Showdown VI: Zangief vs Rainbow Mika

It was finally happening. As Mika slid her mask over her eyes and fixed the straps of her outfit, as she had before hundreds of matches before, she couldn't shake just how unreal this all was. Yes, she had fought plenty of matches before...but none of those matches had been against the one and only Zanghief.

"How do I look?" she asked aloud, her voice barely a whisper.

Next to her, Nadeshiko gave her an appraising eye. Her partner was in her own ring getup, with her Kabuki-esque face paint already applied. Nadeshko was not going to be joining Mika in the ring-- this was not a tag match, after all-- but all the same, she made a habit of accompanying Mika to ringside, just in case any outside interference occurred. Not that anyone would ever accuse the legendary fighter that was Zanghief, the Red Tornado, of using dirty tactics to win.

"You look fine," Nadeshiko said. "You need to stop worrying like this."

"R-r-right!" Mika replied unconvincingly. To say there were butterflies in her stomach was an understatement. Zanghief was a legend, and one of the many wrestlers that she had shamelessly fangirled over as a wrestling fan, before deciding to step into the ring herself. But he was more than just an idol to her: he was a force of nature, a powerhouse who would utterly devastate people in the ring. Part of her was excited to be fighting the Russian, as this was the fulfilment of a dream. Another part of her was downright terrified.

She took a deep breath. "I'm okay, Nadeshiko-san," she said. "I'm ready for this." This was a lie: the truth was, she didn't think she would ever be ready for a bout against someone like Zanghief. But all the same, this was a fight she couldn't run from. Nadeshiko merely nodded wordlessly: she knew all too well the conflicting emotions and anxieties that must be playing in her friend's head, but knew better than to bring them up. Right now, what Mika needed was confidence and reassurance, and hopefully being there for her friend at ringside would provide that.

And then, at that moment, her theme music began to play outside. Mika nearly jumped in her seat. "BWAAH, THEY'RE STARTING ALREADY!" she cried. "WE'RE GOING TO BE LATE!"

In an instant, Mika rushed for the door to the arena, followed closely by Nadeshiko. The Rainbow Warrior managed to stop and compose herself just before striding into the arena.

Spoiler:

The pyrotechnics erupted, and Mika posed dramatically, flashing a V-sign to her fans, while Nadeshiko posed stoically behind her as usual. Breaking into a cartwheel, Mika flipped her way down the ramp, showcasing her incredible agility, before neatly backflipping up onto the corner post and sitting astride it, raising her arms in salute to the crowd. It was her usual pre-match antics, and the crowd went wild over it. Rainbow Mika was in the arena, and she and another legendary wrestler were soon going to be going at it.

Flipping back into the ring, Mika rotated her shoulders and legs, getting the knots out of the system and watching the ramp to see if Zanghief was showing up. All the while, her heart beat rapidly as she tried to quell the growing feeling of unease...

The crowd was suitably hyped, filled to capacity and brimming with energy. It wasn’t the usual flavor, either - the AFW had wanted this match to give their brand some international appeal, and that seemed to have worked splendidly, if the influx of European crowd members was anything to go by. The name Zangief was familiar to wrestling organizations throughout Europe, with him winning accolades on every stage he set foot on, and that sort of prestige drew all sorts of eyes. The AFW was already a popular brand, but this one match brought on the kind of international magnetism that was rarely seen outside of the Olympics.

It would not be squandered. Not if Zangief had any say in the matter.

After Rainbow Mika’s music faded, a strange sound came from behind the curtains - the sound of boots, dozens of them, stomping along the floor. The crowd looked on, puzzled as soldiers came marching down the ramp, two lines on both sides, and not the kind they were familiar with on this island. They wore thick coats, black, with fur along the fringe, meant for the harshest Russian winters. Their hats were ushankas, the round cap that was synonymous with the Russian image. The brandished rifles, but kept them pointed up, locked in a ready position as they marched in lockstep. Unwavering, unmoved by the audience, the came all the way down, turned towards each, and stood at attention. Waiting.

It was only then that the music began. A stirring, triumphant opening blared out across the arena, as the Russian National Anthem sounded out in all its unfettered glory. There was a power in this music that couldn’t be denied, a strong will that characterized the nation it represented, and there were, perhaps, no greater personification of that strength than the man who now stood at the top of the ramp.


