Shaken, Maybe a Little Stirred - Domino vs. Ophelia Noir

[CyanDimitrik]

Standard Match - Win by Pinfall, Submission, or KO
PoW Stipulation - Winner Keeps Loser For A Day

The lights in the arena darken, and the crowd falls into a hush as anticipation builds.

String music begins to cascade in rapid flourish through the speakers. Brilliant white lasers flicker in sync, the sole points of light in an otherwise glittering sea of black.

The Music!

The titantron glows to life, running through a series of modeling shots rapidly losing saturation - before transitioning to a highlight reel in the ring, presenting the juxtaposition of Domino's career choices. How one thing doesn't seem to fit with the other, yet the results are unquestionable. Opposites attract to form one man with a solidified purpose.

A bright spotlight hits the top of the ramp as the man himself appears, wearing a confident, radiant smile and fist held aloft in the air. He swims in his duality motif, straight down to his wardrobe, predominantly black and white, from the boots and kneepads to the elbowpads and what can be glimpsed of his trunks beneath a loose-fitted white t-shirt. Emblazoned upon its front is a stencil of his face, bordered above with 'DOMINO' and below in 'EFFECT'. And despite a long dry spell in the ring, the audience receives him with eager energy - being a male model in a mixed match with the promise of taking the loser home after is pretty loaded, after all.

He begins his trot down to the ring, drifting side to side to slap a train of high-fives, receive well-wishes, and even dole out the occasional hug to his more enthusiastic female fans. For the final stretch, he takes off at a dash for the ring and springs up onto the apron! Gripping the top rope, he vaults his lower half up and over, only to race up the furthest turnbuckle to face the opposite side of the stadium.

Perched upon the middle ropes with knees braced against the topmost cables, he grabs the back of his collar and pulls the shirt up and over. It's bundled up quickly, then pitched out over the crowd - a free souvenir to some fan out there in the dark and indistinguishable crowd. But this leaves his upper-body finally exposed, every inch of refined, athletic frame bare. Defined, firm pectorals and sleekly trim, chiseled abdominals, strong shoulders, and streamlined biceps and thighs reveal the perfect blend of form and function - no excess weight or bulk, just physical performance. He thumps his right fist over his heart a couple times before casting a pointing finger out over the crowd with a nod.

Domino

At last, he drops down and turns to face the entrance he expects his opponent to use. Absently, he offers himself to the referee girl inspecting him; legs, arms...

His mind is occupied with his opponent. She's new. Very new, so far as he can tell. But he's seen her picture. She's absurdly pretty; luxurious hair, button nose, expressive eyes, trim body. Oh yeah, he's pretty sure why they were paired together. But can she wrestle? That's the most important thing right now. He can appreciate her looks soon enough, and Hell! Maybe she's a great person, too! That'd be a huge bonus, if they're going to be spending time together! But he needs to win here tonight. He needs to make it convincing for the audience. He needs to remind them that he's not just some gimmick. He's a competitor. He's paid his dues, he's been put on the backburner long enough. He doesn't have to be cruel... but he needs this audience, and the management of LAW, to know he's the real deal.

[Shadowheart]

A Model? Seriously? Ophelia's lips curved into a faint, amused smirk as she glanced over the event card once more. Her debut opponent... was a model. Nothing personal, really, but she had hoped for someone who'd push her limits, someone who matched her drive and intensity - maybe a pro athlete with some real ring credentials. But then again, this was a high-profile match where the winner got to take the loser home afterward... So, it made sense to put two eye-catchers against each other. Still, there had to be some other wrestler in this federation who was easy on the eyes and could actually wrestle, right?

Thoughts for another time. A soft knock at her door snapped her back to reality. It was showtime. With a deep breath, she shook off any lingering nerves, reminding herself of one simple truth: as soon as her music hit, it'd be like stepping into a movie role she knew inside and out. She lived for this, and tonight the ring was her stage.

