Storm v The Morrigan – Bar Brawl Hardcore Match

[hamish1024]

Match takes place at LAW-owned backstage bar, behind locked doors. KO or submission only.


Well, this was different. Storm had a confident spring in her step as she navigated the corridors of LAW toward the allotted venue, but she was surprised at how odd it felt to be booked in a backstage match. As a seasoned wrestler, she was used to certain rhythms in her pre-match rituals – eyeing up a match card, listening to the reactions of the crowd, simply getting a taste for how much blood or mayhem was in the air – but there was none of that here. A surprising quietness, beyond the few LAW functionaries scattered around the entrance. Still, Storm was hardly a tits-and-teeth showboat, so the lack of crowd hardly worried her. A locked-room hardcore match would be focused, and ferociously violent – a prospect which had excited her to say yes to.

This was despite her misgivings of the the match’s marketing. As was typical of many tourist traps, LAW boasted a tacky, tired, faux-”Irish” pub. Storm could barely remember the name, it had been some generic variation of ‘the Shamrock’, in the style that 90% of the world’s Irish bars adhered to. It was run-down now, and due a remodel, which is why the higher-ups had decided to give it a send-off by letting two wrestlers smash the shit out of the place. She applauded the decision, although she was less keen that they’d automatically decided that the Scottish Storm would be at home in an Irish pub. She wasn’t entirely sure if they realised the distinction between Scots and Irish, or if they were painting her as the villain, or what. It mattered little, it was an excuse to trash the place, and Storm was looking forward to it.

The pub was integrated into the LAW complex. She turned a few more corners and was at the entrance, where an official waved her through the front door. The brunette marched into the empty bar. She cast her eyes around, affirming she had arrived first. There might have been no crowd to play off, but she knew there would be cameras everywhere, capturing all the action from every angle. She gave a sly grin.

“Honestly. Throw one bitch through a table, and suddenly you’re a hardcore girl,” she smiled, unable to resist a quick throwback to the violent end of her last match. And why not, she was proud of it.

All the hallmarks of ‘foreign interpretation of a pub’ were there. Tacky memorabilia on the walls, a curious indistinction between British and Irish drinks, wood panelling everywhere, sticky-looking tables and a stickier-feeling old carpet, patterned in a truly vile dark red. Scuffed fruit machines and even a pool table lurked in the fringes.

Without an obvious corner to go to, Storm gravitated to the bar, leaning propriatorially across it. Surprisingly, given the shut-down, it was still stocked with an impressive array of spirits, even if most of the bottles were largely empty, and at the cheaper end of the whisky market. Maybe they weren’t worth salvaging, for whatever this place would be rebranded into. To occupy herself whilst she waited for her opponent, Storm turned her reasonably-knowledgable eye to the rows of bottles, seeing if she could pick one out that wasn’t shit.

“Ugh, this is all Irish,” she rolled her eyes in exaggurated fashion, playing up for the hidden cameras.

Storm

[BlackAkuma]

♬”While in the merry month of May, now from me home I started
Left, the girls of Tuam were nearly broken-hearted
Saluted father dear, kissed me darling mother…”♬

Good Lord, they were actually playing the Rocky Road to Dublin.

The Morrigan had been making her way to the pub when she heard that song playing, and she had to stop and let out a hoarse laugh. She didn’t even hate the song, really, and she’d been a big fan of the rendition in Sinners - she’d liked a lot of things about that movie, actually. In isolation, she didn’t mind hearing it, but it was one of those things that had been run into the ground, mostly because it was one of the only Irish folksongs that the wider world cared to know about. She appreciated the interest in her culture, but it seemed like few people had any interest in delving any deeper.

She’d even been asked to sing it a few times. Which she could do. Fairly well, too. But there were other songs she would’ve preferred, had she her druthers.

It brought a little snicker out of her as she approached the place, fingers shoved deep in her pockets and the brisk night air on her back. Silly as it was, she would be lying if the place didn’t give her a wee dose of nostalgia. Before she hooked up with Sabine and got into the wrestling life, she’d spent an inordinate amount of time in places like this, fully throwing herself into the Irish stereotypes. She drank, she fought, she fucked, she puked, and if she was lucky she got to do it all in that order. It wasn’t a life she was ever going back to, but she would be lying if she said she didn’t miss it, sometimes. This was as close as she’d ever get to a time machine.

