Odessa vs. Liberty II

Odessa was not one to lose her temper. She never had been, and she likely never would be. For someone whose whole adult life had centered around her participation in combat sports, she was every inch the proper Englishwoman that her upbringing and her privileged heritage would indicate that she should be. She had fought terrible monsters and had brushed their every vile words aside. She had let insult after insult roll over and off of her shoulders. Her greatest rivalries—with Karina Rine, with Isabella Snow, with Eri Kirisaki, and perhaps most notably with Cecilia Northman—were also friendships. She had no great hatred for anyone in AFW. No one at all, not Emily Nelson, with whom she'd had a brief English-Scottish feud (and made up with), nor River Styx, to whom she had lost a chance at the hardcore title (a defeat which she had come to accept), were subjects of Odessa's ire.

Liberty Vella was not hated by Odessa, either. But Odessa had to admit that the thought of her first match with the former hardcore champion irked her like few other things could. Nothing about it sat right with her. She had to endeavor not to think of it, for if she began to ponder the manner in which she had lost that match, those same flustered, uncouth feelings threatened to emerge again. She ran scenarios in her mind, trying to figure out how she could have won the match even in spite of her foe's blatant flaunting of the rules. Sometimes, she thought about how sweet revenge and an appropriate humiliation of that filthy woman could be.

But those thoughts were ones which Odessa tried to keep under control. She was not interested in petty revenge. She did not want to humiliate Liberty in any way which would seriously scar her. And she did not want to physically scar Liberty in any way—despite the fact that the paint which got in Odessa's eyes could have done a lot more damage to them than it did, and that damage could very well have been permanent. Odessa was lucky.

Even accepting that she could not indulge in the darker revenge fantasies which she had sometimes allowed to run wild in her mind, Odessa needed to make up for what had happened over a year earlier. She hadn't gone after Liberty right away after that fight, but instead had gone out and found herself other fights against other talented women. She had won most, lost a few, and even drawn one or two. But none of those matches, successes or failures, ever bothered her the way her fight with Liberty did. She needed to put it to rest. She had called Liberty out, declaring her desire for a rematch openly, through both official and unofficial channels. She hadn't met Liberty face to face again just yet, but she would soon enough.

Odessa strode out into the arena in high spirits. The stipulations for the match were simple: to win, one woman would have to smother the other into submission or unconsciousness with her ass. The same way that Liberty had won their first fight would be her undoing tonight! As she slid into the ring and began to stretch herself out, Odessa was actually in high spirits. She was eager to see how the filthy, crude former champion was doing after all this time. And she had at least one more stipulation—or, more appropriately, a wager—for Liberty before this fight began.

Odessa would motion to one of the staffers outside of the ring, and was soon enough handed a microphone. "Come on, Libby, darling, this is no time for hiding!" Odessa cooed, her usual sweet self as she spoke smoothly into the microphone. "This meeting is long past due...another face to face meeting to settle some open accounts!"

Unlike Odessa, Liberty was very much one to lose her temper. While she was a happy soul by default, there were a variety of buttons one could push to make her bring out the demon. Only a few weeks ago, Karen Starring did just that, when she put her in a metal chair and tried to Pillmanize it. Liberty was a hardcore wrestler, she was used to pain, but what the blonde bitch did was beyond heinous.

Merciless. Vicious. Cruel.

The doctor stressed how lucky she was, that Karen could’ve done permanent damage if she’d just positioned the chair a little higher or lower. He also stressed that she was absolutely not supposed to be wrestling again in under a month, but if Liberty listened to her doctors, she would never get into hardcore matches. There was just no advoiding the ring, especially when she wanted to another crack at Karen.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. Maybe it was rankings, maybe it was a schedule thing, maybe some pussy in the top office wanted to save it for a PPV. Whatever the reason, they weren’t giving her the rematch she wanted, so Liberty was left hanging with a lot of excess rage that she was dying to get out. That was where Odessa Brock came in.

It had just been over a year since she’d tangled with Odessa, but that was a decade in wrestling time. She still had fond memories of that match - as much as she didn’t like playing into the sex games for the horny crowd, there was something deeply satisfying about rubbing her butt in the face of the prime, pristine prima dona. The opportunity to do it again was far too good to pass up. She accepted.

When Odessa called  her out a few days later, the black beauty didn’t have to wait long. White Riot began to play, loud and clear for all to hear, and the former hardcore champion appeared a few seconds later. Only she didn’t emerge from the back - instead, she came down the stairs, walking down through the audience. She bumped fists with the crowd as she passed them with one hand, spoke through her microphone with the other, all while she looked like her usual grimy, grubby self. No way was she getting cleaned up for Odessa.

