Diane Cavendish vs. Mikki Wylde

In the gorilla area, Mikki Wylde was bouncing on her heels, trying to keep limber, ready and waiting for her AFW debut. Trainers and managers were standing nearby, ready to check on the newcomer, but she shrugged every one of them off. As her entrance music hit, Mikki exploded onto the ramp, standing tall, pulling her arms up into a pose that showed off every sculpted muscle of her body. Then, shaking like a madwoman, the self-proclaimed “Wylde Child” broke into a full run towards the ring, ignoring everyone on the way until she launched herself upwards, to stand at the ring apron. Taking a firm hold on the ring ropes, Mikki began shaking them like a madwoman, as “Danger Zone” blared through the arena. It was a loud entrance, high-energy, utterly obnoxious and ingratiating, and perfectly suited to Mikki Wylde.

Ducking between the top and middle rope, Mikki took a moment to pose in the ring. Flexing her thick biceps, Mikki took to the center of the ring. Despite her best efforts at being as obnoxious as possible in public during the weeks between getting settled in, in Japan, and her eventual debut, the audience still wasn't certain what to make of her. Taking the mic from the ring announcer, Mikki took a moment to help settle that, for them.

She took a deep breath, hung her head for a dramatic pause, and then launched into a breathless, rasping rant. “People of Japan,” she started, “I … am Mikki Wylde. The “Wylde Child.” The Ultimate Grappler. I have honed my skills in the land of the giants, and now I arrive here, to show you what power looks like. My body is a temple, and that temple is a ziggurat. A temple to warriors, and to their glory.” As she ranted, mostly riffing off of whatever came off the top of her head. As she continued to engage her every muscle, hoping the bright arena lights would catch the thin layer of oil and highlight her considerable tone. Mikki continued ranting, her voice growing illogically deeper, “And as the ziggurat, I shall be leading the AFW's warriors up to the pinnacle, and they shall be as a sacrifice to the gods!” Mikki lifted an arm, flexing it, before continuing with “Do you see this twenty-four-inch python? It's name is Quetzecoatl, the devourer of worlds, and it hungers! So bring me warriors, AFW, march your sacrifices to the Wylde Child, let them be broken upon the altar, for the glory of this temple!”

Finishing, Mikki began to hand the mic back to the announcer, but rudely dropped it, at the last second. Walking back to the ropes, Mikki resumed maniacally shaking them, before letting up and waiting for her first opponent to make her way to the ramp.

A slightly more controlled guitar riff kicked in on the arena speakers, red and white lighting lining the entrance as the second debutee, Diane Cavendish, marched into the arena.

In contrst to her opponent, she simply raised an arm to wave at the fans, smiling demurely. She was excited for her first match, red eyes glinting as they keenly took in the surroundings.

Diane had a calm but confident air as she walked briskly towards the ring. Her outfit was simple but attractive, pink lycra twopiece with black trim, and striking thigh-high white boots, feminine without seeming to frilly.

Of course, Diane mused, it wasn't too difficult to look feminine in the presence of Mikki. The other grappler's size did cause her to raise an eyebrow as she climbed the ring steps and ducked through the ropes. She deftly collected the mic as she did so, not wanting to let some of the pre-match rant go unanswered.

She licked her lips and glanced around. Mikki's body was distractingly huge, a good foot taller than Diane, who was no nymph herself. If she fell to this behemoth, she would fall badly, but she knew she couldn't let that show. An unconcerned smile held firm across her face as she addressed her opponent.

"Evening, Ms. Wylde," she began in her pleasant, well-spoken British tones. Thank you for the erm, history - slash - architecture lesson, but I'm afraid no-one's being sacrificed tonight." Diane smirked briefly, allowing a pause to let her quiet disdain sink in. "Okay? They, erm, do speak English in the "land of the giants", don't they?" she enquired, tilting her head to one side as if Mikki might struggle to understand her.

