Playing With the Big Dogs

Leah, up until now, had generally been pitted up against wrestlers who were similar to her in size and weight. Granted, they always tended to be men who tended to be equal to or less capable than her raw muscle, which didn't speak much of their physiques. Beowulf by comparison might looked as though he could have eaten them whole and still had room for several more like them. A goliath of the industry, and tonight in this ring he played the role more literal than figuratively. It was this reason alone that had her grinning like a dopey fool when she ran him down like a dog, flattening him out with long bounding strides as she made her trip from rope to rope.

“Meep meep!” She chirped in passing, digging her boot down into his bulky mass of muscle as it fell beneath her run by antics. It was empowering experience to trample the legend dary wulfman himself, one that she seemed to be enjoying to the fullest. It didn't seem to be driven by a hunger for glory or a rise in popularity to tangling with one of the big dogs… it was just pure unadulterated joy of having fun, no different than playing tag at recess. Her every movement carried with it an infectious energy that was hard to deny, so much so the crowd was popping for her despite not being the real attraction of the match.

Springing off the ropes, the sight of the rising juggernaut did nothing to deter her, in fact she leaned I to her run, pumping her arms even harder. She wore a look of stone cold determination that, on her, looked as threatening as a teddy bear with angry eyebrows taped on. Her footfalls became less frequent as her strides stretched out, preparing for when she finally made the leap. The change in position hadn't managed to lessen her form, the missile dropkick slapped against Beowulf’s meaty arms, halting her forward momentum almost entirely.

Like a cartoon character who had made the sudden realization gravity existed, she fell like a sack of stones to the mat on her back. While the impact was loud, the fall had been taken with a practiced grace any self respecting wrestler had when dealing with basic self inflicted bumps. She quickly sat herself up, rocking forward on her rump before leaning back, throwing herself into a backwards tumble head over heels. Rolling she managed to pop herself upright, arms thrown out to the side in a wobble to maintain balance as she came upright so fast.

Edgar let out a chuckle, cutting himself off before he could really indulge in the moment as if the action here in the arena we're poisonous. Watching the big lug twirl to the mat was pretty funny though, he had to admit… only to himself. He was already annoyed, not just with Beowulf but with Leah as well. She didn't seem to be taking this seriously, all smiles and flitting around like a pixie or something. She should have known by now, from training with him, that sort of thing was just going to get her laid out.

Instinctively the blond boxer took a half step back from his place at ringside as Beowulf’s body sagged up against the ropes, sent reeling from his sister’s dropkick. Peering through the big man’s legs he could see her already recovering… “The hell is she doing?” Waiting time, that was what. The fans were eating it up. The fans didn't know shit about wrestling though. His eyes drifted up to Beowulf, the man already leaning up from the ropes to likely cut his sister off. He could easily run her down, trampling her like a wild stampede of bulls. Unless…

Eyes narrowed in a sly Grinch like expression, Edgar leaned to the side, finding the referee had their back to him, eyes locked on Leah. He could rant on this thoughts on the type of people AFW employed as their officials but in this particular case their lack of attentiveness to the match to oogle his sister was a boon.  

Stepping up to the ring he leaned himself forward, elbows planted on the apron to look as though he was just trying to get a better look. Arm extending outward, his palms slipped themselves along the ankle of Beowulf's boot, fingers interlocking to snap the man's ankle. With a pull, his body tensed, looking to hold the limb hostage long enough for Leah to charge in and get a free shot on the stationary numbskull. “Eat shit.” He muttered under his breath.

With a wide grin she flexed one of her arms, clapping her bicep with a palm. With a roll of her shoulder she added a bit of unnecessary theatrics, winding up her arm for her next attack. In a flash she went from standing still to charging, lips pulled tight with her tongue poking ever so slightly from one corner. So focused, the aid from her brother had gone completely unnoticed. Rearing back, her entire body twisted into preparation for a lariat, swinging wild and high, attempting to throw her weight into Beowulf’s upper body in an attempt to send him spilling backwards over the ropes.