As Domino's music faded out, the arena plunged into darkness. The lights suddenly started pulsing like camera flashes, mimicking the glitz of a red-carpet premiere for just a moment, the crowd hushed with curiosity. Then, the venue transformed into a spotlight frenzy as red beams sliced through the air like searchlights in a heist scene. Silence gripped the audience as anticipation built, until the first note of Ophelia's entrance music shattered the tension.

The lights zeroed in on her silhouette at the top of the ramp, a perfect shadow of mystery and allure. Dressed in a sleek, fitted trench coat with oversized sunglasses obscuring her eyes, she paused for dramatic effect, the crowd holding its breath. Then, with a subtle sway of her hips, she started her descent down the ramp, moving like a secret agent entering enemy territory, all grace and danger rolled into one.

The crowd, still unsure of how to react to the newcomer, buzzed with excitement as the lights finally brightened and her figure came into view. And when she dramatically peeled off her sunglasses and flung them aside with casual flair, the energy in the arena skyrocketed! Ophelia's lips curled into a teasing smile as she blew a kiss to the camera, then let her trench coat slide off her shoulders in one smooth motion, revealing her dazzling black latex-like crop top with gloves, matching shorts and thigh-high boots that shimmered under the lights.

"And his opponent, making her in-ring debut... Standing at 5'6" and weighing in at 110 pounds... Ophelia Noir!"

Spoiler

Upon reaching the ring, Ophelia paused at the apron, her eyes darting over her shoulder as if sensing someone watching her - an instinct straight out of a spy thriller. With a confident twirl, she turned back toward the camera, finger raised in a playful gun gesture, aimed right at the cameraman. Bang! A wink followed, before she leaped effortlessly onto the apron and slid between the ropes.

Once inside the ring, she finally locked eyes with her opponent. He was indeed handsome, sure, but she gave him only a small, knowing nod before she moved toward her corner. The female referee quickly approached, running through the final checks as Ophelia's focus sharpened, her heart raced not from nerves but from the thrill of what was to come while waiting for the match to start.

[CyanDimitrik]

Trench coat. Sunglasses. Domino is making a concerted effort to not grin, but somewhere in his mind, he's saying, 'She's one fedora away from a Ninja Turtles disguise.' That's not to say he isn't appreciating the theatrics. He always enjoyed the pageantry, the commitment, making oneself a real life action figure, so to speak. There's something alluring about it, the idea of being bigger than life, making a brand out of yourself. But he chose his path. Or, to be more real, it was chosen for him. He couldn't escape the stigma, so he leaned into it.

That thought brings him back to Earth.

The coat is cast aside, sunglasses removed, and he gets his first direct look at the girl within. True to her images, she is severely pretty; the classy kind of beauty who'd fit right into any spy movie. And any number of males in the audience would kill to be in his position right now, even on the losing end. Because, after all, someone is going home with the other tonight - for whatever loaded insinuations that might have.

A part of him hates these stipulations. He trusts himself with an opponent's well-being after all was said and done. But does he trust the other person? Someone he doesn't know? There's no telling what their intentions might be, what humiliations they have in mind. It's an added danger to the setup, especially between strangers; one that demands he give it his all to make sure he comes out on top.

She nodded at him. What a curiously cordial thing. It's so cordial, it's practically British. Oh, if she has the accent on top of everything else, that's just unfair.

His head shakes quickly, scattering the hanging bangs. Focus.

Gripping the ropes at either side, he leans forward to limber up the muscles through his arms and along his back, pulling his pectorals taut before relaxing again. His deep amethyst gaze settles with her own pink eyes, studying her, measuring her up.

Finally, the referee steps between them and waves an arm, signaling the bell! *DING!*

Domino departs his corner and starts forward, his steps light. Confident side-long skips bring him to either circle with the girl, or if she's letting her guard down, maneuver in immediately to her side. But he has every expectation that she's going to circle with him; two predators, sleek and trim, prowling around one another. Tension building, muscles coiled at the ready to pounce. His arms are raised, fingers splayed, ready to meet her, ready to catch her and begin the lockup.

