Jessica Wright vs. Neske Alapo

Contract Match: Win by signing your opponent. No disqualification.

Jessica punched her fist. The Violent Violet had a considerable amount of matches under her belt, but she always wanted more and more. If the people here at AFW wanted her to fight every day, she would be more than happy to supply them with the heaps of violence that earned them all the ratings and her all the accolades. The room she was provided with was a fairly spacious one, befitting a woman of her strength and status. After all she had done, it was hardly surprising, of course. But Jessica should have the belt across her waist. Or so she thought.

Tonight was going to be a weird one. Here in Tokyo they thought of all sorts of fucked up stipulations to humiliate women, but this was a totally new one. For her to win tonight, she would have to sign her name onto whoever had the horrific misfortune of going against her. She smirked at the thought of signing her name across another woman's forehead, a sign of dominance which she had not yet done in the ring. The Violent Violet had stripped girls, fucked girls, smacked girls around, but she had never signed one.

But that was going to change tonight. A lot of things were going to change tonight. The nice dressing room she was in notwithstanding, Jessica was feeling fairly serious amounts of disrespect coming from the crowd, and she was going to do everything in her power to show all of them that Jessica meant war. She finished up her stretching and then started marching down to the main staging area. Her usual red, black, and gold attire turned heads just as much as her muscled and feminine frame did, but Jessia had her eyes forward the whole time.

Jessica's harrowing music played over the loud speaker, and she was met with a chorus of boos. She trotted down to the cage in front of her, flipping the crowd off as she went. The Violent Violet threw the cage door open and stepped inside, taking delight at all the weapons that were strewn around the ring. Jessica bounced up, and then stood in the middle.

Come on out, Neske. Let's have some fun. She thought.

It had been a while since Neske had any match in the AFW, but it still felt like she had come off the heels of her first, and most serious win. People were starting to recognize her (as "that one girl from the crazy match," but it was a start), she was getting more attention at the clubs, and she generally felt more confident, even a bit cocky. Sure, she was now about as confident as any mediocre wrestler in the AFW with exactly no matches under their belt, but that was still a huge step up from where she was.

Though this hadn't really turned her into a fighter. If anything, she had only taken the win as reassurance that she didn't need to practice, that her unnatural resilience would carry her through when she needed it. But she wasn't out looking for matches, and so she had been without one for months. Pay per view events paid well, but she was starting to run out of cash. Which meant it was time to go back and do her actual job.

And what a return they set her up with. Neske made no effort to pay attention to the wrestling world, but the name Jessica Wright vaguely rung a bell in the back of her mind somewhere, and for Neske, that was saying a lot. On top of that, this was another wild no-holds-barred match, with the win condition being... to sign your name on your opponent's body. Inside of a cell that lined the barricades just around the ring. Another, freakishly literal "death box." Man, this place could be weird.

Still, despite her normally antisocial attitude, when the electronic beats of her theme flared up, Neske entered with some amount of charisma towards the crowd, waving and smiling with a bounce to her step. The sound of the metal door clanging shut behind her sent a chill down her spine, but she continued to fake the smile when she got into the ring. "Look, uh... lady," she teased with a forced smirk, "I'm not that big a deal, I swear. Like, if you really, really wanted an autograph, you could have just asked. Seriously."

Jessica was a large woman, there was no denying that. In America, she turned heads with her size, but here in Japan she all but towered over people. The Violent Violet was standing all the way upright in the ring, and she felt like the queen of the world. When Neske entered the ring, Jessica scratched her head. The disparity in size was palpable. If Jessica were in Neske's shoes, she would be more worried about surviving the match, let alone talking smack.

"Yeah, usually fucking jobber girls don't talk smack around here, sweetie. But don't you worry, I will be happy to smack some sense into you." Jessica's eyes went wide and then narrowed in on the smaller girl in front of her. She clenched her fist, and flexed her forearm a bit. It was not an intentional act; Jessica's subconscious wanted to show this woman the world of hurt that she was in for.

The bell rung, and Jessica immediately ran forward, in a full sprint. Her legs churned as she brought all her malintent to bear on the woman in front of her. The Violent Violet pivoted on her left foot, and sent a rocket of a punch towards Neske's head with her right arm, quietly daring the woman to catch a bullet.

As was the running theme of her entire life, Neske immediately became privy to the thought that hindsight is 20/20, and the line between friendly, competitive banter and deliberately pissing off a five foot eight bundle of angry muscle was deceptively thin. But it was definitely too late to do anything about that now, what with that bundle of muscle charging forward, fist raised. Time seemed to slow down and speed up in those seconds, and Neske just knew there she needed to do something before it was too late. Take advantage of an opening, try to use her size to her advantage, fucking anything other than standing there, frozen in fear like an idiot.

