Sophia Nechiporenko vs. Dmitri Markov Voronov - Hunter/Prey

Match Type: Locked In
Victory Conditions: Both wrestlers enter a hotel room, and the door is locked behind them. Each wrestler has a key, and the door to the room has two locks. To win, a wrestler must get the key from their opponent, then use that for the lock on their door to leave the room, at which point they win the match.

***

This was a punishment. Dmitri was sure of that much. It probably didn’t seem like one to the naked eye - being put in the same kind of match he’d been in just a few weeks ago, only with a different opponent. Innocent enough, at a glance, but he could see the writing on the wall.

From his time in the corporate world, he knew this sort of punishment. The kind his employer would give him when he hadn’t technically done anything wrong, hadn’t done anything that would merit an official punishment, but he’d crossed some petty line. Like that time he didn’t laugh at his boss’ joke, and found himself stuck with an assignment no one wanted a week or so later, for no apparent reason.

People could hold grudges over the silliest things, especially  when they were in a position over you. A couple of weeks ago, Dmitri had been asked to do this match, testing out a new type. It hadn’t gone as expected, and he wound up blocking out the camera while he and his opponent - a woman he’d come to respect greatly - had some private time. Good for them. It was something he needed without even knowing he needed it. A fulfilling, enriching experience.

Bad for ratings, though. People paid to watch sex in Tension, not hear it, and he got an inbox full of emails voicing that displeasure from management. So now he was back in the room and back in the match, only now, his opponent was-

”Sophia Nechiporanko.”

Dmitri pronounced the name in a way that few would’ve mustered on the first try, letting his Russian heritage shine through. That name had been on a card laying on the bed when he entered, and he could only guess that was who his opponent was supposed to be. While he didn’t know the woman personally and hadn’t seen her fight before, he did know her by reputation, or what little of one she’d garnered in the AFW so far. She’d had a match with some guy not too long ago, dominated him in the ring.

That was nothing new by itself, there were plenty of guys who came to the AFW to get beaten by hot women and plenty of hot women willing to do it. But the way he’d heard this match described, she went further than most did, had more of a cruel edge to it. The guys in the locker room were happy to talk about matches most of the time, loved to share the lewd details, but when Sophia was the subject, they were uneasy. Hesitant. As if they weren’t too sure that they’d enjoy a match with her, if it ever came to it.

Dmitri picked up enough to know he should give the woman a wide berth. And, sure enough here they were, anyway.

He inspected the card, looked it over back and front, then flung it to the far side of the room, not wanting to think too much on that at the moment. He needed to get in the right mindset for this, focus on his approach. Taking on Lilith had been an experience, a rare one, the kind he doubted he’d be seeing this time. He was dressed in his traditional green and white gi, his ‘official’ attire, going for comfort today. The only thing left to focus on now was the key.

Dmitri tossed it up, snatched it out of the air, and took a scan around the room. Everything was more or less the same way it had been for the last match, looking like a fairly swank hotel room. The only big change was the lack of cameras, none to be seen. If he had to guess, they set up hidden ones all over the place, enough to get the fight from all angles with no chance of blockage. Plenty of decent places to hide the key, too, but he settled on the ceiling fan above, sticking it in an easy-to-reach spot. Not something Sophia was likely to stumble on easily, no matter how crazy things got.

That done, he sat down on the sofa and laid back, wanting to catch some rest before Sophia showed up. He wasn’t too early, so he doubted it would be all that long.

Kyoto’s nights were getting warmer. Sophia could feel that heavy air tingle her skin as she peered out at the street from the open window. The mix of blue and red neon that flashed past her face reflected in the purple iris staring down from above at the steady stream of men and women heading home for the evening. A familiar pair of pleasant drunks strode down the nearly empty sidestreet carefree. A couple reunited for their second tryst this week behind the dumpster. A familiar stray cat walked the shadows between them and leaped into an open kitchen window with an inch of caution rattled upon its furs. The tender-hearted chef inside must have been giving it handouts. She’d seen him do the same for the men in rags that stopped by his shop, stomachs aching for a drop of soup.

