Typical Prey: The Beast vs. March "The Hare" Michel [Match Debut]

[DeVir]

Standard Match

"Come ooon! Why can't we just. Get. Started!?"

March Michel's voice became more shrill with each word as she hunched over a desk at gorilla, and along with the shrillness, the pained look on one seated woman's face only intensified. She spouted out something again about waiting a few more seconds for an ad break; March didn't care. Her head dropped and her legs stretched out behind her so she could stay warm and energized (like she needed the help). "You guys are killing me!", she whined, drowning out the woman's next few words.

March's first match nerves? They manifested as more and more anxiousness to get moving, get going, get-

Her head shot up when she heard the first few beats of her music from within the arena, and she realized the woman had stood up and started gesturing for her to go. March spun on a heel. "Why didn't you just say so!?" The woman didn't get the chance to retort; March had already made it to the curtains by the time she added a biting comment to her own words: "Ya snooty bitch."

Being subtly shitty to people for no reason always helped amp her up for a match, for some reason.

But that act had dropped and the charms had appeared by the time she stood in front of the crowd just once her song had found its aggression, and she dazzled with her brightest smile and her prettiest strut. Hoo - that was a big fuckin' crowd. Once more, that stomach sickness or deer-in-the-headlights look didn't hit the blonde California girl like it would most people. No, she was blasted with adrenaline. She whooped at the top of her lungs, she pointed at the distant ring, and she took off in graceful but manic hop-skip-jog, catching only two outstretched hands from the crowd as she rushed past them.

Spoiler

The ring announcer hadn't stopped bleating her name before she had caught the metal of one turnbuckle to slow herself down, swing around, and dart under the ropes. Her hands flew into the air to acknowledge the people cheering for her. "You're pretty and I like ya!", she belted at them in time with her music. Yeah, people were petty and shitty like ninety percent of the time, but the fans who saw her in the ring liked to downright worship her sometimes, so she had time for them.

And the debuting Hare didn't have much time for anyone, ever, so that was saying something.

[BlackAkuma]

”Hm. She’s a pretty one, isn’t she?”

”Yes, mistress.”

”Make her scream, Beast.”

”Yes, mistress.”

The lights all went out the moment that March’s introduction was finished, bathing the arena in utter darkness. Not an uncommon thing in wrestling, but enough to hype the crowd up, to fill the arena with the din of whispers. Something was coming. Someone was coming.A

played over the arena, thin strings twanging through the gloom. Each one reverberated through the stands and tickled the eardrums, making the fine hairs on everyone’s backs stand at attention.

”Run from the light
Your eyes black like an animal
Deep in the water
I care for no one but the offspring of your mind…”

A tall, muscular figure appeared at the top of the ramp as the lights flickered, revealing him in halves of seconds, such quick flashes that the crowd could barely make out their figures. He stood, arms crossed, peering down at the ring, unmoving and unwavering as a woman’s hands reached out from the shadows and caressed his chest, ran along his neck, and slid along his chin. She gripped him, explored every inch of his body without a hint of protest, as if he only existed for her to pleasure. He might as well have been a mannequin in the moment, a lifeless toy for the woman to manipulate as it suited her.

”Run from the one who comes to find you
Wait for the night that comes to hide…”

The two figures made their way down to the ring, male and female forms strolling through the shadows. The man stayed close behind, walking with a slow, easy stroll, while the woman moved as if she were heading down a runway. Every step was laced with lustful intent, showing off her curves and her lithe frame, while her voluminous hair. She made her way around the ring, stalking it like a predator, while the man leaped up on the apron and stood behind the ropes, looking in on his opponent.

”Your eyes black like an animal
Black like an animal
Crossing the water
Lead them to die!”

When the lights came up, March would find herself looking at her opponent, a

, leaning on the ropes like it was just another day in the park. The woman - a

- made her way over to the opposite side of the ring, dusted off the announce table, and proceeded to sit on the edge of it with her legs crossed, enjoying the best seat in the house while the commentators muttered their disapproval.

