L.A.W. - League of Anime Wrestling

.

Courtney once again is in a match. Once again, she does not know anything about her opponent. Well, she has no choice, legally speaking. She has a bad feeling about this. It says she gets to use her hentai outit not in. A hentai. Which is also strange, as she hasn't been on one bit.



FROM OSAUKA JAPAN THE FLAME DEMON! A LEGIT CONVIC FIGHTING FOR HER DREEDOM IN L.A.W COURTNEY MAXIE!


The titian trons shows Courtney getting uncomfortable by police. Then the lights go black then two flames appears lighting up Courtney as the lights turn on. She walks down the ramp. She stop to look around then she goes to the right side and climbs right side. The gets to the top rope. She gets out some sort fo stick. It makes a sound and Courtney blows on it making a small flame pop out. She hands it to thw reff. She jumps and goes to the center of the stage blowing a kiss to all.

Well she got some jitters. She doesn't know why but she makes herself stern to clam her nevers. She cannot feel this way. She a heel for pet's sake. She awaits her opponent.

Professional wrestling. What a magnificent thing. The lights, the showcase of skill and athleticism, the fortune, the fame... the blank check to physically dominate an opponent in front of a roaring audience. How could she want anything less? How could they not... just... see with the same perfect clarity that she could?

A soft sigh escapes the Egyptian beauty as she looks at herself in the dressing room mirror. Everything is perfectly in place; silky smooth ebon black hair falling in straight tresses to her lower back. The gold of her gear contrasts exquisitely against her dark skin, top cropped and trunks low enough that her muscled midsection is fully bared. The ornaments worn at her brow and upon her toned limbs glitter brilliantly. And upon her feet? Soft yellow slippers to match.

...her previous concerns didn't matter. Whether they understood it or not, this was her choice. Her life. She would live it the way she wanted, make her own pursuits. She just wishes she could truly enjoy it with the Sword of Damocles hanging over her head, threatening to drop at any moment and sever her from her passion. It does her no favors to think of this life as being on borrowed time. No, if she's going to make this stick... her place in it needs to be undeniable.

Her first opponent in this federation is a criminal. An actual criminal. One who apparently is forced to wrestle. Nefret doesn't care what her crime is. It makes no difference to her. She'll serve her time in a special way tonight. It's an Ironman Match. Not a long one... but plenty of time. Plenty of time to make this a showcase of her strength, capability, and commitment to dismantling an opponent.

There's a knock on her door. Instantly she knows. It's time.

-------------------------------------------------

The arena lights dim, drawing the audience to a quieter level in anticipation.

The massive screens come alive with warm, gold and amber skies with a glowing sun. The music kicks on with the telltale vocalizations of Dark Horse, and a series of

play, showcasing Nefretiri in what could best be described as fantasy Egyptian clothes. Some shots have her looking imperious, standing with a golden glaive. Others have her channeling crackling indigo-hued magic between her palms. But ultimately, it leads to a long stretch of ancient temple, before coming to center on her perched upon golden throne.

Somewhere back in the gorilla position, a pair of yellow slippers have been tucked into a corner.

As the song's lyrics kick in, the video returns to the amber sky centered with a glowing sun. An esoteric symbol sizzles into existence over it, gleaming in gold, before her official logo appears.

Beneath that, the curtains are parted by a pair of crew members, creating a significant opening. The first thing the audience sees is a pair of muscular men emerge from the shadows, wrapped in shendyt skirts and linen masks. Each carries a pole, and as they march further into view, these poles support a gilded lectica marked in hieroglyphics and sporting plush purple cushions. Reclined languidly upon them is Nefretiri, an aloof smile playing on her lips, hooded gaze trained ahead to the ring. Another pair of servants support the back-end of the lectica, the quartet of men very carefully but diligently supporting their mistress without jostle. The last to step out from the shadows is a robust and muscular man wearing a pristine suit and tie, mirror reflective shades worn over his eyes.





The audience is stunned at first with the opulent display, it's so wildly foreign to anything they would've expected. But between Nefretiri paying them no mind and the sheer grandiosity of it, the cheers and enthusiasm reach a spiked pitch. Yet still, Nefretiri affords them no reaction. She is not here for them. She's here for the girl currently occupying the ring.

"And making her LAW debut!," begins the announcer. "Standing at a height of 5'8"!"

"Weighing in at 136 lbs.!"

"From the Umbral Realm of the Duat itself!"

"The sorceress! The Great Shadow!"

"NEEEEFREEEETIIIRIIIII~!"

The servants bring the lectica alongside the ring apron, and Nefretiri reaches up to take hold of the middle rope. But before anything else can happen, the dark-skinned man leans in close to her.

"If you're about to get injured..."

Her head tips away from him, a single black eyebrow raised in a mixture of defiance and incredulity. "You forget who you're talking to," she replies coolly.

The two stare impassively at one another before her expression softens by mere degrees. "You need only enjoy the show."

The man leans back again, tight frown still worn on his face.

Nefretiri's bare feet set upon the ring's edge, and with a tug, she gracefully pulls herself upright. In the same motion, she whirls her back against the ropes, arches herself against it, and neatly somersaults her athletic form up and over to land her lead foot on the mat, the other foot to follow. Her arms spread widely to either side as she continues to take steps backwards, confident smirk playing on her face. Once center ring, she turns, arms still spread, nodding to the crowd as she presents herself while simultaneously ushering in their praise.


Her arms slowly lower to her sides, and her head turns to shoot a glance over her bare shoulder to the evening's opponent. A soft scoff escapes through the nose, and she turns to make her way to the corner post designated as hers, waiting patiently for the referee-girl to give her the pat-down. But given the scant nature of her grappling gear, there isn't much place to hide anything. Nothing that the referee would be able to find, at least...

Huh? What...wait...how...huh? What the wobbafet? What the coffigerus? What the gold Gholdengo? By the Pharaoh? An Egyptian sorceress??



Her mouth was slightly open. She was confused? There are people still like this. She is so confused. No, this legit is real. How can it not be? She had no idea what to believe.



She shakes her head to snap out of it. She still has an opponent to face. At least she doesn't have to worry about her casting spells like eldritch blast or anything. Probably a firebolt or something. Is she Egyptian?



"Hello... I never expected to face someone of royalty, but here we are." [/color] She said.