This seemed like a nice neighborhood. A friendly, carefree nightlife. She’d only been at this with the couple days notice she’d been given, and she could already spy more than a few familiar faces. Easy to keep tabs on, easier to blend in. Maybe somewhere to relocate if her old plans no longer worked for her. If only she could do something about this climate.

Days like these made her long for the chill of her motherland. There was a serene stillness in the cool climate that was so far removed from the bustling metropolises dotting this strange nation. Nevertheless, she couldn’t bring herself to hate the world that she peered beyond the glass pane. She was willing to put up with it. Unlike home, the shadow of judgment smothering her every breath was nowhere to be found. She was free to indulge every fleeting fancy she sought and enjoy her hobbies to the fullest. If anything, they appeared almost celebrated.

Sophia held proof of that endorsement in her hand, a golden flicker as she twirled the key around her finger.

“Dmitri Markov Voronov.”

There was the kind of name she hadn’t expected to stain her tongue for quite some time. She could see the attraction straight on as she let it roll off her tongue and settle on her taste buds. She sincerely hoped this wasn’t a joke at her expense. She sincerely missed the chance to converse in her native tongue again, even if for little more than unconventional matters. When she first read that name off the letter, she felt blessed. Someone was throwing her a bone to chew on and it was just her flavor.

But then the pencil pushers went and locked the two of them in a room together. With no way out. No way except for the ticket in their hands and the person standing between it and them. She knew this game better than anyone else in this entire country. This was someone’s punishment. For who, she supposed she would discover in a few moments. But if the people upstairs really thought it was even remotely possible that they could force her to dance, as if she’d simply fall in line with their wants, they were going to be sorely mistaken.

The door opened and shut just outside her room, drawing her eye away from the street level to the darkness behind her. Sophia clutched the key in her palm and stepped back away from the window.

Sophia:

The bathroom door quietly slid open from the alcove just behind the couch. Out from the darkness came gentle steps from hardened boots against the carpeted floor. The Russian emerged like a pale shade from the fog, not so much entering as materializing into the seemingly warm and inviting living space. A long, vicious smirk overtook her lips when she saw the gi-clad figure sitting with his back turned on the couch. In any other place, in another time, he wouldn’t even have known what had happened before he passed on. But these days she preferred a more savory approach.

Slowly she stepped toward the couch, her amethyst mane and fanged grin seemingly bending the gentle aura around her as she approached. Only a couple steps behind Dmitri, she slowly leaned forward against the couch, resting her chin on her hand and gazing with almost dreamy delight at the dark, tall man across from her.

["Comfortable?"] Came a thick Russian whisper close to his ear.

Did the air just shift?

Dmitri could feel it move around him. It was subtle, slight, and if the room hadn’t been so quiet, he might not have paid it much thought. But there was a definite movement of the atmosphere around him. Air pressure, something like that, the kind of thing that made doors open and close on their own. He’d never quite looked into the mechanics of it.

Were there other rooms in this complex? Other people? He wasn’t sure, but that would explain it. What it wouldn’t explain, though, was the way his hairs were standing up. That sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. That creeping sensation up his spine.

That voice.

[“Shit!”]

Dmitri yelped and jerked off to the side, laying himself out across the sofa and looking up to find this woman standing there. Had she been in the bathroom? That was the only thing that made sense, he couldn’t have missed her if she was in the room proper, but how did he not hear her moving around back there? This whole situation had him thinking hard, but he shouldn’t have been that out of focus.

Didn’t matter, didn’t matter. This woman - Sophia, he could guess - hadn't attacked him when she had a clear shot, so he didn’t have a reason to be on the defensive. Not yet. That time would come.

”Uh...yes. Yes, I was.” Dmitri sat up, nice and slow, but he realized an important detail  and perked up - she’d spoken Russian. His family communicated over emails and texts more than anything, so it had been a good while since he’d had the chance to hold a conversation in his father’s language. Might as well grab the chance.  [You surprised me, sorry.”]

