L.A.W. - League of Anime Wrestling

Oh, no, she didn’t.

Sheila could take a lot of insults. She was used to them. She even liked them in the right situations. She loved it when people threw a little shit her way, some verbal sparring, made her matches way more interesting that wrestling in silence. She tended to be bulletproof when it came to shittalking, and she was sure she’d heard worse than whatever this primadonna princess could throw her way.

But then the woman had to go and talk shit about her tits. Fuck that, Sheila’s tits were awesome. Several of her LAW opponents had made enough of a habit of groping them that was for sure. Laxia was just talking straight slander, and she wasn’t about to stand for it.

”Groddy little…” Sheila rolled over to her side and clutched her chest, expecting Laxia to continue the onslaught, but no - instead her opponent was taking a break, going over to the face and messing around with them, having her own little tour, acting as if Sheila wasn’t even a threat at the moment.

To be fair, she demonstrably wasn’t. With her body hurting as much as it did, Sheila felt pancaked, like her entire body was compressed and crushed, and it hurt just to move. Even to breathe.

But that was okay. Pain could work for her. Instead of seething or wasting energy, Sheila focused on getting her body under control, dealing with what faculties she had left and focusing. It wasn’t easy, but it would’ve been significantly less easy if Laxia was applying pressure, which she definitely wasn’t.

By the time Laxia returned, Sheila was…well, not healed, definitely not that. But better. Stronger. More capable. So, when the tangerine terror came over and snagged her with the headlock, she had a little surprise waiting for her.

She let them get close to the table, just close enough, then she sprung into action. Dipping down, she wrapped her arms around Laxia’s waist, lifted her up, and held her aloft, looking like she was about to go for an Atomic Drop. As funny as that would’ve been, though, she had a better idea - instead of dropping her opponent’s tailbone on her knee, she attempted to drop Laxia down for a hard, crashing sit on the table, one that would send her crashing through.

Sheila had done nothing to interrupt Laxia while she quenched her thirst and entertained the crowd, and she offered little resistance when Laxia returned to haul her up. Led along with her head tucked beneath Laxia’s arm, she seemed a far cry from the woman who had been running wild only moments earlier. Laxia rather liked the change, a satisfied smile lifting her lips as she looked down at an opponent who appeared to be living up to her new nickname.

“There’s a good girl... You even set the table for me yourself~.”

Laxia playfully stroked Sheila’s disheveled hair with her free hand, adding a light pat as though amused by how obediently she followed. With the table directly ahead, her plan was simple. Lay Sheila across it, launch herself from a suitable height, and bring the woman crashing through the very stage she had prepared... a spectacle the crowd would surely appreciate.

“I’m going to show you something you’ll like, so just stay right here and—”

Sheila suddenly dipped beneath her arm, cutting Laxia short as two arms wrapped around her waist. This was no feeble attempt to cling to her; the grip tightened firmly around her body, and before she could react, her feet left the ground.

“Wha...?!”

Laxia’s eyes widened as the woman she had been dragging around suddenly hoisted her into the air, her headlock slipping loose as she scrambled to regain her balance.

“Waaah...! Wait, you...!”

Her boots flailed as she reached for Sheila’s shoulders, but she was already well off the ground, the sudden lift wiping the relaxed smile from her face. She had thought Sheila was exhausted, too spent to offer any resistance, but that apparent meekness took on a different meaning now. While Laxia had been talking and playing to the crowd, her opponent had been gathering the strength to fight back. Laxia tried to turn her head, but before she could look behind her, Sheila drove her down, slamming her backside onto the hard tabletop...!

CRACK - !

“AAAAH...!!”

Her well-padded rear did little to cushion the blow to her tailbone, and the impact sent a jolt racing up her spine, stiffening her body and throwing her head back as though an electric current had shot through her. For one punishing instant, the table seemed utterly unyielding beneath her, leaving her to absorb the full shock before it finally gave. The tabletop split and buckled, its legs folding beneath it as Laxia collapsed along with the ruined structure. With the surface beneath her suddenly gone, she dropped again before she could brace herself, her back striking the broken sections of wood as another cloud of dust rose around her.

Her scream faded into ragged groans as she squeezed her eyes shut and brought one hand to her lower back. Every slight movement sent pain shooting from her tailbone up her spine, leaving her sprawled where she had intended to lay Sheila. She had meant to give the crowd another spectacular moment, but once again, it was Laxia lying amid the wreckage of a broken table.

Sheila wasn’t exactly what you would call a ‘power wrestler’. She was stronger than she looked, but she had to be, with a body as wiry, skinny, and string-bean as hers. She had a lot of compact, tight power, giving her decent force to work with, at least as far as lightweights went.

All that to say, the fine art of lifting people up and putting them down really hard wasn’t her strong suit. She was much happier throwing herself at opponents, not throwing them around. But today was a special sort of day, and all the stops needed to be brought out.

Down came Laxia, smashing into the table and obliterating it with that - admittedly quite cute - ass of hers, making far more noise than you would’ve thought for such a small body. Pulling that off after repeated field goals had scored in her ribs wasn’t exactly pleasant for Sheila, however, and she immediately flopped on her back, gasping for air as she sprawled in the dirt.

”Get up.” She smacked herself in the face. ”Getupgetupgetup.”

With a hoarse, defiant growl, Sheila sat up and crawled past Laxia, scattering the wooden shards about as she reached under the ring apron. Her fumbling hands sifted through the dark, past chairs, tables, ladders, and a vaguely phallic object, until they found what they were looking for. ”There we go!”

Chains.

Sheila pulled it out from under the apron and held it high, hoisting about four feet of thick, iron chains above her head as the crowd roared. Not wanting to waste any time - any more time - she moved over to Laxia’s downed body and got to work. ”For the record, I don’t give a shit about you or your stupid fucking dog. You want to compare your bitch to me, huh?” She gave Laxia a spiteful kick, then knelt down beside her. ”I’m not the one on a goddamn leash.”

To prove her point, she reached out, tried to wrap the chain around Laxia’s neck, and proceeded to backpedal towards the rusted up truck, looking to drag her foe - kicking and screaming - towards it in the roughest way she could imagine at the moment. Sheila had all sorts of plans in that particular direction.