L.A.W. - League of Anime Wrestling

Stipulation: Simulation of a showdown between 'Ada Wong' and 'Leon S. Kennedy', starring Micaela R. and Hiroyuki Takijima as the performers. Anything goes, barring lethal tactics~.

Date: Winter, 202X.

In. Out. Showtime. Time to get in-character.

'Leon' pressed his shoulder against the door, taking stock of his inventory. His handgun (SG-0R), based on a USP model. Check. Body Armor underneath the jacket. Check. Ammunition. Accounted for. Knife. Ready for close encounters. Of course, in reality, all it was prepared for the simulated match they'd be recording. The provided firearms were blanks. There'd be a flash---but no projectile.

After the door creaked to a close, Leon's eyebrow quirked in bewilderment at no one being here.

Leon's ears had perked up at the sound of what sounded like shuffling past the door just a minute ago, with him barely being able to tell someone had been there. The castle was crawling with all manner of cultists, but he was fairly sure he had cleared a lot of them out while working towards looking for Ashley. In Hiroyuki's head, he was happy the designers kept the harnesses to support his equipment around his waist and those which wrapped around his chest to keep the entire outfit secure. Nothing would fall out. Although the rules had been rather vague. That left the two to have a nice, loose engagement for themselves. Micaela was only a name on a sheet to him, but he was all too eager to get to know her better. Even it was through more expensive cosplay....

'Leon' decided to start his search in a safe, cautious manner. The entire area was still a constrained space with limited escape routes despite the unknown second party having the home field advantage. His back remained tensed, primed for a vicious fight. The person he had heard either already exited out the steel window---or they were still in the room. He went closer to the window, with his handgun held in a 'high ready' stance while the muzzle remained canted at the ceiling.

When Mickey had asked for something special in her LAW debut match, she’d had no idea what they would throw her way. She was a champion from a rival company, so she’d hoped they would start her off hot - maybe not against one of the current title holders, but a former one? That sounded doable. She figured they would either give her someone who was worth a shit to give her a real challenge, or someone who wasn’t worth a shit so she could spend twenty or so minutes picking them apart while the incels fapped to it. Either way worked fine for her.

She could safely say she wasn’t expecting this, though. Definitely not on her LAW Bingo Card.

She supposed it wasn’t that surprising. One of her big claims to fame in VICE had always been her cosplay outfits, custom-made and practical attire she wore, inspired by her favorite media of the day, usually anime and videogames. She’d even done one for Resident Evil before, though it had been Jill Valentine, not Ada. And god, had that made certain dumbfucks online lose their stupid little minds. Some little white girl cosplays as Sailor Moon, who’s Japanese; they don’t blink. But when someone of a certain skin color does the same thing with one of the favorite fantasy girlfriends…

Anyway. The fact that her

would piss off some assholes online was always a bonus. As was the nice little Capcom bonus of getting paid to do it. Nothing quite like getting paid to do something that you would’ve done for free. The best kind of money.

The only small hitch was that she'd have to do some improv acting, which…come to think of it, she’d never done before. Not unless you counted some bedroom roleplay, which she didn’t. Could be fun. She was about to find out.

She snuck into the room and made her way around ‘Leon’, with little trouble staying stealthy. One of the few benefits to being tiny-as-fuck and darkskinned was that it made it really, really easy for her to sneak around shadowy rooms, which came up more than you might think. Being barefoot helped, too.

What was the line again? Oh, right.

”You can stop right there, Leon.”

Huh. Her opponent was a tall motherfucker. Nice ass, though.

Improv acting, right. Hiroyuki, as our favorite B.O.W extraordinaire, lurked over. His boots stamped against the floor, making it creak as his eyes lulled over the edge of the window. Looking at this tactically, he had discerned two options already. 50/50. His luck landed on the second choice. He kept his ears strained, trying to avoid getting jumped from behind. In the reality of the scene, Leon had almost made it to check the window until a voice stopped him cold. The small rustle of a metal frame signaled a gun being leveled. Back or head. Neither would feel good.

("Then you shoot me. But I don’t think you can.")

That had been his words to Ada---six years ago. The dropped subcompact pistol had been empty when he had examined it after Ada's fall. Something that being held at gunpoint brought to his mind as well. While he hadn't the desire or need to shoot her on sight, testing the naive hope from before where he'd been reliant out on the undercover operator out of neccessary risk and over being hammered over a mutual break-up did not seem advisable. So, he eased his gun up and pushed his biceps into a curl. A surrender. But he did not get on his knees since she did not request him to do so. How did Nick and Paul Mercier's cadence go again? He had a similar structure to that type of face, at least. Looks weren't an issue beyond the hair and eye color.

