Playing with the tough girls - Mia Wilson vs Cicilia De'Reignhardt - Standard match

“Why did you drag me out of bed this time?” - said Mia as she stood inside her manager’s office and sat in an inviting and comfy couch in the side of the room instead of in front of the table. Also, she did that without waiting for her host to invite her to seat.

Masako sighed as she saw her client arriving in a fuss like she used to do. “Good morning, Mia. Do take a seat, please.” - The manager still had manners even if Mia was untameable. “First, I didn’t drag you out of bed, I summoned you. I did it because if I had texted you you wouldn’t have read the text, and if I had called you you would have picked it up while hald slept, so summoning you here was the most effective thing.”

“Yeah yeah, I know you love seeing me.” - the Mustang interrupted, leaning back on the sofa, making herself comfortable.

"Second:" - Masako continued as if her client had never interrupted. They were now used to those kind of tug-o-war. Mia had a rebelious character to her and it was so difficult to guide her through the path Masako would devise, but the manager knew Mia actually respected her work, only if she were more open about it… "It is half past twelve. You should have been out of bed for a long time."

- It is Saturday, goddamnit! Well, what is it? - Mia pouted in an almost childish way.

“You got booked for a new match.” - Masako went straight to the point as she scattered some papers on her desk that Mia stood up to get. “Standard match against one of your seniors in the league: Cicilia De’Reingnhardt. Quite the hard hitter. She looks resilient as well. Just be careful around her. You will face her next Friday night. Just be careful around her. I compiled some videos for you. Check your e-mail when you get back home.”

“Gee, homework on a weekend. Wonderful.” - Mia teased her manager once more before turning on her back. “Nice work, boss. See you next meeting!”

Just as Mia was about to leave Masako interrupted her. “Just one more thing Mia: your performance on the last matches bore fruits. People are starting to talk about you, and the conversation is mostly good. Keep this good streak going and your popularity will skyrocket. Then we could try and get you a main event combat.” Mia smiled to herself, but Masako didn’t see this as she was already on her way.

---

Mia Wilson - The Mustang:

Mia’s entrance theme started playing as she stepped on scene. The crowd roared in excitement at the sight of the rebelious Mustang. It showed what Masako just told her days ago: the public was more into her now than when she joined the league, and facing a veteran and maybe beating her could be a good way to get even more people on her side.

This Cicilia, though, looked like a hard bone. She was a striking expert and looked like someone who could sustain a lot of damage. Mia was worried that if the match became a test of endurance she might have the losing hand since she still got tires relatively quick, but she would have time to worry about that later.

For the moment, the Mustang made it to the ring while signaling at the crowds to make even more noise. When she reached the ring she went to all four corners and gave her particular nod and wave to every corner of the arena. Then her music faded and she went to her corner to wait for the terrible Cicilia to arrive.

Spoiler:

Cicilia watched from backstage as her opponent stepped out in view of the crowd across from her, someone who believed herself a rebel... who dressed like every other woman in this place. With her only unique attributes being the impossibly impractical leather jacket and VERY tight and apparently uncomfortable leotard, the German couldn't help but judge her silently at a distance! Perhaps this woman, Mia her name was, believed that sporting an uncomfortable number of belts and an ungodly amount of leather would display her status to everyone...? Feeding off a mainstream stereotype in order to rebel against the mainstream? She didn't even have the face of someone who's earned the status of "rebel", her features too soft and flawless, too 'womanly' to be what she presented herself to be.

...Whatever.

Cicilia huffed heavily, attempting to get her building temper under control. There was no need to work herself up over something so minor. After this fight, after she CRUSHED this woman, the odds were nonexistent that they'd ever meet again. It was a big city, as much as it seemed to be contracting recently, and she didn't think AFW would throw familiar bait back out at the Juggernaut so soon. She just had to focus on the mission, the one she had since her first fight in the AFW: To win. Forget the stupid crap like what kind of provocative outfits her opponents were wearing, forget the zombie-noise they define as music... Just remember what she's being paid to do and keep her damn temper under control...

...She could do that... If she was strong enough to tear open punching bags, she's strong enough to keep her anger bottled up!

