I Come From A Land Down Under

[BlackAkuma]

”Laxia Goddamn Von Rosewell…Roswell…Whatever-The-Fuck your stupid last name is! Get the hell out here!”

was not a happy woman.

Some would argue that she didn’t have any right to be, though they’d be wise not to do so when she was in earshot. It had been nearly two weeks since her disturbingly brutal out-of-nowhere brawl with Laxia, a match that had taken them both to their absolute limits. Sheila had just left the local medical facility, and she was supposed to take it easy for a while, let herself recover, and get back to 100%.

Instead, she showed up at the LAW arena, stole a microphone, made her way to the ring, and held the audience hostage as her

faded. The crowd cheered her, already anticipating that violence was about to follow - always a safe bet when she was around.

All that time in the hospital had been spent stewing and stirring, going over the match beat by beat, and it had led Sheila to some strong opinions about the woman she fought and what exactly they should do next. Now, shew as going to share those opinions to the woman’s face, one way or another.

”Get out here, Lax! I checked the roster, I know you’re on call tonight, and I’m not leaving this ring until you bring your flat ass down here. I’m not even close to done with you yet!”

That was Sheila’s position on things, but LAW management seemed to have a different opinion, as a few referees and security began to fill the way toward the ring, beckoning her to leave. A couple of them even tried to step inside, only to back off when she rushed at them, wisely keeping their distance.

”Back the fuck off! Back off!” She even swung at one of the bolder guards, who narrowly managed to avoid a black eye. ”I’m dead set, here, Lax! You and me, right now! Don’t make me come back there!”[/’color]

It was clear the Wild One wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, and the crowd knew how these things went. Eager, they turned their attention back to the curtains…

[Letta]

The match with Sheila had left Laxia with more than a victory to remember it by. Every glimpse of the rough skin around her nails, every faint scratch she found on her face in the mirror, made her brows draw together. The muscle aches had lingered for days. Even something as ordinary as turning or reaching for an object could remind her, quite pointedly, of what she had been put through. And yet, the corners of her lips kept lifting. Whenever she was alone, she would catch herself humming.

Because she had won. Against the Wild One, Sheila Morgan. In a no-DQ match, no less. It was a valuable win on a record that still showed more losses than victories. But it meant more than another number. She had stepped into that vicious woman’s territory, and she had been the one raising her arms at the end. There was no reason, then, for her meeting with LAW’s staff to spoil her mood. “...The response to your last match has been very strong. Audience interest, the tension created by the contrast between your styles-” Laxia sat with her legs crossed, wearing a pleasant smile. She nodded at what seemed an appropriate moment. Very strong. Yes, she had caught that part. “...The late turnaround and the finish were particularly well received. We intend to expand our support so you can build on that performance.”

Her smile deepened. Particularly well received. She let those words linger, savoring them while the staff member continued speaking. There was more about ratings, promotional plans, and future appearances. Laxia listened just closely enough to pick out anything complimentary. Everything between those little rewards faded into a comfortable background murmur. She was still admiring the phrase “impressive performance” when her attention wandered to the office décor. That picture did not suit the furniture at all. The clock was hung too high. And the artificial flowers on the cabinet looked as though someone had bought them out of obligation and immediately regretted it. “...a broader schedule, with arrangements for travel and-” Laxia nodded again, still looking at the flowers. Surely LAW could afford something less depressing.

“...So this is an addendum to your existing contract. In addition to your appearances in Japan, it covers overseas pay-per-views and house shows...” A document slid across the desk, interrupting her silent assessment of the room. Laxia blinked and looked down. The staff member indicated a line near the bottom of the page. She accepted the pen with an agreeable smile, her thoughts still pleasantly occupied by the praise she had received. Without reading the text above it, she filled the space with a signature considerably more elaborate than it needed to be. The staff member was still explaining the terms when she set the pen down. “Is that everything, then?”

Her meetings had a way of finishing ahead of schedule. Not reading the paperwork certainly helped. Out in the corridor, she slowed to consider her options. Spend the remaining time in the gym? Or simply head home? Moving around after all that sitting had some appeal, but was there any need to tire herself out further? Then she heard someone calling her name. Laxia turned, but the corridor was empty.

“...Whatever-the-fuck your stupid last name is! Get the hell out here!”

