Húxiān tormented and savagely beat Kotone during the latter portion of the match.
Húxiān's words and actions managed to rile up the crowd, to the point where the crowd started throwing trash at Húxiān.
The match ended with Húxiān piledriving Kotone off of the ring apron and onto the floor, rendering Kotone unconscious. Following that, the LAW medical team loaded Kotone onto a stretcher.
Afterwards, Húxiān got a microphone and went to the center of the ring.
ɪᴍᴘᴏʀᴛᴀɴᴛ ᴅɪꜱᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀꜱ
This promo contains violence and some sensitive themes. Reader discretion is advised.
The views and opinions expressed by Húxiān are not my views. Húxiān's words are not indicative of my views and opinions. I am not trying to insult or shame anyone in real life.
Some of Húxiān's dialogue is redacted. This is because I felt that those redacted parts could potentially offend people, and I did not want to take any risks. While Húxiān's redacted statements are not abjectly offensive, I felt like they were sensitive/borderline enough to avoid publishing on the site—and the one moderator I talked to about this more-or-less agreed with that sentiment.
Last edited by Ichi on Tue Aug 16, 2022 3:05 am, edited 2 times in total.
ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ — ɪɴᴛᴀᴋᴇ
Cacophonous roars echoed throughout the darkened arena as the air crackled with indignation. A steady rumble of discontent could be heard, with the occasional obscenity piercing through the constant drone of the crowd. In the background, two men carried an unconscious woman off on a stretcher. The trio was scantly visible, with camera flashes and phone lights providing only modest amounts of clarity. However, only a small minority were focused on the injured woman splayed out on a stretcher—the rest were focused on the ring.
Overhead spotlights cast cones of light upon a small spot in the ring’s center. Thousands of eyes gravitated towards that lone bright patch ensconced in a sea of darkness, like moths drawn to a flame. And within that flame stood a lone woman. The woman had shoulder-length violet hair and wore a skin-tight black bodysuit which revealed her form: slender, but with unmistakably feminine curves. Under the intense glow of the harsh overhead lights, the woman’s face appeared as a patchwork of highlights and shadows. But despite the lighting, her pretty East Asian visage could still be inferred. However, on the woman's face was an ugly sneer. The edges of her lips were curled in a grin and her head was tilted up as if she were looking down on the crowd. The woman stood unflinching in the face of the audience’s ire, even as they hurled abuse at her. She had already withstood a fusillade of debris from them—their verbal discontent was nothing by comparison.
NOTE: Ignore the background of the image.
It was honestly disappointing to the woman, who was known by the name Húxiān. Despite the complete and utter disrespect that Húxiān had shown towards the audience, her opponent’s well-being, and even professional wrestling itself, the audience’s response seemed restrained—albeit just barely. Húxiān sighed before slightly unzipping her collar and touching her ear. "Set the microphone gain to maximum," whispered Húxiān into her wrist. Irate shouting continued to pervade the arena for a short while after the command. Then, Húxiān gave three hard raps to the microphone. A delay on the order of tens of milliseconds separated the strikes from what followed. Speaker cones strained, forced forward by a trio of impulsive inputs. Three enormous booms rang out, echoing through every nook and cranny of the venue. The crowd immediately quieted down, eyes frantically searching.
The piercing screech of an audio feedback loop soon faded in, deafening the crowd. Hands clasped tightly to ears and eyes grimaced shut. Cries of pain erupted from the crowd. Microphones saturated, shielding the viewers at home from the worst of the assault.
Húxiān clasped her hand over the microphone, breaking the feedback loop. The screeching noise decayed, leaving the arena silent within a few seconds. All eyes were trained on Húxiān, waiting for her next move. "Can anyone tell me why you fuckers were about to sit by and watch a woman get raped?" asked Húxiān in a deadpan manner, finally breaking the silence. Those words were met with more silence. "How could you sit idly by, screaming your self-righteous little lungs out, as I was about to violate that worthless little girl?" Eyes turned downcast as not a soul in the crowd responded. "Well?" Húxiān asked, her eyes scanning across the audience. Again, no response. "...Fucking pathetic," spat Húxiān as she turned her back to the audience. "You cowards did nothing to stop me. All you did was scream and throw trash at me. No one tried to intervene! No one even called the police! You're all just a bunch of cowardly bystanders!"
The sound of booing filled the arena. Meanwhile, the cameras panned across the audience, showing a myriad of reactions. Some were slumped over, their heads buried in their hands. Others glared at Húxiān with clenched jaws and squeezed fists. Some stared in shock, their eyes wide and mouths agape. "Not that it mattered in this case," stated Húxiān. "Seeing as the sudden change in the match type from standard to hentai was, in wrestling parlance, a worked shoot."
The crowd fell silent. Then, people started to murmur. "Don't you find it odd that I was able to act with near impunity? And that the match type abruptly switched from standard to hentai?" asked Húxiān. "Well, turns out that some of the shit that happened in that match was pre-planned! "LAW wouldn't actually allow a tied up, defenseless girl to get violated in the ring during a match—at least not under these circumstances." Húxiān paused for a moment before continuing. "Of course, considering all the shit that people pull in LAW, you'd be forgiven for thinking that LAW would allow that. "On the contrary, LAW has no issue with exploiting its talent when it can get away with it. Kotone had just gotten out of high school and they put her against me, an opponent whom she had no chance against. And despite being informed of the risks, Kotone still took this match. LAW was more than willing to put their 'talent' in danger, so long as she signed on the dotted line. And Kotone paid the price. In the end, she was nothing more than a tool for management to use to push an up-and-coming heel."