[Shadowheart]

Ophelia's eyes couldn't help but linger a moment too long as she watched her opponent stretch out those chiseled muscles. Every inch of him seemed to be sculpted to perfection, a walking work of art - clearly, he took his modeling career as seriously as his training. Not a shred of fat on him, just pure muscle definition. She tried to remind herself this was no surprise, he was a model, after all, and probably followed a strict diet and workout routine. But still... she couldn't help but admire the view, even if she hoped it wasn't too obvious.

Snap out of it. The sudden clang of the bell snapped her back to reality. This wasn't a photoshoot, and it certainly wasn't a scene from one of her films. This was her debut wrestling match, and she had to focus on one thing; winning. Proving she belonged here, that her skills in the ring could match her on-screen reputation.

Taking a breath, she rolled her shoulders back and dropped into her stance, advancing toward the center of the ring. Her body instinctively arched in a defensive posture, hands raised, eyes locked on Domino as they began to circle one another. He had strength on his side, no doubt about that, and his own stance told her he was ready to engage in a lock-up.

A lock-up. Standard. But against a bigger, stronger opponent? Not always the wisest move. Her instincts told her to play it safe, maybe go for a more tactical approach, something sneaky to throw him off balance. But no - this was her debut, and she didn't want to leave a bad first impression by playing dirty. She had standards and she wanted to win on her terms - clean and classy.

Her heart raced just a little as she weighed her options, but after a quick, determined sigh, Ophelia made her choice. "Fine, let's do this." She quietly mumbled under her breath and took a slow, cautious step forward, eyes never leaving his. As her hand reached for the back of his neck and the other found his shoulder, the lock-up began. The moment they collided, she could feel his power - he wasn't just toned, he was strong. Really strong.

Ophelia gritted her teeth, putting everything she had into pushing against him. It wasn't going to last - she knew that much - but she wasn't about to back down, not yet. Even as her muscles strained and her heels dug into the mat, she fought to hold her ground, if only to prove to him, and herself, that she could hang with the big boys. Her arms tensed as she pressed harder, trying not to show how futile the effort felt.

[CyanDimitrik]

Ophelia.

Domino rolled the name in his head as he circled with her, studying those big, expressive eyes. They seemed so determined, so fiery. Defiant. Like she was staring down a supervillain. It's a little thrilling. He, himself, has never been in a film. But he could imagine what it's like to be in one with her. Secret Agent Noir. ...Would he be a "Noir Guy"?

Oh, boo. The thought of being one in a sea of many puts a damper on things.

Ophelia, though. What a classy name. Is it her real name? Is it a staged one? How much of her is silver screen, and how much is real? And why professional wrestling? Such a fascinating creature, this femme fatale.

She approaches. His body moves without even a moment's consideration, programmed to meet the competition head-on. Her hand hooks his neck, and his finds her nape, sifting beneath her hair rather than catching a handful of it. Her shoulder is taken next - she's athletic, but feminine. Svelte. Pleasant. And now, he can feel the full of her determination as she pressures into him. He meets her force equally, head canting close to hers. And soon, each warm exhale breezes against the girl's cheekbone and the corner of her lips, jaw firmed.

No words are spoken yet. He wants to feel her out, to get an idea of who she is, and what she brings to the table. He wants to coax as much out of her here and now as he can, not trying to overwhelm her outright, but meet her pound for pound. Until finally, he decides it's time to vary things up. Arms shift to suddenly shove her grip high, and he steps wide around her, attempting to weave in behind her back. His arms clamp around her middle, seeking to catch her in a waistlock. The position brings his chest tight behind her shoulders, his sleek abdominals pressed against her bare back, hips to backside, and arms crossing the pane of her flat stomach with hands pressed to her ribs.

