The roar of the LAW universe was a physical weight against the curtain, but for Luna, it was oxygen. This was the moment—the transition from superfan to superstar. She drew a final, shaky breath, letting the nerves sharpen into something colder and more predatory.
As she burst through the curtain, the pyros were nothing compared to the visual she provided. Luna didn’t just walk; she commanded the ramp with an unapologetic strut. Her two-tone leotard shimmered under the high-definition lights, accentuating every curve of her voluptuous frame. With every rhythmic sway of her hips and the confident jiggle of her stride, she drank in the cacophony of catcalls and whistles, wearing them like a second skin.
Beneath the high-voltage smile, however, lay a jagged edge. She wasn't here for a five-star clinic or a respectful handshake. She wanted to feel the spark of panicked realization in her opponent's eyes. To Luna, pain was fleeting, but a public humiliation in front of thousands? That was a high that made her mind reel with sadistic joy. She stepped into the ring, eyes locked on the entrance, waiting to see her opponent, her first victim.
Luna Graves