Never underestimate the power of friendship, positivity, and a dynamically fast-paced offense to help rally a captivated audience in your favor. While the size difference between them wasn't so great that it perfectly matched the analogy he was trying to make here, there was most definitely a David and Goliath type vibe to this match now that it was starting to kick into high gear. Not so much in terms of size anyway, but more in the tradition of just how polar opposite they were in terms of the spectrum of a wrestling career. Who didn't love seeing a scrappy young-blood get some licks in and make genuine headway against the world-renowned multi-time champion and master of 1,000 catchphrases?

But it took more than a fleet-footed and flippy offense start having scores of ticket holders beginning to chant your name. It took character, heart, nuance, and preferably an award winning smile to have the basics down for being a hero of the people. And so far, Beowulf had to admit that Leah was certainly showing off all of those attributes as well as taking to the role of the plucky underdog quite well. Even after taking a pinpoint precise dropkick straight to his shielding arms, not to mention all of the other bumps and bruises he had taken so far...the Wulf-man could admit he was having a helluva time here. Behind his somewhat slouching posture as he leaned against the ropes and his brawny arms still crossed in front of him, Beowulf was sporting a snide smirk from his own competitive juices starting to get pumping.

And by the looks of Leah whirling her arm around like she Popeye about to sock Bluto to the moon, it looked like she was starting to get into the groove as well. Perfectly playing into the momentum of the match and amping up a crowd eager to see cock back that arm and send the Wulf-man tumbling head over heels. For one brief moment, the sheer logistics of someone of her petite size actually having the power behind her lariat to complete the task left everyone's mind. Instead it was replaced by wide-eyed belief in the impossible as only truly great wrestlers could evoke fromt he crowd. But Beowulf wasn't about to lay down and roll over like a good little pup. It was time he...*tug*...he...*tug*...

"Hm? I don't remember my leg being that heavy..." Beowulf curiously queried after shimmying his leg him nowhere, than glancing down at his ankle which was now ensnared by the slacker brother behind him. The legendary Wulf-man putting two and two together to see that these two were working together...in a two-some. Jeering fans caught the underhanded-ploy before the referee was ever going to, but rather than get rightfully ticked off from suddenly finding himself in a handicap match, the wily wolfen veteran saw this as an answer to several of his questions all at once. "Was Edgar a wrestler himself and therefore viable for getting a whuppin should he deserve it? Was he as much of cheating slacker that Beowulf initially thought of him? And when was the right time for Beowulf to finally start playing to win this match?..."

"Hey Leah..." Beowulf belted out after turning back to face the stampeding shaw sister in a readied grappling stance, slightly crouched with hands wide open, and a sparkly flash to his toothy grin. "...make sure to say hi to your brother for me!!" Once Leah got within arm's reach, the veteran grappler would clamp onto Leah's hips and put every ounce of his prodigious muscle mass into chucking the blonde rookie as high into the air as possible for a back body drop that had her lightweight frame careening skyward over the ropes...and just so happen to be aimed perfectly for that nosy slacker brother of hers on the outskirts of the ring.

Leah was in the moment, target locked. When she was like this, laser focused, nothing could snap her out of it… normally. The second Beowulf called her name it was like a bullet hit her. He knew her name… or at least remembered it. This was a definite step up for her budding career, right? It was loud enough people could hear too! This was great this was so great!

Drawing back her arm, cocked like the hammer of a revolver in ready to blast the Wulf-man out of the ring she couldn't hide the big dumb grin plastered over her face, even as he hunched forward. Trying to ready himself? Weakly trying to gather himself after her dropkick? She must have been stronger than she had thought.

“Huh?” What an odd request from her opponent, at least until he kindly supplied the context by flipping her high over his head. While Leah wasn't exactly a dainty girl, she wasn't very heavy, throw up and over nearly weightlessly with her momentum and Beowulf’s skillful execution. Unlike their earlier back and forth which had her delighted even as she took blows, this had her paniced and shirking as she flipped end over end outside of the ring.