Húxiān walked towards one of the ring corners with a relaxed gait. Her shoulders were back and her spine was straight. As she walked, she looked at the people in the stands. Many of them looked stupefied, their expressions blank and their eyes locked onto Húxiān. The arena was silent, save for some quiet murmuring. "Still confused? Well, let me spell it out for you dipshits." Húxiān cleared her throat in an exaggerated and contrived manner. "LAW wanted to push a new heel because let's face it: ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒, ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒ ▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒ ▒▒▒ ▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒ ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒ ▒▒▒▒ ▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒. LAW wanted ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒ '▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒-▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒' ▒▒▒ '▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒ ▒▒ ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒'. "And so, LAW decided to put over ▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒—me. The one who could actually ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒ and be more than just a ▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒. To do this, they needed me to do something big. To make a statement. "My task was to beat the shit out of some hapless rookie in a match and incapacitate her. If I could pull that off, then I was to make a fucking spectacle out of tormenting her afterwards. If not, then I wouldn't deserve the push. Of course, we all know what fucking happened: I utterly destroyed that worthless stepping stone of a girl! "I had wanted to publicly violate that foolish girl and render her a broken husk after I had battered her into oblivion. But LAW nixed that idea—not because management actually cared about her, but because they couldn't do any legal bullshittery to absolve themselves of liability should they allow that. But they allowed me to do the next best thing: faking you fuckers out into believing that I was going to rape that stupid girl. "Now, to make it extra clear to you idiots, this was still a genuine match," Húxiān said as she reached the corner. "Amidst all the theatrics, there were real people getting hurt. This isn't one of those fully scripted promotions where closed-fist strikes are banned and no one actually hurts each other. Every one of my strikes—"
Suddenly, Húxiān became a blur. Her front foot pivoted while her entire body spun one-hundred eighty degrees, propelling her heel towards the turnbuckle padding at a breakneck speed. A sharp gunshot-like noise reverberated throughout the arena, amplified by the microphone-speaker system. The turnbuckles shook wildly as the ropes rippled and vibrated. "—was real." Húxiān let the sound of her spinning sidekick ring out for a few seconds. "LAW gave me free rein to do whatever the hell I wanted, short of violating Kotone. Kicking her in the groin, gouging her eyes, bouncing her head off the canvas repeatedly, and spiking her head onto the floor? All permissible in the name of business. And now, Kotone has to live with a massive concussion and possibly even fractured cervical vertebrae."
Once again, the crowd rumbled. Murmurs and grumbles established a somewhat loud baseline of discontented noise, with boos and expletives randomly ringing out. Faces contorted into frowns and jaws clenched. A fist slammed against a barricade, evoking a flesh-on-metal clang.
The views and opinions expressed by Húxiān are not my views. Húxiān's words are not indicative of my views and opinions. I am not trying to insult or shame anyone in real life.
Húxiān sighed, then scowled. It seemed like the fans had fatigued themselves trying to pelt her with debris earlier. She stood pensively, neither moving nor saying a word. Several moments passed, the air filled with the bitter screams of the audience. Then, Húxiān's eyes turned towards the front row of the audience. Their forms were scarcely visible, blending in with the darkness and partially coalescing into an ambiguous black mass. However, there was just barely enough light to vaguely delineate the hazy forms of the frontmost audience members.
Húxiān began heading towards the edge of the ring, the side that would be on the right if one were inside the ring and facing the entrance ramp. Upon reaching the ropes, she vaulted over them and out of the ring, placing her hand on the top rope and swinging her legs over and off to the side. Her landing was soft, with barely a sound made. Then, Húxiān made her way towards the barricade, the spotlights following her as she did so.
