L.A.W. - League of Anime Wrestling

"Yep, just entering now, Alex."

Francesca Douglas said, throwing open the door to a small lobby that appeared as an afterthought in the construction of the building. A reception desk, unmanned, was located at one side with a few chairs on the other. "You sure this is the right address?." The blonde frowned, speaking as did an initial glance at both ends of the lobby. "Yeah, well, it is completely empty so." She said under her breath, loud enough for her earbud to pick up.

Fran wandered over to the reception desk and noticing an arrangement of clipboards with sign-ins. She skimmed the contents and discovered what she was looking for. "Oh wait." She announced just as Alex was about ready to dial another number on his desk phone. Fran's eyes narrowed on the Gart's Pub logo acting as a header on the papers. "I'm in the right place." She had the right place, just weird to have no signage or reception. "Yeaaah, just one sign and then some clipboards, but I guess this isn't their usual venue or something."

She had no idea but this was just a tryouts so she assumed they were just using any building to house what they needed. This one just happened to be tucked away from a main drag in a fairly mundane spot, she thought. Blue eyes ran across each of the clipboards, three in total. One detailing the schedule for the tryouts, one on the details for the tryout, and one for sign-ins. "Guess I have an hour to show off." She remarked to Alex as she signed in before turning down towards the door to enter what this building really was for.
It was basically a warehouse but using the interior space was a large wrestling ring as well as some other athletic equipment. It was clear Gart's Pub wanted athletes, hence why Fran believed she'd fit in. Though the opportunity was a strange one. Alex Wilson was a really good agent, Fran couldn't deny that, but sometimes he dug up some deep cut or indie projects for her to get involved in. For the most part, it was hit or miss with some awkward and clumsily ran fan events. His leads for wrestling promotions, however, had always seemed to hit right on with expanding her brand. Surely this Gart's Pub would only promote her wrestling career further.

Fran eyed the ring where a woman was standing and waiting. She waved politely as she passed over to a table to deposit her stuff. "Okay Alex, kiss kiss, I'm gonna go kick some ass. Bye!" Fran hung up and removed her earbuds, placing them in a case as she turned back to the woman in the ring.

"Sooo tryouts, right? Are we going to run a match?" Fran asked, eyeing the woman already seemingly geared for action in the ring. Fran came prepared as she removed her hoodie and revealed the rest of her wrestling attire.

Ready for Action

"Guess I'm ready for whatevs." Fran said with an air of casualness as she slipped into the ring.

Alice sat on a lone stool beneath the glow of the only three spotlights illuminating the ring. Her head hung low, shoulders slumped forward, fingers restlessly tapping against one another as she waited for the first applicant to arrive.

Alice's attire

A stark contrast to her theatrics was Daeymeter, an elderly man seated behind a makeshift desk just outside the ring. Handling the paperwork Alice had delegated to him while she focused on directly evaluating potential additions to the roster.

She had entrusted him with the administrative side of these interviews because, if there was anyone she could rely on for something this important—and this fundamental—it would be an elderly busybody with as much experience as him. And the elderly man had no intention of doing anything other than carrying out his favourite part of the job to the letter. After all, the recruitment itself was already set in motion. All that remained was selecting Gart's new girls. But that part was precisely the delicate one. It would be a disappointment if there wasn’t any worthwhile talent here.

“Are we to wait much longer?” The miss asked.

"Not at all," he replied, unfazed as he reviewed neither schedule nor clock. "Someone will be here any second now." The steady ticking of his wristwatch had already told him exactly what time it was.

Alice barely moved as she spoke. She didn’t intend to receive any candidate outside the ring—if someone was going to be evaluated, it would be under her terms, in her space. Still, even her patience had limits. Thirty seconds of delay was the maximum she tolerated from anyone, and she was already twenty seconds in.

Just as her patience was about to snap, the doors finally opened. The first candidate stepped in.

The girl walked forward casually, even waving while still talking on the phone. Alice didn’t return the gesture. Her attention had already locked onto the device pressed against the girl’s ear.

She was already concluding about how seriously this amateur was taking the interview if she couldn’t even disconnect a call.

“That's the first?” Alice muttered.

Only the elderly man caught it. Because of the short distance.

“Yes, Miss...” He replied, checking the prospect list.

“The name?”

“Frannie… Douglas.” He knew exactly how his partner's hyper-organised mind worked. Using her ringname would not help her remember.

“From WCW, correct?” And as he assumed, Alice caught it flawlessly.

“Exactly.” There was irony in his tone as he crossed Frannie’s name off the expected list.

They kept two lists. One for known prospects—sent through trusted agents like Alex Wilson, who had arranged Frannie’s visit. The other was blank. That one was for amateurs who walked. Alex Wilson had no idea they would register his client’s name on a special list.

Meanwhile, Frannie was already setting her things down at a nearby table as Alice cracked her knuckles, slowly.

There was something about the girl’s ease that irritated her. Not fearlessness—something closer to indifference. As if this weren’t a tryout, but a casual meeting that the amateur had already assumed she’d passed.

Frannie finally removed the phone from her ear and looked up. Only then did she seem remotely present. Even so, she still carried herself like this was just another step already secured, not a gate she still had to break through. Like she didn’t fully grasp how much this mattered for her career—or for the expansion of the brand Alice represented.

Alice narrowed her eyes at the girl with the phone pressed to her ear.