With his manager, the same woman who had heralded his first appearance in the AFW, walking behind him, the two made their way down between the line of soldiers. They stepped with their heads held high and his mighty shadow casting down the length of their path as his robe billowed. While he was respected throughout the world, he was nothing short of a hero in his own country, and that fact could be proved by simply looking on the awed faces of the soldiers he passed. A legend come to life, a walking monument to Russian excellence.

He made his way up the steps as his manager walked off to the side, and came into the ring with one mighty leg after the other, clearing the top rope with ease. He slipped his rope off, laid it across the corner, and made his way towards the ring, taking far fewer steps to reach the middle than other wrestlers did. With his mighty frame towering high above the ring, he looked down towards Rainbow Mika, nodded, then moved back into his iconic stance.


”Здравствуйте, Rainbow Mika. Let us begin.”

This was it. Zanghief was here, in the ring, with her.

Mika's heart was fluttering in a mixture of excitement and terror. Everything about his dramatic entrance had been impressive-- the row of marching soldiers, the blaring of the Russian national anthem, everything. But even if none of that had been present-- even if it had just been Zanghief striding down the ramp, without any musical accompaniment or announcement, Mika knew it still would have been enough to awe the crowd into silence. The raw power that Zanghief was awe-inspiring and terrifying to behold, and it wasn't merely because of his sheer size or powerful physique. It was because of the relentlessness of his stride, because of the invincible confidence of his posture. The man wore his legend like a cape around his shoulders, it seemed that palpable.

And now he was here, in the ring with her. His eyes met hers. She willed herself to meet his eyes, to show no weakness, to not flinch. To her amazement, she managed to do just that: the audience watched in awe as the two wrestlers stared one another down. Then, Zanghief nodded, perhaps in acknowledgement of her warrior's spirit, or perhaps just wanting to get this thing under way.

"Gladly," Mika breathed in response, and settled into her own stance. The bell rang, and she circled Zanghief warily. The crowd was now bursting with excitement as the epic clash between these two legendary fighters was about to begin.

Zangief stood, tall and proud, unbowed and unmoving, as he let his aura shine over Rainbow Mika. The bell might not have rung, but that did mean that their battle had not commenced. He often approached his opponents in this way, towering over them with his full might. A display of dominance, not unlike a bear rearing up his hind legs, a way to intimidate and strike fear the hearts of his foe. It often worked well, too, with many a man losing his nerve from the outset. It could set the tone for the rest of the match and color every move they made.

Rainbow Mika, however, was not falling into the trap. She stood tall and proud, as if the two of them were on the same level, as if two of her could not fit inside of him with room to spare. If there was fear in her heart, she kept it hidden, letting the world only see her fierce warrior’s spirit.

Such resolve was to be respected. He would defeat her and claim this victory, he had no hesitation or shame in that assertion, but he could not deny her fortitude.

The bell rang and he began to circle her as she did the same to him. With the size difference, it might have seemed prudent to rush in right away, overwhelm her with offense from the outset, but the Red Tornado knew better than to move in so foolishly. Instead, he closed the gap as they circled, nearing her space, closing in…

Without warning, he closed in and lashed out, caming at her with arms wide open to bully her into a collar-and-elbow tie up.

Mika had often heard it said that, when you're being stared down by a bear, you don't break eye contact, you don't show weakness, you don't run: you make yourself look as big and imposing as you can. She had no idea how true that was-- she hadn't been camping in forever-- but she was nonetheless putting that idea into practice with Zanghief. Even though she barely came up to his chest, she didnt flinch, didn't back down. She wanted him to know that no matter what, she wasn't afraid of him. More importantly, she needed to know for herself that she wasnt afraid either.

The bell rang, and Zanghief mirrored her circle, his tremendous bulk padding around her like the great bear that he was always compared to. Mika watched intently, knowing that Zanghief could be shockingly fast despite his bulk. Shockingly fast and strong, it had to be added.

And then, a second later, Zanghief lashed out, arms wide. As much as Mika respected the man, she also knew better than to accept a collar and elbow tie up: ducking low, she tried to spin under Zanghief's guard and wrap her arms around his enormous midsection, gritting her teeth as she arched back and tried to nail him with a back body suplex!

Zangief did not fault Rainbow Mika for avoiding the collar and elbow tie up - in truth, it had been something of a trap, wanting to see if his foe would fall for such obvious bait. As it turned out, no, she was not so foolhardy, but Zangief was not deterred. Far from that, he was ready, and moved into position to lash out with a wide swipe his side, striking where he imagined she would be coming from next. Surely, she wouldn’t stay within his range for long. She would lash out, some kind of quick strike, then make her way to safe distance.

