Laxia von Roswell vs. Sheila Morgan - Lightning in a Bottle

[BlackAkuma]

Back home, with Outback Wrestling, Sheila’d often had these matches she liked to call ‘smokers’. Whenever someone new came in, they would put them to test one night, out of the blue. No cameras, no audience, off the books. Put them in the middle of the ring and just let anyone who wants to step up take a stab at them, see how far and how hard they were willing to go. See if they were worth the trouble of investing.

She could already tell that Laxia wouldn’t have lasted a day in that sort of environment. None of the killer instinct, none of the grit you needed to hang when things got tough. Maybe she would’ve done okay in a regular match, but Sheila was going to steamroll her if she brought this sort of energy to a No DQ brawl.

Sucked to be her. Sheila had no intention of slowing down, ever.

Off she went, flung away with the Irish Whip, with Sheila hot on her heels, her wild hair flying behind her. Sure enough, Laxia spun about to hit the turnbuckle, smacking into it with her back and giving her the perfect target. There was that face, begging for a knee to crash into it.

She leaped up, raised her leg and…

…and she was gone.

Sheila had precisely one second to realize her mistake before her knee smacked on the pad, hitting the patella clean. She bounced out of the corner, landed on her back, rolled over, and came down with one knee on the canvas while she rubbed the other, hissing as the pain ran its course. It was one of those nasty hits, too, the ones that felt like a shock was reverberating through her legs.

[Letta]

The moment Laxia wrenched herself out of the corner, a heavy impact rang out behind her. Still clutching the top rope, she staggered sideways before regaining her balance. Her back throbbed from striking the turnbuckles, while her face still stung from Sheila’s elbows. The pain in her abdomen flared anew with every ragged breath. Laxia turned her head.

The Wild One was no longer charging toward her. Sheila had rebounded from the corner and dropped to one knee on the canvas, clutching the other after driving it into the turnbuckle pad. Ordinarily, Laxia would have paused to fix her disheveled hair, steady her breathing, and carefully consider her next move. This time, however, her body seemed to know the answer before her mind did.

Making no effort to tidy her tangled hair, Laxia fixed Sheila with a gaze sharpened by intense focus. Her chest continued to rise and fall with each labored breath, but the hesitation that had gripped her moments earlier was gone. Laxia released the rope.

Her boots struck the canvas in rapid succession, propelling her forward. This time, she did not circle her opponent or waste another moment calculating her next move. Like a fencer lunging through an exposed opening, she accelerated in an instant and charged directly toward the kneeling blonde.

“Quite so. Let us begin.”

As Laxia reached Sheila’s side, she swept one arm around the woman’s head, wrapping it tightly and pulling her in against her side. With Sheila’s head firmly trapped in a headlock against the side of her chest, Laxia continued running away from the corner without sacrificing her speed.

As though determined to deny Sheila any chance to rise and resume her assault, Laxia took several more rapid strides before throwing herself forward. Bringing all her speed and body weight down with her, she drove Sheila toward the canvas with a running bulldog..!

Spoiler

[BlackAkuma]

One of the problems that came with being a hardcore wrestler was that injuries had a way of lingering. Sheila had accumulated so much damage over the years that, at any given time, she probably had several things on her body that really should’ve required medical attention, but had gone ignored. She was always healing from something.

She didn’t even remember exactly what happened to her knee in the first place, but whatever it was, it was coming back to haunt her after that missed hit. Nothing was broken, but it was a sharp, stinging pain that wasn’t going to go anywhere anytime soon. Certainly not before the match was over.

Fine, she could work through pain, and she had more pressing matters. She needed to keep the pressure on Laxia, and…

…ah, fuck.

Sheila pushed her way up just in time to find herself in Laxia’s path, as the woman came rushing her way. Her head was snagged, caught in a tight front facelock, the start of so many bad things.

She wouldn’t have to wait to long to figure out what it was, either. In the next moment, she was brought barreling out of the corner, pulled along for the ride, and had her face rudely introduced to the canvas at mach speed. None too pleasant.

She hit and stayed there for a moment, as she tried to shake it off and figure out exactly where things had gone awry.

