Gwendolyn DuPont Bettencourt vs. Libby 'Liberty' Vella - Rage Against the Machine

The apathetic and lukewarm response from Liberty's recanting of that day's events would eventually find a unified voice once a notoriously maligned theme began echoing throughout the stadium. Naturally one of hissing boos, thumbs pointing downward and genuine disdain before the subject of their ire would make her presence known. The heiress pompously striding out with her accompanying four-man entourage close behind her with towels, water bottles, and perhaps the only ones in the arena applauding their employer's entrance. Her elegant waltz down the ramp would be at a noticeably slower pace once she raised the microphone in her hand to signal the abrupt ending of her own theme as well.

"...*Ahem*...Silence, s'il vous plaît..." Gwen politely requested in her posh vocals and demure smile. The jeering crowd politely responding with heightened bile and animosity in their heckling jeers before the heiress shrugged and proceeded anyway. "Well...certainly a...jaundice, account. But not altogether erroneous either. My humble abode was, indeed, beset upon by anarchistic vagrants who threatened bodily harm upon myself and my defenseless associates. Spouting scandalous accusations and besmirching the wholesome Primol name simply due to some inherent compulsion to rebel against any form of authority in their purview..."

The audience would struggle to follow along Gwen's swirling whirlpool of verbose verbiage, the heiress now ascending the ring side steps and slipping between the ropes while her entourage huddled outside in her corner.

"...and that is exactly what you are, my utterly repugnant friend. A woefully imbecilic radical who rebels simply for the act of rebelling due to your own lamentable lot in life. Simply out of pure and unfiltered...jealousy. Jealousy of the type of beauty and dignified refinement I exemplify and of the exalted privileges you and your proletariat companions pine for." Gwen continued to courageously spout off to the unkempt former hardcore champ, fearlessly coming within arms length of Liberty with her poised head held high.

"You see, the truth of the matter is, even in this ring, there are...still classes. There are...still divides. And one such as myself, who heralds from the upper echelon of high society...who partakes of the finer enjoyments in life whilst sipping sparkling champagne in exotic locales...is still every facet the superior competitor to an uncouth wastrel, peon, and wretched degenerate just...like...you~..." Gwen punctuated her self-righteous tirade with a girlish giggle while backpedaling, the audience's viscous hatred towards Gwen becoming more palpable as a result.

The extra hint of malice and disdain in Gwen's formal address towards Liberty wasn't without it's due justification. The grungy-haired anarchist represented a nigh-constant thorn in her side that she's contended with since her formative early years. Petulant defamers who rail against the upper-class and blame them for all the worlds ills. Furthermore, blasphemous accusations towards her parents company was a line in the sand Gwendolyn drew, and she reserved particular contempt towards anyone who dared to step over it.

"Indeed...we will see..." Gwendolyn confidently strolled backward towards her corner with a cold and self-righteous smirk, exuding an aura of supreme superiority with her graceful steps and stance. Taking the time to primp her illustrious curls while she examined the obviously livid demeanor of the caged bull across the ring seeing naught but crimson red in her eyes. The clanging of the bell being no different from opening the gates at a rodeo.

Gwens slightly hunched over grappling stance and extended arms gave every indication to the audience that the heiress was honestly intending to meet this freight train of grungy clothing and rampaging muscle head on. Though her stomach-churned in disgust at the prospect of eventually becoming within close vicinity of Liberty, for now her intentions were decidedly more practical. She presented an open target for the anarchist to unleash her wrath upon only to duck under the wide-arching lariat brushing through her curls, collapse to the side while scissoring Liberty's legs, and introduce her bandaged face to the bottom turnbuckle from the drop toehold.

-until Gwendolyn swiftly capitalized on her masterfully orchestrated opening gambit. The heiress intentionally poking and prodding the anarchist with incendiary remarks to goad her into predictably rampaging towards her. Gwen had done her research on the former hardcore champion, and engaging the burly anarchist in a duel of brawling fisticuffs was a scenario she intended to avoid for the betterment of her own health.