”Hey, princess.” Liberty took a break from smirking long enough to speak. ”Not that I mind putting you down again...and again...and again. But!” She scratched her head and brushed some of her long, flowing hair away from her face. ”Gotta say, I’m a little confused on these ‘open accounts’. Because, see, I remember nearly knocking you out. And I remember pinning you in that ring. One. Two. Three.”

Liberty finally made it down near ringside and started to slide over the guardrail. ”Maybe things are different in the little Barbie World you come from, but in the real world, in real wrestling, that’s about as solid a win as you can get.” Liberty rolled under the bottom rope and proudly rose to her full height, cutting the most imposing figure she could manage. She confidently strode towards Odessa and met her face to face, eye to eye, chest to chest.

”So, tell me - from whence cometh these open accounts of which you speak?” Liberty tapped her ear. ”Got my full attention.”

Odessa was waiting for Liberty to emerge from backstage and make her way down the ramp, but the dirty little brawler seemed to have something else in mind. From what Odessa gathered, Liberty seemed to style herself as some champion of the common people, some sort of...crusader, apparently. Because of Odessa's fortuitous, comfortably upper-class upbringing, Liberty was probably trying to play that image that she had crafted for herself up, and, while Odessa understood the impulse and the assumptions that the black-haired girl made about her, she couldn't help but chuckle to herself as she watched Liberty walking down through the crowd and fist-bumping everyone. She should explain some things to Liberty later, after she had won, and then maybe the woman would feel a little silly about this entrance.

As Liberty climbed into the ring, spouting off about how she had bested Odessa in their last match, over a year earlier, Odessa would keep her composure. Even if she was still upset with Liberty over what had happened, Odessa wasn't petty, and she wasn't going to show it. She was an eloquent, articulate woman who used her words in situations like these. "Your memory isn't faulty," Odessa would say, "but the conclusions you draw are. Perhaps I need to educate you some on what the 'real world' and 'real wrestling' are." She chuckled and would toss her hair away from her face with one hand. In contrast to the ugly way that Liberty brushed her hair back, Odessa's motion was elegant, and even sexy, as her white hair was flung back and glittered in the light.

"I am the real wrestler between the two of us. You see, as a real wrestler, I get into a ring and use only my body to best my opponents. And my body bested yours the last time the two of us fought." As Liberty strode forward to meet her, Odessa stepped into her opponent's advance, pressing against the dirty brawler and trying to ignore the stench that emanated from her grimy body as they stood nose to nose. "My body bested yours, and you proceeded to cheat. Oh, I know that there were no disqualifications and that what you did was allowed, but I'm sure it must burn you at least a little to know that the only way you can beat a superior fighter is through such underhanded tactics."

She smiled and pushed herself up against Liberty. The two of them stood at exactly the same height, looking each other right in the eye. Their chests compressed against each other equally, their breasts of almost identical proportions. Their bodies were both voluptuous, but with a good amount of tone that showcased considerable strength under an appealing surface. The two of them were equal in size and strength, for certain—though in every other respect they would seem to be polar opposites. White hair and black hair, dark skin and light skin, British and American, elegant and dirty. They were like picture negatives of each other. While there were many women of similar size to Odessa whose superficial appearance contrasted with her own, none seemed to be as opposite in disposition as Liberty was.

"I wonder," Odessa would continue, "if you would stand any chance at all against me in a pure physical contest."

”Pfft.”

Odessa wasn't completely wrong. It pained Liberty to admit that, but there it was.

She remembered the match- more specifically, she remembered how much pain she was in after she got jumped at Avalanche. She was still hurting, and while she knew she could beat Odessa at her best, she was not at her best that night. The hard truth was the she was only a cleverly-hidden spraycan away from losing the hardcore title on her first defense. In the extremely unlikely event she ever had children, it wasn't a match she’d be proud to show them.

The mature thing would be to admit her failing and own up to it. But, well…

”Oh blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah!” Liberty popped up on the tips of her toes, giving her some height on her British, black, white-haired, cleaner twin. ”Blah! Cry me a goddamn river!” And down she went again.

Liberty stepped back and pointed to the audience. ”See people, that,” She poked Odessa in the middle of her prodigious chest. ”That is grade-A, weapons-grade bullshit! I did beat you in a pure physical content. Everything I did was physical and legal. It’s not my fault you wanted to gimp yourself.”