Edgar's end of the job was done. The veteran bulk, the referee’s wandering eyes, and his good grip were all he needed to set his sister up for success. Sure, if she noticed he would catch hell from her, for a little bit anyhow. It was easy to shrug off her whining or simply buy it off with some ice cream. He received less fight than expected though. Had he not been able to hold the larger man in place, simply tripping him up or causing a distraction would have been enough. No, he seemed content to stand his ground. Like some sort of hero. Whatever.

He heard his sister's shrill cry before he saw her, head craning up as a shadow looked over his head cast by the flying form of his sister. He had time to move, to save himself and let his sibling hit the hard ground below. It was an easy choice for him. Fingers pulled away from Beowulf’s boot as Edgar backpedaled from the ringside, gaze cast high to gauge where his sister was going to land. As she came flying down, he moved to willingly intercept her, trying to catch the woman. She was falling far to fast, and a good deal to heavy for someone like him to pluck her from the air, instead he went crashing to the ground, absorbing most of the impact himself to try and keep his sister from facing the consequences.

The world spun as Leah fell from the open air in a forward rotation. She had no real way to stop herself, no means in which to aim her trajectory towards something less painful. She closed her eyes tightly, holding back the nausea that gripped her stomach in this uncertain moments and hoped for the best. The impact was hard, though not as bad as she expects. Her side ached, having landed on something that wasn't as flat or as hard as the ringside was. Was she dead? An eye opened, glancing around. The crowd was deafening, roaring over what has just happened.

Leah looked down at her brother beneath her. Sweat on his brow, but ultimately unmoved, stoic, looking up at her. His jaw was hard set, she could tell his teeth were likely grit hard beyond his tightly sealed lips. He was hard to read, so often closed off from her this looked the same as most any of his usual days of annoyance. Looking around, she took stock of what must have happened. “Are you okay Ed?”

“Get off, or you won't be.” Edgar hissed back sharply, hiding his biting pain behind the usual wall of aggression. He moved to give his sister a shove, but she was already rising to quickly remove herself from on top of him. She offered him a hand with those big sad eyes of her, wasting concern on him. With a shake of the head he dismissed it, rolling over to rise on his own. His body screamed internally with each movement no matter how small. She had landed on him poorly, not ready enough to cushion her fall. It wasn't something he intended to show her, or give Beowulf the satisfaction of lording over them.

“Stop staring and go wrestle, stupid.” He growled softly, clutching his side as subtle as he could manage. Leah looked ready to protest him, but the referee counting had snapped her back into the moment. He watched her nod and hurry back into the ring, waiting until her attention was back on the match. Slowly he made his way back to the chair he had set ringside, lowering himself down slowly into it. He swore softly under his breath, gingerly pushing at the sorest parts of his body, making sure something solid gave more than it should. “I hate this guy” He muttered under his breath.

Leah had rolled herself back into the ring under the bottom rope, quickly getting to her feet again to avoid the possibility of Beowulf running her down. Her eyes locked onto his, narrowed, lips pursed with a sour look. Her brother had nothing to do with this match in her eyes. Without seeing the interference, it came across as the veteran simply being a bit of a jerk. It lit a fire in her, this one different than her starstruck excitement. Drawing in a deep inhale through her nose, she slipped into her familiar grappling stance which only highlighted the size difference between them. “That was pretty rude.”

Considering that Beowulf had just now come to the startling, but in hindsight kind of obvious, conclusion about Leah and Edgar being siblings, the Wulf-man was now willing to allow Leah more leeway when it came to Edgar giving her helpful pointer's in the middle of their match. He wasn't the type of dude to come between family members offering each-other some guidance in their time of need. Leah was still a fresh-faced rookie just like her slacker brother, and falling back on eachother was probably how they handled the rigors of their newfound careers of beating people up for a living. Heck, he was even starting to reconsider his own assessment of her slacker brother if he was willing to risk getting walloped by an irate Wulf-man if it meant his little sister could avoid the same fate.

