Raven vs. Betsy Lincoln - A Midnight Dreary

[BlackAkuma]

Match Type: Humiliation Match
Victory Conditions: Victory by forcing the opponent to utter a verbal submission. Hentai Encouraged

***

In the gorilla position, Troy watched as his wife shadowboxed, prepping herself up for her next match. The same wife who, not long ago, had sworn that she was done with the company, said that she never wanted to set foot in Japan again, and seemed more than ready to pack up all their things and head back home. That wife was in the back, waiting for her next match, looking so hyped and focused that he would’ve thought a title was on the line, if he hadn't known better.

Needless to say, Troy was a tad confused, and despite having asked her, at least six times how they’d gotten to this point, he had to go for seven. ”So, run me through this one more time. For my sanity.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. ”You were in the office, and things were going good and you were about to get everything done.”

”Yep.” Jab, cross.

”You got into a fight with a ‘crazy psychobitch goth’. You words, not mine.”

”She started it, but yeah.” Right hook, uppercut.

”And now you’re about to get into a humiliation match - a match you’ve never done before, not once - with an opponent you know literally nothing about.”

”I know she’s a bitch. I know that.” Jab, jab, hook, uppercut.

”Right, right, of course.” He nodded and folded his arms. ”And what part of this sounds like a good idea?”

Betsy finally relented and turned his way, looking down with her hands on her hips. He knew that stance all too well - anger didn’t come to Betsy easily. She was happy, bright, and a font of energy, which is one of the many reasons he loved her. Seeing her twisted like this was like a knife in his heart, and the sooner he pulled it out, the better. ”Look, I just…” She sighed and wiped the hairs clear from her face, giving him an unvarnished view of her face. ”I need to do this, okay? Ever since we’ve got to Japan, we’ve been pushed and taken advantage of by women like this, and I’m just. Sick. Of. It.”

She opened her mouth, just as one of the stagehands came by to give them the signal - almost time to step up. Betsy nodded his way, then looked back his way with a long sigh as she stepped away, heading towards the curtain. ”Just let me have this, okay?”

Troy just nodded and followed after, shaking his head as they went. There wasn’t a whole lot else he could do.

A few minutes later and Betsy was in the ring, stretching in her corner while her

began to fade, hearing it for what could very well be the last time in Japan. For his part, Troy just made her way around the ring and took a seat nex to the announcer’s table, waiting for this all to be over.

[DSX93]

Raven

This last week felt like a month. Raven hadn't wanted to get somebody in the ring this bad since Alix Jacques, who she intended to be her first victim in LAW, but that bitch could wait. She had some pressing business to attend to first.

That ringed backhand had her seething to this day, and had all but drained her patience dry. She focused that burning anger on some last minute exercises. Push-ups. Pull-ups. A few stretches...Little things to occupy the mind so she didn't go and hunt Betsy down. But it would only do the trick for so long. LAW didn't give a shit if its wrestlers broke into their opponents' locker rooms to throw them a pre-match beating, and she was real tempted to do just that. She'd give them a few more minutes before-

Knock, knock.

Fuck it. This'll be the deciding moment.

She swung the door open and greeted the stagehand with an overbearing scowl that shrunk the larger woman's spirit and visited a pallor upon her skin. This better be it. "What?"

"Uh...Y-your match...You're up."

Fucking finally! Raven pushed past and marched towards the mission. The men working the audio were experienced: They see a wrestler on the warpath, they play the

The timing would work out well, with her arrival at the stage coinciding with the opening lyrics. Stepping through the curtain, she would be met with a chorus of hate that she would stop to take in for a moment, her glowering hazel eyes surveying the crowd and hands raising from her side to gesture for more. The more boos and jeers these fucks throw her way, the more it motivates her to beat the hell out of their hero for the night.

They wasted no time obliging her.

"And her opponent, standing at five feet and six inches tall, and weighing in at one hundred and forty-five pounds, from Chicago, Illinois...! Raaaaveeeen!"

She made her way down the entranceway with her middle fingers raised, sparing the audience no further glances. Betsy would've been a funny sight if she were in a better mood; she'd called it. Generic Busty, Blue-Eyed Blonde Number Whatever The Fuck had indeed gotten herself a few flags together, cut them up, and called that her outfit.

The wavy-haired neo-Melody Mcpherson locked eyes with her from a distance, failing to notice her husband's presence. The contact was like an implicit challenge, becoming more explicit the closer she got; she's there, she's waiting, hurry up and get your ass in there so you can see about her already. And indeed, it urged her to quicken her pace until she finally charged into the ring, sliding underneath the ropes.

Raven was eager to get to it herself. She leapt up onto her feet and went in swinging. No time wasted waiting for that damned bell.

[BlackAkuma]

‘Jacked up uber-goth bitch’.

Betsy had used many colorful phrases to describe Raven over the past few days, but in Troy’s annoyingly extensive experience, that had been the most common one. The general vibe he’d gotten was that of someone on the darkside, heavy on the makeup, but a serious threat, and on the bigger side - his wife was fast, he’d seen her lay out guys twice her size and she could even put him on the backfoot if he wasn’t careful. Not just anyone could hold their own with her in a brawl..

And ‘not just anyone’ was exactly what came down the ramp, looking all kinds of pissed off. While Raven wasn’t the most giant woman in LAW by a longshot, she was taller and thicker than Betsy by a good amount, well within the middleweight division. At least a good thirty or so pounds over Betsy, which could make all the difference in a fight, especially if she knew how to handle it.

Did she know? That was the question, and one that was going to be answer right about…

”Fucking bitch!”

…now.

