Playing With the Big Dogs

Every time she blinked the roar of the crowd seemed to vanish… she was blinking, wasn't she? It was hard to tell, coherent thought seemed fleeting. Her fingertips could trace the edge of a idea, just barely touch it before it was gone. She knew where she was… wait did she? Her blue eyes remained open now, brow furrowed in consentration as she willed her mind into focus. The pounding drone of pain wracking her head actually served to help fight through the haze, giving her something solid to hold onto that grounded her in reality.

Tension ring. A match.

Beowulf.

Ow… ow…

“Ow….” She whispered softly as the pain took hold of her to the point she registered it as more than just a sensation. In her youth, she had heard people claim she had been dropped on her head as a kid more than once. A chipper oddity, to the point people felt the need to explain why she was the way she was. She never was dropped on her noggin, not that she recalled. Children were just cruel, saying things like that to make her feel bad. Edgar always made them apologise though. He was thoughtful like that…

Edgar.

She heard him somewhere off in the distance. To the… right? He seemed to have a lot to say at the moment. Was the match over, had she lost? Her head turned to the side, blond hair hanging unkempt around her face, annoyingly covering on eye as it hung down. He was still on the outside, Beowulf wasn't far either, just at the ropes.

She couldn't make out what either man was saying. It normally wouldn't be an issue for her, whose mind would fill in the blanks with her own narrative. She couldn't really read lips, but her brain liked to insert itself into most creative opportunities it was presented. Thinking on it seemed to make her brain hurt more so she let it slip away as she worked to recover her breath.

Beowulf had some rather sound advice. Surprising given that the titan of the industry seemed almost inept when it came to anything past the sport. It was almost commical how detached he had been socially up until this point. There was however one critical flaw to the big man's logic. It needed an apt listener. Edgar had already filed Beowulf away under someone he didn't give two shots about what they had to say, so the commentary fell on deaf ears. He had only one goal, which was to distract and it failed.

He wasn't about to roster grabbing for the man's legs again, a few fans behind the barrier nearby were already shouting warnings to both Beowulf a d the referee as if the blond was about to try something. It was too risky right now… maybe if things went South he could consider taking a chair to the large man after the match, if for no other reason than getting revenge for hurling his sister outside the ring at him.

Leah became more aware of movement, the vibrations of the ring jarring her back into what was going on. She made no move to rise past her head, one eye closed as she peered to the side just in time to feel the whoosh of air pass over her in the wake of a large shadow. It took her mind a moment to register it had been a person, her opponent. Her eye followed Beowulf to the far end of the ring, she would have time to roll by the time he came back, maybe…

But he wasn't running back, oh no. Her jaw tensed as his boots hit the ropes. This was bad… this was so bad! She strained, struggling to curl up protectively. Her body didn't want to follow her direction, limps shaking in protest. She didn't see him, wasn't watching, but the crowd was so loud, the lights above blotted out by a shadow encroaching over her. At the last moment she managed to bring her knees up, hugging her legs up to make her laid out form into a compact human ball. Regardless of what happened to Beowulf, his flipping weight alone was about to squash her pretty badly.

People usually didn't expect Beowulf to be a veritable fountain of overflowing wrestling wisdom, but you don't get tutored by as many wrestling coaches as him and have a decades spanning career without picking up a few things here and there. The business having practically been ingrained into his psyche to the point where he could probably write a few best-selling books about the grappling world. Though he always saw that type of career-reflective stuff as something to look into maybe once he officially hangs up his wrestling boots for the last time. "A Wulf In Sheep's Clothing" was a title he was mulling over, but there was one issue that could come up should he ever start doling out those words of wisdom...

...and that was whether today's generation would take them to heart. Kids these days having the attention spans of gnats meant that there was a decent chance they would fall on deaf ears. Which he kinda felt was the case here with the slacker brother at ringside given the lack of even a witty comeback, snide insult, or any reaction at all. Ah well, can't reach them all. He just wishes some of what he said broke through that skull of his. Beowulf having more important things to worry about anyway, primarily making sure this badass looking moonsault stuck it's landing. The Wulf-man nimbly hopping up to clamp onto the top ropes while balancing himself on the middle ropes, which jostled from the weight before he spring-boarded back from whence he came.

