirped, not caring to pay any attention whatsoever to Wyvern's actual expression. "Betcha didn't expect the Impossible herself to show up at your match!"

[Hills]

After giving her ominous warning to the ship, Wyvern stands unmoving even as the rest of the deck grows increasingly uneasy with the open-ended declaration. Gone is the nervous energy and impatience from earlier, at least to the outside. A slow, rhymic tapping of one boot is all that visually separates the Irish wrestler from a particularly lifelike statue. Innocuous enough by itself...but a few of the ring crew and more observant audience members quickly realize that the beat is sounding, nearly exactly, at one-second intervals. Not a tic, but a tick. A countdown to an explosion of unknown proportions. Internally, Wyvern's fury is unabated, her carefully controlled and timed motions a method of keeping herself under control rather than simply letting it all out. As the ringside crowd grows more and more agitated, Wyvern's eyes flick to the side for a moment to look at them before going right back to entrance ramp, restraining an urge to roll in their sockets. She wasn't about to go around punching random people. That would be illegal, cruel, pointless, and, most of all, uninteresting. She was here for a fight.

Wyvern, entirely focused on keeping her count steady and herself controlled, doesn't even notice the first reactions to the newcomer's entryway. By the time she's snapped out of her thoughts, one of the cameramen has already locked on to the mysterious figure and is being broadcast above the stage. Rather than turning around, Wyvern remains motionless, keeping an eye on the titantron and halting her tapping foot. One way or another, the countdown was no longer necessary. Calculating the incoming angle to the best of her ability, Wyvern stays stock still even when the intruder flies directly over her, turning her head slightly to look directly at the mysterious woman now sharing the ring with her. Her expression remains stony during the Impossible's brief introduction, before she finally unfolds her arms and turns the rest of her body to follow her head.

"The only thing 'impossible' here is the idea that you seriously expected me to know who you are. Speaking of which..."

She holds up a hand indicating that it's the Impossible's turn to speak. The statement is open-ended, but the intent is obvious. Of course, if Wyvern had any idea what she was getting into, she never would have asked for an introduction in the first place. For now, though, she possesses only an inkling of what she's in for.

And for the audience, the night had just gone from nerve-wracking to electrically exciting. A matchup nobody could have expected, but that promised to be...unique.

[FreestylePoet]

The Impossible stood slack jawed for a moment. "She doesn't know who I am?" she murmured to herself. "She must be the only one on this deck who..." Then she raised her voice. "Oi! Do ya live under a rock or something? Never seen YouTube or Instagram or, I dunno, the news?" With a sigh, she shook her head and pinched her nosebridge.

"Anyway, I guess if you're boring then who I am doesn't matter. All you gotta know is that the Impossible's my name, and these two things are my game: One!" The Impossible leapt from the corner post, flipping onto her hands. She sprung off, going hands over legs over hands again, until she was square in the center of the ring. One hand framed her hip as the other pointed at Wyvern. Oohs and ahhs spattered through the crowd. "Marveling, dazzling, sparkling, amazzling moves to defy reaper and cop alike! And two!"

She snapped, and the Titantron came to life. Orange hair and fiery eyes, and a taut tank top. All wrapped up in equally orange rope, arms and legs kicking as much as they could despite their folded state. Beige fabric gagged the woman. The deck tittered. "Good ol' fashioned thieving! A cruise ship heist is a must, wouldn't you say? And a spot on today's card was a pretty good prize. Too bad it had to come at the cost of your little dance partner. Sorry, Leonie!" She waved, and the screen clicked away.

The Internet star turned to Wyvern. "I'm not actually sorry. After all, if I hadn't tied her up, I wouldn't have been able to meet you! Besides, wouldn't you much rather tango with me instead? The annoying, bouncy little bitch that kept ya waiting? Just tell me about what you and little Leo had planned for tonight. I'm game for anything. Oh, and ya don't have to worry about 'liability' or anything fancy like that. I'm on the LAW roster, y'know!"

"So whaddaya say? Gonna accept my challenge? Because if ya do…" One arm went up. "Then I, the Impossible, gentlewoman thief extraordinaire…" The other flew up too, and the Impossible turned towards the audience! "Will be your opponent!"

[Hills]

If Wyvern was more prone to displays of emotion, she would most likely have let her jaw drop about five seconds into the Impossible's introductory speech. Was this real life? The whole situation was entirely too bizarre. Five minutes ago she was expecting to come out here for a fairly standard fight. Instead, she was dealing with a self-proclaimed gentlewoman thief in a leotard. When Leonie is revealed kidnapped on the titantron, the absurdities overwhelm Wyvern and she palms one hand over her face, gripping her temples with her thumb and middle finger and massaging them in a futile attempt to quell a growing headache.

You were right, Mam. Should've just stayed home.

