No Honor Among Olympians (For acuya) [FWC]

Interruptions in the flow of matches were expected in the world of pro-wrestling, and this night was no exception as a more respectable, less intense version of Zarya's Russian Victory March theme soared to life on the arena loud speakers. The Iron Soldier emerged to mixed cheers, boos and general sense of intrigue. 

She wasn't well known enough to be hated by most AFW fans, and most badass heels tended to gain at least some supporters, but tonight curiosity more then anything dominated the crowds mood. Instead of her usual attire, Zarya Volkov wore a singlet of blue chased with silver, an Olympic wrestling singlet. While technically conservative, the tight fit did nothing to hide the womanly curves and impressive musculature of her physique. This woman wasn't just strong physically, her obsessive nature had sculpted her body onto a work of art. She made her way to the ring and stepped over the top rope, a clipboard with what looked like a contract attached tucked under her arm. She held a mic in the opposite hand. 

"Do not worry. I won't keep you waiting for the next match long, wrestling fans." She said in that throaty contralto voice. Her manner of speaking was deliberate, east to understand despite a harsh Russian accent. "This said, tonight we need to talk of something important. Something I feel is too often overlooked in our fun time festival of sex and violence. We are, right now, in the middle of the Friction World Cup!

This is easy to forget. Most of these girls are going about their business, hunting titles and chasing grudges. Where is the national pride? Where is the spirit of competition? Isn't that what we're really supposed to be about beneath it all? The Cup speaks to me as a former Olympian. As a woman who knows what pure competition means. 

That is why I want my first contribution to the world Cup to be against another Olympian. I have picked none other than Makoto Aihara! Makoto, I know you are in the building. Do us the honor of joining me in the ring. Olympic wrestler versus Olympic jūdōka! Let's show these girls and these fans how two honorable competitors can behave! "

It was a credit to her acting ability that Zarya came across as utterly sincere. Part of it was that she was drawing on the truth, using the reality of a past she usually tired to forget, but willingly dredged up now for profit. The rest was simply the fact that Zarya was a sociopath who lied with a straight face and could display a disarming sort of charm when she wished it. In reality she was a failed Olympian, a disgraced soldier, a felon and a thug without conscience or compunction. Yet when she wanted to, the Iron Soldier carried herself like a star, a noble embodiment of Russian pride who could be trusted to keep her word.

Zarya’s challenge was unexpected, but not unwelcome. With the competitive spirit running through the AFW and the Olympic feel that the FWC seeks to instill, it was inevitable that the league’s sole gold medalist would make her way into the fray at some point. They didn’t expect it would be against such an imposing opponent, but all the same, they knew Makoto Aihara would never stray from a challenge.

In this, they were 100% correct.

After a near minute of waiting, Shonen Knife's I Like To Fight played out over the loudspeakers, and the woman it belonged to came out a moment later. She’d been particularly lucky tonight, having come to the arena with her attire close by, looking to get in some training at the gym. When she heard Zarya’s challenge, she got dressed in near record time and made her way to the guerilla position, where the stage crew was already set up to receive her. As much as she loved the wrestling world, she missed the sense of competition that came from the Olympic stage, the thrill of matching her skills against the best in the world. It was an honor to participate, and any chance for a sliver of that honor again was worthy in her eyes.

She made her way into the ring, promptly rolled in, and found herself staring at Zarya - or, more accurately, looking at her chest. Not that she was deliberately ogling the woman, it just so happened to be where her gaze naturally went with the height difference, a fact that she couldn’t properly appreciate until this exact moment. The screen she’d been watching in the back didn’t do Zarya justice. While not quite as tall as Rebecca Tomko, she was easily one of the biggest wrestlers on the roster, men included, both vertically and horizontally. Wide, powerful muscles adorned her frame, and if there was an inch of fat on the Russian, Makoto couldn't see it.

On face, it seemed like a clear mismatch. Makoto was dwarfed, easily, and if this woman was a true Olympian, she wouldn't be lacking for skill. But, if Makoto had learned anything as a wrestler, it was that anyone could be beaten, and Judo was the art of turning size against an opponent. She'd defeated bigger women before. Not quite this big, but the idea of a challenge made the smile return to her face.

Makoto wasn’t much of a speaker, but for once, she could barely wait for the announcer to hand her a microphone, too. ”Before I go any further, I want to say what a honor this is for me, Zarya. It’s been a long time, but I remember competing against Russia, not just at the Olympics, but in competitions all over the world. I’m glad to see your continuing the tradition I saw in them - they were some of the strongest, smartest, most respectable opponents I ever faced…”

She bit her lip, feeling a bit of Candy Cane’s mischievous streak come out of her. ”But I did beat them. And I think I can beat you, too. So, in the name of Japan and in the spirit of the Friction World Cup, I accept your challenge!”

The crowd had been expecting this the moment Makoto walked out, but even so, they had a loud cheer when she accepted, always glad to have another chance to root for their hometown heroine. All that love, all that respect, it all swelled up inside of Makoto and fueled her desire to win even more, sparking a feeling she hadn’t had for years now.

It was good. So good.

