Blaise Cameron vs Amy Poford- A Fresh Start

Match type: Standard
Winning Conditions: Pinfall, Submission, Knockout

In the week after her match against Domino, Amy spent a lot of time at the gym.

She swam laps instead of goofing around across every lane, making the lifeguard worry that something was wrong. She tried her hand at every machine, probably using more than a few incorrectly. She worked the heavy bag to the point of exhaustion- that was her favorite. It was exercise, and it took her mind off of things, which was good. But that wasn’t the point.

She did attract some attention, as was bound to happen, and it wasn’t like she never made the first move. But through some accident of luck, the usual crop of competitive Tension wrestlers must have all been out resting simultaneously, because the only people that bothered to respond were the ones looking to getting into her pants. Once she made it clear that she was raring for a fight, they quickly lost interest and moved on to more receptive prey.

So when the AFW promoters offered her a match in the very next taping, she picked it up without a second thought. She didn’t even bother looking at the name. The best way to get over a bad fight was a good fight.

Amy made her way to the arena entrance without waiting for her usual PA escort. She didn’t have her iPod on her, either, because she’d finally chosen entrance music. She wasn’t going to leave that up to the gods anymore; not after last time.

She was also wearing her normal gym clothes. Her “idol” outfit hung on a hanger in the very far reaches of her closet, back with her summer clothes and bikinis- other clothes she didn’t expect to be wearing any time soon. No, today she was back to basics- a white tee over a blue sports bra, with fingerless gloves on her hands and tight black shorts on the bottom. Sure, this outfit might not have been full of personality like her company-given clothes were, but it wasn’t completely devoid of identity. It was- how had Drake described it?- all-natural and…

Fuck. Amy slapped herself lightly on both cheeks. Stop that.

The sound guy- Ken, as it turned out- gave her a big smile and two thumbs up. He was grateful to have finally received a proper clip file for this girl’s entrance music. He was catching flak for unprofessional conduct, and frankly he was tired of having to hold her iPod for the duration of the match.

Amy gave a thumbs up back. She was ready. Amy burst out the curtains.

“*Tick* *tick* *tick* is BURRRRRRNNNN!~”

The sustain to Deep Purple’s Burn crashed over the crowd. Amy took a wide stance and held up a fist as the guitars ripped and the word drew out. She would have to figure out who to talk to to get some fireworks to shoot while she did this. The song was practically begging for pyrotechnic treatment.

She skipped down to the ring, waving to her left and right. There were more than a few disappointed faces when they saw that she wasn't wearing her special ring attire, but Amy was fine with it. This was her, and she didn't need the crowd's- or anyone's- approval for that.

Amy slid gracefully into the ring. She gave a final 360 degree wave before settling into the far corner. Her energy was up, and she wished her opponent would just get here already. Showmanship was fine and all, but it was keeping her fist from flesh.

Blaise:

'Ohhh snap.'

Blaise couldn't be more thrilled. His first match at a brand new federation. New opportunities, new rivalries, new crowds to thrill! He's almost too excited to finish the final checks on his wardrobe! He pivots to the left, turns his shoulders to the right, then stretches his arms back to pull his body taut, examining himself thoroughly in the mirror. Everything looks in place! Not that his attire is particularly complicated to begin with, consisting of a pair of sapphire blue trunks and boots trimmed in black. But it's new! He couldn't be more hyped about it.

And the fact that his opponents will be entirely female isn't lost on him. The thought earns a fresh little grin, but it soon dissipates. If they're real competitors, they have to be tough. And tough chicks are almost never attractive. Those Miss Universe pageants are pure nightmare-fuel. On the plus side, he might actually be able to concentrate.

He finally turns to face the mirror completely and points a finger-gun at the glass. The 'hammer' drops in tandem with a wink. "Let's do this."

As if on cue, a worker knocks on the door half a second before entering. "You're needed on curtain."

'Erk!' "Coming!"