Raven had started slow, coming from behind the curtain with a casual stroll as she made her presence known, but the closer she got to the ring, the faster she moved, like they were two magnets, picking up strength as the distance closed. Soon enough, she was sliding in the ring, Betsy rushed towards her, the referee barely got out of the way and the fists were flying, with Betsy going headlong towards, lashing out with an opening barrage at the center of the ring.

Betsy held her one for the opening volley, landing a few stiff shots in Raven’s midsection, before a solid shot cracked her in the face and sent her staggering back, giving up some crucial ground. She was quick to regain her senses, though, and came charging back in with her fists raised, a tight guard. She ducked, drove in hard, and swung high with an overhand right, trying to catch her opponent in the head with a powerful blow.

[DSX93]

It was an immediate explosion of action, with both women trading shots right out of the gate. Betsy had a cleaner technique and got the first blow in. Right across the jaw while Raven was rising up. She felt the difference right then and there. Miss America came to this fight with anger, and she came with rage.

Two. Three. That would've sent her stumbling a week ago, but rage is one hell of an anesthetic. And a damn fine booster to the already superior muscle she had backing her own blows. Now if only she could hit something other than air.

One. Two. Three tests of her abdominals. Raven would pass, but not with a perfect grade, grunting through, but managing to refrain from doubling over to the blows that presented her with an opportunity. A pale hand reached for the back of the blonde's neck, but found a good enough placement on her shoulder as the other, balled tightly into a fist, sped towards her face and found its way home. The adrenaline ran even higher when her foe lost her balance, but it wouldn't be long before she found it and started stepping right back in.

"Come on, bitch!"

Raven knew a big shot was coming when Betsy ducked in. Sped forward. She could almost feel her pupils dilate. Time followed in time with the swing. Overhand. She'd intended to smack it aside, only for that star-spangled fist to land square in her hand. She squeezed down. As hard as she could. The pressure wasn't going to do much against a glove that thickly padded, but she wanted to cause her as much pain as she could, however miniscule, every chance she got.

But she didn't waste much time with that particular effort, using her other hand to seize Betsy's wrist. And then she'd lift her arm up high enough to twirl underneath and follow up with a sharp, violent downward tug to test that shoulder socket. A textbook arm wrench to enforce some pain compliance. Leaving one hand to control the wrist, she'd grab a handful of those blonde locks. "Come on!" She growled. This utterance would not be a challenge, but instead a command as she pulled her along in a circular motion by the wrist while pushing down on her head to maintain control. Take the head and take their eyes off the ball, and it becomes a simple task.

The gothic brawler circled around to Betsy's back, releasing her hold when she reached it. The intent was to let her stumble into position, leaving her arms open for her to hook hers around them. Then

with her arms forming a strongwoman pose, complete with an

It would be here that Raven would finally become aware of of Troy's existence. Another blue-eyed blonde wearing the red, white, and blue. Well-built. Handsome. Oh, is that a ring? Oh yeah, that's a ring.

And just like that, she had an audience that she actually gave a shit about. Her ebony-coated lips took an upward turn, and those striking hazel eyes shined with evil intent. If Betsy didn't do something now, she was going to end up with Broken Wings.

[BlackAkuma]

From the sidelines, Troy watched and winced as the fight kicked off predictably insanely, with his wife and Raven going hammer and tongs from the beginning. Heavy shots, wild and furious, no holding back, just a ball of unrestrained blonde fury - yeah, he’d been here before. It had been a while since he’d seen Betsy’s dander rise to these levels, but he still vividly recalled their earlier days when there was no shortage of women in the federation who wanted to start something up with the feisty new kid on the block.

Betsy didn’t always win, but she never backed down, so it wasn’t hard to see how she’d wound up in the present situation. He didn’t even have to be in the room to imagine how it went down - this Raven said the wrong thing to her at the wrong time, and it snowballed into the glorified catfight before him.

Troy tried his best to push past that thought and focus on the match at hand, where Betsy was slugging it out with the middleweight. Probably not the best idea, but strikes were her wheelhouse, so there was some logic to it - at least, that would’ve been the case if Raven wasn’t able to keep up. From the looks of things, she could give as good as she got, so if his wife wasn’t careful, then…

Yup. Something like that would happen.

Betsy’s overhand was lethal - Troy knew that from painful experiences - but it was also easy to telegraph, a better move to use when her opponent was getting worn down from the faster, safer shots. Instead, she was going for the big bombs early, and she paid for it when Raven caught her fist and twisted her arm, forcing her to lurch forward, nearly bringing Betsy to her knees.

The black-haired brawler wasn’t as quick as Betsy, but that didn’t mean she was slow - quite the opposite. Troy watched close with narrowed eyes as she deftly controlled Betsy, maneuvered her about, got behind her, and effortlessly hooked her into position for what he assumed was a Gory Bomb. There were several moves she could’ve done from there, really, but all of them would suck for his wife if she didn’t get out of this right away.

Troy leaned forward, hands on the apron, preparing for the plunge, when he caught sight of Raven - or, more accurately, he caught sight of Raven catching sight of him. It was quick, only a flash of a moment, but there was no mistaking those golden eyes gazing at him or the subtle, twisted curl of her lips. His brow furrowed, confused, unsure how to process that look and even less sure he wanted to know.

Thankfully, he didn’t have much time to marinate on the top. The reprieve, short as it was, gave Betsy a moment to act, and she used it as best as she could. She unhooked her legs from Raven’s thighs, then curled up and raised her legs with a powerful motion, putting countless hours of situps to good use. The movement sent her rolling up Raven’s back, attempting to break free of her opponent’s tight grip and landed in front of her in a single motion.

Assuming it worked and she didn’t just fail in some miserable way, she would come down right in front of her opponent, and her next move would be a simple one - she’d leap up, raise her leg, and attempt to clock Raven in the face with a brutal knee strike, right on those pretty lips.