But directly interfering in a match between two competitor's was where the old-school wrestling legend drew the line. Unjustly tipping the scales in one wrestler's favor totally defeated the entire purpose of what he felt was a noble competition between two people who wanted to see who was the better man...er, or woman. It was the type of underhanded shenanigans he'd seen done a million times throughout his storied grappling career, and was the type of duplicitous trickery that if continuously pulled off by any of his fledgling students would have gotten them a boot on their rear before being punted out the front doors of his wrestling academy. But since Beowulf wasn't currently in any position to do the same authoritative butt-kicking to Leah, he would have to settle with flipping her overhead to teach both her and her slacker brother a lesson in fair-play, decency, and playing catch.

Beowulf satisfyingly clapped his hands together up and down as if having just completed a hard day's work, a sly grin with his eyes closed as he casually marched to the middle of the ring. The impactful sound and whooping groans of one person being slammed into the other was all the confirmation he needed to know that the two siblings had reconnected in about as painful a fashion as he intended. The cheering crowd also clued him in to his plan going off without a hitch, Edgar's cheating trickery regrettably shining an unfavorable light on the promising newbie now looking more like the cheating scoundrel in this bout rather than the plucky underdog. A branding that Beowulf couldn't disagree was well-justified all things considered, and he quite frankly expected better of Leah going into what he thought was going to be a fun match. A mindset he exuded as Leah rolled back into the ring to get matters back underway, the blonde little lady now appearing before a stalwart Wulf-man standing stoically with his burly arms folded and a disapproving gleam to his eyes.

"Well, at least we can both agree there, little lady. But I think having your brother grab my ankle and hold me in place could be described as something much worse than just rude...I gotta say, I was expecting more out of you than any two-timing shenanigans..." Beowulf's cold but truthful words coming off as a disappointed mentor who thought better of his potential student...

That look. What was with the look? She had been set to be angry at Beowulf, really bring the hurt to him after pulling that stunt but now this. It gave her a feeling of emptiness in her heart to see him gaze down upon her like that, thought she didn't really understand why. She momentarily faltered, glancing around to the lingering jeers as she stood before Principle Beowulf ready to put her in detention. Her lower lip puffed out a bit as she hardened up enough to give him an incredulous look. She hadn't done anything wrong, now he was trying to slander her brother too?

This must have been some sort of elaborate mind game pulled straight from the mental fortress that was the veteran's brain.. Wolf-like cunning… or what that foxes? Either way, he was trying to just psyche her out, testing her mettle, seeing if he could crack her resolve. Hmph!

“Tricky… very tricky. You almost had me fooled for a second there!” The two didn't have much distance between them, something she aimed to rectify by taking a long backwards circle around the ring while the two looked eyes and exchanged words. Starry eyed and naive as she could be, their early lockup had given her enough insight to know she needed momentum, leverage, or to hit just the right spot if she wanted her offense to stick. There was some truth to what Edgar said, but she wasn't about to commit to that fully.

“I guess it's about time I GET SERIOUS!” She flashed him a challenging grin as she dragged the sole of her boot along the mat, kicking it back like a bull about to charge. Nothing else really seemed to change in her demenior having brushed what just happened under the rug to rekindle the flames inside of her. She hadn't seen the cheating and the veteran's posturing had been cast aside under the pretense of being a fictitious jab to get her off her game. Her frame pushed back into the ropes, leaning hard until the tension became too difficult to fight.

She kicked off the canvas like a blond rocket to continue her rather straightforward assault, that while spirited in her own charming way, was a bit foolhardy. Sure, she had had some decent success thus far in matching her speed and momentum against Beowulf’s power, but that was more attributed to his lack of aggression. She came running though with a full head of steam. Arms thrown high, she pivoted to the side, cartwheeling mid ring towards Beowulf.

She came out of the acrobatic maneuver  in a low crouch, body leaning into what looked to.be an exaggerated leaping motion towards Beowulf… though it fell short, incredibly so, completely planned, as she stalled out after just a minor hop, dropping herself.down to make a brazen baseball slide through his legs. She was small compared to him, but even then it was a tight squeeze for what she had in mind. Thread the needle, that's all she had to do. Reaching out to either side, she aimed to grab for his ankles, trying to use her forward movement to take him off his feet a d slip to the outside of the ring in one deft motion.