She was getting a little worked up. Had to calm herself. ”But okay. Okay. I see where you’re going with this, and I’ll fight you anytime, anywhere, anyway you like and still come out on top. I’ll give you exactly what you’re asking for. And after I win this match and walk back up those stairs with an imprint of your face on my big ass, you’ll know who’s the top dog in our weight class.”

LIberty stepped back and started to bounce on her heels, more than eager for the bell to ring so she could start putting the screws to Odessa and her snazzy little designer outfit.

When Liberty got up on her tippy toes, Odessa was not going to play along with the grimy American's psychological games, and she would bring her hand up and move to place her palm against Liberty's head. As she felt the dirty black hair touch her hand, Liberty lowered herself again, and Odessa would drop her hand. It was as if all she had done was pat the other woman on the head. Odessa was a little bit annoyed at her foe. "You are not a child, so why do you seem so determined to act like one, love?" she would admonish Liberty as the other woman came back down off of her toes. As Liberty backed away from their body to body press, Odessa would sigh and shake her head, like a disappointed parent.

Liberty started to yell at her again, and Odessa was perturbed by the way this woman tried to bend and stretch the truth, changing the meanings of words in order to fit a very narrow idea of what had happened between the two of them the first time they clashed. She went so far to try to explain away Odessa's accusations that it became abundantly clear, at least in Odessa's eyes, that even Liberty herself could not believe what she was saying!

That assumption was proven when Liberty paused a beat, then backed down from her previous absolutes, tacitly admitting that her use of the spray paint in their last match had hardly been sporting, but at the same time demonstrating complete confidence in her ability to best Odessa even without the use of any weapons or underhanded tactics. While Odessa felt that that confidence was misplaced, considering how decisive Odessa's physical advantage had seemed to be in their previous fight, she could at least appreciate the fact that Liberty was willing to engage her in a fair fight. Odessa actually smiled at the woman as she was prodded in the chest. She puffed out her chest and put her hands on her hips, cutting quite the proud figure.

"Mmm, that fat bum of yours will have an imprint of something, true, but that something will be my boot." Odessa would step a leg forward, flexing the muscles in her leg and allowing Liberty to admire her toned, chocolate-colored limb and the shiny boot at the end of it. "I'll hand you that arse of yours, Libby darling, and then introduce you to mine." She would laugh, perhaps adding a bit of haughtiness for effect, before stepping back and stretching her arms out above her head, slowly lowering them as she would look the bouncing American over and smile. "You know, I thought you would need a little more convincing in order to fight fairly. I thought I would need to make this match a little more...interesting." She would chuckle softly as she gave Liberty an important, cryptic look.

Liberty was ready. She was so ready. Every bone in her bulky body was just aching to make contact with Odessa’s body and shut her up until the next time she decided to crawl out of whatever bourgeoise British boardwalk she crawled out from.

But alas, it was not meant to be. ”Come on, come on, sheesh…” Liberty growled and kept her darker angels in check, as Odessa engaged in some more of what she likely considerd to be witty banter. She clearly had a point she was driving towards, but she was taking way too long to get there. Just like the upper crust of society, always taking five minutes to say something that only needed five seconds.

Liberty calmed down and leaned up against the ropes while she waited for Odessa to say what she had to say. Initially she wasn’t paying too much attention to what she had to say with her posh, ridiculously accentuated accent. Just chest-puffing. Literally, in this case.

But it was her final words - along with the strange little stripper pose that accompanied them - which had LIberty’s eyebrows raising. ”Oooooookay.” She looked Odessa up and down, as if this was the first time seeing her. ’You gotta specify, because I’m pretty sure we’ve got a different idea about what constitutes ‘interesting’.” Judging from the catcalls coming from the audience, they had similar suspicions. ”I’m not doing the POW stuff, so you can get that out of your head if that’s where you’re going. I don’t want people waiting on me hand and foot, unlike some people.”

Liberty was impatient. She was very, very impatient. As Odessa continued to speak, she actually had to speak over the grubby American mongrel, who was rolling her eyes and making all sorts of dismissive scoffing noises as Odessa made her next little comment. It would have been too much to ask, Odessa supposed, for even ten seconds to say her piece. Liberty's time was evidently oh-so-very valuable—far too valuable to spend any of her time in the ring listening to what her opponent had to say. Perhaps she would tire of the whole match and just up and leave should Odessa not condense what she had to say into a five-second sound bite.

At least the very end of the speech seemed to make Liberty perk up and take notice. Odessa would smirk and cross her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes slightly as she looked at Liberty. "Don't be so sure. You don't know everything that I'm about, dear," she would coo, almost condescendingly, as she would raise one well-maintained white eyebrow. "True, I do love a prisoner of war stipulation—and, in a way, I suppose that is what I am suggesting. But I would like to offer something a little different from the usual night of dominance and submission and passion."