Finally, Húxiān came to a stop right in front of the barricade and quickly assessed the people in front of her. A few of the ringside audience members had recoiled away from Húxiān. Even more had backed away, positioning themselves just out of arm's reach. The few that had not backed away stood in place, their bodies tense and eyes locked onto Húxiān’s every move. "This is embarrassing," spat Húxiān. "All that screaming, yelling, and trash throwing, yet no one dares to back it up." Her words rang out against a backdrop of silence. "Well? I’m right in front of you! Do something!" roared Húxiān while gesticulating towards herself. No one made any moves. "How useless can you people be? You get all emotional and pissy about wrestling, even throwing trash at me. Yet when the opportunity to do something arises, you do nothing." The crowd began to stir, and a large man clumsily rattled one of the barricades. Húxiān stole a quick glance in the noise's direction before continuing. "All you people are doing is proving my fucking point," uttered Húxiān in a matter-of-fact manner. Then, Húxiān's voice took on more tension. "You LAW fans are nothing more than passive, emasculated eunuchs. "But you know what's even worse? That many of you degenerate fucks derive pleasure from watching women get hurt and humiliated." The crowd murmured and grumbled. "Don't you think it's strangely fucked up that LAW hires untrained women and pits them against trained wrestlers? And isn't it odd that nearly all of those women are young and attractive?" The words were met with a mixture of blank and pensive stares. "Turns out, it's not fucked up—it's business! LAW knows what you degenerates like. You fuckers want nothing more than to see a pretty girl get fucked silly after having the shit beaten out of her!" In the stands, eyebrows furrowed and teeth were bared. Boos erupted from the crowd as the large man rattled the barricade once more. "Well, fuck if I care—your tastes are irrelevant to me," said Húxiān before waving her hand as if brushing off the crowd. "But you know ▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒? ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒. ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒. ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒. ▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒ ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒?" Booing once again filled the arena, albeit not as intense as before. A flesh-on-metal pounding noise rang out in Húxiān's vicinity, followed by the metallic rattling sound of the barricade being shaken. "▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒ ▒▒▒ ▒▒▒ ▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒ ▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒ ▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒—▒▒▒ ▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒!" Húxiān paused momentarily before throwing her arms up and outward. "Oh wait! That's right! Many of you pathetic fucks don't even have girlfriends! ▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒, ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒ ▒▒ '▒▒▒▒▒' ▒▒ ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒!" "NOT TRUE!!!" screeched a nasally voice in the front row. "Not all LAW fans are like tha—" "But many are. Catering to those fucks is part of LAW’s business plan," retorted Húxiān without even turning to face the voice. "But let's talk about the rest of you shitheads—the ones who ▒▒▒'▒ ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒ ▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒'▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒. ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒ ▒▒▒ ▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒ ▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒, ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒—▒▒▒ ▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒ ▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒ ▒ ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒. ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒, ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒ ▒▒▒! "And to those of you who are ostensibly here for the 'wrestling': if the wrestling was the only thing you fuckers were into, then you wouldn't be watching LAW! You would watch a promotion that doesn't have attractive, provocatively dressed women cavorting around the ring and acting suggestively in every show! One that doesn't unabashedly ▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒!"
The booing had become constant, forming a backdrop that underpinned the ambience of the arena. A handful of people made their way to the exit, storming out in a huff. Through it all, Húxiān could hear the faint sound of heavy breathing coming from the direction of the nasally voiced fan who had screeched earlier. Then, the breathing suddenly stopped. "BITCH! FUCK YOU!" shrieked the nasally voice from earlier.
Húxiān turned to face the source of the noise: a corpulent man wearing an ill-fitting short-sleeved T-shirt, complete with armpit stains. The man’s matted hair appeared to be covered in a thin sheen of grease, like a flammable piece of tinder perched atop a mound of adipose flesh.
Húxiān walked closer. It became apparent that the man was breathing heavily out of his mouth, emitting an audible huffing noise with each breath. The man was red in the face and appeared to be in his late thirties or early forties. His nose was scrunched up, nostrils flared and on full display as his white-knuckled hands clenched around the metal barricade, rattling it in a disorderly and uncoordinated manner.
Finally, Húxiān came to a stop in front of the man, with a little over a meter of distance between herself and the barricade. She took a moment to look the unappealing man over before speaking. "I can only imagine what this mouth-breathing sack of shit is into, considering how he's been pissily rattling that barricade since I started talking," remarked Húxiān, addressing the crowd. She then looked directly into the man's eyes. "Let me guess: you're one of those ▒▒▒▒▒-▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒." The words hung in the air for a moment before the man cried out. "CUNT! YOU DON'T KNOW SHI—" "Piss off," spat Húxiān as she pointed the microphone away from the man, ensuring that the microphone did not pick up his screeching. The man continued to shout obscenities, but his nasally shouts were lost in the crowd's noise. "You look like the sort of guy who ▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒ ▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒," scoffed Húxiān. "You probably ▒▒▒ ▒ ▒▒▒▒-▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒ ▒▒▒ ▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒, ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒, ▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒—no wonder you got so pissy several minutes ago."
A glob of spit flew out of the man's mouth and landed at Húxiān's feet. "Fucking pathetic. How inept do you have to be to miss like that?" Húxiān stepped forward towards the man, close enough to where he could touch her. "You want to try that again?"
The man—a veritable amalgam of lard, sweat, and grease—looked down at the floor in silence, shoulders slumped over and head turned downwards. "That's what I thought," said Húxiān as she stepped her left foot forward towards the man. "You don't have the balls to do anything. You tried to throw trash at me earlier with your weak, flabby arms. And you've been shaking that barricade while huffing and puffing like a petulant man-child for the past few minutes. But so far, you've done nothing of substance. Even face to face, within arm's reach, all you do is look at the damn floor."
Húxiān glared directly at the large man. The large man breathed heavily out of mouth, exhaling tiny droplets of spittle with each breath. Nearby fans leaned over the barricade, craning to get closer to Húxiān in order to better shout their obscenities. All the while, the roar of the crowd grew louder. "Also, in case you haven't noticed, the cameras are focused on us. All the viewers here and at home can see how pathetic you are. Everything from your abjectly unappealing form and unkempt, greasy appearance to your red-faced pouty visage is on full display. Everyone can see just how much of a pathetic, emasculated coward you—"
Suddenly, the man's face contorted into a tense snarl, his jaw clenched and teeth bared. The man drew his right fist back as his upper body twisted clockwise, loading up his shot. He glared at Húxiān, her face the locus of his baleful gaze.