[Letta]

A heavy crash echoed through the ring as Laxia’s running bulldog landed cleanly. The canvas bucked beneath her, sending a satisfying jolt through her hips and legs. Rather than discomfort, the vibration carried a pleasant certainty.. her counterattack had landed exactly as intended. The relentless offense that had been crashing over her only moments ago had finally gone still. Laxia glanced over her shoulder at Sheila, who remained sprawled against the canvas. Her sapphire eyes narrowed behind loose strands of orange hair, and the corners of her lips slowly curled upward.

“Hmhm…”

From the moment the opening bell rang, Laxia had been forced to fight at Sheila’s relentless tempo. Yet by narrowly slipping past one of Sheila’s attacks, she had created a single opening. Turning that sliver of opportunity into a running bulldog, Laxia had only just managed to seize the initiative. At last, the match was beginning to unfold at a rhythm of her own choosing. Bracing one palm against the canvas, Laxia rose fluidly to her feet. She could have pounced upon the fallen Sheila immediately. She could have denied her even a moment to breathe and continued attacking with the same relentless pressure Sheila had used against her.

But Laxia chose not to. Attacking simply because her opponent lay vulnerable before her was neither efficient nor beautiful. Years of fencing had taught Laxia that a single thrust aimed precisely at an exposed line was worth far more than a dozen blind swings. Everything rested upon timing. Move too soon, and the opponent would have time to react. Move too late, and the opening would disappear. The smallest difference, a single fleeting instant.. could decide everything. And measuring such moments was where Laxia excelled.

This was neither mercy nor hesitation. To Laxia, even waiting was part of the attack. She stepped past the fallen Sheila and raised both hands above her head, clapping in a measured rhythm to beckon the audience along. Upon reaching the ropes, she turned without taking her eyes off her opponent. Laxia placed both hands upon her knees and lowered her stance, watching like a duelist waiting for her opponent to step into range. Her chest continued to rise and fall with each heavy breath, and several loose strands of hair rested against her cheeks, but her gaze remained perfectly steady. If Sheila managed to shake off the impact and begin pushing herself up, That would be the moment Laxia had been waiting for.

Should that moment come, Laxia would explode into motion. She would throw herself backward into the ropes, allowing the taut strands to catch her weight before launching her forward with their recoil.

“Haaah...!”

Carried by that momentum, Laxia would race directly toward Sheila. As the distance vanished, she would plant one foot against the canvas and spring gracefully into the air, snapping her opposite leg outward like the point of a lance and taking precise aim at the rising woman’s chest. Speed, precision, and timing distilled into a single strike, Laxia would fire her signature single-leg dropkick straight toward its mark, Noble Verdict...!

Single-Leg Dropkick

[BlackAkuma]

Ooof, that sucked. Yeah, getting your face rammed into the canvas at high-speeds tended to suck who knew?

Funnily enough, that had to be the first bulldog Sheila had taken in…god, how long? Before she came to Japan, she was sure, and probably a good while before even that. It wasn’t a move you saw much of on the hardcore scene. It was old-school, no frills, nothing fancy. She just ran with a bitch and planted their face into the canvas.

But it was effective. In Laxia’s place, Sheila would’ve gone for something crazier, more dangerous, and likely to hurt herself almost as much as the opponent. It was already telling her volumes about the sort of woman she was dealing with, here.

Of course, Sheila was going to deal with her, just as soon as she got back on her feet and sorted things out. She just needed to rise up, focus, and…

…and was that fucking clapping?

It took Sheila a moment to recognize what was going on through her stupor, but yes, the crowd was clapping, doing that thing they did when some wrestlers were amping themselves up for a moment. Sheila, personally, never much got the audience participation thing. It wasn’t like you hit any harder when the crowd was doing a group exercise.

Whatever. Sheila was more focused on trying to push her way back up, which she attempted in short order. As she did, she tried to get a lock on Laxia and figure out what her next move would be, only for her to discover the woman was one step ahead, closing in at alarming speeds.

Sheila saw her take flight, tried to raise her arms in defense, but it was already much too late for that. She took the hit hard, right on the chin, hitting with a resonating crack. Sheila’s body flew back, crashing hard on the canvas once again, and this time the momentum was enough to send her tumbling. She flopped under the ropes and fell to the floor, coming down on her front because of course she did.