Letting her hand drop back to her side as the Impossible concludes her speech, Wyvern simply stares at her for a few moments with dead eyes, entirely unsure of how to respond to this trip into the twilight zone. Even the crowd falls quiet in anticipation, straining to hear her answer to the audacious challenge. The deafening silence stretches on for a few moments, but even Wyvern recognizes that she needs to respond. This can't go on forever. A brief narrowing of the eyes is the only warning the Impossible gets before Wyvern...stalks to the side, drops to the ground, and rolls under the ropes. The apparent rejection quickly proves to be more than it seems, however. Moving up to a member of the audience, Wyvern doesn't give him a chance to recoil before snatching his raised phone out of his hand.

"Thanks."

Leaning up against the barricade and ignoring the man's baffled protests, the Irishwoman begins scrolling quickly over the internet.

Yep, official roster member...thievery on multiple continents...stole multiple secret sauce recipies? Really? Who...wait...how the hell is this already trending on Twitter?

Typing something out, she pushes back off the wall and carelessly tosses the phone back over her shoulder, its distressed owner only barely managing to catch it after several close calls. Still indifferent to his plight, Wyvern climbs back up into the ring and rolls back under the ropes. Coming to her feet, she strides forward and squares up in front of the Impossible.

"I lost one of my gloves, my match got interrupted by this holy show and I found out earlier that the legal drinking age in the U.S. is 21, because apparently civilization hasn't gotten here yet. Nothing personal, but before you take this up, think it through. I promised blood on my knuckles. That bell rings, it's going to be yours."

She folds her arms.

"But if this is really what you want...the match was Falls Count Anywhere."

[FreestylePoet]

Impy over here could practically feel the meanie waves radiating off of this one. With just a scowl, she practically broadcast her whole mind to the world: "Grr. Is this real life? Is this just fanta--" Oop. That was Freddie Mercury. But even if Wyvern was just thinkin' it, the Impossible had to respond. "Realism is for the fishes, honey, and don't you forget it!" The Impossible said with a harumph. "...But yeah. I'm real."

Then ol' girl stepped right up to the Impossible, and even if her grooming was A-OK, Satsuki could still smell the angry on her. She didn't cower. Instead, she flashed a peace sign and a grin. That worked for pacifist protesters, right? Either way, it was best to listen: Port of call laws, drinking laws, ain't no laws... Ooh, and a lost glove. Plenty of good reason to be pissy. The Impossible knew all about this match already, but it was great for Wyvern to deliver the news herself because--

"Aaaanywhere?" she shrieked, hands immediately flying to her cheeks. "You mean, like, in this ring? Or in the mall over there?" She waved her arms around the outdoor ring. "Or the water park! Or in the slide! The zipline probably wouldn't work, though... Upper decks, lower decks." She brought a pinch to her chin, thinking from place to place. She wasn't Seuss, and this wouldn't rhyme, but it was a hell of a lot of fun to poke at Wyvern anyway. "In the kitchen, on a cutting board, in the freezer. In your room, in your closet--" Then she quirked a sultry eyebrow at Wyvern. "In your bed?"

"Or even--" she fished in her pockets, tongue out to the side as she mocked cartoonish effort. She walked all across the ring, across all four ropes, past Wyvie over there, then back to the opposite corner. Distance gained, fan laughs won... then lost as the gag wore out its welcome. Then she pulled out what she was looking for. "Inside this glove?"

[Hills]

Too late, Wyvern can practically feel the rhetorical trap snap shut as she sets foot in it, her straightforward statement about the match type launching off a series of theatrics so melodramatic it would make Nicholas Cage blush. Wyvern's face remains an indifferent mask as the Impossible rattles off a few of the ship's many possible locations where their battle might end up. At first it's nothing new; the Irish wrestler had spent much of the day exploring the ship, certainly due only to the need for reconnaissance for her match and absolutely not enthralled by her first time on such a massive ship. As the possibilities grow increasingly personal, she's only barely able to hold back a groan, knowing exactly where this is going. When the Impossible's tone turns flirtatious, a small blush comes unbidden to Wyvern's face.

Fortunately for the embarassed young woman, the Impossible decides not to capitalize on the momentary show of vulnerability, instead taking off and circling the ring while supposedly attempting to find...something. Wyvern pays little attention to her, focusing on getting her composure back and regaining her self control. It was clear that she would need it against the obviously tactical trolling of this-

"Inside this glove?"

The Impossible has no doubt seen many a singular straw do unpleasant things to the spinal columns of various metaphorical dromedaries, but when Wyvern snaps, her reaction is...singular. Outwardly, the only indications of her fury are a single twitch of her eye and and a slight shift in her mouth as her teeth grit. At a distance, one might think she had no response at all. For the Impossible and the unfortunate referee, however, the temperature in the ring seems to drop, and Wyvern's unrestrained malice is almost palpable in the air. Apparent or not from her expression, the theft seems to have struck a deep nerve. Slowly, almost mechanically, she turns her head to one side, skewering the referee with a glare.

"Ring the bell."

Terrified, the LAW official wastes no time in pulling back and signaling to the ring crew, and a quick series of rings signals the unceremonious beginning of the unexpected match. The instant the sound rings out, Wyvern erupts, launching herself forward like a speeding bullet towards the Impossible's perch on the ring. Halfway to her target, the Irishwoman leaps off the ground, extending one arm into a wide clothesline aiming to take her opponent off the ring post and onto the floor outside!