Then, the man's fist shot forward. His upper body twisted counterclockwise and his weight shifted from back to front. The man's arm followed the rest of his body, swinging in a slight arc. And his fist, affixed to his swinging appendage, barreled through the air like a fleshy cannonball intent on decapitating Húxiān.
ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ — ᴄᴏᴍᴘʀᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴ ɪɪ "Everyone can see just how much of a pathetic, emasculated coward you—" Húxiān went silent as the large man in front of her cocked his right fist back, telegraphing his intentions. Immediately, Húxiān's mind subconsciously began processing her current situation. She stood with her left foot forward in an orthodox stance, whereas the man's stance was mostly squared up with hers. Given the distance between them, it was likely that she was near the edge of his punching range. From this information, Húxiān had an intuitive sense of the trajectory that the punch would take.
It only took a split second for Húxiān to react. Húxiān instinctively moved to counter, her well-trained instincts guiding her. She bent her knees while rotating her torso and hips counterclockwise, moving her head off the centerline and to her left. Húxiān's left hand rose toward her chin as the fingers of her left hand relaxed, releasing Húxiān's handheld microphone with a slight upward momentum. Her right hand, which had been near her waist, shot upward and outward toward the man's unguarded chin.
The man's fist followed a slightly arched trajectory, barreling toward the spot where Húxiān's head had been. But instead of hitting Húxiān's head, the fleshy projectile whiffed completely, narrowly missing its target by several centimeters. With no impact to stop the momentum, the man's weight continued to shift forward. And his chin was on a collision course with Húxiān's fist.
The first two knuckles of Húxiān's fist collided with the man's chin. A shock traveled down Húxiān's arm, starting at her knuckles and ending at her shoulder. The man's chin seemed to freeze in place as the rest of his body continued forward, as if his head was mechanically decoupled from the rest of him. A split second later, the sinew of the man's neck strained under the contradictory directions that his body was moving in. The man's hefty mass decelerated under this tension, his adipose flesh rippling in response. The sudden deceleration exerted a massive force on Húxiān's arm—but Húxiān remained unmoved: the bones of her hand and arm were aligned nearly perfectly, turning her bones into a sturdy frame. Inside the man's head, brain tissue sloshed around, axons tearing and dendrites ripping. The man's arms went limp and his eyes went blank. His legs faltered, which caused him to begin dropping.
An instant after her right cross landed, Húxiān's leg and core muscles engaged, all of them working in tandem to torque Húxiān's body clockwise to the right for a left hook. Her legs pushed off the ground, forcing her hips to rotate. Her weight shifted from her front foot to her back foot. On top of that, her core muscles twisted her upper body around. As her body rotated, her left elbow popped up while her arm remained bent. Húxiān's arm, now roughly in the horizontal plane, moved in sync with the rotation of her body. Her fist followed an arched trajectory, its endpoint being the man's head.
Húxiān's fist slammed into the man's cheek, landing slightly forward relative to the masseter muscle. Húxiān's wrist remained straight and unyielding, the metacarpals of her first two knuckles aligned with her forearm. The man's head whipped around, abruptly twisting around its axis. The impact of the strike pushed the man slightly to Húxiān's right, leaving his body falling down and away.
Húxiān could see that the man was on his way down. Guided by her instincts, Húxiān threw her next shot. Her body torqued counterclockwise, her fist dropping ever so slightly before shooting off in an upward and outward trajectory towards the bottom of the man's chin. But the aim and timing of her uppercut were slightly off. Instead of hitting the intended target, Húxiān's fist slammed into the man's nose. The downward momentum of the man met the upward force of Húxiān's fist. Cartilage fractured and contorted, leaving the man's nose a mangled, twisted mess.
The handheld microphone that Húxiān had released impacted the hard floor. Milliseconds later, a loud bang reverberated through the venue as the impact was picked up by the microphone and replayed through the speakers. The sound masked the muffled clang of the man's skull impacting the cloth-covered metal of the barricade. Bone collided with metal, with only cloth and a thin layer of flesh between them. Strained and sheared by the contact, the flesh on the man's temple was torn asunder, leaving a sizable gash.
The barricade emitted a screeching noise as it was pushed across the floor by the man, nearly toppling over. Moments later, the man hit the floor shoulder-first. His head continued on its course and slammed into the ground. The man rolled over onto his back, bloody and insensate.
In an instant, the bustling arena went silent. The audience looked at the screens in order to figure out what had just happened. It only took a few seconds for the cameras to focus on the scene. The man was on his back, eyes closed and head at an awkward angle. Limbs were splayed out in odd directions. Blood flowed from the laceration on his temple and his nose gushed blood, painting his face with streaks of red and leaving a small pool of blood on the floor.
Húxiān examined the man for a moment. She knew her counter right cross had landed flush, the impact amplified because the man had moved directly into the punch. Her left hook, although landing it on the tip of the chin would have been better, had succeeded in violently jerking the man's head around. Húxiān's only disappointment was that her uppercut had landed on the nose and not the chin—a missed opportunity to cause additional brain damage to that man. But such was only a minor disappointment for the Chinese demon. Húxiān could not help but manifest a slight lopsided grin at the sight of the unconscious, bleeding man.