With her own theme starting, Cicilia, hands tucked into her hoodie pockets, would step out into the light, the crowd SCREAMING their approval upon seeing their favored German wrestler hit the stage for the first time in quite a while! She spared them no mind, her sanguine eyes only locked upon her foe, attempting to judge her style before the match had even begun! Such a feminine fighter with a slender, yet... endowed figure, probably a speedy grappler or something... hard to see her hitting anyone with those arms. Hopping up into the ring, Cicilia would take to her corner opposite of Mia’s. Shedding her grey, puffy jacket and tossing it out of the ring! The Boxer's eyes seemed to glow in the shadow her bangs cast across her face, an intense glare of judgement burning within. She needn't speak to either taunt her foe or wish them luck, the boxer having learned that both avenues would serve her little in the fight ahead. All she desired was for this fight to end before it could truly begin...

...And her strength would make it so.

Mia gazed from her corner to the entrance ramp as her rival’s theme started playing. She had gone over the footage her manager sent her the week before, so she knew about how Cicilia was a hard hitter and an expert boxer, but she also wanted to see some more of her: not only how she fought but also what kind of fighter, what kind of person, she would be. From the very first moment Cicilia hit the stage the Mustang realized how the public went crazy about her. Yes, the brunette had made a reputation for herself in few matches and she had her share of fans, but that kind of reaction was something insane to think about. It was as if some kind of queen of the ring had just arrived and everyone bowed to her, but Cicilia looked like she couldn’t care less about that support based on how casually she would walk to the ring with her hands on the pocket in her hoodie.

Then Mia realized that it wasn’t like her rival was aloof. No, Cicilia wasn’t paying attention to the public because there was something else that got each inch of her focus. Even from that long distance Mia could realize how her rival’s sight was focused directly at her. Like a hawk gliding hundreds of meters above her rabbit prey Cicilia’s eyes wouldn’t go somewhere else but on her rival. That unsettled the Mustang for some instants until she shook her head trying to reassure herself. No, she couldn’t feel appalled only by that imposing attitude since that would most likely be a mind game aiming at making her nervous before the match. Her rival wouldn’t get on her head.

After some seconds Cicilia made it to the ring unceremoniously and after getting rid of her hoodie she rested on the opposite corner. Mia then could assess her rival. The German was taller than her, and that in a boxer meant Cicilia would have some edge when punching. She didn’t look especially heavy but her body was strongly toned, her abs and arms looking really strong. Mia took note of that as she thought she would need to take care around her. But once more the detail that made her really shiver at this rival’s presence was the look on her eyes. The boxer’s face expressed no emotion but her eyes meant only harm. It was as if Cicilia was already giving Mia a beating inside her own mind. The idea of facing someone like that was frightening and the Mustang now understood why her manager advised caution.

Cicilia wouldn’t greet or wish her rival luck on the upcoming match. Mia decided acting contrary to her would be seen as aggression so she decided not to talk. The Mustang just walked to the center of the ring as the referee signaled the bell to ring and the match begun. Mia needed to test her rival’s abilities but she wasn’t willing to get hit by those punches so she decided to be the first one to strike by throwing a kick at Cicilia’s side around the stomach section.

There was nothing to say between these two. Some... Fake attempt at politeness, some vein effort to keep the air of civility going just a little while longer was completely useless to Cicilia. What was the point, after all, seeing as they were going to be beating the crap out of each other as hard as they could in a moment? What good would that little bit of extra niceness do for them both with the very real possibility that they very well might never fight each other again? No, Cicilia wouldn't offer a hand or a kind word, or an olive-tree-branch or whatever the hell those cutesy "I-wanna-be-a-wrestling-angel" kind of girls would do. The German was going to keep it real, grounded, so that she wouldn't at all be disappointed when things inevitably went 90 degrees south. She didn't expect much from her opponents any more, hold them to any remarkably high esteem. In fact, she found herself expecting the worst each time she waked into these arenas, that her opponents would go to any lengths to win.

...And why not...?

Why should she invest herself, her trust, in someone she'd be fighting? After all, they would only lose their own convictions as the Juggernaut wrung them out of them, as they steadily fell prey to the tank that was Cicilia De'Reignhardt as it mowed down their offensive. She hadn't met many people who would stand up to her, those that wouldn't just FIGHT her physically, but stand up to her as a person. People who would raise their own desires above the compulsion to win, who would see avenues for victory with small pricetags attached and not take them! Anyone could see that these lessons were engraved upon the back and face of the woman who had learned them, lines of poorly healed flesh lashed across her shoulderblades, along her sides and abs and even across her face in some areas. It was hard not to feel the difference when she moved, how her skin pulled there, how... heavy a weight seemed to drag on her from where her scars rested. It was almost as if some part of her still wanted to enjoy this... messy business...