Only then did she look up at the monitor on the wall. “Hah...” There was a familiar blonde on the screen, accompanied by an even more familiar temper. Sheila Morgan. Laxia folded her arms and stopped in front of the monitor. Her gaze moved between the woman shouting for her and the staff converging on the ring. Slowly, a smile formed. Sheila seemed to be recovering well enough, if she could still make that much noise. There was something deliciously satisfying about watching Sheila fume like this. Even the most expensive opera ticket couldn’t have bought her a better show. On the screen, Sheila swung at a security guard. As he narrowly dodged, Laxia raised an eyebrow.

“Oh my... that was rather close.”

Despite the words, she sounded amused. After watching a little longer, she rolled her eyes, shook her head, and sighed. Apparently, another tiresome situation had arisen that only she could resolve. For all her sighing, there was a certain eagerness in her step. On her way toward the entrance, Laxia stopped beside a member of the production crew. She pointed to the monitor, exchanged a few words, and smiled again.

***

Laxia’s music filled the arena. For a moment, the screen displayed a golden lion silhouette beside what looked like a warning sign.

!! CAUTION: WILD ONE !!

A second line appeared beneath it.

!! HANDLER ON THE WAY. !!

Scattered laughter rose from the audience. By the time the screen returned to her usual entrance video, Laxia had appeared.

Laxia

She stopped at the center of the stage and placed both hands on her hips. With her chin slightly raised, she surveyed the ring without a trace of urgency. She looked entirely unapologetic about keeping Sheila waiting after all that shouting. The cheers grew louder. Only then did Laxia begin walking down the ramp. Her steps were unhurried, her smile composed. Even someone who had missed their last match might have guessed the result from the sight of them now. One woman was occupying the ring and shouting. The other was strolling down as though she had come to sort out the disturbance.

At ringside, Laxia raised a hand toward the security guards. She briefly closed her eyes and nodded, with the calm assurance of a manager stepping in to deal with an unruly customer. “It’s all right. I’ll speak to her.” She made a small, palm-down gesture for them to settle, then climbed onto the apron. She slipped between the ropes even more slowly than usual. Being told to hurry was no reason to oblige.

Once inside, Laxia walked toward Sheila at a leisurely pace. She stopped in front of her and neatly plucked the microphone from her hand, as though merely reclaiming her own property.

“Oh my. You again.” Laxia looked Sheila up and down, then smiled. “Our last match was rather hard on you... Have you missed me already..?” She allowed the words a moment to settle. Whether the audience had heard her properly seemed to concern her rather more than how angry Sheila was. “My apologies if I kept you waiting. I had to fix my hair.” She lightly smoothed a hand over her hair, then let her gaze drift to Sheila’s disheveled blonde mane. “Unlike you, I can’t just shake out my hair and call it presentable.” A ripple of laughter ran through the crowd. Laxia’s smile widened. Then she raised an index finger, as though there were one small matter to clarify. “Oh, but please don’t imagine I come running whenever you call. I felt sorry for those poor staff members, that’s all.”

She inclined her head toward the security guards outside the ring. Of course, that was not the only reason. Why turn down another opportunity to show herself off when Sheila had so obligingly provided one? The more her opponent struggled to contain her anger, the more composed Laxia could appear. She did not even need to bring up the result of their last match. Sheila was doing an excellent job of reminding everyone herself. Laxia turned her attention back to her. She gave a small shake of her head, lowered the microphone briefly, then brought it back to her lips. “Well, then. What am I supposed to do if you insist on staying here..?” Her head tilted playfully.

“Must I put you on a leash and lead you out myself?”

Laxia glanced toward the audience. Laughter and cheers broke out as though they had been waiting for the invitation. She savored the response for a moment, then returned her gaze to Sheila, still wearing that easy smile.

[BlackAkuma]

Ugh, Sheila should’ve grabbed a chair before she came into the ring. As it stood, she was in danger of getting played by the number’s game. Yeah, she was a feisty bitch, but she was still only one feisty bitch, and a lightweight at that. She wasn’t even crazy enough to think she could handle five burly dudes at once, and it was only a matter of time before they found their balls and rushed in and just overwhelmed her.

It looked like they were just about to do so, too, when Laxia finally made herself known, giving Sheila exactly what she wanted.

Sort of.

