Zarya Volkov vs. Makoto Aihara - Iron and Gold [FWC]

Match Type: Standard
Victory Conditions: Pinfall or Submission.

Dear Diary,

Life is so full of surprises, sometimes.

Okay, so I met somebody the other day. Not that kind of somebody, it wasn’t like a date or anything (though she is kinda hot, if you like muscles. Which I kinda do…) But she was a wrestler. Another Olympian, which is crazy, because I thought I was the only one in Friction. But I’m not, looks like. Her name is Zarya Volkov, and she’s super cool.

She challenged me to a match, which is neat all by itself, but she played it up really neat. It’s got this Olympic vibe to it, like it’s the old days, with us representing our countries and trying to be the best in the world. No strings, nothing complicated, just two women wrestling with the whole world watching. The way it should be, you know?

Anyway, I need to get on my training, which means less time on my computer, which means less diary time Sorry! I’ll write more after the match, I promise.

Until then…

Love, Makoto

This was it. This was the time.

Makoto stood at the top of the ramp, looking out across the arena as thousands of her countrymen and women cheered. She was dressed in her gi, looking every bit like the woman who’d jumped onto the world stage years ago. Music played, but it wasn’t her usual theme - no, this time, the Japanese National Anthem played, heralding her descent towards the ring. Holding her nation flag in the air, she proudly strode towards the ring, fighting back tears with every step.

Two pedestals laid at ringside, and Makoto put her country’s flag in the right one, before she made her way up the steps and into the ring. As she crossed the squared circle, she held her fist into the air, rallying the people behind, feeding on their enthusiasm. They were looking forward to this as much as she was. It was like taking a step back in time, returning to a simpler era. It was history, and they all got to bear witness.

With her heart beating like a trip hammer, Makoto stood in the center of the ring and faced the entrance. It was all in place now, perfect in every way...she just needed her opponent.

It was time.

All the shady deals, the planning, the plots within plots... this match was the culmination of a great deal of unscrupulous effort. Makoto Aihara had no idea what was coming, and even when she made that heartbreaking discovery in the ring this was only on small piece of a much larger puzzle. Somewhere, Anesthesia was likely paying close attention to this match and it's outcome, a spider in the center of her web, spinning threads to ensnare and manipulate. Zarya wondered what her game ultimately was, but those were questions for another time. She had a job to do, and Zarya Volkov was nothing if not professional. She didn't have the level of local support that Makoto enjoyed, but nevertheless the crowd lowered from cheers to a quiet, respectful murmur as an almost solemn version of Zarya's theme began to play, beginning softly, subdued... and then the drums began.

Zarya's Theme:

As the music picked up tempo and the booming, explosive sound of drums filled the arena, overlay-ed atop a proud Russian chorus, the woman who appeared on the stage was every bit the match for the songs explosive noise and drama. No singlet this time, the Iron Soldier choosing her usual red two piece ring attire, displaying her bodybuilders physique and hefting a long pole with the Russian flag on her shoulder. She moved like the ex-soldier that she was, sure, confident, displaying none of the awkwardness bigger wrestlers sometimes struggled with. Her eyes locked on Makoto and never wavered. She seemed oblivious to the rest of the world, the crowd, the lights... all of it. Nothing mattered except for her target.

She made her way to the pedestals and placed the proud Russian flag opposite japans on glorious standard, and for the briefest of instants Zarya wished that this match was exactly what Makoto had been led to believe. Two Olympians in a class of muscle and sinew and skill and determination. The thought was sweet, she savored it, then let it die. She had a dream to kill.

Climbing into the ring, the Iron Soldier flashed Makoto a hint of a friendly smile before walking to her corner. There, she leaned back against the turnbuckle, arms crossed beneath her breasts, waiting for the match to begin. She was careful never to let her gaze linger on the referee for too long. It had not been announced, but the usual ref had been replaced. Replaced by none other than Isa Kubota, Zarya's on and off again tag partner.

Isa Kubota:

Isa wore the standard referee attire, looking and behaving in a manner that drew no attention to her whatsoever. This was the trap lurking within the tangled legalese of that seemingly innocent contract.

At last, the announcer began...




Zarya raised her fist skyward in acknowledgement and walked towards the center of the ring, gaze locked on Makoto, waiting for the bell that signaled the match to begin.

Makoto could feel her heart beating as Zarya’s music started up, for multiple reasons.

There was the tension of the moment, of course. The pressure of knowing her country and the entire world was looking on, judging her, weighing every move, picking apart every detail. This match would be streaming live, archived, shown for years, perhaps decades to come. It was history, and she was right in the middle of it. No belt on the line, but they were fighting for something far more precious: respect.

And there was her opponent, too. She had seen Zarya up close before, but even so, that iron frame of hers never ceased to amaze her. She had the look of a champion - strong, solid muscle, a stalwart face that never wavered. An iron gaze from an iron woman. The look of a woman who was focused on nothing else but the win. It simply reinforced what they were here for - the pure, unadulterated joy of competition.