...And yet another covered its mouth in a gag, dragging it down into the voiceless depths, knowing what awaited it up above.

Mia would attack first, bringing her leg around in a quick, whip-like-lash-of-a-kick at the boxer's side, attempting to get some quick damage at a range... Whatever. It wasn't like this opening tactic wasn't anything Cicilia hadn't seen before. Bringing her arm up quickly, Mia's shin would instead lash across the boxer's forearm and upper-arm as they fell into place between it and its target! A light sting would be left residual upon the boxer's skin. Wincing only ever so lightly, Cicilia would fire back with a vicious straight-punch DEAD-CENTER at Mia's face, almost as if it were a bullet fired from a high-caliber gun!

Mia was still getting used to the wrestling world, but she had learnt from her manager that being wrestling a powerful mix of show and combat people would be as interested in her ability for fighting as they would be for the character, her profile and the way she made that show transpire. She knew that a very important part of that aspect lay in how wrestlers interacted between themselves, on the relations that bloomed in the midst of the fight. It happened in her debut match when she found a very powerful and proficient rival, but also someone who understood the combat and sportswomanship in a similar way than her. Both of them looked attuned all match and the crowd rewarded that with their support and respect. Mia was fully aware that in order to make her career in the AFW actually take off she needed to get the public on her side since no champion had lived long if the public didn’t love or hate them.

And nevertheless there was Cicilia. The German looked completely unfazed to those aspects of the show, but the public was in fact crazy about her. The boxer didn’t pay any attention to them, but everyone supported her because of how fierce she looked. All about this woman: from her fit body to her attitude, the way she looked at Mia or how she moved around the ring exuded menace, violence, like an extreme level of threat. Just a look with those eyes and Mia felt her body shivering, as if all of her instincts told her at the same time to be careful around that woman.

And all those instincts were right. Mia tried to make a statement, to show her rival she meant business while also going for some damage from a distance and could assess her rival. Being Cicilia a boxer and bigger than the Mustang having some distance seemed like a sensible approach. But the German not only managed to block her kicking with flash reflexed, she didn’t give Mia an instant to see the puch going at her face.

It was as if a car hit her face. Mia stumbled back as she almost falls on her back from the force of the impact. She managed to stay standing but her face hurt like hell as she checked her nose. That was Cicilia’s power. Now the Mustang was appaled, intimidated by her rival’s fury. Retaliating looked like an option that would only whip her rival’s anger, so Mia decided to observe Cicilia’s movements and wait for some window to try and outmaneouver her.

Mia, though able to deliver a strong enough kick, seemingly couldn't defend as readily as she could attack! Cicilia's punch would strike her dead in the face, knuckles to nose... and yet, Mia seemed more than durable enough to take it head-on! Granted she stumbled back, recoiling in pain as she checked to make sure her nose wasn't leaking their vital fluids... but more-or-less, she had taken that punch better than most can claim! Even the German herself was somewhat surprised with Mia's durability, stalling a prepared follow-up just long enough to take note of her opponent's durability... but no longer.

With Mia having just enough time to check herself, Cicilia would LASH out again, this time a jab right in the same place, the center of the woman's face before lunging low and bringing her fist up in a CRUSHING uppercut towards the woman's stomach, aiming to completely displace it and all the air in her lungs at the same time! Should her blow connect, Cicilia would quickly follow up with a smashing hook to the side of Mia's head, aiming to stun her, rock her, leave her completely disoriented as the German closed in for the attack! She could smell the blood in the water, a shark craving to finish the work she had started. Her punches were like the bites of the mighty sub-aquatic animal, ripping into her foe with a savage ferocity, intent on ending the threat before it could truly reach its maximum potential!

Much like such a creature, however, there was no wrath in these blows. While the utter savagery and weight behind each one might convince with audience and likely the recipient of the utter hatred that must've spawned them, in reaility Cicilia felt nothing of the sort for her opponent. Annoyance at her obvious girlish beauty, perhaps... but the wrecking-ball that was the Juggernaut was not in flames this day... At least, not yet. She was simply on a mission to win and this woman was in the way of completing her goal. It was alla bout defeating her foe as quickly and, if necessary, as brutally as possible.

It would be Mia that determined what level of damage she would sustain before this battle was over... Not Cicilia herself.