ᴘᴀʀᴛ ꜰᴏᴜʀ — ɪɢɴɪᴛɪᴏɴ
Meanwhile, as Húxiān examined her victim, the crowd remained silent. Those who had been previously leaning over the barricade to shout at Húxiān backed away, their movements tentative and their eyes wary. Then, after several seconds, the crowd started to boo, shattering the silence.
Húxiān looked around the arena, noting the disapproving yet presently sedentary fans. Her earlier grin grew morphed into a scowl. Húxiān bent down and picked up the microphone she had dropped. "So this is what it takes to get you people to do something?! Insulting you directly?!" Húxiān paused for a moment as she looked around the arena. "None of you fuckers tried to stop me as I was beating the shit out of Kotone! No one tried to intervene when I threatened to violate that defenseless, concussed girl! Instead, everyone here just watched, sitting at the edges of your seats with your eyes glued to the ring. And no, throwing trash at me while impotently screaming is not a meaningful action! That is the lowest form of protest and serves literally no purpose!" The booing intensified. "After this, you'll go on social media and bitch about how the big bad heel went too far, as if that actually accomplishes anything! "You people blew your chance to stop me. You're all just a bunch of cowards! You people won't do shit! Not when I beat the shit out of some hapless, unremarkable girl! Not when I threaten to violate her! Not when I break her neck! And not when I knock out a fan, leaving him limp and bloody on the floor! "At this rate, I could murder someone without you fuckers even lifting a goddamn finger! All of you are too fucking complacent! You people let me, along with certain other wrestlers, get away with abjectly cruel and brutal acts! You love to hate us so-called 'heels', yet you do nothing to stop us! Even worse, you actively tune in to watch us! You 'fans' are nothing but a bunch of self-righteous hypocrites!"
A chorus of raucous shouts and cries filled the arena. Hoarse cries and strained voices reverberated throughout the venue. Thousands of bitter eyes glared acrimoniously at Húxiān. Húxiān began walking alongside the barricades, close enough that the fans could touch her. As she did so, the spotlights followed her. The audience members nearest to the barricades seemed to make way for Húxiān, backing away from the barricade almost as if repulsed by an invisible field centered on Húxiān. As Húxiān passed, she made direct eye contact with as many fans as she could. Most averted their eyes, and a few tried to stare back. Eventually, Húxiān came to a stop, right in front of the audience on the side that was farthest from the entrance ramp. "Even now, you just sit there screaming impotently at me, accomplishing nothing. You're all just a bunch of whiny shits." The crowd continued to roar. Húxiān simply shook her head before turning around and beginning to walk back towards the ring. "Whatever. I'm done with you pathetic fucks." Húxiān cast her microphone aside. It landed on the ground, creating a loud boom. Then, as if to say that the show was over, the lights in the arena gradually turned on one by one, slowly illuminating the area without instantly blinding everyone.
Húxiān had just reached the edge of the ring when something hit her in the back of the head. She swiftly turned around, allowing her to glimpse her assailant: a young adult man with a relatively fit build and a tense frown on his face. Húxiān looked down to see what had hit her—it was a shoe. Húxiān reached down and picked up the shoe, her movements calm and unhurried. She looked at the shoe for a moment before looking at the fit man. He scowled at Húxiān with crossed arms.
With a sigh, Húxiān calmly set off towards the fit man. She walked a couple of paces before suddenly coming alive with an explosive burst of motion. Before the man had any time to react, Húxiān had already thrown the shoe. The shoe flew towards the fit man's head. He tried to raise a guard, only for the shoe to hit him square in the face.
The fit man forcefully exhaled through gritted teeth. His frown grew deeper as he reached back and picked up his folding chair. He wound up, drawing the chair back, before hurling it at Húxiān.
Húxiān's eyes followed the metal chair as it flew. She sprung backwards, her weight shifting towards her back leg. Then, Húxiān raised her knee, chambering it before shooting out her lead teep. Her foot impacted against the hard metal of the chair, causing a loud clanging sound. But Húxiān did not put full power into her teep—instead of being thrown back, the chair merely stopped in its tracks and fell straight down to the floor. Húxiān's hand shot out and grabbed the metal chair. She continued the momentum, pivoting counterclockwise while swinging the chair around. Partway through the spin, Húxiān looked back over her shoulder at the fit man. Once the chair's trajectory pointed at the man, Húxiān released the chair, sending it flying at him.
The fit man stepped back, his eyes wide. The metal chair collided with his upper torso, sending him stumbling backwards and into the chairs behind him. He fell to the ground, colliding with several people and knocking the surrounding chairs in all directions. Rising to his feet, he emitted a guttural roar. He folded the nearest chair and charged at Húxiān, the chair in his right hand. He vaulted over the barricade, nearly tripping in the process and almost knocking it over. A couple of stumbling steps later, the fit man was within range of Húxiān. He drew the chair back, intent on swinging it in a wide arc at the Chinese demon.
