Anya Volkova vs Dmitri Markov - From Russia without love

Rules: Standard
Victory conditions: Victory obtained only via submission.

It was about damn time. The AFW took its bloody time to book Anya’s debut match. Since her joining the division she only had a couple of photo sessions for promotional use, but for more than three weeks that felt like an eternity she was mostly waiting for her time to finally hit the stage. Now it was time at last.

Anya was sitting on the lockers room as she came to this world. She had just enjoyed a shower before the upcoming match and was now mentally preparing for what was to come. She didn’t know much about the conditions of her debut, her agent just fled before she could get any important detail as the blonde threw an ashtray at him for taking so long in booking her. The Russian knew that she was going to debut in a  submission match and that simple idea made her day. She hadn’t come to the AFW to show physical prowess or get a load of fans on her side, her intentions were just much simpler. Anya came to the AFW to make a show out of her rivals’ humiliation. She wanted to make a collection of toys to play with so everyone in the league knew they had to be careful around her. There was a new Wolf in the league, and she was out for hunt.

As she slipped inside a white and black leotard that fit like a glove Anya went over the only details she knew about her first rival, the first toy she would add to her collection. Apparently he must have some Russian heritage since he was called Dmitri. He was a martial artist and a veteran of the league, but her agent couldn’t say much more before running away. The rest about him she would have to discover by herself.

Anya Volkova:

When she was ready she looked at herself in the mirror. Looking good, she discarded in the last time that stupid beret. She never liked it though. Then, Anya went her way backstage where she waited until her entrance theme started. The announcer started his introductions: “And now for our debutant of the night. Hailing from far Russia comes an Ice Queen! Be careful she doesn’t froze your heart. This iiiiiiiiis ANYA VOLKOVA!!!!” “Heh…” Anya thought. Maybe the man had gone a little bit overboard with his improvisation but she liked that the AFW already gave her the Queen status.

Making her way down the ramp as an empress would do, walking slowly but confidently and enjoying the gazes that tried so bad to get a peek at her goods without any success. Anya wouldn’t pay attention to those people like a wolf wouldn’t care about some worms. Finally the blonde reached the ring just when her theme was finishing and posed like a true conqueror. A new mistress made her way to the AFW, and everyone should be wary of her. When she was over with her pose she walked to her corner and started stretching while waiting for her rival to appear.

Someone in booking hated Dmitri. He didn’t know who and he didn’t know why, but he was sure of it. He didn’t know who this person was, and he couldn't have imagined what he did to tick him or her off, but he was sure of it, because it was the only explanation for how he kept winding up in matches like this.

He’d been in Tension on and off for, oh, five years now, and every time he came back, usually to make some extra money when his accounting job didn’t pay all the bills, the story was always the same. Dmitri would come, ask what matches they had available, request something straightforward and simple and he’d inevitably be put up against some crazy woman who’d use sex to mess him up and add another humiliating loss to his record. As much as he didn’t want to be associated with the pushovers on the Tension roster, that was how people saw him - just another guy joining the ranks to roll around with sweaty, hot woman.

Dmitri wasn’t typically the sort to care about his reputation, but there was only so much derision anyone could be expected to take and keep floating. As he stood in the gorilla position, watching his opponent make her entrance with the usual fanfare, he knew that he was at his limit. If he couldn’t beat a virtually unknown, debuting wrestler…

He took a deep breath as her music faded out, readying himself, bouncing on his toes, doing everything he could to focus on the moment at hand. He had to win this. He was going to win this.

When his music started and the lights came out, Dmitri slipped through the curtains and made a beeline for the ring, standing with his chest and chin held high, doing his best to ignore all the boos and laughs from the crowd, the throngs cheering for him to lose and lose big. He kept his gaze centered on Anya every step of the way, only breaking from it when he rolled under the ropes and popped to his feet, just a yard short of her position.

Standing there, he had a good chance to look her over now, try and get a feel for the 'Ice Queen'. She seemed well built, decently athletic, not a weakling...but he was confident that his frame could get more power, and he knew he was faster. Something about her look seemed off kilter to him, made his hairs stand on edge, but he pushed past that for the moment. Just had to focus. Kick her enough times and she'd give up. That could work.

[“Hello, miss.”] Dmitri spoke in Russian, knowing that she was native to the same country he was half born from.  He didn’t look all that Russian, favoring his Japanese mother more than anything, but he’d spent  a fair bit in the country and could speak the language freely. He really had the opportunity to, though, so he’d take. [”No offense, but I’m taking this win. It's nothing personal.”

Anya couldn't help getting a twisted smile on her face as she noticed how the crowd started doing a good job on discouraging her rival even before their match had started. The Russian didn't knpw this fighter's story, but it looked like not even the public was taking him seriously. Surely all the laughter and the booing would get into his head and make him relent. Soon that would be the last of his concerns, though.