He almost didn't make it on time, but when the speakers begin pumping the chorus to Wayward Son, the scrappy teen erupts into view. Hands raise to soak in the audience's obligatory praise for a moment before starting towards the ring. He simply bleeds energy on the way there, pointing and smiling at the people in the crowd who look just so into it. And finally, he slides into the ring under the bottom rope and nimbly kips up to his feet.

Blaise smoothly bends and transitions his balance onto a single hand, legs tilted back and toes pointed to the skylights. His free hand points to the girl he had yet to even really take a look at up until now, as if calling her out, before thrusting off and flipping over to land on his boots again. It's a first appearance! Gotta make an impression!

But about that girl...

Blaise moves back into his corner to let the referee check him for weaponry and such, but those blue eyes are locked onto her curiously. She's not hulked out at all. She's pretty. But she's bound to be an athlete if she's out here, so he can't underestimate her. He can, however, offer her a bright smile from his corner.

Uncharacteristically, Amy was severely disinterested in her opponent tonight- as far as she was concerned, he was a faceless punching bag that had the misfortune to be in the ring with her on a particularly bad week. But then he kipped up nimbly from the mat and caught her interest, and she started to notice his human characteristics- tall, well-built, an easy smile, nice hair.

Then her opponent pulled himself up into a one-handed handstand. Amy nodded in approval, and even let herself smile a bit. Solid form, pretty good control, he’s even got the pointed toes, so points for style. Then he looked and pointed directly at her from his freeze, and her smile widened and her eyebrow went up. Did he just… Aw, hell naw.

Amy made sure that her opponent could see her behind the ref as he was being patted down while she moved out of her corner and into the center of the ring. First, she fell forward onto a single hand, mimicking his earlier move. Then, to one-up him, she performed five quick one-handed hops, swinging her free arm and kicking her legs with each bounce. Then she found her feet again- her dismount wasn’t quite as showy as his, but she felt that she’d made her point. Grinning, she gave a broad wink and crossed her arms, as if daring him to respond.

Blaise expected the match to kick off immediately after the ref' finished. He did not expect his opponent to stomp the yard. Those big blue eyes blink. Then blink again. She starts hopping on her hand, and he physically jolts, specifically for the audience's benefit. This becomes more evident when he turns partially aside to nod and clap, encouraging the audience to indulge in the moment. It's not every day a match begins with a dance-off, is it?

Once she's on her feet and giving him that oh-so-obvious 'your turn' look, the teen sets a hand to the referee girl in front of him to gently nudge her aside. He steps past her to the center of the ring, rolling his wrists in a loose, relaxed manner that both hypes up the audience while simultaneously suggesting that he's too cool to care, yo. That relaxed energy suddenly surges to his legs as he performs a quick juke and suddenly upends himself, assuming what has become their 'starter position', balanced on a single hand.

Blaise squints at his opponent, upside-down, with a confident smile.

Suddenly, his legs twist over in a corkscrew before unwinding in a wild flare. As the momentum whips his lower body around in rotation, he alternates which hand he's using for balance. This carries for a few seconds before curling his legs backwards and pushing off the mat with both hands to perform a half-flip and land upright. The routine ends with a smooth whisk of his hand through his hair, lips thinned into a deliberately smug line.

But that smugness evaporates almost immediate into another bright smile as he takes a step back, arms waving to usher in the audience's praise.

Amy was clutching her sides and laughing. This was the best start to a fight that she could have hoped for- that anyone could have hoped for. The crowd was going crazy, and, once her nameless opponent had found his feet again, she was clapping too. She approached the center of the ring with a hand out, arm bent at the elbow, to give him a handshake. Not a regular handshake, but a handshake three notches cooler than a regular handshake, the kind that uses the clutched hands to pull the participants' bodies in close and their free arms around the shoulders for a quick bro hug.

"I'm Amy. I've never known a B-boy to use Kansas as his entrance music before." she'd say with a smirk once their ritualistic greeting was complete.

