Lady and the Tramp

It was a busy time in the life of River Styx. Busy, busy, busy.

She was fresh off her win with Odessa at the hardcore tag match, which meant that there would a fight for the #1 contender spot on the belt soon. That was going to give her a whole host of problems and possiblities, but on top of that, she'd started her 'Hardcore Crusade'. Educating the unwashed masses about the beauties of real hardcore wrestling, not the cheap, diluted version they'd came to get from the AFW. The real stuff. The best stuff. Styx was determined to show these people things they'd never seen before, whether they wanted to see them or not. Hell, especially if they didn't want to see them.

Also, she was fucking three, maybe four, girls on and off. So life was on the upswing, really.

But, through it all, she'd been keeping one thing on her mind. Or, more specifically, one name: Gwendolyn DuPont Bettencourt. More specifically still, the last thing she'd heard Ms. Bettercourt say to her, as she was hauled off into the black abyss by Migiri Oozora.

“Do not dare fail me!!! Prevail this night and I foretaste a hefty [size=28]compensation in your future!!”

She'd heard that loud and clear. Money. Not exactly a written contract, but good enough for Styx. To be honest, she'd been so busy with matches and smoking and fucking women in unsanitary venues that she'd almost completely forgotten about Gwen's promise - until Avalanche. Until Gwen won herself the Entropy Belt. Then it all came rushing back to her.

Gwen, sweet Gwen, owed River Styx a debt. And River Styx always collected her debts.

It had been a week since that fateful day, and the word was that Gwen was going to put a bowtie on her tonight, have her own little victory lap. Styx figured this would be the best time to pay her a visit, and the only trick was making sure she was in the right place at the right time. It wasn't too hard. One of the stagehands told her where she needed to be with a little aggressive persuasion. The executive suite, a place Styx had snuck into before when she'd needed some supplies or a place to sleep for the night. Nice, big cabinets, thick walls, and only one way in or out. Perfect.

Styx made her way into the executive suite, taking care to stay as conspicious as a six foot tall vagrant could be. It wasn't too long until she found the right room, marked with a fancy 'RESERVERED' sign for the new Entropy Champion. Empty, now. But not for long. Soon, Styx's new best friend would come back, and they would have a very personal chat about the importance of keeping promise.

She looked left. She looked right. The coast was clear. Styx took a hot second to work the lock open with a paperclip, and then she hummed a little tune under breath as she slid inside the room. The door closed behind her with a soft click...

Well. Well, well, well.

Styx hadn't thought that winning the Entropy Title would give Gwen a lesson in humility, but it seemed like the woman's ego had swollen to about three times the size since they'd last met. They didn't exactly walk the same circles, but from the from the brief, enjoyable time they'd spent together, she could guess what was going through the rich bitch's mind. Probably thought she was destined for this. That she deserved it. That the title belonged in her emmaculate, pristine hands.

She also seemed to think that Styx was someone else entirely. She cocked her fist, ready to correct the heiress in the most direct way possible, but she stopped when she saw the bevy of beautician tools at Gwen's side. A better idea was starting to form in her mind, even better than beating the shit out of Gwen. Hell, it didn't even have to be an either/or sort of thing, she could do both!

Styx stepped back and took what she assumed was a curling iron. Her own hair styling pretty much boiled down to going at her scalp with a straight razor every few weeks, so she wasn't exactly an expert. But she was a quick learner and Gwen did have a lot of hair to work with...

Styx put as much honey on her voice as possible and gave it the sweetest British accent she could manage without vomiting. "Alexia is indisposed, madame Bettencourt, and she recommended me to take her place. I am..." She was doing good on the accent, but she needed a name. Something fancy. "...Louisa Elizabeth Einstein Mayflower Tennessee Buttercup Phillips. The Fourth." Nailed it.

Styx reached down and lifted up a few of Gwen's gossamer strands, considereing what it would feel like to yank them clean from her scalp. "You are enjoying your well-earned title, yes? I saw your match. It was oh-so very thrilling."

'Renoncule'? That was a real name?