”Apologies for the fanfare. She likes to make a good first impression.” The man’s voice resonated with a thick Russian accent, poured over every word he spoke, but his English was perfect and even posh. He gave an apologetic shrug, smirked, and entered the ring by gripping the rope and leaping over it, landing near the center and waving her way. ”Viktor Vasilev. ‘Beast’, if you want to stick with the ring names.”

[DeVir]

Weeeeeelllll. This was dramatic.

While everyone watched and waited with bated breath, March watched and waited in motion, taking laps around the ring to pull on each rope and stretch out her already repeatedly stretched back. Her mind raced between thoughts, but she got it together long enough to focus again on the guy coming out to face her. "The Beast." It sounded like a guy compensating, and while she had her own moniker, no one thought a chick who allowed herself to be called "The Hare" had any issues trying to sound intimidating because no one was scared of a hare. No one sane. Her skills spoke for themselves.

And there he was. Yep, he looked like a compensating sort of guy. Tough-looking. No one scared March, but she could see where some wallflower could see him as the big bad wolf in the woods come to tear her apart. All shrouded in smoke. And... a chick with him. March's eyebrows lifted as she chewed on a fingernail, hating these "outnumbered" situations even if the armpiece never got involved in the match.

They took their sweet time getting to the ring, too. Okay, the guy was a nice-looking guy, but holy hell, the chick- "Jeeeeesus. She's like the high-budget porno version of Morticia Addams," she commented, just loud enough for the ref to overhear and for the two of them to share an agreeing look and shrug before they both returned to the spectacle. The smoke show.

March was outright hanging from the turnbuckle by the time they got there, feet on the middle rope. "Come the hell oooonnnn." They were trying to freak her out or... maybe get into her pants, she couldn't decide, but she wasn't taking the bait. ...No come to think of it, the second offer might work on her later, but not here and now in her big moment. She didn't realize she had muttered that private thought aloud, though thankfully not loudly enough for anyone but the ref to hear her again.

She hopped her way over to bounce between her feet in front of him, eying him up. And listening to that Russian accent that she, blabbermouth as she was, almost began to imitate in response to him. The idea of mocking him nearly had her giggling. But she tilted her head away and chewed on her lip to avoid the smile and laughter from pouring out of her. "Hey Beastie Boy," she answered after giving herself a second to recover, her tone coy, cutesy. "Then it sounds to me like she's got you whipped. Nobody's got time for all that-" She didn't come up with a word for it, just gestured at the ramp.

She stepped closer, side-eying him and almost posing for him. "March. 'The Hare.' And yep it is meant to be ironic, in case you were wondering."

[BlackAkuma]

Viktor took a moment to breathe deeply, absorb the atmosphere, and really get into the mood for things. It had been a while since he’d been in the ring, even longer since he’d been in a ring like this. Most of his time back home was spent in much smaller venues. Darker. Danker. Dustier. The sort of places where tetanus was a genuine concern. It was a welcome change of pace to be somewhere so clean and sterile, even if he had no intentions of keeping it that way for long.

He was so enamored with the scenery that he almost neglected to give his opponent the proper attention, but that changed when she spoke up. His English wasn’t perfect, so it took him a moment to truly grasp the meaning of what she was saying. Taunts, it seemed. This one had a lot of spirit. Young and cocky, likely inexperienced, the kind of wrestler in desperate need of a reality check.

Perfect.

He didn’t respond at first, instead looking March’s shoulder towards the outside of ring, where Beauty watched and waited with an eager eye, no doubt enjoying the view. She was, in fact, a pretty little thing, the kind they could both enjoy taking apart. A shame this wasn’t the sort of match that would allow for creative diversions, but Standard was the best they could do for a first outing. Oh, well.

When the moment passed, Viktor focused back on March and stepped forward, moving into her personal space. He was serene, placid, wearing the same lazy smile he’d had on at the top of the ramp without a single variation. ”I wasn’t.”

And with that, he jerked forward and attemped to slam their skulls together, looking to kick this off with a headbutt before the bell even rang.

