Liberty vs Aisha

This wasn't how her return was supposed to have gone at all.

Liberty thought she had left AFW behind, as her prideful and impulsive attentions had turned away from wrestling and towards far more interesting matters, namely, the impending collapse of late-capitalist Europe. However, despite her best efforts (i.e. throwing stuff in the street), the banks had won through. Again. She'd never felt more disheartened, coming back to AFW's den of inequity with her tail between her legs, the progress she had made in tatters.

Needing cash and match bookings fast, she had taken the first bout to have the word 'hardcore' in its rules description. She figured that beating the shit out of an unsuspecting mid-carder would go some way to improving her mood.

Still, a faint smile broke through her indifferent snarl as she heard her music play out front, and she marched onto the entrance ramp to a good reception from the crowd. Some folks remembered her, at least. The black-haired girl was wearing her classic match attire, a short leather skirt, a grubby white top that barely contained her large chest, and brutal-looking boots and elbow pads.

The old lure of the ring began to get her pulse racing, especially when she saw it littered with weapons, and she skipped quickly up the steps and ducked keenly onto the canvas. Liberty was taken aback at how easily she was warming to her old habits and love of wrestling. This was the first time she actually felt positive since landing back in this godforsaken island. She gave a quick salute to the crowd and clapped her hands together with relish, eager to see the opponent she'd be using to reinstate her hardcore credentials tonight.

The clapping continued, and the crowd only grew louder as three stripper poles suddenly emerged from underneath the entrance, right at the top of the ramp. The AFW had plenty of Rumble Rose fans in it, many of whom kept up with its stars even after the company shut down. Quite of few of them recognized this particularly set up from a certain music video, and they had a good feeling what was about to happen.

Their suspicious were all confirmed as No More played came out over the loudspeakers and the lights all dimmed, getting dark and dirty like the hottest club on Friday night. Two women emerged from backstage - fine, dark-skinned beauties with long and lean thighs, toned stomach, magnificent chests and long, shimmering hair, all of which could easily be appreciated with the barely-there lingerie they were wearing. Both of them were up to the AFW's fine standard of women, but neither of them could compare with the main attraction of this little show - Sistah A was about to take the stage.


Aisha emerged from backstage, donning her infamously risque Sistah A outfit, the same one that had been the subject of many an SNL skit back in the States. In Japan, though, it was a completely different story. The crowd loved it, and they showed their appreciation with a round of applause as Aisha strode towards the center pole with her headset turned up loud and a teasing smile on her face.

”Didn’t you know, you’re the only telling me I’m so vain
Told you once, can’t give advice to me.

Aisha’s dancer swung around the poles, going through the routine they’d gone over dozens of times in practice over the last week, skillfully working their way around the stage. They were good - damn good - but the Dancing Sistah knew how to keep the crowd’s attention, and her dulcet tones brought their focus where it was supposed to be. She walked from side to side with a swish in every step, making sure all the fans got to see what she knew they wanted to see.

Every little kiss for breaking my heart
Always waiting for your big lie
I’m-a make you sell your soul improperly.

She sauntered over to the middle pole and grabbed hold, joining the girls and keeping up with them in perfect time. They turned away from the crowd, bent forward, and swayed to the music, left and right, left and right, bodies jiggling with every little twist and twerk. Aisha couldn’t lie - for all the shit she’d given the AFW about the way they added so much sex into wrestling, now that she was actually here and indulging in the more sensual side of things, she could see some of the appeal. It was all about entertainment, right? Pleasing the fans? And from the way they were cheering up a storm behind, they sounded very pleased, indeed

”I don’t wanna cry no more
Got to be so strong
Never gonna less this again.

I don’t wanna love no more
Never want to hear
Voices from my lonely heart

Oooooooooo, No More!”

The lights went dark on Liberty as she leaned against the turnbuckle, watching the entrance ramp with interest... that gradually turned to annoyance as Aisha's gaudy spectacle hit its stride.

Subterranean stripper poles? Backing dancers? A fucking dance routine??

Liberty's expression soured. She liked to think of herself as a pretty tolerant woman, but there were some things she would not stand for. Things like choreography.

With all eyes on the writhing and gyrating girls at the entrance, few would see Liberty slip from the ring under the cover of the set's seedy semi-darkness. When she came back into view, halfway down the entrance ramp at the edge of a spotlight, she was clutching a metal folding chair.

"NO MORE!!" she yelled at the top of her lungs, holding the weapon back up behind her head, before flinging it wildly towards the entrance in the general direction of the three dancers. It was hard to aim a chair for a mid-range throw, but the thoughtful inclusion of backing dancers meant Liberty was bound to hit someone, if not Aisha.

Aisha was starting to seriously regret not coming to the AFW sooner. Back with Rumble Roses, this sort of entrance would have gotten a mixed reaction. Cheers from the fans who could appreciate a good show, boos from the hardcore purists who weren't happy if you showed a little skin. This crowd, however, seemed unanimous in their approval, and they were only getting louder and louder by the second. If they were loving this, Aisha couldn’t wait to see how they went for the second.

”No more!” Aisha began to turn around with a long swing of her hips, pouring as much soul into her voice as she could spare. ”No more, no more, no-”

THAWK!