Styx had a little cough to cover up the silence while she thought up a fresh batch of bullshit. It would figure that a bourgeoisie layabout like Gwen would be acquainted with every pretentious preening prick's parlor from the River Seine to the Irish Sea.

"Ah, yes, Alexia would not have mentioned me. The story surrounding the Phillip name is a sad one, full of woe. Better left unsaid. But do not be vexed, my lady - Louisa will do your shimmering strands justice. Like Alexandre and his Eiffel Tower, I shall make you a sight worthy of only the finest eyes."  Her accent was still holding strong. All those hours watching Dr. Who episodes on the library computers was paying off.

While Styx tried to figure out exactly how the curling iron worked, she tried to piece together a crucial question: who the fuck was Haley? It took her a moment to pick up the context clues and realize that Gwen was talking about Silver Ace. Far more of a mundane name than Styx would have pegged for a girl with silver hair, but she guessed the gimmick just made up for a lot.

"Indeed. The true warrior wins before the bell rings, and my lady? She is a fierce warrior. Now that Styx really looked at it, Gwen's hair was actually pretty nice. Not when it was up in fru-fru curls, but natural? Not bad. This was good headbanging hair. "You are not afraid of the repercussions, however? The upstart will surely try to regain her former title, and I doubt she will see her unworthiness as an obstacle."

While they talked, Styx occupied herself by experimenting on Gwen's hair. The hypothesis? Styx surmised that she would be able to curl Gwen's hair so much that a lock of it fell off.

Styx was just starting to wonder how long she could keep the charade going, when Gwen answered the question for her. Figured that it wouldn't last forever, though she was curious how the rich bitch put the pieces together. Couldn't have been the smell, Styx had taken a shower and brushed her teeth for this get-together, so she was as clean and minty fresh as she ever got.

Didn't matter. Now they could get to business, though Gwen's calm was amusing. "I think my gaudy workboots would look nice shoved up your tight ass, goldilocks." Her voice was light and fun, but there was a dangerous edge to it, just under the surface. She brought her hands down from Gwen's curls and started a gentle massage around her neck, one that could have became much, much more uncomfortable at a moment's notice. "So maybe, just maybe, I'm not the one who should be judicious with her word choice. Just a thought."

Styx stared down at Gwen for a moment, blue eyes to blue eyes, before she looked away and stepped to the side. Not that she had any problem with wrecking Gwen's shit...under normal cirumstances. But she was here to get paid, and that wouldn't happen if she was comatose. "Didn't know the Entropy Title came with a fresh set of balls." She gave the curling iron a little twirl, as she reached over and pulled up a chair. "Not bad."

Styx's capacity to not grab the chair and wail on Gwen's head was being tested to its uptmost limits at that particular moment, as the pristine, prissy princess had the nerve to threaten her. Maybe having the belt was making her even snottier than usual, maybe it was just bringing out more of the snot that was naturally there. Either way, Styx was beginning to wonder which she would prize more: Gwen's money or Gwen's teeth?

So far, the money was more appealing. That was subject to change.

Styx took a seat and settled in, crossing her legs to get comfy. She spared a quick glance at the minicam, then turned back. "Funny thing about the police," She canted her head to the side, looking on at Gwen with a blank stare and a listless tone in her voice. "You can't call them if you're unconscious. And given all the shit that people get away with around here on a daily basis, on camera, you'll forgive me if I'm not terribly afraid of the Japanese police. I've come across more intimidating mall cops."

Styx waved it off and leaned back, running a hand over her smoothed head. "Look. You said that you'd have something for me if I won. 'Prevail this night and I foretaste a hefty compensation in your future'." She didn't even bother imitating the accent. "I mean, it was a little hard to hear while Migiri was dragging you away for whatever-the-hell she had in mind back there, but I remembered that. It's the future, I prevailed, you're probably a shitty fuck so cash is about the only thing you have to compensate me with, so I guess my question is: where's my fucking money?" Styx held out her hand and rubbed her fingers together, as if she expected Gwen to make it rain, right then and there. Which would've been nice.