[DeVir]

March didn't often heed those little pestering thoughts in the form of concerns about what people might have been thinking, but she noticed him looking past her at the voluptuous woman and wondered what their silent communication meant. Curious, she swung to look between both of them. Even she couldn't fail to recognize when two people eyed her like the meat in a human sandwich-to-be. She pouted, suspicion in her eyes. They had best avoid thinking of her as the tasty ham to their sandwich before this match ended; she might have to (literally) crush some balls before it got that far.

In much her way, she said the quiet part out loud. "Are you two, like, the national champion swingers over in your part of the world? Because you would get a ten out of ten from me. If I was judging." Assuming they were good in bed, but that quiet part, she didn't voice despite the temptation to keep running her mouth.

By the time she had looked back, he was there. She scrutinized him and twitched her nose at his scent but didn't move back since she was so well-versed in invading personal space herself. And in being smart-mouthed, too. What a cruel thing for him to say. It was a flat look she gave him, but she stayed coy and confident, twirling her blonde hair around her index finger. She just wished she had some bubble gum to blow and pop in his face. "That's your loss. I'm infinitely interest- eeeee! HEY!"

March spouted out the hey about the same time she narrowly avoided falling flat on her back from his slabby head hitting her tender head like a mallet on a dowel. She did have to catch herself in that awkward position with her hands behind her butt, just short of sitting, as she got her bearings. The ref, resident shitter herself, responded to March's rung bell by asking for the other bell to ring. The blonde hissed. "Why the hell is that okay!?", she demanded to know as she did everything to try and rise before he hit her again. She wasn't succeeding, too busy rubbing her skull.

[BlackAkuma]

And here came the referee. ”Hey!” She got up in his face after she called for the bell. ”Watch that stuff!”

From the sidelines, Beauty simply smiled a knowing smile and sighed, enjoying the show. She could tell Viktor would have good fun with this one - so young, so headstrong, so bafflingly stupid. Quite a body, though, and she suspected it wasn’t all for show, though whether or not it would be strong enough to oppose her husband was anyone’s guess. He liked to play with his food sometimes, mainly when he was on top, trying to make a show of things to impress her. Something she greatly appreciated and enjoyed, but it had come back to bite him before.

A distant concern, as he had only just begun. Back in the ring, Viktor shrugged off the referee’s chiding with a shrug and a plain smirk, a child with his hands caught in the cookie jar. He brushed the referee aside with a single arm and moved in on his prey, closing the gap as she tried to stand. ”Call it a reflex. Sorry.”

As Viktor neared, he lowered into his stance - not a wrestling stance, but one far more suited for boxing. Arms up, bouncing on his heels, eyes forward, guard tight. While he usually liked to work his strikes into his fighting style in a more seamless way, he was curious to see how March would react if things got rougher - she didn’t strike him as the brawling type, if their opening exchange was anything to go by.

Swaying left, then right, then left again, he moved in like a prizefighter and lashed out throwing, a quick jab at her chest and following up with a heavy right cross towards her face, both with enough force to knock grown men on their asses.

[DeVir]

"Now you step up! Too little too damn late 'cause now I gotta headache!"

She was being dramatic, yes. No, her head didn't hurt so badly that it would hinder her even if the dull throbbing did make her all the more incensed. And yes, the ref had at least stopped him from doing any more cheap damage to her pristine self and her imaginary full health bar, so the LAW official wasn't completely useless. But March, clever and used to manipulating authority as she was, saw a chance to plant a bug in the ref's ear. Get the official nervous that she would miss out on Beastie Boy's treachery, and the more the ref watched him, the more likely she would miss some of March's slippery tricks.

That's how she planned it, anyway. She got up and wrung out her own body with a shake. "Yeah, I bet you are," she grumbled back, and this time, she did mock his accent. But he would do shitty things no matter what the California girl said to him, so said California girl kept the pressure on the ref. "Use your eyes, dummy!"

March needed to use hers better, too. She might not have recognized the boxing stance anyway since she hadn't fought the best in the world back home by any means, but she probably would have better noticed, as she dropped into her own wider stance that could have passed for capoeira except she was just shifting and bouncing instead of dancing, that she needed to protect her face.