He stood up and turned her way, giving her a proper bow before he looked her over. A well-built woman, tall and compact, one of the better frames he’d seen in the AFW. The hair was a little odd, but hardly the weirdest he had ever come across. That eyepatch was worrying, though. Was it just for show?

Dmitri shifted his focus away from her bad eye to the good one, not wanting to step on a sour spot. [”Ms. Nechiporenko, it’s good to meet you.”] He started to move back, keeping her in sight as he stepped into the open space. [”You’re familiar with the rules?”][/color]

Dmitri was the prey. It was honestly astonishing how much information you could decipher with just the right approach.

From a distance, he didn't quite appear to quite fit the submissive role, she had to admit. Not with those muscular arms on display, not with that gi wrapped across his chiseled body, not with that relaxed posture he'd adopted across the couch. If she had simply walked in per usual, she'd have had a completely different impression to work with.

The man splayed out on the couch in front of her was a wonder indeed. She allowed herself a light chuckle at his expense as her eyes quickly dissected his body from head to toe and back again. She could recognize a Tae Kwon Do gi anywhere. She could tell a coward even closer. Even without the way he scrambled off of that couch and struggled to look her back in the eye. Someone appeared a little out of their element.

If nothing else, his Russian was every bit as fantastic as she could have hoped. She was confident in her English, but she had much more flexibility with her mother tongue. It was for Dmitri’s benefit as well. This night will prove to be tremendously more enjoyable so long as they understand each other. Clearly.

She had no response for him right away. The woman was silent and kept that grin to herself. Her eye kept locked with Dmitri's as she stood up and rounded the couch, letting her fingers glide over the leather and taste the heat he'd left behind. There was a subtle strut to her hips as she made her way over and stopped right in front of him, their bodies separated by mere inches.

Her eye finally left his as she chose to instead focus on that perfectly chiseled bicep of his. He'd find a hand already on its way there and an approving smile across his fellow Russian's face in the same moment. If he wasn't the type to crumble at a woman's touch, her eye would follow her fingertips as they continued up along his arm and over the fabric of his shirt, feeling the dense muscle underneath; his broad shoulders, his firm chest. She stopped there and looked back up at him again with that familiar predatory gaze.

["What rules?"]

As Sophia scanned him with her appraising eye, Dmitri did the same, though he had brought his focus to her face - namely, he was concerned about a certain notable body part she had covered. He’d never fought someone with that particular handicap, but it seemed an extreme liability, particularly in a match that was guaranteed to be tight and kinetic. The woman was physically fit in other areas, he just hoped the one area she lacked wouldn’t be too big a problem. He wanted to win, but he wanted to win clean.

That concern took a backseat as Sophia approached him, moving with a slow, sultry, but subtle strut that put her femininity on full display.  His arms came up as  he stepped back, moving into a slight side stance, ready for aggression - but it never came. Instead, she came in gentle, reaching out for him. Touching him. Close now, well within his personal space. He looked down, following her fingers as they roamed along his body, chewing on his lip, though he didn’t stop her.

Nervous? A little. He’d been here before, after all, more times than he’d wanted to admit. Sexuality was a weapon used against him quite a few times to great effect, and this was just the sort of treatment that had worked wonders. Sophia was probably the most sculpted opponent he'd come across in many regards - strong, built, but not so much that she sacrificed a traditionally pleasing form, as if her body had been custom made to walk the line between seduction and capability. He didn’t want to assume the worst, but…

He let her touch continue for a couple more seconds, before he took a single step back. Enough to break it off, but not enough to keep her from closing the gap with ease. Mindful of attack, weary, but not ready to spring. Not just yet. He couldn’t be sure she was trying to bait him. Even if she was, that could work to his advantage if he was smart about it. DOR

”Oh. Ah...” He straightened, letting his chest swell as he took a deep breath. [“It’s pretty simple. We each have a key, I have to take yours to get out and win, vice versa for you. Anything else goes.”]

