Heated Clash Between Phoenix and Firecracker - Blaise vs Audrey

[ThurmanMermanPlx]

Match rules: Standard pin/submission/KO, with PoW rules in effect for the loser

Backstage, a familiar scene unfolded in the locker rooms.

sat alone on her bench, frowning down at her phone as she stared at the profile of her opponent for the evening. She knew little of him, and so as usual, decided to do some research into what kind of wolf she'd be being fed to tonight.

To her surprise, it seemed like this Blaise was not known for his violent nor humiliating tactics in his matches. A good - if unusual - sign, in theory... but there had to be a catch. There was always a catch, at least in Audrey's mind. Why else would they have stapled a 'prisoner of war' rule to an otherwise routine fight? She took only mild comfort in the fact that this wasn't - officially - a lewd match. Internally, experience had taught her to expect the worst, regardless.

Nerves or not, however, Audrey stubbornly refused to cower from a challenge. She'd face it head-on, as she always did. The redhead had been on the receiving end of plenty of hate, from fans calling her childish names to insisting she did not belong here. It wouldn't do for her to succumb and lean into the jeers; that would only be validating them. So she'd march out to her music down the ramp, projecting as much confidence as she could muster - the performance was always her strongest suit.

But Audrey was not treating this match as a friendly contest - not until she could size up her opponent in person. No, she was going to take this as seriously as she did against any male opponent, and strode down the ramp without her usual flair, instead all business. She walked calmly but with purpose, staring straight ahead towards the ring the entire time, doing her best to project a confidence she didn't feel and clearly wasn't known for.

Upon entering the ring, she casually hopped up to sit atop one of the corner posts as she turned her attention to her next opponent's entrance...

[CyanDimitrik]

Blaise similarly didn't know much about his opponent. Though he, perhaps humorously enough, found himself on the opposite end of the spectrum. He wants to treat the match as lighthearted and fun. That's who he is. That's what he's about. The spirit of competition to be the best should be a passion, something that gets the blood pumping and makes the heart soar. But ever since he'd come back from that intense training and had the rebrand, everything has felt off. Everything has felt different. He can't argue with the results - he's winning matches now, and convincingly. He feels like a stronger force in the ring, like he's impacting the fans in a more pronounced way. He's moving the needle with every pin.

But where's the soaring heart?

Blaise has decided to forego the jacket this time. That was his trainer's idea anyway, another way to separate him from the loser he used to be. But the shades... those get to stay. Those are fun to play with. It's not even his own image he's thinking about with those - it's the reaction he can get out of an opponent, out of the flustered referee. It's cute. So those get to rest perched on his face, hiding the bright blue eyes beneath.

His music hits.

The first crunchy guitar strums are usually all anyone needs to hear to identify the song, even in Japan. His name appears in vivid flames shifting from blue the brilliant, natural orange-red. The second set of those distinct guitar strums introduces his monicker: THE PHOENIX.

And then the man himself emerges from the back with a spirited run, caught in a crossfire of brilliant spotlights. He halts center stage with a bright smile and fist thrust high into the air, triggering a burst of pyros behind him and eliciting a pop of enthusiastic cheer from the audience. Then, further contrasting his fairer foe, Blaise begins his descent down the ramp with frequent swings to the left and right, meeting fans for quick high-fives, fistbumps, and the occasional hug from his more ardent supporters.

Upon reaching the ring's edge, he skirts aside to climb the steps, grab the rope rope, and smoothly vault himself up and over. When boots hit the mat, he lets the momentum flow into a roll ending with him standing tall center ring. Both arms sweep high above his head and to either side, head tipped back, basking in the crescendo of thrilled spectators.

At last, he is ushered back into his corner by the referee-girl for inspection. And following the pat-down, Blaise plucks the shades from his face and turns them around to gently slot them atop the girl's crown. She stands there staring at him,wide-eyed, until he shoots her a quick wink and reactivates her brain with a fingertap to her central processing core: her nose.

Boop.

Blushing, she hurries to check Audrey next.

Blaise in full gear!