Makoto took a few deeps breaths and leaned against the turnbuckle as Zarya made her way into the ring, trying not to gush too much. Just like her trainer always taught her. She could gush, she could freak out, she could be happy all she liked, but when the bell rang, it had to be all business. ”I can do this.” She balled her fist tight, focusing so hard that the announcer’s words seemed like they were miles away. ”I can do this. I can.”

Zarya began to make her way out of the corner and Makoto followed suit only a half-second later, skipping a bit to keep up and reach the center of the ring at the same time. A serene calm came over as she tried to wipe every stray thought away, clearing all the clutter. The  referee wasn’t there. The audience, once again chanting her name, wasn’t there. It was just her and Zarya. As it was meant to be.

She stood. She stared. She waited.

The bell rang and Makoto dropped into her wrestling stance on cue, moving back and away from Zarya immediately. As eager as she was, she wasn’t stupid - she would need to keep her space with this opponent, pick her spots well and not rush in. Cautious and curious, she began to circle around the titan of a woman, occasionally darting in and out to see if she could gauge how fast Zarya could react.

There was none of the usual condescension that Zarya Volkov usually showed towards her opponents. Part of that was an act, but the deception came easily when it was wrapped in a great deal of genuine respect. Respect for all that Makoto had accomplished... but also for the fact that, even with a bias referee, it was entirely possible to *lose* this match if she wasn't careful.

Her friend, Isa Kubota, was difficult to put it mildly. On one hand, she was as vicious as any heel on the roster, but on the other hand she had a well developed sense of honor, some private code that she seemed dead set on following. Worse... she was a damned patriot, and this entire scenario had her practically rooting for Makoto and the pride of Japan! Isa outright refused to directly help Zarya win the match. If Makoto managed a pin fall or forced a submission, Isa was going to do her job. Those quibbles aside, she could be counted on to turn a blind eye to the rules. That strict code of honor cut both ways, and if Makoto couldn't defend herself, well, she was weak and deserving of whatever happened to her.

Settling into the same focused calm as her opponent, the Iron Soldier moved into the very center of the ring and rooted herself in a low stance, knees bent and head low. When Makoto circled, darting in and out to gauge her opponents reaction time, Zarya reached for the Judo babes hands in the sort of feeling out process that might preceded a lockup in an actual Olympic match. One thing would become quite clear to an experienced competitor like Makoto, the Iron Soldier could be dangerously patient, ignoring Makoto's attempts to goad her unless she moved just a bit too close.

Finally, waiting until Makoto's circled to the point where her back was to the upper left corner, Zarya's powerful legs propelled her forward in a sudden burst to aggression, trying, more then anything, to get Makoto to backpedal herself right into the corner turnbuckle, where the Russian would look to force a collar tie up.

Makoto typically liked to study her opponent before a match, that hadn't been possible in Zarya’s case. No matter how hard she dug, she wasn't able to get anything of substance on the Russian beyond a few questionable match records - whatever she'd been doing between the Olympics and before the AFW, she'd somehow managed to avoid the all-consuming web of the Internet.

That being said, she only needed to look at Zarya to formulate the cornerstone of her strategy in this match: no matter what, she could not take this woman head on.

To the Russian’s credit, she didn't just blindly rush in. Makoto tested Zarya and Zarya tested Makoto, falling for none of her feints, probing, assessing and re-assessing. It was a tense start, but someone had to make the move eventually. That someone was, of course, the Iron Soldier.

Zarya moved forward and Makoto moved backwards, as any sensible human being would when the juggernaut was coming her way. But she had the ring awareness to know where the turnbuckle was and how close she was to it. For good and bad reasons.

Makoto waited until the last moment, then dropped to the side, dodging Zarya’s charge. At the same time, she shot her legs out and tried to scissor her opponent's massive shins, trying to trip her up and make her fall face-first into the turnbuckle.

The Iron Soldier had been quite busy since leaving the military behind, though the majority of her matches had been in promotions so disreputable that footage and records were hard to come by without digging into the darker recesses of the net. It suited Zarya just fine, of course. That lack of information only served to strengthen the deception. 

Intent on dictating the pace of the match, Zarya made the first move, driving forward when she thought there was a reasonable chance of getting Makoto to back into a corner. Unfortunately it didn't pay off this time as Makoto avoided her charge, the Judoka's legs catching the Russians own and causing her to fall forward, forehead smacking against the middle turnbuckle. 

With a groan that was equal parts pain and frustration, she would begin the slow process of getting back to her feet, gripping the ring ropes for leverage. She wasn't nearly as vulnerable as she seemed in that moment, listening for footsteps and watching out of the corner of her eye for her opponent. If Makoto attempted to close the distance, Zarya would lash out with her right leg, aiming a mule kick back at the smaller fighters mid-section. If not, Zarya would get to her feet and back into her previous ready stance.