Dmitri tilted his head to the side, hesitated, then decided to ask the question that was bugging him. [”By the way, is that a problem for you?”] He tapped his left eye, not wanting to spell it out too bluntly. People could be sensitive. Especially wrestlers. [”No offense, I’ve just never fought someone with that kind of handicap. I don’t plan to hold back.”]

Sophia let out a long and haggard sigh in a scarcely half-hearted attempt to hide her disappointment. Was this really how they were going to begin such a lovely evening? There wasn’t a cloud in the sky tonight. A beautiful array of stars hung over Kyoto, the moon was full and the city was alive. Amongst a city full of such wonder and surprise, it was remarkable how Dmitri still found a way to remain so placid and grey.

The former operative had scrounged a decent amount of the footage of his last visit to this very room before the administration decided it better off purged before it had a chance to be properly redistributed far and wide. Every second of struggle, doubt, and worry she was seeing now, and especially in those final moments with a clearly special partner. He seemed eager enough then. Why now? The night was just as warm, the sheets just as inviting. Was it her? Had she lost her touch, even among one of her own?

She could laugh at the idea. She’d deceived men twice as cunning and nowhere near as predictable. Her lips settled for a simple, knowing smile that threatened to tear him through. There was no answer to his question. She wouldn’t waste the precious air on a response.

["You are such a boring man, Dmitri. You ask very boring questions."] She reached a hand to a lock of hair beside the eye in question, flicking it aside as if to confirm it was really gone before her bangs hid the slight scarring from view. She crossed one foot in front of the other. They could do this slow if he liked it. [“Am I familiar with the rules? Am I going to be okay?”]

Her tone was mocking, but the grin behind it remained playful and eerily sincere. She took another couple steps forward, moving to close that small bit of distance he had just made for himself.

[“How about this? I will give you my key right now. But only under one condition."] Her hands gently slid over his broad shoulders and down the length of his arms. Strong and well-balanced, finely honed. She touched him with care, not wanting to scare him off, yet her grip still had a noticeable firmness. She wanted him here, and that was where he would stay. [“You answer my next question.”]

There was something off about Sophia Nechiporenko, and it was, frankly, making Dmitri’s hairs stand at attention. It didn’t make sense, because he should have been used to this by now. Women had seduced him before. Women had gotten close to him before. Women had whispered in his ear, had gotten him off his guard, had touched him in far more intimate ways. None of them had been a Russian cyclops with violet hair, no, but that was a mere superficial difference. So far, she had brought nothing to the table that should faze him.

But there was an edge to her, a pricking at his senses. Something about the way that single eye of hers scanned him that warned him, told him to flee. And since that wasn’t an option in this particular match, he was right to be worried.

That smile...that eye...

He held his ground as she closed in on him again - in part, because he didn’t want to make this a silly game of her chasing him around the room, and in part because there wasn’t really too many places for him to go. The wall was only a couple of feet behind him at most, the corner was close on one side and a dresser on the other. He got the impression of being boxed in, but there weren’t too many things to be done with it at this point. Just be ready.

She was close now, close enough for him to smell her breath and maybe even make a reasonable guess on her brand of toothpaste, if he’d cared to. His mind was more focused on what she was saying though, the ‘deal’ she was dangling in front of him. It was a trick, it was clearly a trick, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious what the question was. His body tensed, muscles flexed at her touch, ready to move in an instant if need be, but things were at yellow in this instant, not yet red.

”Okay.” He slipped back to English for a single word, thinking it was the best one for the moment. There was a slight, nervous tremble to his voice, but that was likely just the tension of the moment. That was what he’d tell himself, anyway. [“What’s the question?”]

Even if by some misfortune Sophia was denied the luxury of gracing Dmitri's shoulders with her touch, she would still be able to feel the tension quaking beneath his skin. If not with her fingertips, then by her eyesight, the taste buds of her tongue, the smell of it in the air. His hesitance lingered everywhere. She considered it a fine art to be properly attuned to the minds of men. It was a luxury knowing every thought that dwelled in that of another before even they knew what they would do next, one she would be dead without.

