Second Against The Wall

Adrian would not consider herself a political radical and certainly was no revolutionary vanguard, but there was something about dealing with Gwendolyn that put her in the mind for Guillotines and eating the rich, she was best friends with Cecilia Northman who herself was very arrogant and very rich but she never irked Adrian the way the French heiress did. Maybe it was because Cecilia was never reluctant to get her hands dirty, surround herself with paid help (Adrian may have been crashing in her place and hung around her a lot but she didn't count!) or generally lord over people with cash. She had her wrestling ability to do that for her.

Still, Gwendolyn. Gwennie-cakes was a difficult person to go against directly because being surrounded by a goon-squad made the ol' wrasslin' standby of cracking her in the back of a knee with a lead pipe in the hallway a no-go. Still, there were other ways to ruin a rich bitches day, and with the amount of enemies she had made in her time here, there was no shortage of help to accomplish it.

Knocking on the door of a run-down locker room that smelt worse than the usual sweat and sex, Adrian was looking for a fellow former Hardcore Champion: Libby Vella was a rough and tumble woman, not afraid to get into any fight and bust up any one. Of all Gwen's foes, she was the perfect fit for what Adrian had in store for the blonde, she just hoped the Italian would be cool with it, and not just want to fight Adrian there and then. "Hello? Libby in there?"

At first thought, a locker room might’ve sounded like a weird place to take a nap. No privacy guarantee, high likelihood of being interrupted, and it was generally easier to sleep in places that didn’t smell like a mix of dirty gymsocks and rampant sex.

But this wasn’t an ordinary locker room. In truth, it was an old one from a couple years back, before the Friction building had remodeled and shifted things. The one that most frequented was the newer, fresher one. This one was more cramped, rustier, and seemed to have an lingering scent that not even the AFW’s most dedicated janitors could handle.

In short, it was as close to her apartment as Liberty could get without actually being in her apartment, and it was a good place for her to hang out and catch a breather after a good workout. Which, despite popular belief, she had quite often.

That was, until she heard a knock and a sem-familiar voice calling her name.

Liberty had been laying on a bench, barefoot, wearing her trackpants and nothing else, but the mention of her name made her sit upright and put her on alarm. ”Uh...yeah?” No, wait, scratch that. ”I mean, it depends! Who the fuck’s asking?”

Well that was about as good of a response as she could have hoped for. At least she knew that a: Libby was in the locker room and b: made exactly the same mistakes when someone was asking for her as Adrian did, common ground! At least she hopefully wouldn't pull a "I'm not me." as Adrian had previously. "Uh... is Adrian Kytes a good person to ask?" Wait, what was she saying? "I mean, it's Adrian, and I'm definitely not looking for a fight right now!" She called through, "Can I come in or do you need to put on panties or something?"

Adrian Kytes? Adrian Kytes.

That was a name that Liberty knew well enough. Another former hardcore champ, one that she’d never taken on, but a big one all the same.  She and Adrian were two of the few remaining Friction vets, too, and even though they’d been in the company for nearly a decade and wrestled in similar circles, their paths had never crossed, and she honestly didn’t expect they ever would. Just a weird quirk of life.

And yet, here they were.

Liberty scratched her head, then shrugged. If Adrian did start a fight, she was fairly sure she could handle it - hell, she would’ve welcomed it, really. Besides, the woman seemed to be on the straight and narrow these days. ”Just got my top off. Tits. Nothing you haven’t seen before. Come on in.”

Adrian grimaced from the other side of the door, was she the only woman in Tokyo who had issues dealing with serious discussions when one of the participants wasn't dressed? Talking about potentially big things was not easy when she was stuck looking at the ceiling. The brunette took a deep breath and walked in, trying her best to both look at Libby and... not look at Libby.

"Hi, how's it uh... going?" Adrian offered, trying to piece back together about what her initial plan to get the Freedom Fighter on side was before settling on the direct approach. "Want to help wreck Gwendolyn Beau-something-or-other's stuff up?"

”Yeah.”

Liberty answered with speed that bordered on reflex, putting the same amount of thought to Adrian’s question that she would’ve if the brunette asked her what her hair color was. She still remembered her last little encounter with the rich bitch, getting circles ran around her in the ring, getting stomped in the face, having to taste her prim, pretty ass. Yeah, she’d lost fair and square, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to hold a grudge against Gwen and the blonde supremacy she stood for in the AFW.