As hard as it may be to believe, the aged veteran wasn't always the hardened wrestling warhorse-...er, warwulf...that he is today. Once upon a time, he was a strapping young pup with nary a hint of scruffy facial hair, a leaner physique, a badass mullet, and a bit of a rebellious streak that just came with the territory when you were a hot-shot wrestling stud like he was. When were you a breakthrough sensation on the independent circuit with cash money and cute girls being tossed your way, it kind of came with the territory that you were going to find yourself on the wrong side of the law, both in the ring and out.

It was only thanks to the watchful eye, wise words, and walloping fist of his mentor Snazzy Charlie Glassy that Beowulf was taught the error of his ways and the virtue of an honest life. So for Leah's own, good, the Wulf-man didn't mind taking up the role of the grizzly veteran here to rain on the cool kid's parade. She may not think too highly of Beowulf after he gives her a stern finger wagging speech, but one day she'll thank him for setting her straight. Besides...Leah couldn't pull off the mullet like the wulf-man could.

"Huh...W-Wait...who's tricking who and the whatzit now?" Beowulf confusingly questioned with a perplexed expression on his face after Leah accused him of trickery. He started scratching his thick noggin with a raised eyebrow like a neanderthalic cave-man trying to do quadratic equations. WAS he trying to trick her? He didn't think he was...Did Leah simply not know about her slacker brother's cheating mischief, or was she cleverly playing dumb just to lull him into a false sense of security? Or was Beowulf the one playing dumb so he could...wait...what was he doing again?

...Beowulf kinda got the feeling they got their wires crossed somewhere along the line here. But the competitive spirit in Leah's eye's helped add some sorely needed clarity to the befuddling moment. All this jibber-jabber was getting them nowhere, and their was only one logical way to settle a dispute between two rational adults...by slamming the tar out of each other in front of millions of people. Beowulf could always chastise both Leah and her slacker bro after the match anyhow, maybe with his mentor's renowned disciplinary method of bonking them really hard on the top of their head.

"Oh yeah?...Well if you say so..." Beowulf coyly remarked while limbering up with some exaggerated leg stretches from left to right, taking Leah's words as a clear and present indicator that it's time they stop holding back just for the funsies. The sparkly toothed grin he had grew wider as he flicked his thumb off the side of his nose, all the while analyzing the lady Shaw's posture for what was obviously going to be another attempt at running circles around the veteran wulf-man. A strategy that was doing gangbusters for her so far with success that she intended to replicate once again as she rocketed herself off of the ropes and started going into flippy gymnastics before baseball sliding right between between Beowulf's legs...and being caught right before she made it to home base. Two strengthened mitts catching Leah in mid-slide around her neck before hefting her up into the air in a as yet unseen combination of speed and power by the Wulf-man.

"In that case...guess it's about time I GET SERIOUS TOO!!!" Beowulf bellowed as hung Leah in the air for few seconds of air time before slamming her down as he collapsed onto his backside into an outright nasty sitout chokebomb. One that was followed up by a pin by wrapping both arms around her waist and placing one of his ankles over each of her wrists.

"One!!!"

It was a testament to Beowulf’s years in the business that he was able to look so dumbfounded with ease. Leah wasn't sure she would ever have the acting chops to pull it off quite that convincingly… he was a master of the craft to be certain. She couldn’t help but feel as though she had done something wrong, which was impressive, since she hadn't. Guilt was a powerful tool and one of the few weapons that were legal in the ring during a match. Clever. Very clever!

“I totally said so.” He had tested her spirit with promos, her skill with the opening Gambit, all that was left was her mind and body. This game of mental jousting of blame was no doubt the former, so she would prove herself capable by deflecting the blow and going in for critical damage! An impressive display of gymnastic talents left mostly untapped from her youth before she was going in for the setup. All she had to do was put him back on the ground, then she could start packing up blows. Sooner or later he would start to feel it if she kept putting him down enough.