She took a step forward, keeping her spine straight as she stared at Liberty, leaning towards the black-haired street rat slightly. "You see, when I win, I get to play with you the same way I played with my dollies as a young lady," Odessa would explain. "I will give you a nice bath, brush your hair, do your makeup and put you in a pretty dress, and then I'll take you out to show the new you off to the whole city." She couldn't help but grin at the thought of that.

"Now, if you were to win...you can take me back to whatever hovel you call your home, and you can cover me in whatever sort of vile filth your twisted mind can dream up. You can tear up my attire and ruin my appearance. You can do whatever you want to me," she would say. She paused for a moment, letting the gravity of the wager sink in. "Of course, I don't intend to give you that satisfaction."

There was a pause. A notable, awkward pause from Liberty, while she processed Odessa’s offer. The audience was far too loud, but you almost got the sense that, if they'd turn it down by a few decibels, you would hear the gears turning in her head.

On one hand, the idea of dirtying Odessa up was supremely tempting. Contrary to popular belief, Liberty did have a few extra clothes laying around, and they'd fit the platinum-haired princess like a glove. She had a Primol protest going on in a few weeks, and she would love to drag Odessa along to it. Make her wear some baggy jeans, a wifebeater, little war paint on her face. Throw her in with the unwashed masses and watch her writhe. Good times.

On the other hand, she didn't like the idea of Odessa re-enacting Pretty Woman with her. She could lose a lot of her cred that way, and she knew the black beauty wouldn't let her forget it for all of eternity.

The worry in her eyes started to fade, though, as she remembered: she was Liberty Vella. Former hardcore champ, never defeated. She was on a little hot streak, won both her previous matches. She could pull a hat trick.

Liberty clapped as she came to her decision. ”Know what, Storm? I accept!” The crowd roared their approval as she cracked her knuckles. ”Hope you like big, sweaty, round things, ‘cause you're about to kiss my ass!”

More than ready for the festivities to begin, Liberty undid her metal elbow pad and tossed it off to the side, then bent over and began to take the pads off her shoes as the referee made her way in...

Liberty paused, waiting quite a while to respond to Odessa's proposal. Odessa wished she could hear her opponent's thoughts. She knew that it had to be an intriguing offer. A woman like Liberty, so used to using her weapons as a crutch to win her battles she otherwise would certainly lose, would be itching to use them again after agreeing to a match that was nothing but her body against Odessa's. The bait that Odessa dangled in front of Liberty—the opportunity to cover Odessa's body in whatever sort of filth, be it mud or spit or spray paint—was surely tantalizing. But would Liberty actually agree to it?

Odessa wondered what sort of a pigsty her opponent's home must be. The prospect of being taken back there and used as a canvas for any humiliation Liberty might think to mete out against her was not a pleasant one. But Odessa knew what she was doing—she had been the one to propose this prisoner stipulation! She had easily bested Liberty in their last fight, before the "champion" had thought to cheat, and she could do it again. She would use Liberty as a doll and turn this grimy, greasy American pig into a pretty, proper princess!

Liberty took the bait, just as she should. She was confident in her abilities, but Odessa would soon prove to her how wrong she was to be so confident. She laughed and put her hands on her hips again. "Excellent! I'll enjoy feeling your hot breath washing over my most sensitive regions, you grubby little mongrel! Shall we begin, then?"

Liberty was ready to begin, it seemed, and was ready to play fair, as the referee walked over to her and she freely removed her knee and elbow pads. Odessa did a few final stretches. It was time to get some retribution and take Liberty as a plaything!

Liberty tossed her boot pads off and watched them slide out of the ring, landing nearby where her elbow pad had crashed off to. She did a few hops on her toes, tested out the weight, and bit her lip as she came to a slight epiphany - this was the first time she’d wrestled with them off for...ever? Maybe forever. It had been a long damn time, she was sure of that, and she felt a wee bit naked without them. Like a car with a missing wheel.

But whatever. She had her body and she had her toughness and she had way more tenacity that Odessa could cope with. Liberty would be fine.

The referee called for the bell, and the audience cheered, happy to have things finally underway. They didn’t have to wait long, either - the moment the bell rang, Libety was already in motion, closing the distance as fast as her frame would allow, moving faster than most people ever gave her credit for.

As soon as she was in range, Liberty brought her powerful arm up and swung it at Odessa’s face with a harsh haymaker, making sure to toss her bodyweight into the blow for some extra damage. ”Keep dreaming!”