So, yes, the chance to wreck Gwen’s stuff? She was down for it. Right away.

Adrian’s avoidance of her breasts was funny for a moment, but now that this talk was getting her excited, she was quick to get her shirt back on, eager to go. ”Got a sledgehammer and a baseball bat in my truck, spray cans if you’re into tagging, could probably make a molotov if you give me a little while, and…”

She stopped, suddenly remembered a kind of important detail in all this. ”So what’s your beef with Gwen? Just asking.” If it wasn’t a match with blood or a high-potential for broken bones, Liberty rarely paid attention to most AFW. Did she and Gwen have some kind of feud going on?

Adrian was just about to break into a spiel about helping a fellow comrade out in tackling the complicated word communists use to describe rich assholes but then the Italian agreed without a second thought. "Wait, really?" the brunette asked, her plan being quickly short circuited by Libby's rapid agreement. "Sweet!" Adrian cheered, mission accomplished "If you've got anything that can help lift one of her Limos that'd be great, better let Becks know that you're on board." the former cosplayer explained as she dug into her pockets, looking for her phone.

"Huh?" Adrian asked, looking up at Libby's question. "Oh, right! Well she took over the locker room a few days back and had the goon squad throw everyone's stuff in the trash, and then me out of the room. Like, literally thrown. Like I was a drunk after closing time, it sucked. So we're wrecking her shit because A: To teach her a lesson about respecting other people's things and B: Because fuck her, that's why." She said full in the knowledge that these were legitimate reasons in the world of professional wrestling to destroy a Limousine, or twelve. "Come on, we're meeting Becks in the parking lot anyway. She said that she's just seen them drive off someplace looking extra smug so we got time."

”’Becks’?” It took Liberty a moment of thought to connect those dots, but she put it together with a snap of the finger. ”Oh, right, your girl. That’s good muscle.”

Seriously, how had she never crossed paths with either of these women before? She had to expand her social circle. Or get one in the first place.

She nodded along with Adrian’s explanation, taking it all pretty much at face value. Just about any reason would’ve been a good reason to wreck Gwen’s shit, but knowing the rich bitch was up to her usual bourgeoisie ways was the nail in the coffin. Maybe losing one of her - likely numerous - limos would teach her a lesson in humility.

Probably not. But it would be cathartic, either way.

”Right behind you.” She shoved her boots on, tossed the gym over her shoulder, and followed at Adrian’s heel. ”This your first time? Vandalizing, I mean.”

"Yup!" Adrian confirmed with a barrel of pride "She's more than just muscle, she's super awesome~.... although the muscles are important right now because I did kinda make a 500 yen bet that she couldn't flip a limo when we were planning out how to fuck with Gwen... so let's hope there's two so we can trash one and flip the other." She explained, holding the door open for Libby as she held her phone up "Okay Eagle two, what's the situation."


If the Italian Anarchist was listening in she would have heard a sigh on the other end, Rebecca had not been as big on code names as of late compared to Adrian's previous conspirators in shenanigans "Goon squads' nowhere but they left two targets for us, how's... did you already give Libby a code name yet?"

"Shit! You're right!" Adrian cursed, placing a hand over the microphone and twisting her head back to Libby "Uh what? First time.. oh right! Yeah, first time really trashing something with actual purpose that isn't a controller," she confessed "but uh... if we were doing super cool code names for this, what would yours be?"

Liberty was trying to play this whole thing cool, wanting to impress her new...friend? Maybe it was a little early to be throwing that label on the little firecracker, but she was kind of liking Adrian’s whole demeanor. Fun. Energetic. A strong willingness to wreck the personal property of those most deserving. There were a lot of qualities here that Liberty could get to like.

And, quite honestly, she could’ve used a few more people in her life. Like minded folk, not just the guys who came to her protests and scattered when the police sirens filled the air.

She’d let herself get lost in the moment, so much so that Adrian’s question took her by surprise and perked her right up. Code name? Hadn’t thought of that one before. Something memorable, something badass, something that fit her sensibilities…

”Got it.” She snapped her finger. ”Heavy Metal Death Queen. Super Heavy Metal Death Queen. Or just Death Queen, for short.”

The two of them were getting an occasional stare from passerbys. She wasn’t sure if thatwas a good thing or a bad thing.