PHDoom vs Lia Cross

Standard Match
1 pinfall or submission
Victory Condition: The first wrestler to win the match shall be the first wrestler to win the match.

Lia Cross seldom skipped, at least in public. It often looked just a bit more ridiculous than she liked to present herself. Maybe if she were three inches shorter and a few... oh just a few... pounds lighter. But today was different. She skipped out to the ring, hamming it up with playful waves and kisses blown to the fans.

Today, Lia would fight PHDoom, a fearsome and ill-tempered brawler. Doom's first match was against Dixie Clemets, one of Lia's idols. Doom lost that match but went on to give Dixie a beating the Texan would not soon forget.

To Lia, such beatings were an occupational hazard; part and parcel of what made wrestling "cool." She did not intend to enact revenge on Dixie's behalf. Dixie could handle herself.

But, still, Doom had assaulted Lia's hero. And Lia was not half the stoic she wished she was. She could not resist skipping, nor could she resist leaving just one more button of her shirt unfastened to display her cleavage. The act was natural to Lia, and she knew it would get Doom's goat. She could not resist pissing her off. And... well, she was in a sanctioned fight with someone who assaulted her hero. Maybe she was not in it for revenge, but the satisfaction of taking Doom down a peg would be undeniable.

Not that it would be easy. Lia was tough (And still glowing from beating Dixie in an arm wrestling match, she was "tougher than the Three Count Cowgirl." Respect for Dixie more than modesty kept her from crowing about that to anyone beyond the first half dozen strangers she met.), but Doom was not just some ill-tempered jerk. She had taken Dixie to her limits. A lot more than their egos would be bruised before the bell rang on this match.

Climbing onto the apron, Lia bent over and climbed through the ropes, wiggling the cute bunny tail hanging on her skirt as she bent over. She never wore a tail. But if it meant pissing Doom off, dignity, such as it was, need not be spared. She hopped cutely to her corner and turned to face the ramp. Her knuckles itched. Her heart pounded. The Dixie affair aside, Doom was by any reasonable definition a badass, and even if they had been complete strangers, Lia would have welcomed this fight all the same. Lia adored a good fight, and this would be one to remember.

Backstage, PHDoom was still working the heavy bag, even as she heard her opponent's entrance music playing on the arena speakers. Even by her standards, Doom had been distant and cold in the AFW locker room, displaying a pronounced disdain for anyone and everyone who'd tried talking to her. When management finally booked her for a second match, Doom hadn't even asked who her opponent would be. She simply returned to her workout routine, and waited for her night.

Every day, she woke up with a burning hate. When she signed on to AFW, she'd expected to tear through the roster without an issue. Deep down, Doom knew that these soft, giggling twits had never seen a true fighter, a true competitor, like PHDoom. And yet somehow, one of them had thrown a wrench into her plans. Dixie Clements had perfectly represented everything PHDoom hated about the AFW: blonde, buxom, loved by those cloying perverts in the stands. And somehow, unfathomably, able to pull out a pinfall over Doom.

Doom had managed some measure of revenge, at least. A solid blow to the crotch had left Dixie down on the mat, before Doom took her leave of the ring. But still, the results burned at the back of Doom's skull, every time she thought of the match. Ever since that moment, when Dixie pressed Doom's shoulders against the mat and got the three count, Doom had thought of nothing but her training. Toned and ready, the punk had focused her every thought on dominating her next match. To avenging the humiliation and pain she'd suffered at the cowgirl's hands. Whatever unlucky bimbo Doom was placed up against next, was going to have to pay for that.

When Doom heard the opening notes of her entrance music, she turned sharply to the entrance ramp. With every step towards the ring, her disdain for the audience radiated off of her. The crowd jeered her, remembering what a poor sport she was, and she met them with extended middle fingers. Doom's gaze was focused entirely on the ring, however, and the girl waiting for her within. She sized her opponent up, her sneer visible from beneath her hood, as she glared down the young woman in front of her.

Before, Doom had to remind herself of the money she stood to make, wrestling for AFW. Tonight, however, it was about something else. As she stepped into the ring, Doom stepped forward, getting directly into her opponent's face. Doom peeled off the hoody slowly, revealing her lean, toned physique, flexing every muscle she could as she cast the sweatshirt down to the ring apron. She made eye contact with Lia, trying to stare down her opponent as they waited for the opening bell. Tonight was about more than money, about more than simply defeating her foe. Tonight, Doom was looking to show this bubbly bitch, not to mention the rest of the world, that she was the dominant force in women's wrestling.

