I Come From A Land Down Under

[BlackAkuma]

”Laxia Goddamn Von Rosewell…Roswell…Whatever-The-Fuck your stupid last name is! Get the hell out here!”

was not a happy woman.

Some would argue that she didn’t have any right to be, though they’d be wise not to do so when she was in earshot. It had been nearly two weeks since her disturbingly brutal out-of-nowhere brawl with Laxia, a match that had taken them both to their absolute limits. Sheila had just left the local medical facility, and she was supposed to take it easy for a while, let herself recover, and get back to 100%.

Instead, she showed up at the LAW arena, stole a microphone, made her way to the ring, and held the audience hostage as her

faded. The crowd cheered her, already anticipating that violence was about to follow - always a safe bet when she was around.

All that time in the hospital had been spent stewing and stirring, going over the match beat by beat, and it had led Sheila to some strong opinions about the woman she fought and what exactly they should do next. Now, shew as going to share those opinions to the woman’s face, one way or another.

”Get out here, Lax! I checked the roster, I know you’re on call tonight, and I’m not leaving this ring until you bring your flat ass down here. I’m not even close to done with you yet!”

That was Sheila’s position on things, but LAW management seemed to have a different opinion, as a few referees and security began to fill the way toward the ring, beckoning her to leave. A couple of them even tried to step inside, only to back off when she rushed at them, wisely keeping their distance.

”Back the fuck off! Back off!” She even swung at one of the bolder guards, who narrowly managed to avoid a black eye. ”I’m dead set, here, Lax! You and me, right now! Don’t make me come back there!”[/’color]

It was clear the Wild One wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, and the crowd knew how these things went. Eager, they turned their attention back to the curtains…

[Letta]

The match with Sheila had left Laxia with more than a victory to remember it by. Every glimpse of the rough skin around her nails, every faint scratch she found on her face in the mirror, made her brows draw together. The muscle aches had lingered for days. Even something as ordinary as turning or reaching for an object could remind her, quite pointedly, of what she had been put through. And yet, the corners of her lips kept lifting. Whenever she was alone, she would catch herself humming.

Because she had won. Against the Wild One, Sheila Morgan. In a no-DQ match, no less. It was a valuable win on a record that still showed more losses than victories. But it meant more than another number. She had stepped into that vicious woman’s territory, and she had been the one raising her arms at the end. There was no reason, then, for her meeting with LAW’s staff to spoil her mood. “...The response to your last match has been very strong. Audience interest, the tension created by the contrast between your styles-” Laxia sat with her legs crossed, wearing a pleasant smile. She nodded at what seemed an appropriate moment. Very strong. Yes, she had caught that part. “...The late turnaround and the finish were particularly well received. We intend to expand our support so you can build on that performance.”

Her smile deepened. Particularly well received. She let those words linger, savoring them while the staff member continued speaking. There was more about ratings, promotional plans, and future appearances. Laxia listened just closely enough to pick out anything complimentary. Everything between those little rewards faded into a comfortable background murmur. She was still admiring the phrase “impressive performance” when her attention wandered to the office décor. That picture did not suit the furniture at all. The clock was hung too high. And the artificial flowers on the cabinet looked as though someone had bought them out of obligation and immediately regretted it. “...a broader schedule, with arrangements for travel and-” Laxia nodded again, still looking at the flowers. Surely LAW could afford something less depressing.

“...So this is an addendum to your existing contract. In addition to your appearances in Japan, it covers overseas pay-per-views and house shows...” A document slid across the desk, interrupting her silent assessment of the room. Laxia blinked and looked down. The staff member indicated a line near the bottom of the page. She accepted the pen with an agreeable smile, her thoughts still pleasantly occupied by the praise she had received. Without reading the text above it, she filled the space with a signature considerably more elaborate than it needed to be. The staff member was still explaining the terms when she set the pen down. “Is that everything, then?”