The crowd cheered as Makoto narrowly dodged Zarya’s charge, cheering her on like they always did. She appreciated the sentiment, but this was one time she couldn’t share the joy. She’d been there, so close she could smell Zarya’s breath on her face, realized how close she’d come to a very bad start. She’d dodged it for now, but the pain was inevitable - she would get caught sooner or later, and it was just a matter of how well she’d be able to weather the storm when it happened.

For now, though, she was seemingly in the clear. Makoto rolled to her feet and moved in with open arms, looking to capitalize on the opening before it closed in her face.

What happened next was equal parts skill and luck. Zarya’s leg snapped out and Makoto instinctively fell back, letting the boot scoff off her chest, avoiding the brunt of the damage. As the same time, she reached up and wrapped her arms around the ankle, then brought her legs up to trap Zarya’s thighs, attempting to pull her into a kneebar.

It was fast, with zero room for error, and even if it did work, they were so close to the ropes that Zarya was sure to break it after only seconds. Even so, Makoto was willing to take whatever damage she could deal to such a beastly opponent, no matter how small.

It was easy enough to dismiss the Iron Soldier as a brutish power wrestler. She certainly looked the part, she acted like it and she actively preferred to wrestle in a manner that emphasised raw strength over everything else. Even an opponent who'd scouted Zarya Volkov thoughly could fall into the trap of forgetting that her *actual* disciplines were amateur wrestling and Russian Sambo. Combined with her aforementioned strength and the result was a dangerous ground game. 

As Makoto darted in Zarya was briefly surprised when her mule kick didn't give her the expected visceral feedback of her boot slamming home. Instead, the judoka came up short just in time to save herself from the impact and grabbed the Russians ankle to attempt a knee-bar.

Instead of panicking and scrambling for the tantalizingly easy rope break, which would have given Makoto free reign to fully  hyper-extend her knee, Zarya ignored the ropes and fell straight down onto her knees, trapping Makoto's legs beneath her, left thigh in particular, which ended up caught between Zarya's own. More importantly, she pinned her now bent knee beneath her weight, making it near impossible to fully extend from Makoto's position and complete the submission hold. 

Zarya hoped that the counter was enough to get Makoto to let go of her leg. If so, the Russian would attempt to work her legs out of their entanglement before transitioning into a simple cross body pin. She had no illusions about winning the match that way, but Makoto would waste precious energy in kicking out.

God, Zarya’s legs were big. Makoto had noticed that before, of course. The singlet she’d been wearing when they first met put her lower body on prominent display. But there was a grand difference between looking at those thighs and hugging them, prodding them, squeezing them. It made her all the more glad she’d avoided that mule kick. If not, this could’ve wound up being a short match. Makoto could handle losing, but not like that.

To her surprise, Zarya didn't go for the easy escape that 99% of the roster would've tried. Instead, she showed herself to be a thinking giantess - not only did she kill the move in the crib, but she effectively countered and turned it into a pin.

That by itself would've been distressing enough, but being trapped under the Russian’s imposing bulk was the exact situation Makoto had wanted to avoid, especially so early on.

There were things she could do against such a move, maybe even ways to reverse it, but Makoto didn't like her chances - the best thing she could do was escape, and in a way that minimized energy loss. With them being so close to the ropes, she wagered her best chance was to reach out with her foot and touch the bottom one, getting out of the pinfall without having to push the massive wrestler off her chest.

Zarya didn't make matters any easier on Makoto, having no qualms about pressing her full weight on the smaller girl, which had the unintended consequence of pressing her rather generous chest into the Judoka in a way that might be difficult to ignore. A flash of mild annoyance sparked in the Russian eyes, though it passed quickly, replaced by a grudging respect for Makoto's ring awareness. Despite the considerable size difference between the competitors, Makoto had managed to keep her cool twice and avoided the panic that would have put a less focused wrestler in real trouble. 

The referree came down to count the pinfall. Isa was still playing the role admirably, but she also knew that winning this way would *not*accomplish there goal. The first could came down and the crowd joined in, thinking they might be about to see a pinfall. 

"One! "

Isa's hand rose again, but that was when she noticed Makoto's foot on the bottom rope. She called for a break and stood, holding one finger in the air to show that it had only been a one could. 

Technically, Zarya should have broken the pin completely at that point, allowing Makoto up. Instead, the Iron Soldier reached for the leg Makoto had extended to reach the ropes and hooked it beneath her arm. At the same time she moved to roll her weight towards the smaller girls head, pressing the judoka's shoulders to the mat with her bulk if she was successful and lifting Makoto's hips right off the mat for extra leverage. Zarya was intent on making her fight out of this one, and the ref didn't seem to be object, already sliding into position to count the potential pin!