BAM! Then, in what felt like an instant, Jessica's fist slammed into Neske's skull like a rock, and she went plummeting to the mat like a sack of bricks. Her ears rung, her vision blurred, and for the faintest moment, she actually felt somewhat comfortable on the floor. But that moment passed almost instantly, and soon the pain caught up with her. She clenched her teeth, and her fists, and turned to her front to climb up onto her knees and get back into the fight before this became another slaughter.

Jessica was not bitchmade. Her opponent apparently was. Jessica telegraphed the move from a thousand miles away, but her opponent totally lacked the smarts to deal with it. As a consequence, the girl was clocked right in the face, and Jessica felt a rush of adrenaline like no other. The surge of raw sadistic pleasure she felt spurred her on to greater and more terrible heights, and once again the Violent Violet was in action.

The blow had dropped her opponent, and Jessica was looming over her opponent. She raised her leg, showing off her thick thighs for the whole audience to see. And then she brought it down, with great force, over and over. It was not the most face sort of move, but Jessica was not the most face sort of gal. This was a no DQ match anyways, a little quirk in the rules that Jessica fully intended to exploit. She had a lot of rage in her, and was getting it out by sending stomp after stomp down on the poor girl who had the lapse of judgment to get into the ring with her.

Neske had barely gotten to her hands and knees when a vicious stomp right in her spine sent her back to the mat, screaming briefly. Her initial instinct was to turtle up, curling her knees and wrapping her arms over her head, but the size and weight difference between the two women made this a futile effort in no time. Heavy boots landing in her ribs, belly, limbs and face loosened her hold more and more, until she was practically sprawled out on her back, left to the nonexistent mercy of her furious opponent. Each stomp pressed a yelp or squeal out of Neske's lips, and her body seemed to bounce and writhe on the mat before long.

Jessica looked down on her opponent. The disgust she felt for this hapless little girl was plainly written on her face. She stopped the attack and straddled her opponent, still looking down on her with her lips contorted into a tight snarl. Her two strong arms went into action as she bent down to pick the girl up off of the mat. It was kind of sad, she supposed, that they would send someone whose only defense was to curl up into a ball against her, Jessica Wright.

Sad, and exploitable. As soon as she got her opponent on her feet, she attempted to tuck her head nicely against her big hip using her left arm. From there, it would be a straight drop down for a quick DDT. It was a classic wrestling move for a very unorthodox sort of match, she thought.

As thick-headed as she was, Neske was not so stupid as to see she was in some serious trouble. Sure, she had gotten in worse scraps and come out on top, but that was exactly once since the start of her wrestling career, and it involved a lot of other people hitting each other while her legendary endurance carried her through the chaos. Here, it was just her, purple twang, and a whole lot of hungry, sadistic onlookers.

The pair of hands that clasped around her head felt like a vice that could crush her skull at any moment, and even more so when a full arm wrapped around her, but with what amount of her eyes could peek out over the mountain of flesh, she could see that, no, this was not the case. This time, that would be the floor's job.

BAM With an impact that could be heard throughout the stadium, Neske went crashing skull-first into the mat below, and for a moment, her whole body went limp. Unfortunately, if her experience in this ring had taught her anything, it was that it was less of a 'the fight is over' kind of limp and more of a 'I'm helpless up until the next time you hit me' kind of limp.

Jessica stood up. She looked down at her opponent, out at the crowd, to the ref girl, and then back to her opponent. They were all going to see an absolute bloodbath, and Jessica was curious if she was the only one who could recognize it. Her DDT had gone off without a hitch and now, Jessica had free reign of the ring. It seemed as if she could do anything to this poor woman.

So instantly, her mind went to the darkest, most brutal place. Jessica bent down to grab her opponent once again, this time her mind racing with all of the wondrous and disastrous possibilities bubbling up in her head. Her strong hands found their legs to Neske's supple ankles.

And then Jessica just went crazy. She picked them up, and began to swing around. She made it a full circle before she let go, reckoning that she had built up enough momentum before throwing her opponent across the ring.

Inside, Neske was raring to go, to get her vengeance on this purple haired psycho before things got too ugly for her. Well, she was a lot of things inside, including scared shitless, totally depressed, and trying to trace her steps throughout life that could have placed her in this exact moment, but she was willing to push all of those aside to get some payback. That is, at least, as soon as she could figure out how to make the world stop being in circles so much.

Unfortunately, that chance didn't come before she was hoisted off the mat by her bare ankles, raised in the air by sheer centrifugal force which continuously accumulated until she was sent rocketing across the ring. With a loud 'thud' she crashed into the opposite turnbuckle neck-first with an impact that resonated through her entire body. Most of the crowd recoiled with a collective groan, meanwhile Neske simply slouched into the corner, facing the center with her arms supporting her over the middle ropes.