Lia kept her goofy grin as Doom made her entrance, their eyes locked as the punk approached. Lia could feel the hatred coming off this girl but remained steady and kept smiling even as Doom moved to face off with her. Lia took in a soft breath as Doom pulled off her hoodie. The video of her match with Dixie did not do her justice. Doom was built. It took all of Lia's willpower to avoid flexing herself to rise to the challenge, but that was not the game plan. The game plan called for the playful Lia.

She half-expected Doom to say something, but nothing passed between them except the gaze they shared. Lia took a deep breath... Expecting Doom to lunge at her at any second, she was in her element. Her body was loose, focused, ready to react. It was high noon before the showdown.

But, again, that was not the plan. It was a foolish move, but Lia let some of her focus slip to try to engage her foe. "Hi!" A practiced, perfectly chipper greeting, "So, you're PHDoom, huh? Are you a real PHD? Doesn't that make you a doctor? So wouldn't it be Doctor D..." Realization flashed in Lia's eyes, "Ooooh... riiight..." Lia's hands hung loose, her breath controlled. She expected Doom to lunge at her and she expected it with every heartbeat. Lia was fast when she wanted to be, almost lightning quick, but trying to antagonize Doom involved a trade-off in her focus. Anything could happen...

The disdain on Doom's face read plain as day. She listened to Lia's high, chipper voice with razor focus. "So," Doom said, her lip curling into a pronounced sneer, "you actually do know what a PHD is, huh? You must be really, really, really, really, really, really ..." Doom suddenly, with a quick thrust of her shoulder, spun away from Lia. She hoped to make the girl flinch with the sudden motion, while still taking her distance. "... really, really ... Smart, huh? At least for this intellectual hellhole."

Like her match with Dixie, apparently the managers at AFW had decided to place Doom directly across from everything she hated, tonight. Doom cracker her knuckles, still sizing Lia up. The girl seemed ditzy, playful, and utterly beneath the attention of Doom. Which was exactly why the brawler knew she had to keep on her guard. There wasn't going to be another upset win over Doom, she resolved. Not here, not against ... this. Doom bounced on her heels, waiting for the opening bell.

Lia was nothing if not a practiced douchebag and so she was pretty good at reading when someone was going to go for the classic douchebag "made ya flinch" routine. Lia expected it (Or at least made a lucky guess.) and let herself react, crossing her arms and letting out a shrill "Eep!" Lia's grin returned, "Oh, no, no. I didn't make it through medical school myself." Lia's cutesy tone gained a it of a pout. "But, yeah..." She nodded, "You're right. Almost everyone here is reeeeealllly stupid."

Lia hopped up and down from one leg to the other, mimicking Doom's warm-up stance, "Man, Ms. Doom, you're pretty tough looking. You're gonna go easy on me, right?"

Doom circled the ring, barely able to contain her contempt for Lia as she waited for the match to begin. Every word out of this pert, airheaded bimbo seemed calculated to just further enrage Doom. Doom's eyes fixed on Lia's cutesy pout, in particular. She watched her challenger hopping up and down, watched the bounce in her figure with disgust, her eyes glancing momentarily to the audience's appreciative stares.

When she heard Lia's final comment, about going easy on her, Doom couldn't contain herself. This woman had the nerve, the sheer audacity, to ask Doom for mercy? Planting her feet, Doom swung a heavy, open-palmed slap, hard at Lia's face. Putting her full body weight into it, Doom was all too eager to put this girl on her ass, and let tonight's competition begin.

Lia had no plan. No glorious endgame. Hell, what she was doing was a dumb move even by HER definition. Pissing someone off and then effortlessly sidestepping all their angry wild swings was the stuff of movies, not a real fight. But Lia was all about dumb moves. And this was no match. This was going to be a fight. Lia could probably be convinced that it always went back to the western hero motif. Doom had to make the first move. Lia knew what someone who was about to swing at you looked like and Doom could have been the platonic ideal of that image. She HATED Lia right now.

Good. That is what it boiled down to. She wanted Doom's ire. She wanted to be on Doom's bad side. If the asshole hated her, she was doing SOMETHING right.