Beowulf spread his arms to the side like only a flying wulf-man could, arching backward and angling himself as best he could to make sure the full totality of his weight came splashing down directly upon a softer landing platform known as Leah Shaw. And while he kinda got his wish, it wasn't without a few hiccups. Namely that the wily blonde had tucked her legs in so only a stiff pair of legs would "cushion" his descent, expelling all the air in his lungs and sending the wulf-man into a bit of a coughing fit as he tumbled off of her and cradled his midsection. That's what he gets for taking so long to instill sage-like wisdom to the new generation.

The gut reaction to raise her knees had been the best move, the only real move, to keep her from losing the match outright. She had done it before, spearing her opponent with hard bone, nor.ally doing more harm to them than their move would have done if it was landed. She did however, not generally do it on individuals as large as Beowulf.

While the Wulf-man may have been hurting, his near two hundred pounds of brawn crashing down on her compressed her body downward, slamming her own legs down into her stomach. Folded up like an accordion, a phrase she had heard before but never understood until now.

As Beowulf tumbled off her petite form, her legs flopped out, laid out across the mat in breathless confusion. That certainly hadn't gone how she hoped or planned. Her own arms wrapped about her midsection, holding it in a close hug. Eyes squinted through the pain, she glanced over to the legend beside her who was in a similar state as if the pair were imitating each other. That got a laugh from her, well, more of a croak than a laugh at the moment.

She had options… they weren't exactly good ones right now. She wasn't in any condition to go on the offensive. Should she roll for the ropes and try a different recover, or take advantage of this peculiar situation the both of them were in? It was unlikely Beowulf was down and out but… what if he was somehow? Could she pass this chance up?

With a wheeze, she shifted her body, shoulder over shoulder as she rolled away from safety towards her opposition. Butting up against him, she strained to flop herself over top of him, trying to weigh down his shoulders enough to go for a pin of desperation. She couldn't hold him down or really hook a leg, she was still reeling as well from his attempt to end her moments earlier.

Flying through the air with greatest of ease wasn't always as seamless as the professionals make it look. Beowulf learning that the hard way from his time training with Mexican luchador's all those years ago. Many a weary night spent perfecting his form and timing with sometimes the gym not being able to afford crashpads, so your sorry keister was slamming down on unforgiving canvas most of the time. It did wonders for strengthening his core abdominal muscles in retrospect, which made for an even more impactful landing upon whatever opponent he was aiming to flatten into the canvas that night.

What also made his high-flying antics that much more painful was the fact that he was nearly two-hundred plus pounds of muscled machismo flying through the air, not some featherweight sprinting around the ring. Alot of his naysayers thinking him too heavy to be capable of performing half the high-flying moves he does, but the Wulf-man proved them all wrong through sheer, guts, determination, athleticism, and not taking "You're crazy" for an answer. Though in this instance, he was starting to feel a twinge of regret in his actions, as well as a pained aching in his abs from slamming down upon Leah's bent in knees.

The Wulf-man wheezed and coughed after hopping off of the wily Shaw sister, sprawled out next to her and mimicking her own air-chortling discomfort. At least he thought he was laying beside the younger sibling, her petite frame not even coming off as covering him until the referee was already at the two count. Prompting the fan-favorite to instinctively usurp her position with a bucking jolt that should have her rolling off of him. The fans holding their breath over what would have been the upset victory of the year across sports media outlets around the world.

Leah had managed a cover in the barest of requirements. Barely making contact, an arm draped over top of Beowulf's chest. He was so large in comparison she couldn't reach manage to reach across him from shoulder to shoulder while she slumped up against him. It was enough to call for a count though she couldn't really enjoy it near breathless and hurting.

She might as well have been a member of the audience, just as surprised as one than two counts landed uninterrupted. The abrupt surge of life that hit the Wulf-man sent her flopping off onto the canvas in a roll. She just barely caught herself from spilling out onto the outside by catching her shoulder on the bottom rope. Slowly she scooted herself back, graping up for purchase.

