L.A.W. - League of Anime Wrestling

Attire: normal

Match type:falls count anywhere

Referee:Cline



Celina would end up walking into the entryway, waving to the crowd as she slid down the barracks, shiver a bit as she felt how cold the steel was on her legs as she slid down, in hindsight that was probably not the best idea in the world but at the very least Celina thought it looked cool

"so how you feeling?"

"alright, you aren't gonna give me special treatment just cause I'm your sister are you?"

"what no, if I did I wouldn't have a job"

Both of the siblings laughed a bit as they waited patiently for Nixanne to arrive


Celina's appearance:





Celina's entrance music:

Nix stood at the top of the ramp, adjusting her gloves and taking a deep breath to steady herself. The crowd’s roar echoed through the arena. Just as she was about to step forward, Troy appeared beside her, leaning casually against the rail.

"Damn, Nix, you’re juggling so many matches lately," he said, arms crossed over his chest. "How are you not completely wiped out already?"

Nix shot him a smirk, though her eyes stayed focused on the ring ahead. "I don’t have time to be tired. I’ve got people waiting out there, and they deserve everything I’ve got."

Troy chuckled, shaking his head. "Always the same answer. Well, go put on a show."

With that, Nix stepped forward, her theme song—"Get Back" by Britney Spears—blasting through the speakers. The cheers of the crowd rose as she descended the ramp. Her boots clicked against the metal, each step deliberate, her posture radiating confidence.
Nix cracked her knuckles, her gaze sharpening as she focused on the task ahead. The crowd’s energy seemed to fuel her, and for a moment, it was like the entire arena revolved around her.

Celina would end up looking at her opponent and smile, extending a hand in order to welcome her opponent into law warmly

"hey, I am Celina McCloud, you might've heard of me, Neo Phoenix, daughter of the Phoenix himself"

Celina would say with a bit of smugness in her voice, granted she was trying to hide it despite the fact she was proud of that fact, she didn't want her opponent to be too intimidated by that fact, she wanted this to be a clean match between pros.

Nix tilted her head slightly, her sharp eyes studying Celina’s outstretched hand. She hadn’t heard of Neo Phoenix before, but the confidence in Celina’s voice was unmistakable. There was a spark of pride there, something Nix could relate to. She grasped Celina’s hand firmly, her grip steady and assured, signaling her own readiness for the challenge ahead.

“Nixanne Severin,” she replied simply, her voice calm but laced with a quiet intensity. “But most people just call me Nix. Nice to meet you, Celina.”

The handshake lingered a moment longer than usual, a silent acknowledgment of the respect they both held for the competition. Nix’s gaze flicked to the referee, waiting for the signal to begin. There was no arrogance in her stance, just a focused determination that had carried her through countless matches. This one would be no different.

"alright Nix, no hard feelings when I win alright"

Celina would say with a chuckle, a lightheartedness about her joking as the ref waved his hand and the bell rang, Celina slowly walking around Nix, seeing what would be her opponent's first move, knowing she could counter it as she slowly paced

Nix smirked, shaking her head slightly as she mirrored Celina’s slow, deliberate pacing. “Presumptuous, aren’t you?” she said with a light chuckle, her tone teasing but not unkind. The moment the bell rang, however, her demeanor shifted instantly.

Nix lunged forward with surprising speed, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat. Her first strike was a quick jab check aimed at Celina’s midsection, testing her reflexes. If the hit landed, she would continue her offensive. Nix’s mind was already racing, analyzing Celina’s stance, her footwork, and the way she carried herself. It was second nature to her now—the ability to read an opponent’s movements and predict their next action.

Her analytical process had been honed over years of experience, a blend of instinct and strategy. She didn’t just rely on physical prowess; she thrived on understanding her opponents. Celina’s adjustments wouldn’t matter if she lost the mental chess match that was only just beginning.

Celina would end up batting away her opponent's jab aimed at her stomach, attempting to counter with a quick grab and a kick yo Nix's stomach to push her back to the ropes, hoping that if she nailed her then she could get Nixanne onto the back foot nice and early into the match

Nix raised her arms and felt the impact of Celina’s kick through her forearm, her muscles tightening as she absorbed the force. Rather than resisting, she allowed the momentum to carry her backward, her boots skidding lightly against the mat.

As she neared the ropes, Nix twisted her body, using the tension of the ropes to propel herself forward. She launched herself at Celina with a burst of speed, her arm extended in a wide arc, aiming for a ruthless clothesline to the neck. Her intent was clear—this wasn’t just about landing a hit; it was about asserting dominance early in the match and putting Celina on the defensive.

Nix’s movements were sharp, her focus unwavering. Her arm swung forward like a whip, aiming to connect with Celina’s neck and send her staggering backward. If successful, Celina would be knocked down onto the mat and Nix could continue the pressure.

Celina would end up being caught off guard by the clothesline, her head landing with a bounce as Celina grabbed her neck, gasping as she attempted to scramble back to her feet, her black boots screaching against the mat as she scrambled to get back up before Nix could capitalize on her vulnerable position that she was put in

Nix didn’t let up. Her sharp eyes locked onto Celina’s scrambling form, the momentum of her clothesline still fresh, still carrying her forward like a wave that refused to break. There was no pause, no second thought—only the instinct to press the advantage before Celina could recover.

“Right where I want you.”

Without hesitation, Nix stepped in and drove her foot forward in a swift, punishing punt aimed directly at Celina’s stomach. The motion was clean and deliberate, a calculated strike meant to halt any attempt at regrouping. If it landed, it wouldn’t just hurt—it would steal the breath from Celina’s lungs and keep her exactly where Nix wanted.