Meanwhile, Blaise is bobbing eagerly between his feet, a veritable dynamo of energy. His naked blue eyes affix to the ginger across the ring from him, finally taking her in. And she's cute. She looks a little intense, but definitely cute. Freckles, big eyes, fair skin, a sweet take on wrestling gear - it's no wonder the LAW management wanted this to be a PoW match. He figures any guy would want to self-insert with him right now and imagine being the one taking her home.

[ThurmanMermanPlx]

His music started before Audrey had even made herself comfortable (or, as comfortable as one can be when sitting atop the post). If nothing else, he has good taste, she thought to herself. It offered little clue into what she'd gotten herself into, but she'd learned to take any kind of positive she could find, and at least a good beat was entertaining while it lasted, regardless of what torment followed.

Contrary to Audrey's intentional simplifying of her entrance, Blaise went all out, seemingly enjoying himself already. Audrey was almost jealous. Not that she didn't interact with her own fans on a normal night, but she could never be sure who was actually on her side and who was just there to see her. Meanwhile, Blaise went so far as to offer hugs to the occasional fan. People really did like him, it seemed. Was that a good sign...?

A flashy ring entrance, too. He put great care into practicing that roll, that much was for sure. Didn't even jostle the sunglasses. The audience loved it. He basked in it. It was simple, but no less effective for it.

It seemed the referee girl was eager to check him out, too. Audrey hopped sprightly off her post to await her turn, while she did her job and then... she raised an eyebrow at the the spectacle that followed. He even booped her nose! Was he... flirting with the ref? That had to be illegal, right? Was he so concerned that he would struggle against Audrey that he felt the need to start buttering her up before the match even began? Surely he knew who he was up against... right? What was his angle? Quickly, she found her heartbeat beginning to race with anxiety again.

She averted her eyes from the two as the referee girl in question spun around and made her way over to Audrey's corner for her checkup. This part, at least, she could handle for what it was. That didn't make it any easier making eye contact with someone as it happened. But once it was finished and the girl satisfied that she had no concealed weapons or anything (really, where would she keep them?), Audrey turned her attention back to her opponent - who, in turn, was already watching her.

The first thing that caught her attention were the sharp blue eyes, now that the sunglasses no longer hid them. But more than the piercing color, they lacked malice, lacked the predatory hunger she was so used to seeing. That didn't mean it wasn't there, of course, but if so, he concealed it better than most. In fact, most didn't bother to hide it at all - they'd want her to notice. But at best, Blaise appeared to be simply checking her out as though he'd just seen her on a beach. That part, at least, didn't bother the redhead; her gear was her choice, after all, and it would be foolish to say she didn't want that sort of attention. So if that's all he was doing, she could play along with that. For now.

As they were about to begin, Audrey stepped forwards with her determined expression, her eyes never leaving his, and strode to the center of the ring, where she silently stuck out her hand. Unlike her peppy entrance performances, it was the one custom she would not do away with regardless of match - the chance to see whether or not her opponent would accept the handshake or not... and what, if anything, they would do to take advantage of it.

[CyanDimitrik]

There's plenty to see between the two of them; both young, healthy adults in peak physical condition. Both wearing what might generously be considered clothes - more realistically, just enough to be fashionable grappling gear, just enough to be acceptable on paid television. And Blaise made no bones about it, giving the ginger a quick once-over when she landed on her feet. She looks good. Very pretty. Very natural. She'd be the heartthrob of any cul-de-sac.

But that look. That expression. Those eyes. It's like finding a feral cat. There's severely guarded distrust, and a clear willingness to lash out at any sudden moves.

The referee is waving for them to begin the match. *DING*

Blaise starts to raise his arms, but to his surprise, Audrey has taken the initiative and approached the center of the ring. Her hand sticks out. He stares at it for a moment, the gesture so entirely unexpected from a girl who'd been looking at him so intensely. And though he's been tricked before, and on many occasions, especially before he became The Phoenix, there's an incurable part of him that wants to see the best in people. Needs to see the best in people.

His arms lower again, and he steps forward. Her hand is taken, not just with one hand, but clasped between both of his palms. If she allows it, she'll find the hold gentle and accommodating, and just as quickly notice those bright blue eyes have raised to her face again. They're now accompanied with a guileless, boyish smile.

