Hardcore Match: Amy Schmidt vs Spectre — Tearing and Wearing

[FreshBritishSalmon]

Amy Schmidt vs Spectre - Hardcore Match

Match Type: Hardcore
Match Rules: None
Attire: Standard wrestling attire
Location: LAW mandated ring


For some reason, Amy was getting tougher matches, despite having an awful start to LAW, having lost her debut in horrendous fashion, and even having the term "The new Ossi Shamar" floating around in hushed murmurs around LAW itself. Amy did not know who Ossi Shahar was though, so it didn't matter to her, though she did assume it was someone amazing, like she was, according to her own arrogance.

Her next match was a hardcore match, meaning she could fight without limitations, and that petrified her. That meant anything could happen to her, and her opponent could easily end up breaking her so badly that she could be sent to A&E. But she could not abandon a fight, as she knew that if she defaulted on a match, her contract could easily be terminated, leaving her without anywhere to go.

As such, she headed to the ring, being immensely nervous, and praying that her opponent wasn't going to be savage, though she expected they would be. Upon arrival, she slipped into her wrestling attire, and made her way out to the ring.

Amy

With barely a peep from the audience, she sauntered out to the ring, acting as if everybody was cheering her name, donning her usual illusion that she was perfection, and that none could stand in her way.

"Greetings peasants!" She said as she slipped into the ring clumsily. "It is I, the Prinzessin Der Verurteilung! Here to make my powers known throughout the world once more after my amazing debut!" There was a smattering of laughter to this blatant lie, to which Amy ignored. "And once again, the scoundrel that will come opposite me will fall foul of my moves, and submit themselves to my majesty!" She said, walking to her corner and waiting for her opponent to arrive.

[Monsy]

Spectre observed from the rafters, arms folded on the cold red steel railing and legs crossed. The crowd’s shit-eating merriment resonated to her quite strongly. It made her mouth twist and pull taut.

She had some opinions about tonight.
It was her first hardcore bout in the promotion. Her fourth Match.
A lawless field where she can collect fingernails and explore ways to dislocate the discs out of someone’s spine. Taking her time would be soooo much fun. Then she learned her opponent.

Amy Schmidt. Prinzessin Der Verurteilung. Not an unknown person — just someone very fucking low on the totem pole. Only one match to her knowledge, against Tina Armstrong. Almost nothing in the indies or MMA or so much as a whisper of a street fight. Just that she showed up one day and sucked canvas. She's a clear and blatant step down from the elegant flames of Emi Sakura. Was she just working backwards?

Fine — Spectre’s thought concluded. If the wrestling dicks wouldn't let her climb up another rung on this ladder, then she’ll make an echo from the bottom. But she wouldn’t be happy about it.

“Let's get this over with.” Spectre said quietly before she leaned off the railing.

The logo flashed on-screen. The chrome skull with its spinning purple nuclear symbol inside the eye socket. It glitched and multiplied. Crowds stirred in their seats, both uncomfortable and excited at once, like they were about to witness a live execution. Spectre waited a few moments before cueing the rest.

Church bells ( one… two… three )! Techno!

!

Spotlights pointed at the stage now circled the lower bowl before going up in search of Spectre. They found her descending towards the ring, standing on a metal hook once again and grabbing the cable for balance. She was armed with two red crowbars. A satchel hung at her hip by a shoulder strap, carrying a couple goodies she prepared.

At the six-foot point, she dropped onto the top turnbuckle pad. Ankles together, knees out. Squat.
She set eyes on her opponent, squinted, then drew her crowbars and hopped inside the ring. The weapons pointed diagonally towards the mat.

.

“Here.” Spectre flipped one of her crowbars in her hands then tossed it at Amy’s feet. “Pick it up.”

[FreshBritishSalmon]

The way her opponent made her way to the ring made Amy significantly more nervous. She looked serious, as if she had been doing this for years, and Amy knew that if she were to anger her, it would easily be curtains for her. Everybody that knew Amy, of which there was very few, and none in the audience, knew that outside of her Prinzessin guise, Amy was nothing short of pathetic.

"You think you can just tell me what to do and get away with it? Do you not know who you are messing with??" The Prinzessin said, visibly annoyed at the arrogance, though a thought occurred to her. She didn't come without a weapon, and her opponent had actually given her one, and seemingly a proper one too. In a rare moment of clarity and common sense, she nodded, picking it up and testing it in her hands to test its weight.

"Very well, I accept your offering." She said with a slight grin, even though the odds were still significantly stacked against the Prinzessin, even with a weapon.

[Monsy]

Yes, I know exactly who I am messing with. A brat.

Spectre’s inner dialogue said, saying nothing outwardly. She stared them dead in the eye minaciously, indifferent to sass or Amy’s bother. Conversely, she stopped blinking. She noticed Amy’s eyepatch. That covering of possible weakness in a face of perceived perfection and power. The fascination thrummed in her brain as a strong cocktail she wanted to sip on and explore. It became what she stared at, exclusively. Especially as Spectre began to pace—between the adjacent ropes closer to her corner.

The referee switched glances between them.
There was no ceremony left.
And Amy had picked up her weapon, much to Spectre’s bemusement after mouthing off.

She smiled briefly under the mask. The bell rang.

DING DING DING.

The crowd cheered the opening. Spectre put her foot forward, her toes pointed at Amy. The crowbar she held was lifted back over her shoulder, then whipped like a tomahawk, straight for Amy’s face.

[FreshBritishSalmon]

Though Amy was a rather unwitty girl enveloped in an illusion, she was not completely dumb. She noticed that Spectre was focused on something, and she was layered in on it, as if she was a homing missile locked onto its target. Before Amy had the time to question it though, Amy heard the bell go, which caught her by surprise.

But not as much as what came next. She saw something flying at her with speed and next thing she knew, BAM, the crowbar that was once in Spectres hand had been slung towards the Prinzessin with force, gasping her forehead and leaving Amy reeling in pain.

"AGH, HOW INSOLENT!" Amy said in disgust, swinging her weapon around wildly, half to hope to get revenge, and half to get Spectre away from her. But her attacks were wild and wayward, meaning they were easy to avoid.

[Monsy]

Huh. They didn't go down.

That was initially disappointing for the ninja. She ended up watching from her position, then slowly approached and came into range.

The swings they had were very fickle. She arched her back into a low limbo under one, popped up, then pulled her shoulder back to dodge another. On their third swipe, Spectre sidestepped back, giving them the desired distance. But this was timed early after a read of body posture. So when they finished their swing, Spectre was already closing back in, mid-twist and popping off the ground. First her heel would connect against their cheek. Then immediately after, her other foot finished the job to end this battle in a KO'd mess.

Feilong Kick

Stepping on them was easy from there. Her boot squashed their chest into the mat and the ref counted.

One!
Two!
Three!
DING-DING-DING!

And that was about it. Spectre collected her two crowbars and went back towards her corner, hopping to the top-turnbuckle then stepping on the metal hook waiting to take her back to the metal sky.

Gone once again.

Winner via Pinfall: Spectre