“Don’t be hard on her. They say she’s good. Talented,” Daymeter defended. The man was the pub’s eyes and ears—he knows what he’s talking about when he goes out of his way to vouch for someone.

“Every girl is ‘talented’,” Alice said as she pushed herself up from the barstool, rolling her shoulders and puffing out her chest. While Frannie would be slipping through the ropes and into the ring. “Until they step inside a wrestling ring.” And with that irony hanging in the air, she kicked the stool toward the ropes with her heel.

If it weren’t for the ropes, it would’ve dropped straight into the elderly man’s desk.

“Tryouts? Yes... Naturally.” Her tone was sharp—almost severe.

With effortless elegance, she grabbed her own sweatshirt and, arching her back, began peeling it off. She was left only in her promotion gear.

The sweatshirt was meant to land on Daymeter’s desk—but with the elderly man halfway up the ropes, it caught him square in the face instead, much to his displeasure.

Alice ignored the aftermath.

“We need talent. Not just a pretty face,” she said, her gaze briefly dropping to Frannie’s feet before climbing back up. “But I see… you’ve got a style that might actually work with us.”

The elderly man—dressed in a striped shirt and long black trousers—stepped forward, producing a thick couple of collars from behind himself. He approached Alice first, then Frannie, offering them. Only then did the detail become clear: both collars were connected by a thin but clearly reinforced chain.

“It will be a dog collar match!” The words echoed through the empty gym.

“Submit me… and you earn a place in my faction. If not—well, consider it proof you’re not what we need...Lady.”

The elderly man’s brow tightened. It was already obvious what her partner thought about this girl. And it wasn’t exactly kind. Maybe even a bit too harsh for what was required.

“Good luck, girl… you’ll need it,” he added more quietly. “Though I won’t judge you if you refuse. Gart's pub is not for everyone.” But even as he said it, there was something deliberate in his stance—like he, too, intended to test her in his own way.

Alice no sweatshirt

Wow, what's with the second degree?

Fran's gaze narrowed at the sharp tone from the woman. If the stern attitude was supposed to pressure her, it wasn't going to work. Fran would hold her ground because she was absolutely prepared for this. The discarded sweatshirt told volumes about the woman as Fran watched it soar right into the face of the older gentleman who grumbled as he tossed it aside to continue his climb into the ring. Then the woman opened her mouth again.

Fran scoffed in response, "Yeah, I'd say I'm very pretty, but I have talent, too. Style and substance." She placed her hands on her hips and eyed the woman, now slimmed down to a bra, tights, and boots. The woman had defined muscle, obviously here to screen athletes in a match. Not quite the tryout Fran had envisioned but she could prove herself. "I'd say you have substance, but a little basic on the style, don't you think?" She verbally jabbed, lifting a hand and waving it at Alice.

The blonde's attention shifted to the elderly man, the referee likely, as she produced a collar for her. The scheme of the match hadn't hit Fran's brain until Alice spoke up. "Dog collar... match?" Fran uttered with slight disgust as she picked up the collar in between her index finger and thumb as if it were a dirty pair of undergarments. Her blue eyes trailed along the length of the chain until she reached the other end, Alice was already collaring herself.

She gave Alice a mocking smile, shrugging as she slipped the collar on herself, buckling it in place around her neck. "Ha." She proclaimed in a humorless laugh. "A little suggestive but whatevs. I'll submit you and earn myself a bonus after all this, personally."

"Ring the bell, man. I'm ready to take her." Fran motioned with her head at the elderly man, dismissing any of his worry. Once the bell rung, Fran bolted forward, looking to dart in and slip around Alice's backside to wrap her up from behind!

A vein throbbed on the beauty queen’s forehead as she heard that comment about her style. It was a bit simplistic, yes, but she had to make it clear who she was representing here. She didn’t need to show off in the ring like the others did; it wasn’t her job to look good and steal the limelight, in case that wasn’t clear. Or at least that’s what she kept telling herself, as if that thought could banish the comment from her mind.

Meanwhile, Daeymeter practically chewed on his lips trying not to laugh. Alice glared at him, but he merely shrugged and looked away, biting his lips even harder—more out of respect for her wounded pride than anything else.

He liked that girl—she had character. She might even have more potential than Alex Wilson implied. But imagining her in the Gart ring didn’t matter now; all that mattered was the current test, and given Frannie's drive, there was only one thing to do when she asked him to start this.

He reached behind him again and pulled out an unusual instrument: a small metal triangle and its striker.

One corner of Alice’s mouth curled upward. This was going to be fun.

"Well, if you’re both ready…"

And with those words, she struck the elegant instrument.

Ding ding ding!

"Get started. No bets today." He joked as he backed away toward one of the corners. He had no intention of standing in the middle of that chain; his hips probably wouldn't survive a yank from Alice or one of the candidate's crazy ideas.

Meanwhile, her partner assumed a judo stance, bringing her arms forward and distributing her weight across her spread legs—they weren’t going to catch her off guard if she was prepared in advance. But it then became clear that Alice was prepared to start slowly. Frannie was not.

As soon as the triangle rang out, the blonde shot forward, circling Alice until she was behind her. The miss turned round immediately, equally surprised and concerned. The girl was fast! And Alice didn’t want to turn her back on an opponent like that. However, the sudden movement left part of the chain tangled around her, specifically, around one of her legs.

To avoid becoming completely trapped — in case Frannie decided to start spinning round her — Alice grabbed the chain to keep it taut with one hand, holding it firmly, while using the other to swat the chain away from her body.