Marceline Gagnon vs. Blair Dame - Le Rasoir National

[BlackAkuma]

Match Type:Guillotine Match - No Disqualifications, No Countout
Victory Conditions: Pins only count if the opponent's head is trapped in a folded steel chair and stomped on. Submissions only count if won by wrapping something around the opponent's neck.

***

‘The New Blair Dame’.

, despite the aura she liked to emanate, did not see herself as a vain or prideful woman. Perhaps she had been at one point, but time and experience and age had a way of watering down such traits. She could have thrown her weight around LAW, for instance, and made a play at the now-vacant heavyweight title, if she so desired, but she was content to let the younger generation play that game, at least for the time being, not wanting to take up time in the limelight. Hers was a flickering fire.

But certain exceptions had to be made, and she decided Marceline Gagnon would be the exception.

The woman - ‘Madame Guillotine’, as she was so delightfully called - had never formerly met Blair Dame, they had never so much as been in the same room, but nonetheless, the two of them often found their names spoke in the same sentence. The similarities between them were striking. Both Frenchwomen of considerable height, with a penchant for strikes and heavy moves. They had a reputation for a stiff, brutal fighting style, though Blair Dame typically mixed in an air of sensuality, and, to top it all off, the aristocratic aura she carried was a notable counter to Marceline’s tendencies.

The word ‘dream match’ was often used with too little care, but this was a clear case that combat fans had wanted for a while, but thought would never happen. With both women being in LAW and active, however, it was only a matter of time before management pulled that trigger.

Today was the day, and calling Blair Dame focused would be a vast understatement. When her

played, Blair Dame came down the ramp with a steady gate and a hand on her hips. No sensual saunter, no teasing for the crowd. She was alone, having told Brittney to stay in the back for this match, as much as she welcomed the young woman’s company, she wanted no distractions, no divisions in her attention.

She made her way up the steps, slipped through the ropes, and headed to the corner, where she began warming up with light shadowboxing. All the while, she kept her eyes focused on the ramp, waiting for the music to fade and her opponent’s to begin, her heart striking like a triphammer against her chest.

It was time to end the debate.