"So---there's a ghost involved with this too. One hell of a greeting too...Ada."

By his tone, Leon did not seem surprised as one might think. Keep her talking as he elongated the original line. Come up with a plan. At the same time, he backed up inch-by-inch. A boot crawled him back by a step. Then another, before he dropped the USP pistol to see if he'd also be able to lower her guard and keep her focused on the more dangerous weapon. Three steps. That might be all he'd get before she caught on. Then he acted!

The first attempt came as Leon turned on his heel and rammed his jacketed elbow into Ada's gun hand since it'd be faster than just turning around. If he was able to send the 'Blacktail' hurtling through the air into a near corner, he'd immediately try and get a cheap shot to the left side of her jaw in with his other elbow instead of going for his knife to commence the fight scene. As a final move, he'd try to push his chest into hers and get her onto the dusty couch as a proper lock-up. A bit of the nicer treatment from Leon than trying to slit her throat at first.

So what did Mickey know about Hiroyuki?

Aside from him being Japanese and tall and the owner of an above-average pair of cheeks?

Not terribly much. She could’ve looked him up, sure, but honestly, she’d never been the type to research before a match. In her experience, you tended to forget that shit once the strikes started flying, and there was always the chance they'd flipped their style since the last time they were recorded. The ring was no place for plans. She preferred working on instinct, adapting as things went and responding to challenges as they came.

Besides, it was just more fun this way. Hiroyuki was her own little puzzle to solve, and so far? She had some interesting clues. Like, for instance, figuring out the guy was a touch of a nerd, as he started getting into this bit. The little mannerisms, the voices, the movements, the placement? Oh, he’d been practicing this.

She stepped forward, cocked the gun, and aimed it right at his back. ”Wouldn’t make me use this…would you?” Mickey was no voice actress, but she thought she made a decent impression for a Haitian-Hispanic trying to sound like…Ada Wong was Chinese, right? She couldn't quite remember, but Wong sounded Chinese.

”You don’t seem surprised.” She ran a lazy tongue along her lower lip as she looked down, seeing him shift his foot. The man had an attention to detail. ”...interesting.”

And now came the fight. Finally.

He knocked the gun away with his elbow, sending it flying across the room, but Mickey was fine with that. Of more concern was the elbow, the one that caught her clean on the brow - good, solid shot, and more than enough to kick her body into full fight mode.

Hiroyuki - ‘Leon’, whatever - was advancing on her now, trying to force her back against the couch. He had the weight to make that happen, too, but that didn’t mean it was a sure thing. Yeah, he was coming forward and she couldn't stop it…but redirect it?

Instead of pushing back, Mickey spun into him, securing his arm as he came around her. She shifted up with her hips, pulled him through, and attempted to dump him on the couch, upside down, ass-over-teakettle.

Weight was dipping far too much forward. The remarkably tall stuntman wanted to avoid making this easy. He'd give her an actual fight. His own heart thrumed as she brought his arm around herself. Micaela's Leon impressionist was slowly becoming more familiar to her. He tried to tug away but found his jacket and arm snagged into her armpit. Then---his world inverted.

Leon's back smashed into the dusty cushions, stressing the material due to the judo throw. 'Ada' or Micaela knew her stuff. Given his frame and the couch itself, it did not take him long to bounce back. Though, Ada might appreciate the view before Leon leaned his hips forward and twisted his spine after flopping onto his knees. A small groan was all she got out of him. He planted a boot on the ground as his eyes flickered to the pistol behind her. Too far. Ada'd intercept him. Hiroyuki strained his mind about the story details. He had to do this right.

"You're working for some man----Wesker. Are you with that cult too? Bringing Ashley into this?"

Leon continued to run his mouth, trying to probe information. Rumors and brief information from his division under the President had led him onto the possibility that Ada had been alive. They were confirmed now---since he was seeing her with his own eyes. If Ada allowed him, he'd twitch towards the dropped pistol but abort it out of fear she'd mess him up for the choice. The, blunted, knife was in the inverted holster under the jacket. However, he was unsure how far Ada wanted to escalate things. Heart was starting to pick up speed too, and not just from being turned into a potato sack. 'Killing' her wasn't his mission. Miss Graham took priority, even over his own life. He hunched over and took an upright stance then tried to cut horizontally. Three attempts at elbows in a left-right-left sequence. However, this forced him into clinching range with 'Ada'. He wanted to be careful about tackles. Throws would give him aches and pains for days.