One than the next she climbed her way to shaky legs using the ropes as support. The blond slipped one arm over the top rope, tucking it underneath. Her frame bounced a bit as it weighed against the cables. She huffed, blowing a few strands of hair from her eyes. With a half turned she looked back over her shoulder to where her opponent was in the race to establish momentum again. Leah was looking pretty worse for wear after Beowulf had actually started to lay the hurt on her.

Beowulf shot an arm skyward and rolled to his side, keeping his arm elevated while breathing heartily after inadvertently sending his lightweight admirer tumbling in the opposite direction. Die-hard wulf-pack members in the audience breathing a sigh of relief as their leader narrowly avoided being pinned down by the Shaw sister putting up the fight of her life. Beowulf remaining in place with a few chortled coughs to get his breathing rate back to normal.

His cast-iron stomach meant that he was already starting to recoup well enough from Leah's tucked in counter, his veteran instincts keeping his head screwed on tight as he kept himself propped against the canvas on top of his elbow. He could use a pick me up or some kind of energy boost to keep him going...but that's when a a slow, rhythmic clap started to echo around the arena, some accompanying stomps thrown in just for good measure.

The finger's of Beowulf's extended hand would start to curl inward into a clenched fist, his muscled arm starting to tremulously shake as if he was feeding off the cheering support from his ardent fan-base. Beowulf feeling an adrenaline rush surge through him as he began lifting himself upward...first rolling himself over and propping himself on one knee...his teeth clenched, sweat-dripped head ferociously shaking from side to side as he started to WULF-UP!!!

"Roll outside." Edgar's voice caught her ears making them perk slightly. It was hard to keep her focus split but she dared to turn away from Beowulf for just a moment. Her sibling was staring up at her with his hard, serious look, the one normally used to break her resistance when she decided to fight his lead of a situation. Coiling her arms around the top rope she was hanging on with everything she had, trying to keep her legs from turning back into a bowl of noodles and spilling her back onto the canvas. She knew the wisdom in his words, taking time to recuperate was the smart move... Beowulf had already accused her of being a cheat and a sneak though. The last thing she wanted was to turn tail and seem like she was running from him.

Leah lifted her head, eyes scanning the crowd as a slow steady clap became a deafening roar, hearts, bodies, minds, unified in support of Beowulf as people began to stand up one by one. This is what she wanted for herself. To have an arena of cheering crowds at her back supporting her when she was at her darkest moments. She stared on, somber of the fact she was a long way away from such unquestionable devotion. In her first few matches she had gotten all the love in the world, but in those cases it had been easy to cheer her. Now? The audience wasn't even split. She was the opposition. At least one person here believed in her though... Her eyes drifted back to Edgar as he waved her towards him, a silent gesture to reinforce his point.

It was a shame she was going to disappoint him then.

"No." Leah cracked a faint smile, pushing off the ropes to find her footing. Before he had a chance to even open his mouth, she already had given him her back. She stood tall with a faint wobble, looking on as the Wulfman pumped himself up. She watched quietly, letting the surreal moment wash over her. Any other day she would have been one of those people in the crowd cheering. Now? She was staring down what very well might have been her doom... and she couldn't find it in herself to be upset, or not even frightened. How many people would have killed to have a match with this man? Especially over here now that he broke ties with his old promotions. This was something that should have been on her bucket list, if she had thought to make one... maybe after this.

"L, don't be dumb." He has risen from his chair, making his way to the apron. "You can still have this if you play smart. he's an old man, just outlast him." He hissed softly glaring past his sister's legs at the man on the far end of the ring making a spectacle of himself. Her palms rested on the side of the ring as he looked up to his other half, waiting for her to turn back to him and actually listen.... but she didn't.

She breathed deep, slowly hobbling from the ropes. her legs solidifying with each step, a limp turning to a jog. She wasn't going to wait, it was time to take this wulf by the scruff of his neck! Leaning forward she charged, arms pumping as distance closed on the rising legend. With a snap of her arm upward she assumed a pose of someone flexing, giving her bicep a firm clap. he wasn't fully on his feet yet, in theory it was going to be easier to knock him down if she played her cards right.