Her meetings had a way of finishing ahead of schedule. Not reading the paperwork certainly helped. Out in the corridor, she slowed to consider her options. Spend the remaining time in the gym? Or simply head home? Moving around after all that sitting had some appeal, but was there any need to tire herself out further? Then she heard someone calling her name. Laxia turned, but the corridor was empty.

“...Whatever-the-fuck your stupid last name is! Get the hell out here!”

Only then did she look up at the monitor on the wall. “Hah...” There was a familiar blonde on the screen, accompanied by an even more familiar temper. Sheila Morgan. Laxia folded her arms and stopped in front of the monitor. Her gaze moved between the woman shouting for her and the staff converging on the ring. Slowly, a smile formed. Sheila seemed to be recovering well enough, if she could still make that much noise. There was something deliciously satisfying about watching Sheila fume like this. Even the most expensive opera ticket couldn’t have bought her a better show. On the screen, Sheila swung at a security guard. As he narrowly dodged, Laxia raised an eyebrow.

“Oh my... that was rather close.”

Despite the words, she sounded amused. After watching a little longer, she rolled her eyes, shook her head, and sighed. Apparently, another tiresome situation had arisen that only she could resolve. For all her sighing, there was a certain eagerness in her step. On her way toward the entrance, Laxia stopped beside a member of the production crew. She pointed to the monitor, exchanged a few words, and smiled again.

***

Laxia’s music filled the arena. For a moment, the screen displayed a golden lion silhouette beside what looked like a warning sign.

!! CAUTION: WILD ONE !!

A second line appeared beneath it.

!! HANDLER ON THE WAY. !!

Scattered laughter rose from the audience. By the time the screen returned to her usual entrance video, Laxia had appeared.

Laxia

She stopped at the center of the stage and placed both hands on her hips. With her chin slightly raised, she surveyed the ring without a trace of urgency. She looked entirely unapologetic about keeping Sheila waiting after all that shouting. The cheers grew louder. Only then did Laxia begin walking down the ramp. Her steps were unhurried, her smile composed. Even someone who had missed their last match might have guessed the result from the sight of them now. One woman was occupying the ring and shouting. The other was strolling down as though she had come to sort out the disturbance.

At ringside, Laxia raised a hand toward the security guards. She briefly closed her eyes and nodded, with the calm assurance of a manager stepping in to deal with an unruly customer. “It’s all right. I’ll speak to her.” She made a small, palm-down gesture for them to settle, then climbed onto the apron. She slipped between the ropes even more slowly than usual. Being told to hurry was no reason to oblige.

Once inside, Laxia walked toward Sheila at a leisurely pace. She stopped in front of her and neatly plucked the microphone from her hand, as though merely reclaiming her own property.

“Oh my. You again.” Laxia looked Sheila up and down, then smiled. “Our last match was rather hard on you... Have you missed me already..?” She allowed the words a moment to settle. Whether the audience had heard her properly seemed to concern her rather more than how angry Sheila was. “My apologies if I kept you waiting. I had to fix my hair.” She lightly smoothed a hand over her hair, then let her gaze drift to Sheila’s disheveled blonde mane. “Unlike you, I can’t just shake out my hair and call it presentable.” A ripple of laughter ran through the crowd. Laxia’s smile widened. Then she raised an index finger, as though there were one small matter to clarify. “Oh, but please don’t imagine I come running whenever you call. I felt sorry for those poor staff members, that’s all.”

She inclined her head toward the security guards outside the ring. Of course, that was not the only reason. Why turn down another opportunity to show herself off when Sheila had so obligingly provided one? The more her opponent struggled to contain her anger, the more composed Laxia could appear. She did not even need to bring up the result of their last match. Sheila was doing an excellent job of reminding everyone herself. Laxia turned her attention back to her. She gave a small shake of her head, lowered the microphone briefly, then brought it back to her lips. “Well, then. What am I supposed to do if you insist on staying here..?” Her head tilted playfully.

“Must I put you on a leash and lead you out myself?”

Laxia glanced toward the audience. Laughter and cheers broke out as though they had been waiting for the invitation. She savored the response for a moment, then returned her gaze to Sheila, still wearing that easy smile.