She couldn't help but raise her eyebrow at the contract - an odd thing for a non-title match. But this was her first FWC, and she figured things went a bit differently. Without a second thought, she motioned for Zarya to hand it over to her.

This was it. The moment that would sell not only the match, but lay the foundation for the shattering heartbreak and suffocating embarrassment Zarya had promised to inflict. It wasn't enough to get Makoto to sign the document. She had to wipe away all doubt, raise the level of trust between them so it had a nice long distance to fall. It was a gamble, but a necessary one, and the sort of diabolical thinking that sometimes even had her on and off tag parter Isa Kubota give her disturbed, sideways glances. 

"Before I hand you this contract, I want you to know something. Usual protocol would be to arrange this match through the main office. This is well and good, but it is also... clinical, cold. 

It is my belief that one of the reasons there is so much cruelty and animosity between wrestlers is that we no longer speak as athletes and warriors. Once we were free agents, we agreed when and where to fight, we shook hands and bid the best woman victory. 

I say... it is time for that tradition to make a comeback. That is why I called you to this ring, to speak face to face, to tell you it would be my honor to face you, a gold medalist and to offer the contract myself with no middleman. It is a standard match contract, victory by pin or submission, to take place at the next convenient show. 

In that spirit, know that you do Not have to sign this here. The fans are hungry to know, right here, right now, but you can take this home and read it over. I don't want you to sign now unless I have your trust. Thats what this is about, friend. Honor. If you believe as I do, sign. If not, I will understand. "

Zarya Volkov handed the contract and pen over to her. A cursory glance would reveal everything in proper order. A standard contract. The surprise was hidden in the details. The risk was that Makoto would hold off, examine it further and find the miniscule line about there being a special referee involved. A risk.. but to convince Makoto completely Zarya had to lay everything out in plain sight and hide the lie where few would think to look, right under Makoto's nose.

Zarya must have sensed Makoto’s confusion, because the next thing out of her mouth was an explanation, and a rather lengthy one at that. Makoto had misunderstood what this was all about, it seemed - typically, when a wrestler called someone out to the ring and challenged them, the match itself was never too far behind. That was why she’d gotten dressed up, thinking she’d have to compete against the towering Russian on the spot.

That turned out not to be the case, and Makoto had to admit, she was glad for it. While she had gotten used to wrestling customs since she joined the sport, she found herself wishing things could be done in a more amicable, traditional manner, without all the showmanship and shadows. Doing it the way Zarya proposed made things clearer for all parties, left little confusion, and gave her ample time to prepare for the match. Study tapes, develop strategies, hone her skills to a science.

Makoto gladly took the contract and gave it a quick glance over, scanning from top to bottom. Truth told, this martial art of legalese was one she never took the time to master, entrusting this sort of thing to her agent...back when she had an agent, at least.  While she was still popular in Japan, she’d long since dropped below the level where she was so sought after that she needed someone to handle business for her, someone who could sift through the words and put them all together.

Still, it wasn’t like Makoto couldn’t read or anything, and from what she could tell, everything was legitimate. This wasn’t like in the Rumble Rose days, where she was a naive girl stumbling into tricks and traps all the time.

”I’ll give it a look over at home,” Makoto nodded and looked up at her future foe with her trademark smile. ”And I’ll get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you for this, Zarya-san.” She put her hands at her side, stood ramrod straight, and leaned forward into a deep bow, giving proper respect. It had been a while since she’d had cause to do that in a ring.

”I look forward to our match.”

Indeed, the Makoto Aihara who stood in the ring was not the girl from the days of the old Rumble Roses promotion. The only way to manipulate her, then, was to treat her as if she had a brain. Zarya wasn't concerned in the least. Makoto would need a lawyer to ferret out the trap in that document, that one tiny stipulation that left the door open for an ambush. 

"Don't keep me waiting! These fans want to see Makoto Aihara return to defend Japans honor! "

Zarya Volkov mimicked a respectful bow and then straightened to offer a good natured handshake. If Makoto accepted, Zarya would life her hand skyward to salute the crowd, raising her hand as if declaring a champion. The fans cheered, chanting Makoto's name. Her return to the ring would cause no end of anticipation on social media.

Makoto tried her best not to blush as she bowed, but she likely failed in that regard. It was all so much to take in at once, the rush was overwhelming her. She’d joined the AFW in the hope of reigniting her passion for competition, but this was so much more than she could’ve dreamed. It was unlikely she’d ever hold a belt or wrestle at the level ever again, but she could live with that if life kept bringing her moments like this.

She happily shook Zarya hand, though she had to stand on tiptoes as the giantess raised her hand in the air. It was a grand moment, one that would likely be on the front page of the AFW website tonight. Cameras flashed all around, the crowd cheered, and dueling chants broke out.

”MAKOTO!”
“ZARYA!”
“MAKOTO!”
“ZARYA!”

With that done, Makoto tucked the clipboard and gave Zarya one last, quick, friendly bow, almost out of reflex. ”We’ll meet again in the ring, Zarya-san. Until then, take care.”

With a deep breath, she slid under the ropes and made her way back up the ramp, resisting the urge to skip as she went. She was eager, but she had to be serious about this too. Zarya would be a formidable opponent, she could tell that at a single glance, which meant there would be a hard week or training ahead of her…