Once one fan charged, others came like a torrent of water rushing through a nascent crack in a dilapidated dam. Several fans clambered over the barricade, sending it toppling down. They emitted a warlike cry and began to charge. Two had clenched fists and were staring daggers at Húxiān, and another had picked up a chair.
ᴘᴀʀᴛ ꜰɪᴠᴇ — ᴄᴏᴍʙᴜꜱᴛɪᴏɴ
Húxiān maintained a neutral expression, her face unchanging even as she was being rushed. Once the fit man was nearly in range, she swiftly chambered her knee before releasing a rear teep. Her foot shot out like the tip of a spear as her right arm swung downwards to impart even more momentum to her teep. At the same time, Húxiān's left arm rose, establishing a helmet guard. Her left elbow pointed forward while her upper arm and forearm were affixed to the side of her head.
Húxiān's teep pierced the fit man's torso, digging into his flesh before sending him crumpling to the floor. Simultaneously, the chair slammed into Húxiān's guard, sending a shock through her arms and to her head. Húxiān grit her teeth and tensed her neck, mitigating the worst of the blow.
The metal folding chair clattered to the ground. The fit man was curled up, clutching his torso as he lay in a position akin to a dogeza. But Húxiān had no time to rest. Right on the heels of the fit man was another fan. He ran towards Húxiān, his fists raised and teeth bared. Húxiān swiftly grabbed the chair off of the ground while moving to her left. As the fan tried to readjust to the sudden angle change, Húxiān loaded up for a strike. She twisted her body to the left while bending her knees and shifting her weight to her lead left foot. With both of her hands gripping the legs of the chair, Húxiān sprung. Her body explosively unfurled, sending the folding chair arcing through the air, the thin side pointed at her target like the edge of an axe. The chair slammed into the side of the fan's mouth, ripping teeth loose and sending them clattering to the floor. The fan collapsed to the floor, clutching his mouth while spitting out blood, teeth, and bits of gum tissue.
The other fans were in hot pursuit. One fan readied his chair, intent on bashing Húxiān's skull in. The other tried to grab onto Húxiān. But Húxiān quickly rolled into the ring before breaking into a sprint towards the side closest to the entrance ramp. The two pursuing fans started to climb into the ring, but were much slower and clumsier than Húxiān. Additional fans began to rush out onto the floor, initially originating near the site of the first fan incursion, but quickly starting to spread throughout the arena like a growing inferno.
Húxiān's feet slammed repeatedly into the trash-covered canvas as she sprinted across the ring. Several metal folding chairs flew through the air, thrown at Húxiān by enraged spectators emboldened by the charging fans. The chairs missed Húxiān, skidding harmlessly across the ring. Suddenly, another metal chair collided with Húxiān's head when she was about halfway across the ring. Húxiān let out a forceful hiss as the impact knocked her off-balance, sending her stumbling. Within a couple of paces, Húxiān recovered, only for an additional chair to slam into her left shoulder. Shrugging off the blow, Húxiān grit her teeth and continued sprinting.
As she dashed, Húxiān caught sight of her
and
. The motorcycle was parked about halfway between the ring and the entrance ramp, and the bike was pointed towards the entrance ramp. Right next to the motorcycle was the helmet, which lay on the floor to the motorcycle's left. The path ahead of Húxiān was relatively clear as the fans had not invaded the floor space around her bike yet—but it would only be a matter of time until they did.
Upon nearing the other side of the ring, Húxiān launched herself into the air into a diving motion before planting her hands onto the top ropes. She pushed off the top ropes with her hands and tucked her legs. In midair, after her body cleared the ropes, she shifted her body to be more upright
Húxiān did a "cat pass" (also known as a "kong" or "monkey vault"), which is a type of vault in parkour/free-running.
. A split second later, Húxiān landed on the floor outside of the ring, hitting it with the balls of her feet. Her entire body coiled up into a squat, maximizing the time of deceleration to lessen the impact. Her hands touched the floor and her arms bent, further slowing her down
Húxiān did a four-point landing, a type of landing in parkour/free-running.
.
Húxiān landed right behind her motorcycle
and promptly snatched it up. As she rose back to two feet, she swiftly slipped on her helmet in one fluid motion. Fans began to converge on Húxiān from all directions. Some fans had climbed into the ring and were advancing from Húxiān's rear. Others opted to make their way towards Húxiān on foot, traveling around the ring. In her immediate line of sight, oriented towards the entrance ramp, she could see fans just starting to clamber over the barricades—the initial violent outburst at the other side of the ring had taken some time to percolate to the front.
Standing to the left of her motorcycle, Húxiān chambered her leg and shot it out and over the motorcycle in a sidekick-like motion. With her leg clear, Húxiān mounted the bike. Just after settling, an airborne chair slammed into Húxiān's helmeted head, jolting her head slightly. However, she powered through, her right hand hastily unzipping an invisible pocket on her bodysuit and withdrawing her key. With her left hand, Húxiān adjusted her helmet for a moment before tightening the chin strap.