Doom's slap hit nothing but air. Lia had leaned back out of the way and almost immediately after, she popped Doom in the face with a quick jab of her own. "Eep! Sorry!" Lia immediately hopped back, her ears hanging low as she pouted in shame, "That was totes my fault. Total reflex!"

As far as the ref girl was concerned, the two had started swinging. She sounded the bell and the match was on. Doom probably would not give Lia a second to even make another move, but Lia would stay mobile and let Doom make the first move even if she did.

Doom's face twisted in anger, as she watched the pink-haired bunny girl evade her slap. “'Totes?' 'Eep?' These are actual words you use?” As Doom heard the opening bell, she adopted her fighting stance, all to eager to tear this young bimbo apart. Once again, the AFW management had paired Doom off against someone seemingly designed to piss her off. Which, now that Doom thought about it for a second, was actually probably not that difficult, for them.

Doom squared her feet, raising her fists as she closed in on Lia. The pro wrestling moves and submission maneuvers had been fine for her previous match, and could certainly be fun for later, but right now Doom was hardly feeling so fancy. Or sporting. Right now, Doom felt hell bent on delivering nothing short of a beat-down to this 'eep'ing twit.

Doom barely registered that the opening bell had sounded, but she was a bit past the point of caring. She rushed Lia head-on, fists raised, shoulders bouncing fluidly. Doom would attempt a feint, her fists flinching forward menacingly enough to be convincing. Her real attack, however, came from down low, as Doom swung a hard kick for Lia's knee, in hopes of taking the girl's leg out from under her just as the match began.

Lia grinned back at Doom. "Of course, FuDoomy-baby." She took a step back, taking up her own stance. Doom was seeing red, which was good. Now for the hard part, beating the stuffing out of her.

Lia really should have spent more time thinking about THAT part. Not to say it did not come naturally to her, but Doom was not going to be easy. She came out of the gate swinging in a stance Lia ended up mirroring inadvertently. Deep down, the two had the same idea. She wanted nothing more than to beat this punk down. She probably was not even a REAL doctor. One of those research doctors who insisted you call them 'Doctor' but would rightly bite their tongue when someone calls out 'Is there a doctor in the house?'

Maybe she was not, but when you are in a fight, it never hurts to have a lot of reasons to pound someone down. (Which, if you have been paying attention, has been Lia's tactical mistake up to this point.)

Her second one came next. Lia's own fists rose up, her face tight and focused, dropping the goofy grin like a discarded mask. Doom moved in and her fists twitched. Even a seasoned asshole could get out-assholed. Lia saw the feint coming... Oh, wait, that's a-- And then the kick struck Lia. She had shifted her weight on pure instinct to try to mitigate the damage to her knee, but it still struck solidly enough. Lia's feet slipped out from under her and she fell to the mat, huffing in pain.

Letting her get the first hit filled Lia with indignant rage. She's a PHD you idiot! That means overthinker, the sort of jerk who would spend countless hours of her life to attain a pointless credential to show a tiny level of superiority over people who don't care! She's ALWAYS gonna be thinking even when pissed! (Thoughts came fast when adrenalin was pumping.) But at the moment, she had no outlet for it apart from cursing herself.

Doom took no small amount of satisfaction in watching the pink-haired fool go down. Immediately, Doom began speculating on how much time this young ditz had actually spent fighting, and on how much time she'd spent rolling around a wrestling ring with other, under-dressed bimbos. It hardly matter now, anyways- now the girl was in Doom's ring, and here, Doom fought for keeps.

“Was standing too difficult for you, whelp?” Doom taunted, looming over her foe, for a moment. “Were you trying to chew bubblegum at the same time, perhaps?” As satisfying as it was, however, Doom knew she didn't have too long to rub it in, while Lia was laid low. Quickly and forcefully, Doom attempted to deliver a series of hard, stomping blows to the girl's legs. Raining her thick boots down again and again, Doom's only goal was to inflict as much pain as she could, to her foe, before Lia would be able to recoup. It wasn't pretty, and the crowd certainly didn't appreciate the far-from-sportsmanlike conduct, but that only drove Doom on, further.

Every ounce of frustration Doom had with her time in AFW, she was beginning to project solidly onto Lia. And, more specifically, onto her legs. For as long as she could get away with it, Doom would continue to attempt to damage Lia's firm legs as brutally and as savagely as she could. And, as much as she was hating to admit it, Doom was actually beginning to enjoy herself ...