[Shadowheart]

The cameras zoomed in on the ring, capturing every second of the tense struggle as the bell echoed throughout the arena. On the big screen, the crowd watched closely as Ophelia and Domino locked up, their bodies pushing against one another in a battle for dominance. From the audience's perspective, it might've seemed like an even match, but Ophelia knew better. She could feel it in the way Domino moved - he wasn't using his full strength. No, he was testing her, holding back just enough to see what she was capable of.

Her pink eyes stayed locked onto his throughout the whole thing, never breaking focus. Each time she pushed harder against him, a small grunt escaped her lips, but no matter how much she strained, the man didn't budge. Damn, he's solid. Her frustration was growing, but she kept her composure. Until suddenly, without any warning, Domino spun behind her, not giving her any time to react as his arms were already around her waist, locking her in tight.

"Wha—!" A quick gasp escaped her lips as she felt the firm pressure of his solid frame pressing against her back, trapping her in a waistlock. The crowd erupted, a mixture of cheers and gasps as Domino's swift move took everyone by surprise. His arms squeezed her midsection like iron bands, and for a moment, Ophelia was frozen, her mind racing to process how quickly he'd gotten the upper hand.

Her instincts kicked in fast, though. Hands flew down to his wrists, fingers desperately clawing at his grip as she fought to loosen his hold just enough to give her some breathing room. She struggled, twisting and pulling, trying to find an escape. Then, she saw her chance - with a quick drop to her knees, Ophelia slipped out of his grasp, scrambling backwards between his legs in one fluid motion before she sprang back to her feet.

If it worked, she'd quickly dart forward, her own arms wrapping around her opponent's waist, locking him in the same hold he had just used on her. It wasn't perfect, and she knew she didn't have the raw strength to keep him locked for long, but it didn't matter. She just needed those few seconds to figure out her next move as she tried to hold on tight, her mind racing for the next play.

[CyanDimitrik]

Surprising as it might be, the audience isn't particularly accustomed to a display of technical wrestling on the outset of matches with this group. Aggression tends to run ultra high, with little to no subtlety. So seeing the burgeoning exchange of holds draws a fascinated cheer from the crowd, excited in seeing the prowess of one to another, the dip and sway of control and momentum, watching either side jockey for leverage.

Domino could appreciate it, too. He's been in matches where the girl locks up and freezes, him free to crush her abdomen gradually, steadily sapping her strength. Some part of him is confident it's because of the quasi-intimate position and the loaded nature of LAW's... extra-curricular matches tending to put a little more emphasis and weight on feeling things rather than strictly clinical, professional wrestling. He gets it. It can be nice to indulge.

But give him a girl who knows how to tangle in the classic sense, who also happens to be gorgeous, and there's something that stands out. So when she dips his grip and evades behind him using what he would absolutely call squirrel tactics, he can appreciate her textbook awareness and familiarity. She's here to work. She's sincere in her intentions. And finding her arms locked around him in a reverse, she'll find his abdominals to be much like the rest of him - solid, defined, sleek. Each breath he takes pushes them against her wrists, forearms, her hands. Meanwhile, his hands move quickly to her arms, pulling - though not too far - to test her grip. His hips twist to the right, then left, testing how much he can jostle her against her will.

And finally, his hips twist to the right, attempting to pitch her body a little more to his side. His right arm lashes back in an effort to hook around her neck to capture her head, his forearm crossing beneath her jaw and left hand joining the right. Should she be caught in the side headlock, she'll quickly find her cheek pressed tight against his bare pectoral, warm skin against skin.

[Shadowheart]

Ophelia knew she wouldn't be able to keep Domino in her grip for long. This hold was more about buying herself some time than anything else, but she was a bit unsure of what to do next. She briefly considered going for a German Suplex - it was the perfect position for it. Sure, it wasn't a move she had much practice with, but how hard could it be? Lean back, throw your opponent over, simple enough in theory. The only problem was that Domino wasn't exactly the easiest guy to toss around. She doubted she'd be able to lift him, let alone pull off the suplex on someone of his size.