He had gauged her right, at least in part; she sure didn't know how to box. But she did have speed. Every way he swayed, she nimbly moved back and forth like a breeze to cut him off so he wouldn't get an angle on her. "That's real cute," she quipped, and just as she finished speaking, that speed helped her to just barely step back from the first punch. It helped her none with the second one because she all but walked into it.

She had moved just enough to avoid having her jaw taken off, but it didn't help her temple weather the blow any better. She yelped. The light left her eyes for a millisecond, and the cross spun her in place until she stood cross-legged before him with a modicum of balance and her palm holding her head.

[BlackAkuma]

Beauty looked on as Beast began to pour on the pressure, shifting into a more traditional boxing stance, primed for throwing heavy strikes. It had been a good while since she’d been on the receiving end of his punches, not since their little rivalry and the match it had culminated in. She would never tell him as such, but she’d been nearly knocked out by those punches more than a few times in their bouts, and it was a much closer thing than she’d led on. Moreover, she greatly suspected he’d been holding back some at the time, no doubt harboring certain feelings for her, even if he hadn't realized them at the time.

Such limitations wouldn’t be present today, not in March’s favor. Should’ve told him not to damage that pretty face of hers, though. Oh, well.

To her credit, March handled the situation well, moving deftly on her feet as Beast moved in. Beauty was surprised that she was agile enough to avoid his jab, swiftly avoiding one of his faster punches. She was graceful, quick on her feet, comfortable in motion. A gymnast background? A safe wager.

Whatever the case, it wasn’t enough for her to avoid the second hit, and while that one didn’t land flush, even 50% was enough to do the job. The blow spun her and left her cross-legged and stupefied, easy prey for whatever Beast had planned next. And yes, he did have ideas.

Those ideas needed her to be in the corner, so the next step was putting her there in the roughest way possible. He ducked down and charged forward, ramming his shoulder into her stomach to drive her back, back, back to the turnbuckle, smashing her against the pads and pinning her there, hammering those - admittedly impressive - abs.

[DeVir]

March regained all her facilities almost as quickly as she had lost them. In fact, she had full access to whatever brainpower told her to grip at the new crater on the side of her head bleating with pain. She was tough from her time thieving on the streets and getting her ass kicked on concrete, and she wouldn't have anyone thinking otherwise, but that hurt. And the two seconds she had lost amounted to an eternity in a wrestling ring with an aggressor. Her green eyes lifted, and she saw him coming.

She got one of her feet planted quickly enough that she could have spun herself away with another, oh, second and a half. He gave her only a half, and her body folded around his and her eyes flew wide as he pounded into her abs. They were good abs, but they didn't stop her from having to shuffle her feet with hurried desperation to avoid being run over instead of through. Maybe she should have fallen, though. The turnbuckle splitting her in the middle of the back didn't help. "Aaaaagh!" She curled her shoulder blades against it for a meager reprieve.

And then he kept slamming. And hitting. And slamming. Her one cry of pain turned into a chorus of them as jolt after jolt sent the pain shooting through her and her entire body jostling, and it was only once she managed to twist her body in between impacts that she lowered her elbow and forearm far enough to protect her reddening abs.

[BlackAkuma]

The crowd had been arguing about who they wanted to support, unsure where their loyalties lay, but they seemed to be settling on a favorite: March. It wasn’t hard to see why, either. Cocky though she may have been, she was the underdog in this fight, and it was hard to root for the big, hulking man who seemed to take a serene pleasure in dismantling her. The headbutt no doubt soured them, as well. The boos were beginning to emanate from the peanut gallery.

So much noise. Beauty paid little heed, and Beast paid even less as he closed in on his suffering prey. The two of them were used to negative reactions, receiving them throughout Europe. If they were in LAW for a long while, they would grow worse. Or better, depending on your perspective.

Undaunted, he continued to gore away at March’s core, grinding away her and folding her in half as the referee voiced her protests. It only stopped when March managed to get her arms down and block it, but if she thought that would prevent the pain, she was sorely mistaken.

Beast stood up and brought his palm to her chin, forcing her to stretch back against the pads and exposing her chest. He held her there for a moment, let her struggle, then suddenly stepped away and lashed out with his other arm, lighting her chest up with a blazing knife-edge chop.