"Ready or not!" She stamped down her boot, planting it firmly as she pivoted to carry her momentum forward. With a sudden, stiff motion her arm cranked up and around, flying towards Beowulf's head to catch him below the chin in what would be her best attempt to must a mighty European uppercut with what little she had left in the reserves. "Cause here it comes!"

"WULF!!!...WULF!!!...WULF!!!!...WULF!!!!!..."

As if having a direct connection to the lifeline of the hyped up enthusiasm of the ravenous WULF-PACK in the audience, suddenly the downtrodden WULF-MAN started psyching himself up with a fervent shaking of his clenched fists and of his head from side to side. Thousands upon thousands recognizing the telltale sign of what happens before Beowulf starts opening of several cans of Grade-A whoop ass upon the poor dude, or dudette, who had unknowingly made the severe miscalculation of unleashing the beast within. There was an almost otherworldly swell of unified support and palpable excitement that energized the crowd with gigawatts of positive energy as they rallied behind the renowned wrestling legend.

Though this type of crowd support wasn't exactly won overnight, and it was something that he hoped Leah took note of. There were many instances of Beowulf in his early wrestling career getting outclassed by the wily veterans or two-timed by the unscrupulous bad guys before he finally started connecting with the crowd who wanted to see the plucky underwulf start overcoming all of his setbacks. Eventually brandishing the moniker of the Wulf-man because even though it looked like he was alone in the ring, he had the hearts and minds and dreams of all the little Wulf-a-maniacs out there urging him on to win one for them~...which were the exact words used in his legendary promo that truly got his career going. Years of pumping iron and endearing himself to his loyal fandom were all just the first few steps towards garnering the kind of crowd support Leah was witnessing, and it was a testament to just how much of a difference it can make having the people's respect and appreciation behind you. How it could adrenalize you and make you feel no pain when it comes crashing down and it hurts inside...

All the swelling aches and pains from the rest of the match were suddenly repressed back to the edges of his psyche as his muscles flared and his stomping steps became more emphatic...as if they were shaking the earth itself and not just the vibrating canvas. What happened next was entirely out of his hands though. Should Leah step out of the ring and take a powder it could have very well offer her the time needed to mount a comeback...but her stock in the crowd's eyes would have tanked considerably. Labeling her as a coward who didn't step up to the plate when all eyes were on her, and that, along with all the cheating shenanigans her brother was guilty of, would have done irreparable harm to her credibility. But in one thunderous European uppercut, Beowulf's worries were assuaged along with his head being rocked back. Both his and the audience's respect for Leah going up tenfold in one mighty swing...and one that he knew how to respond to. The pumped up Wulf-man turning back to face the lady Shaw with eyes of righteous indignation and an unwavering pointing from his index finger with a bellowing...


Beowulf than promptly rushing forward to snatch Leah up by her leg and shoulder to heave her into the air for a military press, the Shaw sister raised high into the air for the crowd to gawk at with several pumping reps to show off his strength. Cameras flashing and people wulfing it up before Beo-wulf would go into several twisting turns to dizzy his opponent before dropping and catching her for one burly powerslam!!!

Even over the fading yell from Edgar she rushed across the canvas. The closer she became the smaller she felt. Beowulf shook and flexed with an invisible force ripping off of him. Sheer charisma and wrestling acumen radiating to such a degree it always felt as if the air around him was thicker, harder to move through. He was that finally boss she encountered every time she picked up a game controller. He was that star to shoot for in her career. He was about to eat her uppercut!

The solid crack of her arm came with a gasp from the front row, drowned out by the roar of Wulfamanics cheering for their hero. She hit true, sending the Titans head back but leaving him otherwise unmoved. She stared on dumbstruck even having seen this very thing before more times than she could count. It was different now. The young often felt they were without limits. This wouldn't happen to them… but it did. The burst of adrenaline she had felt did little to sooth the sudden numbness in her arm from throwing such a heavy blow against the wall of muscle known as Beowulf.

She blinked stupidly, going cross eyed as she stared at the tip of the finger pointed in her face. She needed to say something inspiring… something cool!

