***
Match Type: Standard
Victory Conditions: Pinfall, Submission, or KO
***
Match Type: Standard
Victory Conditions: Pinfall, Submission, or KO
***
General Appearance
Entrance Gear
Just in black.
Ring Attire
She'd set her mark, and now it was time to enforce it. Let these people know that she was here to stay. The management had given her an easy means of doing that; a heavyweight named Moira Kilgannon. The Celtic Hammer had six inches on her and was almost sixty pounds of pure muscle heavier, but she was a yet another brute who relied on her size and ability to throw a punch. With her refined technique, she could make quick work of her. But that wasn't her style.
And even if it was, she needed to put on a performance that would put the real talent here on notice. So Moira would have to suffer more than normal.
The pressure, that knowledge that she still had some tall mountains to climb was still overwhelming, and it manifested in quaking hands that she was quick to ball into fists. Solid. Unflinching. Resolute. The goth looked over her shoulder with a ready mean mug for anyone who might've caught that moment of weakness. But luckily, she was all alone in this area right behind the curtain.
She can't let that happen again. She was in shark infested waters, and if the wrong one saw that blood in the water, it would be all over for her.
The opening guitar of Korn's "Lullaby for a Sadist" pulled her head out of that fog of self-doubt and into the game.
She reminded herself that she's been in this position before. Afraid. Wondering if she really had what it took to make it to the top and prove them all wrong; everybody who looked down on her, everybody who wanted to see her fall, both past and present. Audiences included, that was a lot of people. A countless number.
But she put on that brave face, walked out like the queen she is, squared the fuck up, and handled her business.
Yes. She did it in ACW, and she was going to do it here.
Nyx walked out in time with the opening lyrics, to a rough reception from the crowd. Boos and jeers that she knew to expect and had the same effect as a pleasant breeze; their hate made it all the better when that bell rang and she went on to dismantle their hero for the evening. She kept it cool and poised, with a little smile forming after the voice of a particularly passionate "fan" reached her ears.
"Go back to France, bitch! You're garbage! You'll always be garbage!"
It was far from the worst of the abuse that's been hurled at her over the years, but the emotion that man put into those words...He didn't know it, but he just made things that much worse for Moira. She didn't know what it would be just yet, but she was going to do something special to her. Just for him.
Maybe an encore after she's been defeated. She'd grab a mic and and dedicate the extra punishment to him. Maybe even direct a cameraman his way to capture his reaction.
Nyx wouldn't do anything that would put Moira on the shelf, but the Irishwoman wouldn't be leaving the ring with her own power. And he would know -- everybody in this sold out crowd would know -- that it was all because of him. Petty, yes, but it was the right of those who rule the ring.
When she reached it, she walked over to a corner, climbed up to the second rope, facing the audience. And in perfect timing with the chorus of her theme, casually, and with a smug grin, lifted her arms up high from her sides as if to say, "gaze upon my perfection". The cocky gesture had earned her a cacophony of boos. A torrent of hate that she embraced.
Before stepping down, she removed the shrug and the corset that had her low cape attached and passed them off to a ringside assitant, leaving the real gear that she was wearing for this match, which was still fancy with golden studs and a helping of lace in places, but absolutely ring ready.
Nyx eyed the stage, waiting for her opponent to make her entrance. But before she could, however, something showed up on the titantron: Footage from the interview that was shot at her home. She had been asked about her feelings towards Moira and for any comments she wanted to make about her debut to LAW.
They'd caught a beautiful shot of her sitting on her black throne (which had been acquired just for the interview), dressed in her ring gear and the extra finery that she'd just taken off.
("My impression of Moira? This..."Celtic Hammer", as she calls herself?")
She sat back, arms and legs crossed. She made herself comfortable, her complete disregard for her opponent written all over her face.
("Well, she certainly wouldn't have been my pick for my debut. Moira Kilgannon. A simple brute who thinks she can coast by with her size and her ability to throw a punch.")
Cheers at the mention of her opponent's name turned back into boos at her comments at a speed that could've given one whiplash if that energy was manifested physically.
("I've faced my share of that type. I was hoping to face someone with talent, but I suppose she'll do. She can be the canvas on which I paint my first masterpiece for the LAW Universe. Those of you who followed my journey through ACW are already well aware of the subject matter that fills my gallery. But for those of you who aren't...")
With a menacing chuckle, she sat forward, placing her hands atop of her knees.
("Well, I'll give you a little hint in the form of a quote from a legend here in the world of professional wrestling: 'Destruction can be beautiful.'")
Nyx was smiling the same sinister smile she was at the end of the promo. She thought that man from along the way had gotten her amped up, but now...
Her kit was ready, every single material required being in plentiful supply. It was time to make some fucking art.