She made her way in, took a look around, nodded - well, she couldn't take points off for a lack of effort, credit where it was due. Whoever was in charge of the set design, they’d gone the extra mile with this place. Wood paneling, a fully stocked bar, bric-a-brac on the walls. The place smelled a little too clean, even the nicest pubs Morrigan had been to had the faint scent of spilled ale and vomit about them, but that would’ve been asking too much.

No crowd, either, which was a shame, but she supposed there was no getting around that. It made finding her opponent easy, at least. Not that it would’ve been too hard if there had been a crowd - Storm struck her as the type that would’ve stuck out.

Big, brawny, busty. Not as big, brawny, and busty as Morrigan herself, but precious few women were, and Storm was certainly close enough to make for a real fight. Perfectly spankable arse, too. Made her wish they’d thrown some hentai stips in this, too. But, then again, there was nothing to stop them from getting a little handsy, if the mood took.

The Morrigan made her way over as Storm spoke, her voice full of Scottish brogue, thick and hearty. ”’Course it is, love. Only the best.” She winked at Storm, sat on top of the bar, swung her legs over and leaped over to the other side with a heavy thud, one that shook the walls as her combat boots came crashing down.

She went down the aisle, scanning over the selection. Not bad, not bad. She hadn't seen some of these brands in a good while. Assuming they didn’t destroy the bar, she’d be taking a few of these home with her.

spun about and faced her opponent with her palms on the bar and a gleam in her good eyes. ”Almost midnight, closing time. Last call for alcohol.” She took a glass in one hand, a cloth in the other, and wiped it clean. ”Pick your poison. On the house.”

[hamish1024]

Storm had been so absorbed in analysing the alcohol on offer, she hadn’t noticed her opponent saunter into the bar, even getting within earshot to hear her disparaging joke.

Instinctively, she glanced round at Morrigan.

Holy fuck.

To Storm’s immediate shame, she did an actual, honest-to-god double take. Her eyes widened as she took in Morrigan’s appearance. She couldn’t immediately tell what had given her such a sharp first impression, but her heart began racing. The Irishwoman’s height was an obvious factor, imposing even to Storm, who was more used to looking down on opponents than looking up. This was coupled with an impressive physique; broad, muscular shoulders giving her a powerful frame, but one equipped with curves, buxom and brawny in equal measure.

Size wasn’t everything in wrestling, of course, but it certainly helped amplify your intent. And Morrigan oozed intent, from her ink, her dark goth makeup, and her S&M-coded black leather.

On looks alone, you did not want to piss this woman off. Storm was already regretting her opening jibe, but held her nerve, and Morrigan seemed to take it in her stride as she slid over the bar (more gracefully than Storm would have expected, although she felt the heavy thud of her landing) and invited her to share a drink.

“Well,” Storm began, finding her voice after her initial surprise (whether it was shock or delight, she wasn’t quite sure). “I meant no offence, but Irish booze leans so heavily on peat.”

She gave the shelves another look over, before turning her eyes back to Morrigan. “Earthy. Subtle as a brick, you know?” she smiled with a slight tease.

“If you force my hand, I’m a Jameson’s gal,” she grinned, picking the bottle and starting to pour.

Storm wasn’t a heavy drinker by British standards, but was still seasoned enough to know that indulging in alcohol was not necessarily a good idea when fighting. Slowed reactions and poor decision-making were hardly boons to a pro wrestler.

But… the devil on her shoulder (who sounded worryingly like Lyssa these days) reminded her that this was far from a normal match, and that she’d probably be grateful for the pain relief.

She ended up pouring a very large measure.

“Quite a civilised way to start a match. Pleasure to meet you by the way, I’m Storm,” she belatedly introduced herself as she swirled the whisky around her glass, enjoying its heady nose, preparing herself to gulp it down once Morrigan was likewise ready to knock glasses and imbibe.

[BlackAkuma]

♬”No bundle could I find, Upon my stick a wobblin’.
Enquirin’ for the rogue, they said my Connacht brogue,
Wasn’t much in vogue, On the rocky road to Dublin…”♬

Oh, Morrigan caught that look. She knew well when she was being looked up, and she could already tell that Storm liked what she saw. A good thing, too, because the feeling was mutual. Should the opportunity arise for some skinship, she would not be averse.

That would come in a moment, though. For now, Morrigan was content to play the bartender, a role she had some small experience in. She had actually done it for a living for a brief period of time while she was still putting together scratch for her BDSM career, one of many fly-by-nights. It lasted about as long as it took for the first drunk arsehole to say she looked like a man. Fists flew, police were called. It didn’t last.

”None taken. It suits me. Not exactly a subtle sort, might’ve guessed.” She finished polishing off Storm’s glass, then began working on one of her own. ”Good choice.”