Fans were beginning to slip out of the ring and onto the floor behind Húxiān. Other fans rounded the corners of the ring and advanced on Húxiān from the side. Fans near the front, closer to the entrance ramp, had since gotten past the barricade and were charging at Húxiān. The resonantly percussive sounds of metal barricades toppling and crashing into the floor rang out as fans continued to rush out onto the floor. And toppled barricades meant that more fans could join in on the carnage.
Yet, despite the raging conflagration of violent outrage flaring around her, Húxiān remained stoic. She kicked the motorcycle's kickstand up while simultaneously sticking her key into the ignition with a steady, yet hasty, right hand. As soon as the kickstand was up, Húxiān rotated the key clockwise, and the motorcycle's dashboard lit up. She let go of the key and promptly flicked the engine cutoff switch on the right handlebar to disengage it.
Then, right as Húxiān began squeezing the clutch with her left hand, a fan grabbed onto her left forearm and yanked, breaking Húxiān's grip on the left handlebar. The fan then threw a hammer fist to the back of Húxiān's helmet. Shrugging off the blow, Húxiān yanked her arm away to break the fan's grip before popping a quick jab at his face. The fan stumbled back a few steps, only to run into the encroaching mob of people and be unceremoniously shoved to the ground. The mob paid no mind to the fan, however, and continued their advance, trampling over the man.
Fans beset Húxiān, surrounding her and throwing strikes from all angles. Húxiān's head was jolted around, but her head was partially protected by her helmet and stabilized by her neck muscles, which Húxiān tensed as she gritted her teeth. Punches collided with her sides, causing Húxiān to hiss out occasionally in pain. Húxiān's legs screamed as it took nearly all of her strength just to keep herself and her bike upright as the raging tide of fans rocked her from left to right.
Pain shot through Húxiān's back as a fan kicked her in the back, causing her to lurch forward. Húxiān endured, and squeezed the clutch with her left hand. Another fan repeatedly struck Húxiān's helmet with his right hand while grabbing Húxiān's right arm with his free hand and attempting to pull Húxiān's grip away from the handlebar. Húxiān swiftly broke the fan's grip on her right arm and followed up with a right jab to the face.
The fan backed off momentarily, but quickly tried to reengage. Húxiān's options in this situation were limited: her strikes would not be as powerful since her positioning prevented her from getting adequate rotation of her torso. Since the fan had seemed relatively undeterred by her jab, Húxiān switched to a different tactic. Instead of striking, Húxiān used her right hand to post on the fan's face to keep him at bay. Then, before the fan could push Húxiān's posting arm aside, Húxiān jammed her right thumb into the fan's eye. The fan let out a blood-chilling shriek as he stumbled back, clutching his eye. He tripped and fell, the crowd devouring him like kindling in a fire.
Húxiān used this small reprieve to hit the engine start button and grab the right handlebar. The bike sprang to life, rumbling as the engine revved in first gear
Húxiān had her motorcycle in first gear while parked. Having the motorcycle in first gear while parked is akin to having the emergency brake on in a car. Doing this also allows one to potentially take off faster. However, starting in first gear is apparently not the "recommended" way (most motorcycle tutorials will have one start the engine from neutral). Many motorcycles have a kickstand switch, which will stall the engine if the kickstand is down and the motorcycle is not in neutral—therefore, Húxiān kicked the kickstand up sooner rather than later.
. A flying chair hit the back of her head, forcing her to recoil forwards. She exhaled sharply as she ate a punch to her left kidney. Then, a fan slammed a chair into Húxiān, producing a loud clang as it collided with Húxiān's helmet and right shoulder. The blow off-balanced Húxiān and her bike tipped partially to the left. She planted her left foot on the ground just in time and forced the bike back into an upright position. The fan with the chair struck Húxiān a second time, but Húxiān expected the blow and was able to tank it.
Húxiān rolled the throttle back slightly with her right hand while partially releasing the clutch with her left hand. Once she sensed that the clutch and throttle were in the right place, she quickly released the clutch while rapidly rolling the throttle back. The motorcycle shot forward. It slammed into a fan who had been standing directly in front of the bike, summarily throwing him to the ground. Húxiān kept going even as her motorcycle ran over the fallen man's leg and even as the man let out an agonized scream.
Without pause, Húxiān continued to cut a swath through the swarm of fans surrounding her. Because the fans were packed in so tightly, it was not possible for fans to move out of the way of the oncoming bike. Instead, the hapless fans caught in Húxiān's path were rammed and shoved aside—though none were as unlucky as the first fan who was hit by Húxiān's motorcycle.
The fans who were not in the motorcycle's path threw strikes at Húxiān as she passed. Húxiān did her best to cover up while still riding, but that did little to stop her body from being pounded with punches. Fans tried to push and pull Húxiān around, but Húxiān maintained her balance through a combination of skill, the motorcycle's momentum, and the raw power of the bike's engine at full throttle.
Eventually, Húxiān made it out of the swarm and onto the entrance ramp. But a fan had managed to wrap his arms around Húxiān's waist and was hanging on tightly. His shins and knees scraped across the ground as he was dragged up the ramp. Without hesitating, Húxiān abruptly snatched up two of the fan's fingers in her left hand. A swift jerk followed, eliciting a snapping noise from the fan's fingers. The fan shrieked in agony as Húxiān peeled off his grip, sending him tumbling down the entrance ramp.