Anya waited with her arms crossed until Dmitri made his way to the ring so she could get a proper look at him. He was actually shorter than her and looked lighter as well. He packed a muscular yer slim body and had a sweet face. The blonde grinned at him while her mind raced, thinking about this new toy of hers. What kind of rival would he turn out to be? Would he squeal in pain at her or would he be a proud one, trying to endure? Would he plead for her mercy or would he take his punishment until falling uncounscious? So many possibilities at Anya's hand. The Russian licked her lips on anticipation for what was coming.

It suprised Anya highly when her rival grew some spine and addressed her in the Motherland's tongue. No matter how his name was Russian, that man robed in tae-kwon-do clothes looked as Japanese as he could be. He had the guts to openly challenge Anya, telling her that he intended to win the match even if it wasn't personal. She listened to him while arching her eyebrows in a smug and also disregarding face, as she didn't take him seriously. She then retorted at him, also in Russian.

"Well, let me clear things out for you. We are going to have some rules from now on. First rule: for you it is 'mistress', 'mistress Anya', to be clearer, so when you address me you will call me by that name. Then, you are very mistaken, my poor boy. What you wanted to say is that you will TRY taking this win. But enough talk. Bring it, entertain me.", Anya finished adopting a guard stance as the bell rang signaling the beginning of the match

And, in true AFW fashion, things went south for Dmitri before the match even started. He was just trying to be friendly at the start, hoping that an assertive yet competitive and cordial approach might serve him better than the submissive way he tended to start things off. Show that he didn’t mean her any ill will, but that he wasn’t going to back down, either. Speaking in their shared tongue was a bit of icing on the cake, hoping to endear her, make her more comfortable, the same tactic he’d often used in his day job to help ease clients. People tended to respond better when you spoke in their native language, even if they could speak in yours. Smooth the deal.

Didn’t work. At all. Oh, well.

Dmitri sighed as Anya went into her spiel, demanding his servitude. It was the same kind of song and dance he’d heard before. He knew the type, and he knew there was no getting around it at this point - he’d just have to give her everything he had and try hard not to get distracted, the problem that had led to his downfall so many times before.

Arms out, side profile, legs at the ready. Without another word Dmitri moved into his stance and began to bounce on his heels as the bell ring, preparing for the fight. Not sure what to make of his opponent, he held off on charging right away - instead, he moved in slow, inching into her range, trying to tempt her into making the first attack.

Anya wasn’t a woman who would lose herself in national pride. She was just a regular woman, with some sort of longing for Motherland Russia but not one to easily become overexcited about the greatness of her country. Seeing her current rival talk to her in Russian was just an innocent coincidence, just a whim of fate. Her rival being Russian, Japanese or half of each meant nothing. For her a rival was just that. No, it was more, it was a toy to play with and to add to her collection. Nothing would stop the Blonde from that since there was no empathy coming from this woman.

Even so it caused some surprise for the self proclaimed mistress that kind of reaction coming from Dmitri. She was actually used to see male rivals go all around their pride, being so offended by a woman talking them down like that and then letting their pride be their doomfall. In all her life Anya had seen lots of different reactions to her kind of way of acting and talking: some were furious, some were appalled or scared, some tried to bargain with her… But not Dmitri, the man just stood there and sighed in a soulless way, as if he was so used to this happening. Not like that mattered, but Anya was now curious about this man and his story. How would Dmitri fare when he is bound to his limits? The simple thought of breaking that man drew a cruel smile in Anya’s face.

It looked like Dmitri was ready for action as he started bouncing back and forth. The man inched his way until he was at Anya’s reach. It was obvious for anyone that the man was trying to trick the Russian woman to strike first, but that wouldn’t stop the blonde from doing it. With a sudden lunge the Wolf would charge at her rival who would most likely be expecting some kind of attack like that. Anya would try to get a couple of jabs to distract him and then get her legs in play, going for a knee against his stomach.

Anya didn’t look all that threatening at a glance, and that was part of what worried Dmitri. In his experience, the women that looked nonthreatening, who were smaller and didn’t have all that much muscle to them, were the ones you had to watch out for the most. They were the ones with the tricks and traps to make up for it, who came in with gameplans to take out their bigger male opponents, who wound up lulling guys into a false sense of security and dominating from there. It was a pitfall he’d found himself in more times than he would care to admit, and he was intent on not letting history repeat.

So this time, he came in slow. Steady. Taking cautious steps, watching for any sudden movement, mindfall of any problems coming his way. This way, he’d have a chance to react instead of being reacted upon, something he could take advantage of. In theory.

Sure enough, that was what happened, as Anya came in and kicked things off. From his side stance, he was able to block the jabs well enough, parrying them aside with quick swipes, but he took note of her power along the way - more than he’d been expecting, even though she lacked a lot of the technique and finesse to her attacks. He had little time to note this, however, before she came up with a knee, forcing him to block low, absorbing the meaty attack.

It forced him to back off a step, but he was quick to move back in and throw out one of his own, wanting to see how well she could react. He came in low, throwing a quick sweep at her ankle, before he pulled that same leg back and shot it out hard, going right for Anya’s stomach with a stiff sidekick.