The crowd gasped as she slipped between Beowulf’s legs, not because of how smooth the evasive maneuver had been, but because of how short it had been cut. Arms outstretched, she had just grabbed his ankles when two meaty hands had snapped down to clamp around her throat. Stopped dead below the pulling frame of the Wulf-man she wore a expression of genuine surprise and panic as her hands abandoned their posts on his legs to pry at the fingers curled around her neck. Leah's heels dragged along the canvas as she was draw out from beneath him, hoisted into the air kicking and struggling.

She had managed to get one boot up, pressed up against his pectorals to try and leverage herself out, pushing off him with everything she had. While not a capable lifter, she could leg press an awful lot. Maybe Beowulf wasn't aware of this fact as he kept her at bay regardless as if she was a permanently fixture grafted to his palms. She wasn't sure if things could get worse, until be let her down in the unkindest of ways.

The impact was unlike any she had ever taken. Her back slamming against the ring accompanied by her attackers weight had been like a thunder clap that shook the foundations. She was left breathless and battered, pain dulled only by the numbness that overtook her back from how flatly he had planted her. She lay blinking on the mat, vaguely aware her limp arms had become the perch point for Beowulf's draped legs. She had been doing so well… it didn't seem fair how quickly things had turned on their head.

“One!”

It could have been over here, even the idea of drawing in a labored breathing seemed like an afterthought next to simply laying where she landed. Her broken body buffed back up as oxygen filled her, lungful after lungful. She tried to move, an attempt at turning over thwarted. Her arms were pinned? Her head lulled to the side, stupidly connecting the limb drawn over her arms with the weight keeping her down. That… wasn't good.

“Two!”

She wiggled and twisted, letting out a hacking cough as she accidentally inhaled some of her own saliva. Not exactly the most attractive thing, but right now she wasn't trying to impress anyone, she was trying to survive. With a rough tugging from side to side, she found a rhythm just in time to pry an arm out from under Beowulf, throwing it to the heavens to raise a shoulder off the mat just in time to break the count. Safety secured, for the moment, she limply dropped back to where she lay with her free arm resting over top of Beowulf’s leg. She just needed a moment.

Or two.

Or ten.

Wrestling commentators whose job it is to comb through every minute detail of every match would understandably have varying opinions about who made what mistake that cost them the match in between shilling for their sponsors and promoting the next ppv. If Beowulf did wind up being victorious this day, there wouldn't be as much of a debate this time around in regards to what simple folly Leah perpetrated to have her being the one to take the L this day. The exact moment she insisted on taking this match seriously would have been the beginning of the end...since it was as clear a message as any that she wanted the Wulf-man to stop pulling his punches...to take the gloves off...and all the other metaphors that basically said she wanted him to treat this match like he had a title belt up for grabs. Which was a situation even the most seasoned of grapplers probably weren't immediately ready for.

All of Leah's flippy-dippy offense and breakneck speed may have been hard to predict to the untrained eye, but Beowulf didn't spend three years in Mexico for the tequila and to get a killer tan. He trained with some of the swiftest luchadoras in the wrestling scene. Learning their moves, strategies, and most importantly, how to catch those masked little buggers since he was always the heavier wrestler who could never hope to match their speed. BUT...he could match their reflexes by acting on impulse and without thinking, which was a trait his coach said he was a master at. From there, it was all about being patient and letting them be the ones to come to you...which Leah oh so helpfully did by trying the old baseball slide through the legs trick.

*Pretty sneaky, Sis~...* if he thought so himself. But now it was Beowulf's turn to show this young-blood what the Wulf-man can do when he's going full throttle, and why he won Wrestling Observer's award for most earth shaking powerslams four year's running. Every single solitary wrestling fan out there immediately feeling a mixture of impending dread and eye-wincing sympathy for the youthful rookie hauled up off her feet and perhaps now regretting the whole "getting serious" line. The impending powerbomb jostling the ring ropes, making the referee hop in place ever so briefly, and sounding like thunder just clapped hands with lightning. Beowulf lacing his fingers together across Leah's slim waist with her knees draped over his shoulder and bobbing his head from each slap against the canvas that was regrettably one short of earning him the win once Leah jostled herself free.