“Me!”

She shouted back with just as much fire but none of the weight behind it, regretting nothing from her utterly goofy response. Her body shifted, weight moving to her back foot. With a sudden lunge she swung her body up in an attempt to catch the juggernaut with an enziguri…

She had barely left the mat before being scooped up into the air. Her body spun outside of her control, blurring the ringside until she came to a sudden stop in a daze of confusion. Her eyes blinked, staring at the earth far below her as her body hung suspended high above the ring.

She kicked and wriggled, trying to shake herself loose from Beowulf's grasp. His arms didn't so much as budge a. Inch with her protests. Solid steel beams made flesh keeping her aloft. There had never been a time where she wished she were overweight, until now. She might as well have been a origami wrestler with how easily he was parading her around the ring.

Leah flailed and arm, taking a sloppy pot shot at the back of Beowulf's head with her palm. She went for a second but the world had decided it was time to spin again. Unlike the first time he had treated her to the merry-go-round, this time was genuinely nauseating, stilling her physical protests as she clutched at his wrist to hand on. Her stomach turned,and everything came to a sudden haukt save to the arena which was slowly shifting on a diagonal. Gravity seemed a myth as her mind struggle to comprehend which way was up and down.

She was draped between his grasping mitts, hanging limply from above. A sack filled with slightly warm jello, barely managing to keep herself together. With a small pop into the air, she was spun and caught onto her opponents should with a flop. No time to rest or recover as whiplash followed, snapping her from her airborne position down to the mat in a sickening this of force and weight that left her unable to even audibly express how devastating the move had been. Breathless and gasping, she stared blankly upwards while her body lay slack across the mat, lifeless.

Vintage Wulf-man.

There was really no better to describe the adrenaline-fueled madness ensuing inside the ring. Anyone who was not a fan of the sport would stare in eyebrow raising befuddlement as to what the hell was going on here, but to those who were in the know, it was pure wrestling magic at it's finest. It was the type of thing children remember for a lifetime and inspires them to follow their dreams no matter how badly life beats you down, filling their youthful hearts with promising ambition as they cheered while clenching onto their official "Wulf-man" wrestling buddy plush doll. Teaching the young wulf-a-maniacs out there not to believe in others who believe in you...but to believe in the you who believes in you. Admittedly this message can be kind of confusing to wrap your head around...but it was a core tenet of being a true member of his vaunted Wulf-pac.

All those members now cheering their lungs out and on their feet after seeing their leader tank through a vicious European uppercut and made it properly known to Leah that she was the unluckiest/luckiest person in the arena at this moment...depending on just how much of a fan of his you were. Beowulf seamlessly heaving the thankfully lightweight Shaw sister into the air, the world gawking at both her suspended state of animation and the sheer strength of the Wulf-man. Beo showing off the strength of his twenty-four inch pythons which shimmered from their oily sheen as he did a few reps with the squirming lady before once again taking her for a spin around, shaking off any wavering smacks to the back of his head which would have had to hit much harder than that to stop this move from going down. He was lucky that Leah had such a strong constitution considering that this was the second time he had taken her for a nauseating ride like this. A ride that came to a crash-ending with one mighty slam that shook the ring and flattened the blonde youngblood. Well-sculpted muscle squishing her into the ring canvas in fell swoop before he sprung back to his feet.


The legacy fan-favorite circling around his prey a few times before howling to the moon with a fully voiced breath while also shooting up his devil-horned Wulf-pac hand gesture into the air to signal the beginning of the end for his opponent. A shimmering sparkle to his toothy smile as he seemed larger than life and for a brief moment made the world believe in heroes again. It was time for his signature finisher, the one that always sent all the fans home happy. The nimble Wulf-man jumping over Leah to sprint towards the nearest corner turnbuckle before hopping up to the middle ropes merely to help bounce him off the top rope. An unnatural display of agility on full display as the Wulf-man sailed through the air with the greatest of ease for his patented Airwulf Moonsault~...intending to slam down over two-hundred pounds of chiseled muscle onto the cherubic Shaw sister.