That was all Aisha heard immediately after a hot flash of pain came over her face, stunning her and knocking flat on her back. She’d been wrestling long enough to know the sound of a chair’s impact when she heard it, and she could put one and one together - looked like her opponent had gotten a little impatient.

For now, all she could do was sit up and groan, rubbing her head where a lump would surely be forming soon. Her dancers scattered, not wanting any part of the match, but the music was still going on full blast, even as the bell rang. "Gah, fucking bitch!"

Liberty laughed gleefully as she scored a direct hit on Aisha's head. Her chuckles were drowned out by the shocked and disapproving yells from the crowd, along with Aisha's curses that were picked up loud and clear by the dancer's headset. For Liberty, these reactions made it all the funnier. The icing on the cake was that she'd heard the match bell too, over all these shenanigans, meaning her entrance ramp attack was deemed legitimate, and they could get down to fighting right away. Excellent.

The scruffy anarchist marched down the entrance ramp, ignoring the booing fans screaming over the barriers, to where Aisha had been knocked on her ass.

"What!?" Liberty gestured with a shrug as she stood over her foe, before getting in Aisha's face. "This is a HARDCORE match, not a strip club!!"

Liberty hooked one hand under Aisha's arm, her other hand grabbing a fistful of blonde hair, and yanked the other woman roughly to her feet.

"Listen, Showgirls, just make your fucking entrance already!" Liberty yelled into Aisha's ear (and headset), dragging her a few steps before using her hold to whip the dancer towards the ring, trying to send her tumbling into the apron.

Yup, sure enough, when Aisha looked over her shoulder, she saw her opponent coming her way. Looking all pissed off and ready for one hell of a fight. Good. She was starting to rapidly get in that mode, too.

For now, though, she was stunned, and she'd done enough homework to know that wasn't the best thing with Liberty. She'd done a little homework on the former hardcore champion. Big girl, rough and sloppy, but  coming off a fairly long hiatus from the ring. She'd been a little hesitant to jump into this sort of match so early in her AFW run, but it seemed like a solid win.

As Liberty grabbed her hair and dragged her towards the ring, she was starting to have her doubt. "Get the fuck off me!" She stumbled down the ramp, helplessly hauled along. They were about the same height, but the former champion obviously had a lot more weight to work with, and she knew how to throw it around. "Bitch, let go of my goddamn-"

Liberty did let her go, but only so she could throw the diva into the ring apron. Her front crashed into it at full force and she flopped down to her back right afterwards, clutching her barely-covered chest.

Barely a few seconds into the fight, Liberty already had a hapless bimbo at her feet, reminding her of past glories. Maybe things weren't so bad after all. Well, not if she could keep taking out her frustrations on Aisha, anyway.

She marched up to the fallen fighter, and jabbed a steel-clad toe into her opponent's ribs. "Now what did I JUST tell you, tits-for-brains??" Liberty snarled as she reached down and yanked Aisha up again in the same arm-and-hair-yanking combo. "Stop messing about on your dumb entrance!"

Liberty would drag Aisha a couple of steps to the side so they were by the corner of the ring... then, grabbing the back of her opponent's head, she would move to smack Aisha's face onto the outside of the turnbuckle!!

Rumble Roses hadn't been known for hardcore matches, certainly not ones like this, but Aisha had done a few of them near the end. Street fights were her specialty, and she never lost a single one. She thought that would transfer well over to the AFW, but as Liberty's boot sunk deep into her stomach, she was starting to rethink that position.

Aisha shriek echoed through the arena as she was dragged along, roughly hauled by the bigger woman, heading straight for the corner of the ring. She knew where this was going, and she wasn't about to let it happen - as soon as they were close, she brought her foot up and braced it against the turnbuckle, pushing away from it. In the same motion, she jerked around with her free arm and tried to elbow Liberty in her stomach with a wild blow, hoping she could get in some offense before the match got completely out of her control.

Liberty was really looking forward to hearing the satisfying clang of face-on-turnbuckle - a desire which blinded her to the danger of trying such an obviously telegraphed move on a far from passive opponent. She staggered back at Aisha's counter, grunting with annoyance as much as pain from the elbow in the ribs.

Liberty gripped the ring with one arm to steady herself, whilst the other rubbed her midriff. She had a *slight* newfound respect for Aisha now... or at least, would start to look at her as an opponent rather than a punchbag.

"Seriously, though, who comes to a hardcore match dressed like slave Princess Leia?" she snarled as she caught her breath and properly assessed her foe and her surroundings for the first time.

Aisha staggered away after the elbow connected, gladly taking the moment to catch her breath and regroup. Liberty had caught her off guard, but the score was feeling a lot more even now, and she was ready to show the chunky bitch exactly what she was dealing with. Which she’d have to, because she seemed confused on a few matters.

”It’s a hentai hardcore match, you big bitch.” She tossed off the headset and got her fists up, bouncing on her heels and starting up her classic fighting stance. ”And like you can fucking talk! Showing about as much skin as me, and at least I fit in my goddamn clothes!”

Aisha spat to the side and came at Liberty, eager to bring the fight back to her. She swung her leg out, quick and low, going for a roundhouse kick to the former champion’s meaty thigh.