Mikki waited patiently, as her opponent made her way to the ring. Everything about the Cavendish girl seemed more measured, more controlled, as she marched her way down to the ramp. From beneath her bangs, Mikki studied her foe, a grin tugging at the corners of her lips. Diane was a rather tall, well-built girl; not quite as large as the "Wilde Child" but certainly no slouch. Everything about the girl played the excited babyface; the gleam in her eyes, the cute outfit, the demure grin and the coy wave to the crowd. Mikki couldn't help but look forward to seeing what she could do, to try and squash that excitement, in the ring.

When Diane entered the ring and addressed her, Mikki tried to shake it off. Flexing her arms and throwing her head back, letting her face disappear beneath a shambling mass of multicolored bangs, Mikki let the young British girl say her piece. As she listened to Diane's seemingly upbeat response, however, Mikki couldn't shake the feeling that there was more than a little bit of condescension, in the Brit's voice. Was that how she was going to play things, then? Really? Mikki's shaggy, wild hair revealed little more than an ever-expanding grin, as she moved over towards her opponent for the night. Rolling her shoulders upwards, flexing every muscle in her upper body, Mikki let her figure loom over her opponent, as she took a deep breath, and prepared her response.

"In the land of the giants," Mikki said, making certain to shout down into the mic, glaring down into Diane's eyes, "we speak the language of the Warriors. It is a language of sacrifice, with 42 different names for paaaaiiin." Mikki extended that last word, as she leaned over her foe, hanging her head over Diane's craned neck, trying to emphasize her height advantage over the other girl. "A language, that the Wylde Child, will be spelling out for you tonight." Mikki raised her arms, flexing her biceps firmly, again, showing off her muscle tone yet again in anticipation of the opening bell. "For upon every muscle, is the alphabet, and in every bone, lies the lexicon, of the language of the warriors! Which you shall soon learn!"

Well, this girl doesnâ€t lack for confidence, mused Diane, standing her ground as Mikki yelled down into the microphone. It wasnâ€t surprising really, the physical mismatch between the two wrestlers looking pretty striking as they stood head - to -head (or more accurately, head - to - chest, with Diane barely reaching Mikkiâ€s neck). It was a worrying situation, but Diane knew if she let any doubts surface, she would be doomed.

“Yes, okay, we get it,” Diane sighed, exaggerating a pained, faintly appalled expression as Mikki shouted down into her face. “Youâ€re a big strong jungle warrior who lives in her own special world. How exciting for you.” Diane licked her lips and rolled her neck to loosen her own muscles, as she anticipated the upcoming conflict.

“Maybe I can show you a couple of things, though. Civilisation, for one. And actual wrestling? Youâ€d better be bringing more than brawn, otherwise youâ€re in trouble, I can assure you,” Diane smiled.

She would glance over to the referee, seeing if it was time for her to drop the mic and get the match underway, but the official was yet to formally ring the bell.

Mikki's face cracked from ear to ear, with a wide grin. This prim and proper Brit wasn't showing an ounce of doubt, as she loomed over her. This, Mikki figured, would only help to get the crowd behind her, and make it that much more impressive to them when Mikki managed to bring her down. And if Diane was disgusted with Mikki now, then Mikki certainly had some surprises in store for her, when the bell finally rang.

Mikki raised an arm, flexing her bicep as strongly as she could, while continuing to stare Diana down. “I bring, the strength, the power, the muscles of the Wylde Child,” she said, once more, pausing even more than usual so that she could let the crowd take in the sight of her bulging bicep. “The mighty snake, Quetzecoatl,” she continued, “the great beast, who hungers! Hungers for you!” With that, exploding off of her feet, Mikki lunged forward and brought that flexing bicep down towards Diane's face in a wild, reckless clothesline.

Mikki cast the mic aside, the loud “THUD” of its impact against the mic ringing through the arena. The ref girl hurriedly signalled for the opening bell. Mikki, however, was already bearing downward, more than ready to get things underway.

Diane decided to stand firm in the face of Mikkiâ€s aggression. Showing fear at this point would be shameful, so the cool Brit remained stoic, raising an eyebrow as Mikki rehashed her earlier rhetoric.

Her red eyes were shining fiercely, almost daring Mikki to try something. This might have been a mistake. Diane was punished for her lack of fear by a sudden, pre-match clothesline.