"Whatever happens, I'm pretty sure I'm the winner tonight," he offers. Then, in case she didn't get his meaning, he adds with an uptick in playful mirth, "What with the PoW rule'n all, you're stuck spending time with me either way!"

The referee-girl hovers close, fully expecting one or the other to pull a fast one!

[ThurmanMermanPlx]

Ready to go the moment the bell rang... It took effort for Audrey to swallow the lump in her throat, her muscles tensed and ready to pounce - forwards, backwards, sideways, whatever she needed to do - at a moment's notice. Well, at least he hadn't charged her. She prepared to match his stance, when the unexpected happened, freezing her in place - his eyes darted down to her hand, just for a moment, and then, his arms lowered, his stance relaxed.

Then he stepped forward. A casual pace, one that could have been intended to appear menacing, had it not been for the bright, cheery grin on his face. Audrey braced herself as his hand reached out, clasping it when they found each other with the firmness one would expect - only to find that Blaise hardly applied any pressure in return, despite taking her outstretched hand in both of his.

Her serious, business-like mask evaporated; her eyes went wide with a mixture of surprise and confusion. She could almost believe that Blaise was going out of his way to show that he wasn't dangerous... like he was approaching a scared kitten. In fact, it was almost too obvious a cover. An odd trap, to be sure, if it was one... but just because she couldn't figure out his angle didn't mean he wasn't playing her.

"Whatever happens, I'm pretty sure I'm the winner tonight."

It didn't sound like a threat. It didn't have the venom of a threat. So why did it still feel like one?

Still, Audrey wasn't one to cower from words alone. Her no-nonsense expression was back, but this time the corner of her mouth was turned up, if only slightly.

"The only thing you'll be winning tonight is the bill for wherever I make you bring me for dinner."

By now, most wouldn't even consider it a bluff, coming from the redhead; more like an empty promise. But the alternative was to admit defeat then and there, and what would be the point of that? Why even have a match then? Why was she even here? No, she had to play the game. Besides, she could trash talk with the best of them when she was in the mindset.

She held his hand until he chose to break it - she wouldn't be the one walking away first. When he did, though, she walked backwards to her corner, for a more proper beginning, keeping her eyes on Blaise the whole time. She hated to admit it, but he wasn't lacking in the looks department; whether that opinion held through the night, however, remained to be seen. And she couldn't afford to let it distract her, regardless. She put her hands up in a defensive posture, looking to catch his eye.

"Well then. Come and get me."

[CyanDimitrik]

"What, like that wasn't gonna happen regardless?," quips Blaise instantly.

She was trying to tough-talk him. He completely understood that. But he couldn't just not keep the game going, the flirt-flavored banter. The fact that she seems to be taking such a defensive posture actually makes it a little more fun. It gives him something to work towards. It's good to be wanted, great even, but knowing she's taken this stance means he gets to expect her to give it her all. She wants to win every bit as much as he does. And that's thrilling.

The implication is there, though. Even if he wins, the intention is to treat her well. He couldn't imagine manhandling her, potentially beating her up, embarrassing her in front of untold scores of spectators, only to mistreat her privately. Who does that? Besides, he caught that little petal of a smile she almost gave him. Subtle as it was, it looked better on her than a determined scowl. Bringing out more of that would be nice.

That's stuff for later, though. And when he lets her hand go and watches her slip back - a movement which earns a confused headtilt from him, then exaggerated shrug aside to the audience - he retrains his own weightless smile back on her. Arms raise, his stance widening, ready to receive her. But to his surprise, she seems to want to stay on the defensive. Even challenging him, so to speak!

"Let's hope that's not the last time you're sayin' that to me tonight."

Wink.

And then he's in motion, dashing across the ring to meet her where she is. Nothing artful or tactful about the approach, but much more brutish than his training would suggest. He attempts to catch her on the upper-arms with his hands, but the momentum continues with the clear effort to bodily ram her back against the turnbuckle pads in hopes of dazing and trapping her.