Backpedaling into her own corner was another facet of her plan as well, leaving Liberty clearly rattled and cornered with a smirking heiress' towering above her with ill intent in her hazel eyes. After grasping on to the top ropes on either side of the corner, Gwen would gleefully raise her pearl white boot and proceed to repeatedly stomp, stamp, clomp, and genuinely make life miserable for Liberty while she remained trapped in that corner. Gwen may have had a petite frame, but that only made the viscous strength behind her kicks come off as that much more of an unpleasant surprise to her opponents.

"If you wouldn't mind staying perfectly still, if you please~..." Gwen perkily requested after the umpteenth strike to Liberty's grimy white top and pudgy abdomen. Once Liberty appeared wholly incapable of moving, Gwen would sprint off in an opposing direction and bounce off the adjacent ropes on her way back to Liberty. The heiress would come charging back towards the anarchist at full speed and aim to plow a running front kick to her already aching temple, leaving the side of Liberty's freshly scrapped cheek plastered against Gwens smooth thigh after the face wash.

The reckless abandon of Gwen's face scrapping kick would make for a dramatic camera angle shot for the cameraman on the outskirts of the ring. Gwendolyn having put enough ramming velocity into the front kick that her foot would dangle over the apron before she would push herself off the middle ropes to straighten herself back up.

She sported a supremely smug grin while daintily wiping down the side of her toned thigh that Liberty's face had become intimately acquainted with. Rallying cries from the audience were urging the former hardcore champ to turn things around after suffering what most wrestling experts and play-callers would coin as Gwen "stomping a mudhole" in her.

"I do hope you’re gaining a greater comprehension for the divide in our class, Lady Liberty. Perhaps you can impart unto me how high and mighty you feel~..." Gwen delightedly preened in her posh vocals, rubbing Liberty's words and her predicament in her face along with Gwens pearl white boot grinding down on her pale cheek. The referee's warnings and second countdown to create some form of separation between the opposing class warriors would be wholly ignored by the single-minded heiress.

Capitalizing on her slovenly opponent's pitiful state was all that was on her fixated agenda as she climbed up the ropes in their corner. After positioning her booted feet on the middle ropes and hopping in place several times to gain extra momentum, Gwen would attempt to leap up and retract her legs before going for a heart-stopping double footed stomp on the cornered anarchist's chest.

Despite the blatant telegraphing of Gwendolyn's impending footwork by bouncing on the middle ropes, her continued attempt to permanently imprint the treads of her boots somewhere on Liberty's already unkempt skin was a magnificent success. The spiking stomp came with an overwhelming amount of cathartic glee and a stumbling backstep from Liberty's turtling up into a quivering ball of groaning misery.

Though no sooner was Gwendolyn formulating her next plan of attack then the pin stripped official would forcefully make her presence known by maneuvering her way between them and authoritatively ordered Gwen to back off. Liberty's close approximation to the ropes meant that the anarchist had several precious seconds to collect herself, which everyone in attendance could tell was something she was in desperate need of.

"Oh, my most sincere apologies, I must not have heard you over the inane blather of the crowd~..." Gwendolyn pleasantly replied after she willingly complied for the time being now that threats of a disqualification were being slung her way, exuding an aura of absolute innocence as if the referee hadn't been calling for a separation this entire time. The perplexing imagery of the tough as nails brawler needing to be parted from the dainty aristocrat certainly putting to bed the assumption that Liberty would steamroll over Gwen simply because of her hard-core pedigree.

Once the allotted seconds had ticked by, Gwen would approach the cornered Liberty and reach down to clench her delicate fingers into her grungy mane of hair. Yanking her upward to her knees before applying a tightened side headlock and bearing down on it with several assertive tugs before ushering her to her feet. The grubby anarchist 's freshly stomped cranium was now compressed between Gwen's petite bicep and the heavenly softness of her chest, the heiress begrudgingly being within smelling distance of the malodorous anarchist before trotting her show pony towards the center of the ring.