The Morrigan passed the bottle over and left Storm to serve herself, while she worked on her own, taking a bottle O’Hara’s. She poured the glass slowly, letting the foam just reach the top before she eased up. ”Nothing wrong with a little bit of civilization, is there?” She took a moment to sniff as well, letting the fumes work their way up her nostrils, before tipped forward and tapped glasses with her future foe and current drinking partner. ”It’s a pleasure to be met. Morrigan Hellfire. ‘Mistress’, if you like.” She winked. Cheers.”

She leaned back, pressing the glass to her lips, and then let the liquid courage run down her throat, bringing it down by two thirds before she finally came up for air. A deep, rumbling sigh came out, and she forced down a burp while she smacked her chest. Wouldn’t be ladylike.

”No need to rush. Not been in a place like this for a while, getting a little nostalgic. Enjoying the scenery.” Despite saying that, she kept her eyes firmly locked on Storm’s face, as if there was nothing else worth her attention just now. ”When the song stops, the war starts. ‘Till then, enjoy it.”

The Morrigan had a few quick, tepid sips, as she drummed her fingers on the bar with her free hand. ”What brings you out to Japan? Not enough action back home, that it?”

[hamish1024]

Cheers,” Storm responded in kind, having to first awkwardly stifle a splutter from her counterpart’s suggestion she call her ‘mistress’.

She held Morrigan’s gaze as she took a hefty slug of the spirit, and set down her glass, savouring the sweetness and the woodsmoke aftertaste. A warm glow spread from her stomach as she wiped her mouth. She knew the buzz would hit her soon enough; the anticipation was delicious.

“Mmm, no, I’ve never called anyone mistress, and I don’t intend to start,” Storm smiled, friendly enough. “That the, er, sort of thing you go for, then?” She was no stranger to power dynamics, but Storm usually left them unspoken. Stubborn pride always stopped her from acknowledging anyone’s superiority over her, even at times when it might have been the healthier option.

“I do like ‘Morrigan’ though. War goddess. Pretty big shoes to fill. Harbinger of violent fates. Actually, I suppose that one’s a given, seeing where we are.” As if on cue, a LAW official closed and locked the heavy bar doors, which was the closest this seedy setting would come to a match bell.

“Aye, no need to rush,” she nodded agreeably as she took a seat at the bar and sipped her drink. “I’m sure there are legions of fans and suits watching who are screaming for us to kick the shit out of each other, but… fuck ‘em,” she grinned, cheerfully draining her glass. Talking felt good.

She gave a long, thoughtful exhale, wondering how best to abridge the version of events that landed her in Japan. “Not enough action? You could say that,” she mused. “I turned pro in the British circuit as soon as I could… there was just a fucking ceiling there, you know?” Angry hand movements mimed a barrier which has clearly irked her. “Maybe familiarity bred contempt, I guess. I wanted more and I wanted different.” She smiled at her statuesque opponent. “And I seem to have found it.”

“What about you, anyway?” Storm enquired, keen to focus away from herself. “Where have you been wrestling? I’m surprised I never bumped into you on any of the UK tours. I would have definitely remembered you,” Storm grinned with a glint in her eye, drinking the final dregs of her whisky.

[BlackAkuma]

♬ “Down among the pigs, played some funny rigs
Danced some hearty jigs, the water round me bubbling
When off Holyhead
Wished meself was dead…”♬

”Not the first to tell me that.” She had a deep, rumbling chuckle at the denial. ”Wouldn’t be the first to change their mind, either. See where the night takes us, eh? But yeah, it is my ‘sort of thing’.” The Morrigan enjoyed another swig, one that was enough to finish off the glass, and she rolled her wrists about to make the ice cubes dance.

”My partner - tagteam partner,” She threw that one out quick, lest any rumors start spreading about. ”She and me’re professional dommes on the side. Living the gimmick, as they say. Sabine and Morrigan, S+M.”

The Morrigan was proud of that name. Came up with it herself.

She glanced towards the door as it closed, noting the lock - entirely unnecessary, that. Neither of them seemed the type to run away from a fight, win or lose, but she supposed it made for a fun effect.

The Morrigan smiled and nodded as Storm voiced her lack of caring for the cameras - they could wait a little while, she agreed. In the meantime, she refilled her glass as her new drinking mate regaled her with a short tale, explaining how she’d gone from one rainy island to another, smaller rainy island.