Anya looked at her rival with a cold steel gaze. She could feel the man assessing her, trying to learn about her character, about how she would approach a match and what kind of moves she could try. The Wolf herself learnt something about the man: some look of resignation in his face gave away the fact that the man was probably used to fight dominant people like Anya. It was as if the man was frustrated because he couldn’t have a break on that streak of his. The blonde Wolf reassured her resolve to get this man out of her error: no matter what kind of rivals he had before, he had never seen anyone like her.

The Russian’s fuse was short and those moments of thinking and circling around the matter wasn’t her thing, so she started the attack. At least Dmitri showed some spine in deflecting and parrying every jab Anya threw at him, he was even able to see through the screen of punches to avoid the kneestrike intended to make some real damage, escaping this first exchange unscathed. That was the moment he retaliated.

At least Dmitri’s attire wasn’t for show after all. The man executed a very technical feint in order to connect a powerful sidekick to Anya’s stomach. The blonde let her air out when she was hit, but fought the pain without showing any kind of weakness no matter how painful his hits could be. She didn’t want Dmitri to believe he had a chance after all.

Even after that painful kick Anya had learnt something. The man had good reach and a powerful kick, so her next course would be to close distances to make harder for him to throw those kicks he really liked. Instead of slowly position herself the Wolf would show her character once more by trying a full on tackle on her rival.

Call it a hunch, a premonition, or just being observant, but Dmitri was of the distinct impression that Anya wasn’t too accustomed to being told ‘no’.

Something about not just the way she talked, but the way she carried herself. The whole dominant thing was an act with a lot of the women he’d come across, just something they put on for the crowds, but he could feel that this woman lived that lifestyle 24/7, and that put him on edge even more than usual.

To her credit, it wasn’t all show. Anya actually took his kick far better than she could’ve anticipated - it knocked some air out of her, clearly wasn’t fun to be on the business end, but she remained standing when many wouldn’t have. What was more, she was ready to press her advantage, choosing to charge in where just about anyone else would move away.

Needless to say, Dmitri was caught off guard and brought to the mat thanks to her tackle, hitting the canvas with her on top. While his time with a kinda-sorta-notreally girlfriend named Alicia Welles had improved his ground game somewhat, it still wasn’t an area he had great confidence in, and his desire to stand again was strong. Gritting his teeth, he tried to kick up hard and throw her off, hoping he could rise back up quick once he was freed.

Of course Anya wasn’t just expecting Dmitri to just submit to her dominance and become her pet from the get-go. That was something that usually happened to her when dealing with smaller female rivals, with that kind of cute as a button rival but unable to properly execute some moves. But people like Dmitri had something to prove, and people like him usually got booked for matches against people like Anya in order to push them in between the sword and a wall. There was no winning situation for the man as he was risking all of her reputation in here. He could only prevail and maintain some of her cred or just lose to Anya and become her pet and the laughingstock for the crowd.

All that meant that Dmitri would choose the path of defiance. The man looked proficient enough to become a problem Anya should tackle as soon as possible, as giving this man the chance to hurt her was actually an invitation for him to get the match. First, the Wolf tries to affect his morale by not showing how his kick actually hurt her, and charging against him to give him some damage.

But Dmitri wouldn’t just sit and wait happily for his punishment to come. It was true that Anya managed to take the man down and land on top of him, but just before the Wolf could have tried to transition into some other move, the man kicked upwards and sent Anya off once more. Her tackle was successful but that would be the only thing she got from that action

Dmitri was going to be a tough bone, Anya was sure of that. Some nasty business was in order. Anya would lift her arms and walk towards Dmitri as she wanted to lock in a test of strength, but if accepted the woman would go for a surprise headbutt at the man’s forehead!

Dmitri didn’t know Anya. Didn’t know much about her style. Didn’t know her proclivities. Didn’t know what sort of strategy she might employ in a match like this, against an opponent such as himself.

But he did know that being pinned by her was one of the last things he wanted. Some things just applied to every situation.

As such, he was all too eager to get out from under Anya, kicking out with a burst of strength, putting his leg muscles to good use. It worked, too, though he wasn’t sure he’d be able to consistently muster that kind of power for an escape. The less he had to do that, the better.

He rolled to his feet, spun about, and surprisingly found Anya heading his way for what, at first blush, appeared to be a simple lockup. He didn’t think too much of it right away - sure, he suspected that she had some kind of trick in mind, that she wasn’t trying to just outmuscle him, but he didn’t figure it would be anything he could find an answer for. He was willing to go for it.

For his efforts, he wound up eating a headbutt.

The blow took him by surprise, a far rougher blow than he’d expected from the blonde. It sent him reeling, taking a few steps back on wobbly feet, seeing stars in his eyes. Shaking his head, he tried to get it clear quick, but knew that wouldn’t do the trick soon enough. He needed a few good seconds to restart his brain.