She needed another plan, and fast. But before she could come up with anything, her opponent had already started working his way out. His hands dropped to her arms, prying her grip apart with ease, and his hips began to twist side to side, making it even harder for her to hold on.

"Stay still, will you?!" Ophelia grunted through clenched teeth, trying to keep him locked in, but her efforts were useless. With a twist of his hips, he shifted his position and effortlessly slipped one arm around her head, yanking her right into a tight side headlock!

She couldn't help but let out a low groan as her arms fell from around his waist, immediately reaching up to grab at the thick forearm now pressing against her head instead. Her fingers dug into his arm, trying to pry it away, but his grip was too strong. She could only struggle, caught in his hold as the match was slipping back into his control, and she had to think quickly if she wanted to turn things around!

[CyanDimitrik]

The more he tests the girl's strength and caliber, the more Domino is realizing he has the distinct edge on her. Granted, it could easily be assumed from the outset just for size and build. But there's a difference between speculating and feeling. And right now, he can feel the difference as he pushes her arms a little wide and bucks her physique into a more favorable position.

Her head is captured, arm pulling against her jaw to bully the delicate features of her face against his pectoral muscle. He wrenches on the hold, left hand gripping to right wrist and elbow tucking to squeeze her in place. Only to suddenly torque with the girl, his hip pushing against hers in an attempt to take her down to the mat on her back with the headlock! All the better to press the advantage and try to wear her down!

But also to achieve a more intimate proximity with her. The audience doesn't have to catch everything that's said, after all. So even as the referee drops low to keep tabs on the grappling, Domino murmurs to her, "Secret agent... pretty name... and with a beautiful accent?" His legs shift against the mat to try to keep the girl wrangled on her back. "Didn't need.. the PoW stip'.. to wanna see ya after the match!" The arm around her head loosens just enough to encourage her to try to look up at his face. And should she do so, she'll be met with a subtle, but playful smile.

He wants to win. He needs to win this match. But the temptation to have fun with the situation couldn't be overcome. She's painfully pretty, on top of everything he'd already mentioned - he couldn't not flirt a little.

[Shadowheart]

Cameras zoomed in on Ophelia's face as her head was trapped between Domino's bulging forearm and his rock-hard chest. One eye was squeezed shut from the pressure, her lips parting in small, pained gasps as she frantically tugged at his arm, trying to pry herself free. Her efforts were proving useless, though, as the cameras also captured her opponent's effortless control; the way his bicep flexed and his muscles easily kept her in place before, in one swift motion, he suddenly flipped her over with a headlock takedown!

The actress' legs flew up as her body was tossed, landing on the mat with a small thud. Now flat on her back, she found herself trapped beneath Domino as he kept his arms still wrapped firmly around her head. Her boots kicked helplessly against the mat as she clawed at his arm, desperate to break free. But then... she heard him say something. Was he seriously flirting in the middle of this match?

"A-Are you bloody flirting right now?!" Ophelia groaned through gritted teeth, a mix of disbelief and frustration in her voice. She could hardly believe it, though she couldn't entirely blame him - the whole "winner takes the loser home" stipulation was hanging in the air - but still, she hadn't seen that coming.

Then, unexpectedly, his grip loosened just a touch, allowing her to tilt her head back and get a proper look at him. Her eyes widened slightly as she realised how close they were now, his infuriatingly handsome face staring down at her with that smile. 'Really?' she thought with a roll of her eyes. She really should not be finding the man who's currently kicking her arse attractive.

She didn't respond, though - words probably wouldn't help her here. Instead, she seized the opportunity by arching her hips up and swinging her legs toward Domino's head. She'd try to snap her thighs around his skull, attempting to lock him into a headscissors and try to drag him down, hoping it would be enough to make him let go of the headlock!