She looked at the words on the screen, confused for a moment, before Laxia’s little joke clicked. Cute, she’d give her that, enough to get a few chuckles out of the audience. Sheila couldn't have cared less about any of that, though, as long as she got the woman of the hour, and that's exactly what she got, soon enough. The woman of the hour came out, taking her sweet ass time as she made her way down to the ring. The guards parted like the Red Sea, and she slipped her way in. ”About goddamn time, you-”

Laxia snatched the microphone out of her hand.

Sheila stood, still as stone, no movement save for the occasional blink. Just…the audacity. Goddamn. She was unsure whether to be impressed or pissed off by it, but she was definitely feeling a good amount of something.

She waited, let Laxia get out her bit, laughs and all, before she snapped back to reality and jerked forward, bringing their skulls together. Not quite a headbutt, nowhere near as painful, but very direct and personal and challenging.

”No more bullshit. No speeches.” Her nostrils flared as she pressed in and dared Laxia to press back. ”I. Want. A rematch.”

At that, the crowd gave her a round of cheers, making their opinion known.

[Letta]

The crowd was still laughing at Laxia’s final taunt when it happened. As she smiled at their reaction, Sheila’s face suddenly filled her vision. Just like during their match, the woman seemed to regard personal space as someone else’s concern.

“Ngh...!”

Their foreheads met, pushing Laxia’s upper body back slightly. She instinctively planted her feet and steadied herself. Without her usual sense of balance, she might have stumbled rather embarrassingly. Her attention snapped from the audience to the woman directly in front of her. It did not hurt. But pain was hardly the point. Sheila was trying to intimidate her in front of an audience. Laxia knew perfectly well how backing down would look. Her brows drew together as she glared back. The blue eyes inches from hers looked ready to devour her, and she could feel every heated breath.

“I. Want. A rematch.”

The crowd cheered. A rematch. She had more or less expected that. Someone with Sheila’s temperament was hardly going to accept defeat graciously and leave it at that. Instead of retreating, Laxia straightened. Making the most of her slight height advantage, she tilted her head down to meet Sheila’s eyes and pressed her forehead back against hers. She brought the microphone up beside their faces.

“A rematch... You’re asking for another lesson, then?”

Her smile returned, though it had a sharper edge than the one she had been sharing with the audience. Neither woman gave an inch. With a fight threatening to break out at any moment, the crowd grew louder.

“Very well. I’ll face you again.”

It was not simply because Sheila had demanded it. Nor was it just a matter of refusing to back down in front of the crowd. Laxia had won their last match. That remained a thoroughly satisfying fact. She did, however, have a few reservations about how that victory had been presented. She remembered settling down to watch the highlight reels with a pleased smile. Naturally, she had been looking forward to admiring her own performance. Instead, the screen kept showing Sheila throwing herself from alarming heights, the crowd going wild, and Laxia being dragged around by her hair.

And then there was that damned elbow drop.

The destruction of the commentary desk was no less spectacular on a second viewing. The collapsing table, the flying debris, her own body curled up and groaning amid the wreckage. By that point, Laxia’s smile had grown considerably thinner. Of course, she understood the intention. Dramatic footage drew attention, and the edit was meant to show just how brutal a fight she had survived. The struggle made the eventual victory all the more compelling.. She understood. That did not mean she liked it...!

She was the one who had won, yet she had come away feeling as though she had watched an extended demonstration of just how daring and dangerous Sheila was. Surely, looking back on her own victory should not require quite so much time admiring the other woman’s performance. And now Sheila was demanding that they do it all again. Laxia kept her eyes fixed on her opponent. This time, winning alone would not be enough. She wanted the moment everyone remembered to be hers.

Without drawing her forehead away, she brought the microphone a little closer.

“Clearly, one lesson in manners wasn’t enough... I’ll have to be more thorough this time.”

Her voice remained calm, but her gaze was imperious and unyielding. Sheila’s furious expression met Laxia’s haughty smile at point-blank range. Neither woman backed away, and the crowd’s cheers only grew louder.

[BlackAkuma]

God. This. Bitch.

It was hard to put a finger on what exactly ground Sheila’s gear when it came to Laxia. Other people had looked down on her in the past, other people had beaten her, so she knew, on some level, this shouldn’t piss her off nearly as much as it did. She should’ve been able to absorb the loss, move on with her life, rise to the next challenge. She could've been doing far more productive work in LAW than dragging another match out of this snot-nosed little brat. Belt to go after, opponents she longed to fight.