"Whoa, not bad little pup. I used that move to get a win over Maniac Mike in the Garden a few years ago, good on ya to still be kicking after that." Beowulf complimented while undoing his pin and rising back to his feet by shoving off of his bent knee....though whether Leah could register any of what he was saying was up for debate. A tugging yank on her wrist meant that Leah was coming along for the ascension as well, promptly having her noggin slotted under his arm for a muscled headlock that had every fiber of power from his 24-inch python put into it. A prelude to keep her sedated for the big show, which came with Beowulf snatching her outfit by the waist and elevating ramrod straight into the air. The balancing coming with some headstrong theatrics as Beowulf flexed with his free arm and waved his fingers to compel the stunned audience to count how long he could keep her aloft...

"1!...2!...3!............14!!...15!!"

...before slamming her down onto her head and shoulders from the stalled brainbuster.

Legs no longer held at bay by Beowulf’s hulking frame, Leah’s body unfolded like an accordion, flopping out across the mat with a wheezing exhale of anything that had been squeezed into her lungs still. Her eyes were blinking, fighting back their constant want to roll back in her head as the world around her seemed to twist and sway even while firmly grounded. Since when did the ring become a boat? It had no reason to rock like this.

“My… nyeh… name isn't Mike.” The blond muttered unintelligibly as she was jerked forward by the arm. First to sit, then to rise against her will. She stumbled unsteadily forward, fumbling on the verge of falling. Beowulf however, was a gentleman, and kindly helped her remain upright by locking her head in place with an arm. Her knees buckled, pawing at his bicep as her own weight was pulling her down against his forearm causing her to choke.

The constricting squeeze was enough to jolt a bit of life into her however, not staying limp for long. It felt as though her head were being crushed in a vice, an unwavering grip that would likely see her head cave in before it let up. The tiny terror let out a roar of pain, digging her heels in to draw herself back to no avail. There was only one other thing she could do…

She pushed her body inward, digging her shoulder up against his body, arms reaching out to wrap around his midsection but not quite getting around it completely. As she attempted to brace herself and set her legs for a suplex of her own Beowulf hoisted her up off the mat and dashed her hopeful reversal.

High above the ring, she was suspended upside down, cheeks reddening brightly. Unlike most matches in AFW, it wasn't do to saucy moves or embarrassment, this was all thanks to gravity. Her body remained upright, teetering but never swaying too far out of Beowulf's control. The seconds blurred to get her as she squealed, red face, too afraid to kick her legs for fear of coming down in a worse way if she botched the move. Helplessly she remained suspended until it was time to cash it all in with an uproar of cheers and fanfare that fell on her temporarily deaf ears as she snapped to blade on jarring impact.

Her body snapped straight, muscles tensing as her skull came down like a meteorite on the canvas. Unintentional but impressive hang time, still vertical for a solid count of three to four more second before her little frame slumped to topple back to the mat. She was quiet and unmoving, quite possibly dead. Who knew?

Edgar sat up, then stood up as his sister was at the mercy of the veteran grappler. Teeth grinding in secret behind his closed mouth with the only hint being the stiff shifting of his jaw. Violent thought swirled about his head as he watched this behemoth of the industry manhandle Leah and leave her out on the mat.

She deserved this. This is what she got for participating against men. He warned her, time and again, but she and so many other s were just dumb to logic. Reaching out he gripped the bottom rope, eyes narrowing to piercing glares into Beowulf’s back. Why, if this is how he felt, was he so riled up over this? He didn't even get this angry over issues pertaining to him personally.

He could interfere. It would cost Leah the match, but she was already losing. He wouldn't hear the end of it though, of that he was certain. The fans would blame her too… he didn't care what they thought about him, but it would break his sister’s heart if she came out to boos and jeers, this he knew. So something else. Distractions? Maybe buy her time to get back up and gather herself.