Caught off-guard, her face was struck hard by that oiled, muscular arm, immediately sending her senses into high alert. She staggered backwards, rubbing her nose as pain spread across her features.

Reeling, she could hear the boos of the crowd, as well as the belated match bell, neither of which were particularly helpful to the struggling Diane. The only positive was that Mikki had shown her true heel colours from the off, but that on its own wouldnâ€t help her avoid a beating.

Mikki practically seethed, as Diane stared back at her. Every moment of the pre-match build had been firing off on every synapse in the "Wylde Child's" body. The electric sensation running up and down her spine, fueling the clothesline that Mikki had brought down hard on Diane's face. The eventual ringing of the bell confirmed what Mikki already knew. It was on, in a manner not dissimlar to Donkey Kong, and it was time for "the Ultimate Grappler" to get to work.

With Diane reeling from the blow to her pretty face, Mikki knew she had the advantage. The chorus of boos didn't seem to faze the woman, as she stepped hard towards her opponent, again. Reaching out with one hand, Mikki attempted to take a fistful of the British girl's white hair, entwining her fingers deeply into her silky locks. As long as Mikki could get a solid hold of Diane's hair, she would try to use her strength to yank Diane downward, to bend the young woman into a compromising position so that Mikki could take advantage of a vulnerable back. Flashing a cocky grin to the jeering crowd, Mikki began to swing hard with her free hand, straight to Diane's back. As long as she was able to get her prim and pretty opponent into position, Mikki would begin delivering pummeling blow after pummeling blow to Diane's spine.

Diane gave a squeal of pain as, still reeling from the face blow, she felt her hair being grabbed and tugged. Her scalp burned as she was roughly pulled forwards and put into a bent-over position, a rather undignified start for her. She started to struggle, grasping at the hand on her head, but found Mikkiâ€s grip unyielding. Dianeâ€s problems were soon compounded by a hard fist to her upturned spine.

“Ahh!!” she yelled, shuddering in pain. Her squirming did little to advance her escape attempt, although her bent-over butt did shake nicely for the cameras.

Second and third hits continued her torment, making her reel from the pain as her back was tenderised. She needed to nip this in the bud, lest she become a punching bag for this ape.

Steeling herself, Diane would wrap her arms around Mikkiâ€s waist and blindly push forwards, hoping her tall opponent might topple back if pushed hard enough.

Mikki beamed, a bit, as the ref girl was already warning her to release Diane's hair. A warning she completely ignored, of course, in favor of shaking the white-haired Brit around, letting her body squirm and shimmy, for the cameras. Raising her fist to the sky, Mikki drowned out the ref's beginning five-count with a primal shout, listening to the crowd count along as the brought blow after blow down on her opponent.

Mikki was proud, of this display of dominance over the wriggling Brit. So much so, actually, that the “Macho Chick” lost track of what was going on around her. Instead of milking her domination, as planned, Mikki found herself falling backwards, pushed hard by her surprisingly strong opponent. Unbalanced immediately, unprepared for resistance, Mikki's feet went out from beneath her as Diane's powerful charge bowled her over.

However, Mikki did not release the young woman's white locks. Instead, as she came down hard on her back, Mikki tried her best to force Diane's face down to the mat with her. It was a clumsy attempt, but the “Wylde Child” vowed that she wasn't heading down to that mat, alone.

Diane had been gambling somewhat that taking the fight to the ground would improve her situation. That seemed to backfire. As she toppled their bodies towards the mat, Diane felt her hair being cattily tugged, which kept her head in place. Face-down, her falling features were forced straight into the canvas.

“Unghh!!” she groaned as she ate the mat. It was a tough blow to take, and her eyes watered. Her disorientation at the start of the fight had not really improved. More than a little stunned, Diane was worried about getting caught by her gigantic opponent, as she knew Mikki would have had a gentler fall onto the mat.

The British wrestler would try to roll away from her foe and point her legs in the general direction of Mikki, trying to kick out with her long white boots if she could sense her opponent coming near.