Why was he so nervous, she had to wonder? As delighted as she would have been to assume responsibility, something told her these impressions ran deeper beneath the surface. A problem of the soul, not circumstance. Weakness and vulnerabilities that ran down into his very essence and he was none too eager to hide. And he had to fight her, of all people.

Oh dear, oh dear. Fate must have hated this man.

Lovely.

Sophia held him close, her grip tightening around each broad shoulder as a bear before it took its first bite. Her lips parted as if to say something, but no words came forth. There was nothing but an empty smile and a human mask to watch Dimitri in that brief moment of silence where a question should have been. Even her breaths seemed to stop, betraying absolute stillness. Not until she came an inch closer and her lips finally moved, a curious mania lingering in her pupil.

[“How loud did that pig scream your name when your speared it through?”] Her eye was shaking now. Her nails dug into each shoulder. [“How good it did feel?”]

Dmitri was, in his opinion, a normal man, or as a normal as a man who dressed up and wrestled women in his spare time could hope to be. He didn’t have some psychosis, didn’t come from a broken family, hadn’t had an eventful childhood, and worked a normal job when he was outside of the Tension arena. He was a normal, mundane guy.

So how does a normal, mundane guy react to that?

He hadn’t expected anything pleasant to come out of Sophia’s mouth. In fact, he’d half expected her to just bite him, and he tensed up in preparation for it. Though he hadn’t known her long, she struck him as the type to be into something that, and the way she was digging her claws into him seemed to be the prelude. But instead of pleasure or pain, he got an uncomfortable, eerie silence, one that left his hairs standing at attention. Waiting, waiting, until…

She spoke. And no, Dmitri didn’t care for a single word that came out of her mouth, didn’t care to hear her talk that way about Lilith, and didn’t care to be played with at the moment. The normal, mundane thing to do would’ve been to push her back in revulsion, maybe give a slap from the insult, but that wasn’t the mood he was in at the moment. For that, for insulting his friend, he had something special for Sophia.

The revulsion was clear on his face as he gave her a hard shove away, creating separation between them. It wouldn’t be too much, wasn’t trying to move her far away, and that was by design - he wanted her close enough for the followup, as he spun around and swung his arm, attempting to clock her in the face with a spinning backfist to kick this match off in earnest. Hopefully, that would give her a good idea on what he thought of her question.

She was so happy to finally meet Dmitri. Breaking men would always be Sophia’s first love. It was a rare but savory experience for which she had yet to find an aptitude substitute.

Russian men, in particular. Scarcely three years since her exile from the motherland and already she found herself missing that unmistakable accent stained with a putrid tone of agony. Refreshing nostalgia just ran through her veins at a mere passing visit to those core memories so distant now. When she pulled Tension's dossier, her heart leapt to see the name of a certain stranger that was so welcomingly familiar to her than he would ever know. She needed this room. She needed soundproof walls. And the famished gaze reflecting on a lone amethyst iris revealed everything Dmitri would ever have to know of her intentions.

Perhaps that was why he became disobedient, shoving himself away with an expression that Sophia couldn't help but laugh at as she retracted her arm. So sensitive. But that was why she was here. What she loved most, what she yearned for, was this feeling. That look on Dmitri's face when she took that precious morsel of a happy memory from him and squashed it in the palm of her hand. He pushed her away, refusing to take part in her little audition any further. It was adorable, in a way. Like a child refusing to be scolded, ready to lash out at anyone and anything behind a silent stare.

That's right, bitch. Get mad. Get angry.

Get even.

A sharp crack whipped Sophia's head to one side, wiping the malicious sneer clean from her face. It echoed and reverbated against the walls of the room and disappeared in the same half-second of its impact. The former operative stood as a statue, the blind half of her face the only readable part of her. In that passing moment of deathly silence, Sophia's neck slowly turned with a near audible creak and crack of each vertebrae reverberating against dense muscle. When their eyes met again, it was with a line of blood running down from the corner of her mouth. And just like that, her lips curled back in a simple, pleasant smile.

Sophia lunged forward and kicked her foot straight out, driving her boot hard into Dmitiri’s gut to drive him back.