It was those eyes. Something about that look on Laxia’s eyes just set her blood boiling. It took real, physical effort not to just pop her in the face and get going straight away, an outcome the crowd would’ve loved. It wouldn’t have gone anywhere, though, because all the guys around the ring would’ve broken them up in a heartbeat and ended the festivities.

No, she could wait and exercise a modicum of patience. A smidge.

She snorted at the idea of a ‘lesson’- as if this bitch could teach her anything important - but let it go for the moment, as she was finally given what she wanted. Not that there was ever any doubt Laxia wouldn’t walk away when a gauntlet was thrown down, but she couldn't help noticing the woman didn’t bother to ask what kind of match she was going for.

She snickered at the last bit and finally pulled away from the woman’s face, though she snatched the microphone and stepped back. ”Right then, we’ll make it happen. One detail, though. Read the fine print.” She wagged a finger and leaned in. ”This time, we’re doing this on my home turf. My rules, my way, my backyard.”

The audience seemed less keen on that, but frankly, Sheila didn’t care too much. Japanese wrestling fans already get more than enough wrestling every day. Sheila was of a mind to bring some back home with her, if only for a night. ”You want to talk about a lesson? I’m going to show you what a real hardcore match is.”

[Letta]

Laxia kept her forehead pressed against Sheila’s, refusing to give an inch. They were close enough that a single movement could have turned the confrontation into slaps, hair-pulling, and both women rolling across the canvas. The audience watched, waiting for someone to make the first move. Below the ring, the security guards edged closer to the apron, ready to intervene if things escalated any further.

Then Sheila pulled away first. At the same time, she snatched the microphone from Laxia’s hand. Having her own gesture returned drew a slight arch of Laxia’s eyebrow. What truly changed her expression, however, was what came next.

Read the fine print? Laxia rolled her eyes. Of all things, the fine print. It felt as though all the tedious details she had ignored at her meeting had followed her into the ring. She had agreed to the rematch. Why complicate matters with tiresome conditions? Sheila declared that they would fight on her home turf, under her rules, her way. She even promised to show Laxia what a real hardcore match looked like.

The audience sounded rather less enthusiastic than before. After taking a moment to gauge their reaction, Laxia approached Sheila again. This time, she reached out instead of pressing their foreheads together. With a prim expression, she reclaimed the microphone as though Sheila had been given quite enough time to explain herself. She already looked as though she were holding back a laugh.

“My rules~ My way~ My backyard~”

Laxia deliberately exaggerated Sheila’s accent, tilting her head from side to side with each phrase. Having turned the solemn declaration into a little singsong refrain, she resumed her demure smile as though nothing had happened. Laughter broke out in the audience. Only then did Laxia return to her usual voice. The smile remained.

“We have this lovely arena, and you insist on doing this in your backyard..?”

Her gaze wandered leisurely over the ring and the audience before returning to Sheila.

“Why? Afraid of being humiliated in front of this many people again~?”

A quiet laugh carried through the microphone. Laxia leaned slightly toward her. This time, she did not wait for Sheila to close the distance, though she stopped short of bringing their foreheads together again.

“Very well. I’ll just add that little territory of yours to my domain.”

She sounded as casual as someone choosing a holiday home. It would have been sensible to ask about the venue first, or precisely what kind of rules Sheila had in mind. But Laxia was enjoying herself rather too much. The audience’s laughter and her own taunts had put her in an excellent mood, and she had no desire to spoil that effortless confidence by fussing over the terms. She straightened and began to walk slowly around Sheila, holding the microphone loosely as she went.

“I hadn’t intended to humiliate you in front of all those people cheering for you back home...”

She let the words linger, then gave a light shrug.

“But since you insist, how could I refuse?”

Completing her circle, Laxia stopped in front of Sheila and lifted her chin slightly. Beneath the playful smile, her familiar competitive edge began to show. Sheila’s rules. Her way. Her backyard. Laxia met Sheila’s eyes as though inviting her to make whatever preparations she thought she needed.

“I’ll be as rough as you like.”

She looked Sheila up and down, then brought the microphone back to her lips.

“Whether you can take it is your problem.”

With that, Laxia let the microphone fall. Its dull thud against the canvas was followed by a surge of cheers. She unhurriedly folded her arms, lifted her chin, and looked down at Sheila.