As Húxiān dealt with the unwanted hitchhiker, some fans started rushing up the ramp to give chase. A handful of chairs flew through the air, battering the entrance ramp with metallic missiles—but none of the chairs hit Húxiān, and instead hit Húxiān's pursuers, if they even hit anything at all.
Húxiān stole a quick glance at one of her mirrors and saw that some fans were still pursuing her. Annoying, thought Húxiān. Upon reaching the apex of the entrance ramp, Húxiān made a sharp left turn onto the stage area. Húxiān raised her left hand and gave the middle finger to the crowd while she drove across the stage. Then, Húxiān made a right turn. Curtains flapped aside as she exited through a concealed side entrance, still giving the middle finger.
ᴘᴀʀᴛ ꜱɪx — ᴇxʜᴀᴜꜱᴛ
Húxiān sped through the halls backstage, knocking various objects over to impede any lingering pursuers. She had since shaken her pursuers, but Húxiān figured she would play it safe—and be a little self-indulgent in the process by knocking over everything she could, like a cat on steroids. Húxiān even looked the part—minus the steroids—given her incongruously cute cat-like motorcycle
.
All in all, the situation had played out well. Húxiān chose to exit through a concealed side entrance rather than the gorilla position, which would have been hard to navigate a motorcycle through. The side entrance led to a much more open area, which allowed for more room to maneuver. Between the open environment and the various obstacles Húxiān had created by knocking over objects, Húxiān outpaced her pursuers. At first, Húxiān barely stayed ahead of her pursuers, but she quickly got a decent lead. She was now comfortably ahead of her pursuers—all Húxiān had to do now was to exit the venue and blend into traffic.
Upon reaching the backstage exit, Húxiān came to a stop. With the bike still in first gear, Húxiān hopped off the bike while still holding the clutch. She pushed the crash bar on the backstage exit door, opening it a crack before releasing the clutch. The bike lurched forward, pushing into the door and keeping it open. Húxiān quickly hopped back on her bike and rolled the throttle back.
Húxiān burst into the door, the engine of her motorcycle revving as it shot forward. She took a tight left turn and began speeding down the hallway. The hallways were somewhat clear, which allowed Húxiān to weave around people and obstacles. Some fans who had left the arena early gawked at Húxiān as she passed, unclear about what had happened. Additionally, a number of raging fans had bled out into the hallways of the venue, but Húxiān managed to get past them.
Húxiān made a hard left turn, tires screeching as she did so. She twisted the throttle and her motorcycle roared. The bike quickly sped up, and Húxiān tore down the hall towards the exit doors, which would be on her right. Then, once she was close enough to the doors, Húxiān abruptly rotated her bike ninety degrees to the right and put it into a controlled skid, her right foot dragging across the ground
. Tires shrieked, leaving black marks on the floor.
Wasting no time, Húxiān launched herself and her motorcycle right at the glass exit doors. Shards of broken glass flew everywhere as she crashed through the doors, but Húxiān remained unscathed. She burst out of the venue and into the cool, crisp night air. The roar of her motorcycle echoed throughout the area as Húxiān sped off into the night.
The arena that Húxiān left behind was an amalgam of chaos and violence. Although Húxiān was the nominal target, the crowd devolved into general destruction and infighting. Poorly aimed chairs missed their mark—Húxiān—and had instead slammed into fans. Tempers flared, and fans turned on fans. Brawls drew in more people as the belligerents crashed into others. Soon, fans were fighting among themselves, with people striking, shoving, and grappling with reckless abandon.
Yet, the crowd's ire was not solely directed towards people. Unable to vent their rage toward Húxiān, some fans got destructive. They toppled barricades and destroyed equipment. Other fans were more focused. A steady stream of people moved backstage, throwing aside staff and equipment as they searched for Húxiān. They tore up the backstage area, but in the end, could not catch Húxiān. The public hallways of the venue also sustained some damage, albeit less than the arena and backstage areas.
Among all the disorder, some fans were shoved down and trampled. Unable to rise back to their feet, they were crushed underfoot by a steady barrage of feet. Flesh bruised and bones cracked as those fans were swallowed by the raging tides of the crowd.
After the dust had settled, emergency medical personnel collected the wounded. One large man had suffered a massive concussion and a large laceration on his forehead. Another man had a large bruise over his masseter muscle and numerous teeth torn from his mouth, of which only a fraction were recovered. One fan suffered a severe eye injury, and some fans sustained injuries after being struck by Húxiān's motorcycle. And those were just the injuries directly associated with Húxiān.
Independently of Húxiān, numerous other fans were trampled by the raging crowd. Some fans suffered injuries from the ensuing brawls—concussions, bruises, broken bones, et cetera. A sizable number of fans left the arena in ambulances. Additionally, the amount of property damage that occurred was enough to send most salarymen into debt for at least a decade—but fortunately for LAW, insurance reluctantly covered a fair portion of the cost.
Following the incident, LAW suspended Húxiān for one year. The suspension was mainly because of public outcry against Húxiān and the amount of damage that the riot had caused, with her attacks on fans being more-or-less overlooked as they mostly fell under self-defense.
