L.A.W. - League of Anime Wrestling

Jessica had grown up around wrestling. It was in her blood. She remembered when she was still seven years old, when her parents were still together, when she saw her dad wrestle someone who looked like a giant and improbably came out on top. She remembered when her oldest brother got in his first match when he was only 16 years old, and he lost but looked good in the defeat. She remembered her first match in a tiny gym in Iowa, where she learned the ropes the hard way. But she had never had to endure anything like that. Jessica thought she knew what she was getting into when she decided to fight up a weight class, but the stark reality of the situation was far different. Not only had she gotten beaten, the way she lost was humiliating. She had been downright manhandled by the larger, stronger Lilliana. Jessica was stripped naked, and had all of her body put on display for the world to see. And finally, she was sent through a table in a brutal knockout. The Violent Violet knew that she needed to bounce back from that. No, she needed more than a return. She needed a reckoning.

So Jessica donned her new gear, black and gold, and left the locker room. It had been a while since she was in her match, and she needed the time off. To hone her skills. To sharpen up. To prepare herself, emotionally and physically, for the long road back to success. She grew her hair out and practiced harder than she had ever in her life. No more cheeseburgers, no more beer. Just nothing but lifting weights, sparring, and doing everything that she could to get back on the saddle. It was going to be difficult, but Jessica thought she was ready. She grabbed a mic, and then entered into the arena.

When she first appeared, the crowd jeered her. They had known her for being squashed and humiliated. It was going to take a lot to win them back. With a deep breath, she began.

"Fuck you guys, I don't give a fuck what you think." Jessica began. She started walking down to the ring, flipping them off as she went. "Fuck you," she pointed at an individual fan, "and you," another, "and you too, dipshit." She had finally arrived at the ring, and slid under the bottom rope. Her purple eyes flashed with anger as she surveyed the arena around her.

"You guys don't know me. I promise you that. For these past few weeks, no one has worked harder, learned more, and improved more than me. You guys are not going to fucking believe what you see in the ring. The next person to walk down that ramp is going to be leaving this arena in a stretcher. If they don't leave in a fucking coffin. That is not a threat, it is a promise. And I am a woman of my word." Jessica was all but snarling into the mic, letting her frustration and determination and flair fly.

"But here is the fucking deal. Talk is cheap. I can tell you what I am going to do all day, but it is much more fun to show you. Next woman to come down that ramp is going to get a taste of what it is like to go against a future champ. Next woman to come down that ramp is going to get turned black and blue. Next woman to come down that ramp is going to get their ass kicked." Jessica pointed to emphasize how serious she was. Even as she quietly prayed that it was not Lilliana again.

"So who the fuck is up?" She asked as she spread her arms wide.

Marissa Wiltsure grew up around wrestling. Or rather, fighting. But unlike a talent in the ring, such was not in her blood.

Her mother cut apart the days working odd-jobs, from cleaning to serving. Her father, an account.

So when Mrs Wiltsure fell pregnant some many years ago to her only child, friends of the family knew the offspring would be either hard working, or in possession of strong book-smarts. Ideally both.

They never believed she'd be a fighter.

So years later, when she first donned her fighting gloves and kicked about in the school boxing club that she herself suggested, they were a little surprised.

More so years after that, when Marissa announced her newfound commitment to the world of professional wrestling. But things were not off to a stellar start with the young Brit. She imagined a theatrical debut, with a match that followed being a instant classic and the start of a great career. Instead, she had but one under her belt, a odd feat given the amount of time within the company.

And it was a loss, nonetheless.

But pushing such aside, Marissa knew she simply couldn't take time off and come back stronger. The fans barely knew her as is. She didn't want to be known as a woman who faded away every time things got tough. She'd simply get nowhere. Tonight it seemed, things would be getting very tough indeed. For having entered upon LAW premises with the intent of making her own open challenge, Marissa found a rare spot of luck before her, as a violet haired beauty had beaten her to the punch. Obviously, Marissa wasn't going to reject said chance in favour of simply making her own challenge. Even more so given the figure that had declared herself the baddest woman in the arena tonight very well looked to appear just that.

Spoiler

So when the gauntlet was thrown down fully, and her gear clad upon her toned frame, Marissa wasted absolutely zero time in cutting the distance between herself and the ring. With no microphone to hand, it was somewhat apparent the Brit wasn't coming down to simply figure out a time where here and this beauty could dance.

She had a loss to cover over. And she was going to cover over it tonight. Figure quickly sliding into the ring under the bottom ropes, before stopping just shy of Jessica herself as she stood straight.

"I'm whose fucking up."

Jessica watched. Jessica waited. Finally, a woman appeared. Thin and mean, full of a wiry sort of strength, Jessica could tell from all the way up the ramp. Whoever appeared after a promo such as that was not wont to be some pretty little face who fought for truth and justice and other such lies. This was going to be a fighter, nay, a brawler. Jessica knew that whatever she was getting into was not going to be pleasant, and this woman had all of the attitude that Jessica could have ever hoped for. Now it was time to see if she had the skills to back it up.

"And who, praytell, are you? Some upjumped bimbo who is wrestling for the first time in her fucking life?" Jessica approached her new opponent, looking her up and down and doing her best not to appear impressed. She scrunched up her face, and then spat to the side. This was going to be quite the show. "I am Jessica fucking Wright, and I am not afraid to tear your dipshit self apart. You should have never fucking come down here."

Jessica pointed at her opponent, and then back to herself. "So let's do it. Me and you. And because I am so fucking nice, we are going to do whatever sort of match you want. Really!" Jessica spread her arms wide for emphasis. "Go fucking nuts! Show us what you have in that tiny little head of yours underneath all of your fucking anime hair. Tell us what is on your mind. We are all fucking dying to hear it..."

Jessica leaned forward. Time to get into it.

Marissa cared not for trash talk. She was here to fight, and nothing more. What promos she did in her time within LAW would simply be to build herself up, or even earn the right to the next big battle. She'd never be out spewing words to merely antagonise foes, or even to entertain the crowd.

And yet, here and now, under the aura of one Jessica Wright, Marissa found herself breaking that disinterest. Although unlike Jessica, she cut out the extra detail.

"Your first fight went well, didn't it." Her face completely devoid of all grin, Marissa's words would be purely for Jessica yet still, given her lack of microphone. And perhaps the referee, given she didn't at all refuse the fact she was given choice of match.

"No rules. Ding ding, you grape haired cunt."

Words matched with action, as the rather petite figure delivered a push straight to Jessica's curvy front that might have made Ms. Wright feel as if she was fighting Lilliana all over again!