”Change of pace. Nothing wrong with that.” She set the bottle aside and brought the glass back up, holding it steady for a moment before she partook. ”Daresay you would’ve, love. But no, wasn’t there to be missed. Never wrestled on the UK scene, got offers, turned them down. Always seemed like a bunch of right pricks. Choose right, sounds like.” The Morrigan’s smile widened at that, hoping it gave Storm some solidarity. Actually new to wrestling, believe it or not. Not to fighting, though. Mostly underground stuff before this, cages and pits and alleys.”

She bobbed her head along, muttering with the lyrics. ”Called myself a fool, I could no longer stand it, blood began to boil…” The Morrigan began to make her way around the corner of the bar, her heavy combat boots thudding along the wood as she went. A good sign for things to come, she liked it noisy.”Favorite part, right here. Few more seconds. You ready?”

[hamish1024]

Storm gave a thoughtful purr, listening intently as Morrigan outlined her status as ‘living the gimmick’ of professional domme.

“I see,” she replied, somewhat neutrally. “My own tagteam partner has been known to dabble in that line of work, but I’ve avoided being dragged into it.”

In truth, she wasn’t sure what Lyssa and her co-domme Wendy were up to at weekends, and whether it genuinely was a lifestyle choice, or (more likely) some kind of power play on Lyssa’s part. She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to tell this to Morrigan, either, but something about the Irish woman made Storm more open than usual.

Certainly, Morrigan’s own openness was quite disarming, as she cheerfully acknowledged her lack of wrestling experience, offset by an apparent breadth of brawling experience.

“Och, a veritable diamond in the rough,” smiled Storm. “I’d have wagered on a woman like you wanting more than pits and alleys.”

She licked her lips and readied herself as Morrigan began to move out from behind the bar. It wasn’t lost on Storm that this was hardly a prostyle bout, and the trash wrestling that Morrigan had done to date would stand her in far better stead for a bar brawl.

Storm wasn’t scared – she loved competition, embraced violence, and had a stoic capacity to endure pain. Still, she felt an unusual sense of unease as she faced down this larger, rougher, direct-seeming domme. With no referee, and no rules, she really didn’t know how this match would go down. On the face of it, smart money might even be on Miss War Goddess here to wipe the floor with her.

‘Am I the fucking underdog?’ Storm thought to herself with a frown.

She glanced around and took a few steps backwards as Morrigan bore down on her. This wasn’t a retreat, as such, but she wanted to manoeuvre herself into a more open floor area, away from the furniture. Letting her wrestling instinct take over, Storm raised her hands, inviting Morrigan to take her on in a standard collar-and-elbow- lockup.

“More than ready, come here,” she bantered back, a curl of her fingers urging her opponent to bring it on.

[BlackAkuma]

The emphasis on ‘tagteam’ with her partner brought a full laugh out of Morrigan, a deep and rumbling sound. From that alone she could guess that the two of them had some similar experiences when it came to their accomplices. She and Sabine had tried the relationship thing for a little while, but found themselves largely incompatible in bed - Morrigan preferred to fuck, Sabine wanted to make love, Morrigan liked it wet and sloppy and fast, Sabine like to take her time and build ‘ambiance’. They still had their occasional dalliance, usually after a few too many drinks, but it never went anywhere remotely serious.

She was curious what it was like with Storm and hers, but that was a question for later. Post-violence.

The laughing had died down to a snicker when the talk of pits and alleys came back around, and she ended it fully after the shrug. ”Like to get my hands dirty. You’ll see.”

Speaking of which, the music was finally winding down, and it looked like Storm was fully aware. The Morrigan looked on as her opponent moved away from the bar and took up a better position on the floor, giving herself some space to work with. She swore she some trepidation, there. Not fear, but understandable concern, understandable given what she was dealing with. Still, she wasn’t backing off or playing the coward. Good on her.

The stance was funny, though. Storm was taking on a grappling stance, like they were about to lock up and exchange holds. Instinct, Morrigan guessed. She’d knock that out of her soon enough. For the moment, she was content to take one more sip and set the glass on the table, fighting back the urge to hurl it at Storm as her opener. Normally, she wouldn’t have had a problem with that, but Storm had given her some fun conversation. Things would get wild soon enough, no need to make bad blood.

♬”Hunt the Hare and turn her down the rocky road
And all the way to Dublin, whack follol de rah!”♬

Another song was starting up, but Morrigan didn’t hear a word of it. The bloodrush took over right away and she came rushing at Storm with full force. Instead of locking up, she dipped down and tried to ram her shoulder into her foe’s stomach, looking to drive her back hard, all the way into one of the support beams if she could manage it.