The Fashion Icons vs. La Familia Rodríguez - Blood and Water

[BlackAkuma]

Match Type: Tag
Victory Condition: Pinfall, Submission, or KO.

***

If Felina were being 100% with herself, she was iffy on coming here.

Not coming to LAW, exactly. On that, she was fairly solid. She’d only just come out of the curtains, and she was already feeling the vibe of this crowd, something she had sorely missed when she went back to kickboxing. While that was the sport she had trained for most of her life, she had to be honest: she had never gotten this sort of energy from those fans, that they lacked this sort of passion. They were more clinical, more professional, more sterile, just overall less energetic.

But LAW? The signs, the screams, the cheers, the boos, the smiles, the frowns, the people. It was a whole crazy vibe, and just being part of it was amping up her adrenaline.

No, what she was less sold on was this whole tag-team thing with Army. She knew it was going to be something of a pain when he’d roped her into it, but now that they were on their way to the ring and getting setup for it, reality was sinking in. Both Ami and her little boytoy were clearly both amazing assholes, and while punching them both in the face would undoubtedly be fun, she was sure it was going to come with no small amount of annoyances to put up with.

But Army was family, he asked for help, and here she was. That was the Rodriguez way.

…plus, she liked the idea of Army owing her a favor. So many ways to capitalize on that.

Before the match started, there was the question of who would go first. Fortunately, she and Army already had a proven, scientific method of figuring out things like this, and as the stood on the apron in their corner, they proceeded with negotiations. ”Piedra, papel o tijeras!”

Felina chose Paper, and Army, of course, went with Rock. He let out a frustrated grunt and threw his hands up, but he’d abide by the decision. Some things were sacred. ”Fuck, why do you always choose paper?”

”Because you always choose Rock. Try not being the most predictable person in the world for five minutes.” She stuck her tongue out his way, slipped through the ropes, and promptly hopped towards the center of the ring, where she stood with her hands on hips. ”Okay, so. Introductions.” She nodded Ami and Bryan’s way. ”My name’s Felina, Army’s my cousin, and I’ll be beating you up today. Who’s going first?”

[killcarrion]

"Easy, Baby-Blue...Remember those breathing exercises from our Yoga instructor..." Bryan soothed the volcanic temperament of his lady love with a protective arm swathed over her midsection on the plausible chance Ami opted to start superkicking some faces in before the match even started. The supermodel guiding the fashionable duo back to one of the corner turnbuckles to clamorous adulation from an enthusiastic audience feeling fortunate to have purchased tickets to tonight's show since they were about to witness an impromptu tag-team match between veteran athletes and championship tier talents. A winded referee dashing down the ramp and sliding in underneath the bottom rope of the ring to indeed make this official as both teams settled into their respective corners. "Tch, you believe these Rodriguez'zez? Guess they've got no fashion sense AND no common sense either. Must be something in the gene pool to have them think they have a chance in hell of stealing our spotlight. But hey, works out beautifully for us as a debut win. I'll lead the way Baby, this gives you a chance to take the pinfall win after I've wiped the floor with 'em~..." Bryan strategized with an affectionate Eskimo kiss after disrobing his flowing jacket and politely handing it off to a ringside attendant...

...in other words, Bryan chucked the golden jacket at the startled worker's face, blinding him before he could take off the resplendent robe and shuffle away. The Model Athlete slicking back his perfect hair with both hands as he began approaching the middle of the ring for a little pre-match pow-wow with-"Pft, Felina? Seriously? What are you, an overcompensating cat burglar? I think you were better off continuing that adorable little family squabble with Armando over there, because that's the only fight you have a chance of winning tonight, Baby-Doll. And the name's B-RY, as in THE Bryan Danielson. But don't you worry you're pretty little head about memorizing it, because it's gonna be what you whisper late at night when you 're dreaming about this flawless physique~..." Bryan backpedaled with a confident smile and sparkled wink to the tune of a chiming ring bell off in the distance, a leisurely stride taken as he circled the ring in tandem with Felina as if her jogging in the park. Seemingly becoming more serious as attempted to lock-up with Felina in a concentrated grappling stance...but would duck underneath her offered arms and take a jaunt to one side of the ring to strike a pose mocking Felina for the jeering audience with flexed biceps, one of which he emphatically kissed.