Taking in a deep breath, he stood up straight and began to clap. Slow and steady, just audible enough for Beowulf and those behind the barrier nearest to him to hear. A droning golf clap, all for the big man in the ring. “Nice one, even I can lift her for longer than that. All those years on the juice got you feeling after shock or something?” He put on a smug face, one that came easy to him, the sort that begged to be punched… repeatedly.

“So is Tension where you came to put your career to rest? Couldn't keep up with all the newer younger talent so you came to Japan to pick on the scraps of rookies and whatever the hell else half the female roster of Tension is? Bravo. So when do you think the magic is going to die? Five matches? Ten? I give you a solid seven before the hype dies and people start talking about the glory days when you actually were “good”. That's good with air quotes if you can't make out my sarcasm without a hearing aid.”

Looks like Leah may have needed to bone up on her wrestling history if she didn't remember who Maniac Mike was, even if it was a few years past her time. The dude was a beady-eyed nutjob in the ring who had one of the sickest powerbombs in the business...but he was unfortunately a fumbling mess when it came to his backstage promos. And while that garnered him a few chuckle worthy memes and some level of internet notoriety, it was for all of the wrong reasons and the dude never quite ascended to the top of the card as a result. Beowulf was just then thinking that he should reach out to that guy and see how his used car dealership is holding up down in Florida...

...this was just one of the thoughts spiraling through Beowulf's head as he kept the nimble Shaw sister elevated ramrod straight while his Wulfpac members in the audience counted along. Luckily, Leah was as light as feather compared to the hulking giants he used to have haul into the air like this back in the states. He adjusted his position only every so often, but he honestly could have kept this going for twice as long before he eventually brought the hammer down upon the younger Shaw's noggin. When he overheard some of her squealing, he didn't want to run the chance of her having had too much to eat before the match, and letting the whole world know just what she had to eat.

"Oh yeah!!! Who's the Wulf-man?!?!?" Beowulf popped back to his feet and soaked in some of the resounding accolades and wulf chanting with a bit of flexing poses...unfortunately, this was mixed in with some blatantly inflammatory shit-talking from the peanut gallery at ringside. Beowulf knew who it was, but aside from a twitch of his ear his toothy smile devolving to a slight smirk during his pose, the Wulf-man didn't respond. What kind of professional would he be if he let random hecklers constantly distract him from putting on the best show he could possibly put on? But seeing as how this wasn't some random internet smark who had one too many drinks, and was Leah's sister, he figured he should offer her bro some wrestling words of wisdom. So Beowulf waltzed over to the side of the ring Edgar was shouting and leaned his back against the ropes with arms slung over the top rope. He was seemingly prepping for a big manuever, but started talking while still looking straight ahead and never glancing down at the blond-haired slacker once.

"Ya know...I really don't see what cheating for your sister is gonna do for her in the long run. Squaring off in the ring against ladies or dudes is obviously something she's passionate about, and she ain't gonna get any better at it if you keep cutting her corners and hindering her progress. May not look it right now, but she's having the time of her life in there. You know she didn't even believe me when I said you were cheating for her? Or maybe she didn't want to believe it cause it'd break her heart. Maybe instead of barking orders at her, calling her stupid, and cheatin yer ass for her...you oughtta just consider cheering for her? I'm sure she'd love to hear her big bro rooting for her right about now..." Beowulf left it at that and bounced off the ropes to pick-up the momentum of the match after that little pow-wow.

The wulf-man went stampeding across the ring with his muscled arms swaying as he nimbly leapt over Leah's lifeless husk and towards the ropes ahead. A hop in place landed his booted feet onto the middle ropes while clenching onto the top rope for a wavering balance before propelling him backward in an arching loop that would have his iron-toned abdomen squashing Leah into the canvas in an improvised mini Airwulf Moonsault attempt. Complete with him hooking her legs for the pin attempt right after.