Mia wasn’t a woman who would overestimate her own abilities. She was new to the wrestling world and was fully aware that she had a lot to learn about it and a lot of training to do to hone her skills, but she at least had some basic confidence in herself and in how she could be able to at least have a decent performance in any match she could get booked. It went like that on her debut, on an exciting back and forth match in which anyone could have won. But for that match… Mia was starting to doubt her having a chance at all after just seconds. That was Cicilia’s power.

The German needed only one punch to get inside Mia’s head. Now the Mustand knew how strong her rival could hit and that was really strong. She was starting to feel appalled, scared of all the pain that woman would be able to inflict her in a long stretched match. There was something that made those fears worse, and it was the cold and distant look. At first she could have thought that her rival looked like a rabid dog full of spite. Spite was something to fear, but this was even worse. Cicilia looked so impersonal, like this beating she wanted to execute was only a means to reach the victory, like inflicting all that pain didn’t matter at all. It was a fearful thought to have.

But Mia couldn’t let her fear dictate the rhythm of the match, nor get her frozen in place. When she noticed Cicilia throwing a new jab she knew that she had to block that any way. And she managed to do so, just in the last second the Mustang got her arms in front of her face to block her rival’s punch. When the brunette was going to sigh in relief then her rival’s ruse was revealed. Turned out the jab was a distraction to keep Mia’s eyes away from the powerful uppercut to her stomach. Mia’s eyes widened in pain and anguish as she started coughing desperatedly as all the air abandoned her lungs. Her arms crossed around her stomach and coughed violently, and that was when the follow up came. A powerful hook to the side of her head sent Mia flat to the mat.

It was as if a train had hit her. Being hit that hard on the side of the head left her dizzy and disoriented. It took some seconds for her sight to focus again and for her brain to process that she was on the floor. She tried to roll over, desperatedly trying to break some distance to regain her footing, but everytime she moved her head would feel light from the impact. That was the raw power of a boxer. For the moment, Mia was at Cicilia’s mercy as the crowd chanted the German’s name.

It didn't take much to topple Mia, Cicilia was discovering. 3 quick blows to toss this woman to the ground? Hmph. Boxing wouldn't be her sport. Nor wrestling, it would seem, as Mia's face SLAMMED dead against the floor, the Juggernaut's hook sending her to meet the very canvas she once stood upon! How rattled she looked, as if a metal bar or wooden stick had suddenly cracked her across her face. What, did she think this was going to be a cake-walk? Did she believe that someone named "The Juggernaut" would be a gentle cloud to barge through? Well, she hoped this awakening would be as painful as possible so that Cicilia might render this fight, and the lessons learned therein, unforgettable. Mia would roll away just as Cicilia brought her boot down in a CRUSHING stomp, her foot CRASHING into the canvas where her opponent's skull once rested, a maneuver that likely saved Mia from a sudden, brutal knockout!

The way Mia's head bobbed as she desperately attempted to right her internal equilibrium, the way her eyes fluttered... and froze upon the face of the German Juggernaut... There was a certain satisfaction to be had in witnessing such critical weakness so soon in this fight. What EMPOWERMENT! For the first time since fighting that one, scantly dressed midget, Cicilia felt TRUE POWER coursing through her veins! She need not beat the life out of hopeless greenhorns or children to feel powerful... but to completely rock another fighter with only a few blows... How STRONG did she feel! She wondered if Elfrida had felt this when she plowed through opponents the word would deem "skilled" or had grown numb to it after a time. A feeling of certainty, a confirmation of all the effort one had put into their training, a justification made manifest by results! How appropriate it was to see this girl fall to her knees after baring witness to just a sample of Cicilia's power. She had trained hard for strength like this, sacrificed more blood than anyone else, more of her time than most just to achieve this. It was odd that it was only now that she would reap the rewards of her suffering, against some no-name who had no ties to Cicilia before now.

...So... anti-climatic that the fruits of her training would be brought to bare here, in this fight, acknowledged by a girl with limited significance... But in the end, what did it matter? If power was finally breaking through its previous limits, if Cicilia had already transcended and became a true force to be reckoned with...

Heh... Just you wait, Elfrida.

With Mia back on her feet, Cicilia would advance like the invincible tank she was, her arms folded over her chest and face protectively, anticipating a fearful assault! Should one come... or if Mia was too busy trying to decide which direction was up, Cicilia would step DEEP inside her space, grabbing hold of her shoulders and PULLING her in for a devastating HEADBUTT to the center of her face before bringing her arm SHARPLY across Mia's jaw in a SCYTHE-OF-A-BACKHAND!