[BlackAkuma]

Felina was going to give Bryan - or B-Ry, whatever - a black eye. She’d give Ami one, too, but since she seemed to be more Army’s beef than anything, she was willing to let that one slide.

This guy, though, was ticking her off right out of the gate. He’d started with the words he spoke when she came out, calling her babe and insinuating she wanted a foursome with Army, a mental image that she absolutely did not want in her head. Now he was talking shit about her name. It was like he was trying to speedrun a beatdown.

”My name’s from a song, dickhead. At least my parents cared enough to put some thought into it.” She brought her arms up and tightened her gloves, making sure they were nice and snug. She wanted Bryan to feel the full force of every punch. ”’Bryan’ is what you name your kid when you can tell they’re destined to be a douche and you don’t want to be bothered. And guess what?” She tipped her head forward with a sly smirk. ”They were right.”

With the fight on, the two of them started to circle the ring, sizing each other up as they went. Felina stayed light on her feet, keeping lose as they drew close with each step. A little more, a little more…

Bryan was coming forward, taking the initiative, and at first it looked like she was all about the tie-up and starting things traditionally. Before they could do that, however, he decided to duck out and dance to the other side of the ring, where he promptly struck a pose.

”Motherfucker.”

Felina gave chase straight away - if he wanted to play, they’d play. She broke into her kickboxing stance, rushed in to close the distance with a quick step, brought her leg up and lashed out with swift roundhouse kick, aiming for that perfect face of his.

[killcarrion]

Bryan knew that the average ticket price for wrestling shows these days was bound to set anyone back a pretty penny, and as the benevolent showman that he was, B-RY opted to give these lowbrow jelly bellies something that was absolutely worth the price of admission ten times over. Reveling in the ceaseless condemnation and jeered displeasure, the vainglorious supermodel feigned the lockup and instead bestowed upon the audience the opportunity of a lifetime. The coveted chance to feast their eyes upon sculpted perfection the likes of which they couldn't imagine in their wildest dreams, a taut flexing of his tanned musculature accompanied a flagrant showing of disrespect towards the smartmouthed Rodriquez he brazenly turned his back to. Shame...Felina would almost be considered attractive if weren't for her atrocious split ends and abrasive tomboy vibe she has going on.

B-RY spending a few seconds basking in the flickered camera flashes within the audience, as was tradition on those Parisian runways, before swiveling around towards what he assumed would be a flummoxed Felina struggling to steady her fluttered heart. "Sorry, gotta give the people what they want. Don't worry, I'll make sure to give you an autograph later, Baby-Do-" Unfortunately, the cold truth of his situation would end up being callously thwacked across the side of Bryan's fashionable head in blinding fashion as the whiplashed male model swirled in place into a stuttered and frantic retreat towards one of the unoccupied turnbuckles. Scores of audience members either wincing or showering Felina with appreciated adulation from the audible impact that knocked some of the swagger B-RY's steps, the model athlete shielding his sore facials with his back settled against the padded corner.

[BlackAkuma]

Of all the people Felina had kicked in the face - and there were many, far more than she cared to count - she had to say that Bryan was the most satisfying. For starters, he’d been in the process of saying something tremendously stupid when she landed the kick, so it was doubly satisfying, to say nothing of the silly look on his face as he went careening into the corner. Her only hope was that someone had taken a picture or gotten a good camera angle of the impact, because it was prime meme material.

”I’m sorry, what was that?” Felina called out as she bounced back, hopping on her heels and making space. ”Couldn’t hear you with my foot in your mouth, shitbird!”

”Lame!”

Felina just rolled her eyes at Army before she took off, closing in on her quarry with rocketing steps. She got just close enough, then leaped up and launched herself forward with her knee leading the way, looking to drive it straight into Bryan’s face.

Yes, she was specifically targeting it.