Her laughter might come off as mocking to some of the more sensitive types. But not Blaise. The girl is smiling, so it's a good time for everyone. When she steps forward and offers her hand, he receives it and flows smoothly against her chest, his other arm hooking her shoulder for the bro-hug. Of course he'd instinctively know what she was going for. They speak the secret language of breakdance.

"What, you know a lott'a breakdancing wrestlers?," returns Blaise with a teasing lilt. "The name's Blaise! It's nice to meet'cha! Not that I expected my debut to be like this, but at least now I can honestly say I now know someone besides Tom Cruise who's danced in their underwears." Because trunks be like underwears, see.

Self-teasing aside, he eases back a step from her and leans forward, hands lifting to invite the girl to lock up with him. His darker blue eyes lock onto her fairer blues, eager to get going. "You ready for this, Amy? Don't hold back, 'kay?"

*DING!*

Blaise. What an awesome name. “I know of at least one other,” She tapped the side of her nose secretively. “and she also walks out to classic rock. Must be a thing.” Something he said tickled at the back of her mind, and she blinked. “Whoa, this is your first match? Hey, I’m honored. Well, classic rock buddy, we’ll have to give this dance battle our proper attention once our fight’s over.”

His next statement caused a strange look to flit across her face for an instant. But the look was gone in the next, leaving no trace of its presence except for a touch of darkness in her eyes. “Don’t you worry about that; I won’t be holding back. You’d better give it your all, too.”

The bell sounded, and Blaise's hands were up for a lock-up. But, naturally, Amy ignored them. Already well within striking distance, she stepped forward and threw a hard right cross between his hands and straight into Blaise's nose.

The match isn't even underway, and already Blaise is having a great time. And he's got a good feeling about this match! It seems these two are vibing pretty nicely off each other, they're both dancers, they've both got that fiery determination...

...plus, she's still pretty cute. He can't help but smile a little more at her when the bell rings.

'Let's do thi-'

Blaise's world whites out for only a flash of a moment, but long enough for him to question what just happened. He catches himself staggering back with a hand placed over his nose, his eyes watering. 'OW.' Well, he did tell her not to hold back. He can't be mad about it.

"Alright... ow. Nice shot. My turn!"

He charges forward, right fist cocked back to aim a punch at the girl's temple to return fire. If she wants to start off their match in a brawl, he can oblige! Let it never be said that he shies away from a challenge! Nevermind that this is the first time he'll be wrestling a girl, he's got a point to make here tonight!

Amy paid close attention to how Blaise was approaching. He'd pulled back his fist before his feet had started moving- it could have been a feint, sure, but he'd twisted his torso, too, so anything other than that right hook was going to hit with a huge discount in damage. Furthermore, his elbows were high, indicating a high target, confirmed by the lock his eyes had on her face. Amy wasn't a slouch at reading body language, and she wasn't an expert, either, but, physically, Blaise was an open book. She didn't know where he had come from, or what his fighting background was like, but she could easily believe that this was his very first match.

Still, he'd taken a full on punch to the nose and bounced right back; plus, he had asked her not to hold back, which was never in the plans, anyway. So when Blaise was close, she made her move. "Actually," she said as she stepped in and ducked, his punch whiffing over her head. "I haven't quite finished my turn yet." She punctuated her sentence with two sharp punches to Blaise's naked midsection, one for each of his obliques.

A swing and a miss! Blaise's punch goes wide, leaving his body exposed to Amy for whatever amount of punishment she had in mind. And it seemed the order of the day read as follows: moar punch!

Her knuckles slam into his bare midsection, the first causing his body to jolt from the impact. "Unh!" The second forces the young man to double over, his chest pressing against her shoulder while his arms loop his midsection protectively. "Mnf..." He'd have a snappy comeback, but right now he feels both sore and queasy. Witty banter will have to wait a moment. On the plus side for Amy, her opponent seems stuck in that doubled up position for a moment - but only a moment.