Right?

A safe assumption, but an incorrect one. Instead, he looked down, aghast, and found her slender arms wrapped along his waist, clutching him tight, the obvious preparation for a suplex. The audience gasped along with him - was this possible? Such a feat, so soon.

Yes. Zangief was hurled into the air, his massive frame flung about in a dazzling display of power and sheer willpower. He came down for a crash on the canvas with an impact that was felt all the way into the cheapest seats, making those close to the action jump back in sheer fight. His hulking body tumbled along the floor three whole times, and wouldn’t fell out of the ring altogether if not for the turnbuckle getting in his way.

He crashed against the pads with his back, coming to a rest in a sit, and began to push his way back up straight away. Stunned, surprised more than anything, he shook his head and got his bearings back as he arose, trying to get a lock on Rainbow Mika’s position before she continued her assault.

Mika couldn't believe that had actually worked.

Avoiding Zanghief had been one thing entirely-- the Red Tornado's nickname was well earned, for he moved with the speed and force of one-- but it had been another thing entirely to wrap her arms around the massive boulder that was his midsection, and another thing entirely to lift his weight-- she had no idea how heavy he was, but it had been heavy enough to make her spine feel like it was popping from the effort.

And yet, in spite all of this, she had suplexed him backwards into the mat.

The ring shook like an earthquake. The crowd howled in disbelief and exhilaration. And at the end of it all, Mika found herself rolling back to her feet, wincing a little as she clutched her back, but smiling. Opposite her, Zanghief was pushing himself back up as well. The expression on his face told her that he was just as surprised as she was.

Which meant it was the perfect time to follow up, especially now that Zanghief was still picking himself up in the corner. She broke into a run, hurtling towards Zanghief...and at the last second spun around to ram back-first into the Russian, her butt aimed in particular for a hard collision with his face. "SHOOTING PEACH!" she declared, getting some of her signature moves out of the way nice and early.

Zangief couldn’t believe that had actually worked, either. He knew Rainbow Mika to be an indomitable spirit, but she was already surpassing even his wildest, imagining, surging with a power that belied her smaller stature. To defeat such a warrior, he would have to bring out more of his true strength, and show the world why the name ‘Red Cyclone’ was well deserved.

Needless to say, but he could not have been more pleased.

At the moment, he focused on recovering from the hellacious blow, recovering and getting his bearings back. None too soon, as Rainbow Mika was already moving in once more, coming towards him with an attack that he had grown quite familiar with in his studies, not the least of which included her previous match.

As such, he had a move ready and waiting for the counter. When her feet left the ground, he brought his head down, taking away her target and letting her rear fly overhead. Instead of simply letting her fly, however, he reached up, brought a hand through her legs while the other caught her shoulder, then stopped all her momentum by pulling her down, slamming her onto his shoulders and keeping her there, testing her flexibility with the infamous torture rack.

Zanghief was down. Zanghief was vulnerable. The match was barely a few seconds old, and already, Mika had an advantage, and she wasn't going to miss it. She burst into a run, and twisted in midair, aiming to nail Zanghief with her trademark Flying Peach. She had already started this match in style, so now she was going to continue along those lines and hammer at Zanghief with her own trademark style.

Well, that was the plan. There were just two problems: first, her ass didn't hit Zanghief's face as intended, but instead hit empty air. And second, those tree-trunk arms of the Russian's were suddenly coming up, snatching her around her knee and shoulders, and hoisting her up across his shoulders.

Oh. This wasn't good.

No sooner had she had this thought when Zanghief simply pulled down with his arms, and Mika's body was arched painfully across the Red Tornado's shoulders in a torture rack. She cried out in pain, despite herself, as her body was forced to curve upwards, testing her flexibility in a way that caused her ample chest to jut upwards further. What the audience thought of this was the last of Mika's worries, as she was desperately holding back a scream, her limbs flailing as she felt like her spine was going to snap in two.

Clenching her teeth, she willed herself to fight back, trying to shoot an elbow down against Zanghief's skull. If that wouldn't work, then she would try to slide an arm under his chin to lock in an impromptu sleeper...all the while she tried to withstand the pain of being being in two by the Russian's immense strength...