Mia still had to take some time to try and find the truck that just hit her. Then she remembered there was no truck and she was in the middle of a wrestling match, even if her rival, the terrific looking woman towering over her with steel cold eyes and a grim look on her, wanted to make it look more like a boxing one. The Mustang’s career hadn’t been that long yet, but she was slowly getting used to the back and forth of the wrestling world: hitting and also getting hit, and dealing with the pain inflicted by those hits until the match was over. It would be stupidly naïve to think one could finish their matches unscathed, so some damage was always in order. But that the brunette was just experiencing was too much. One thing was getting hit and dazed now and then and easily recovering and something really different was getting down on the mat after three punches. The strength the German Juggernaut was displaying was just out of the charts and Mia needed to react quickly or that match would be a really short and unpleasant one for her.

Mia managed to react just in time to roll over and avoid a nasty stomp to her head that would surely have rendered her unconscious. Even if she did so and avoided the powerful stomp all of her body felt heavy and everything was blurry for her, focusing was so difficult but there was something her mind could focus on. It wasn’t feeling appalled of flustered by her rival, no. It wasn’t the feeling of uncertainty about a rival who is superior either. It was much more, something much more intense. For the first time in her career Mia was honestly scared about her well-being after the match. The Mustang was feeling paralyzed about the idea of what that vicious opponent could do to her, and the simple thought of getting heavily injured was now closer to her mind. It wasn’t some terrible accident that could happen if she was careless, now it was something that could actually happen to her around people like Cicilia.

With all those ideas on her mind as she tried to regain her balance there was nothing Mia could do to prevent Cicilia from doing anything she had in store for her rival. With a quick lunge forwards, the Juggernaut invaded the Mustang’s space and went for a vicious headbutt that only made things even harder for Mia, followed up by a backhand to her jaw. It was just too much for her, the intensity of Cicilia’s moves too big for the Mustang to handle for now. Mia’s legs felt like jello as her body wanted to go to the mat again, and maybe fighting it was a terrible idea because instead of it she ended up leaning forwards, resting her almost unconscious body against her rival’s shoulders!

"This is pathetic." Cicilia growled, her voice reverberating in her throat as if coming from within a hollow, metallic shell. "Dropping like a fly and I'm not even trying." There Mia was, borderline collapsing like a shoddy building with dilapidated foundations, her bruised, battered body falling against Cicilia. She wondered if this woman had ever been crushed like this, bearing witness to everything she had worked for being destroyed in only a few short moves. Cicilia wondered if this woman had ever felt a sting of defeat so unbearable that she couldn't begin to describe to to someone else, to suffer a loss on so many levels that their existence had become defined by the deep-rooted deposits. So many people who wanted to fight had nothing to their name but a base, shallow desire, a fantasy without a dream, an idea without a motivation. They walk into the ring with nothing less than petty reasons for doing what they do, with only enough training to satisfy their own base desires. They came in weak... and they would leave weak. Nothing outside of themselves drove them to improve, to really PUSH themselves to the point of breaking. Cicilia had seen enough.

As Mia fell into her arms, Cicilia would WRAP them around Mia, CRUSHING her tight against her body in a SPLITTING bearhug, aiming to SMASH both arms and ribs together in a brutalizing, oppressive grip, making Mia regret letting her mind slip away. Such a failure in her conviction, this woman, letting herself lose so soon into the battle. Even an ant can lift thousands of times its own body weight. Even a rat can stuff its cheeks with dozens of pounds of food and flee predators. Even a beetle could bite hard if a monster thousands of millions of times its size wandered into its range but this girl... this girl just gave up. A few solid hits was all it took to turn her into a puppet without strings, a marionette without her puppeteer, a soul without a soul. Her body, so lifeless and frail dared to enter a fight with the juggernaut without being prepared. She neither steeled herself physically nor mentally for this battle, thinking she'd be fighting other bugs like herself. In this world, where one's own family would rend your very being for laughs, to make a point, just to harm you, nobody could be trusted to be gentle. One could not believe for a moment that your manager will spare you in order to get better ratings.

...Mia should have recognized this. This was her fault for not recognizing the danger. Cicilia wanted to say something, some definate line defining this entire fight, some triumphant anime speech that the hero gives to the villain in order to sum up the point of this fight... and she came up with nothing

...How utterly, teethgrindingly, FRUSTRATINGLY....

Appropriate.

With a grunt, Cicilia would JERK back in a MONSTROUS German-suplex, aiming to put Mia down for good in one massive, flashy attack!