Jenny Masters vs Biyerna Luna vs Yona Giovanni

Another match, another chance of being caught. The thought lingered in her mind, haunting her without rest. In fact, it looked like she hadn't slept in damn near several months. Her eyes were creased to their very ends, dark, and cast in the shadows of a hood she swore never to take off. It wouldn't stop the police from chasing after her, but it would surely delay their search. She stood, bare-naked, in her locker-room bathroom, no longer associated with LAW. They had thought such a large scandal would only lead to trouble for them, leaving her with nothing left but to run. She had abandoned her love, Raven. The deprivation of love began to settle in as her pale skin grew cold. She pressed two fingers against her lips to feel her own softness, but to her surprise, her lack of hygiene had left them chapped and hardened.
Quickly, she draped her cloak over her breasts, feeling a bittersweet sting from the affection. She quivered, questioning why she still fought even though her brother decided to stay with Renee. Not even Raven could have done anything about that. She's practically lost everything and is now, once again, just another nobody in the ring. She couldn't even see the point of trying to continue a legacy when everyone would soon know her for the murderer she was. She beat herself over and over with insults, losing the motivation to fight for anything other than to hurt the two girls she was about to come up against for her own amusement. She felt hatred mixed within a chamber of sadness. She was locked in place, the only one escaping all of this to actually get caught. All she had was the thrill of being on the run. She wanted to pretend as if she had closed her heart to people, but she truly hasn't done shit as she tried to hold herself together. She paused for a few minutes, slowly taking a deep breath. Almost as if she hadn't broken down whatsoever a few minutes ago, she had remembered what her mission was, and why she was at AFW. She had no room to feel such sadness right now, she forced herself to get dressed and wander into the stage area.
She watched as her opponents entered the ring, arriving last to complete silence on both her part and that of the audience. She slid into the ring, careful to keep her cloak straight. She didn't even bother with an entrance theme or the attention of others. She just wanted to figure herself out in the only way she knew how.
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Yona squirmed a bit through the uncomfortable silence. She had her back to the turnbuckle, the silent brunette noticing that she was cornered. If her opponents wanted to, they could easily put her in a tight spot, but she was experienced enough to shrug off the idea. Luckily, everyone would turn their gaze over to the referee—the man reminding Yona that she can't keep her cloak on in the ring. Her heart skipped a beat, having no other choice but to comply. However, in what many would call a miracle or a conspiracy, the referee slid a mask into the pocket of her cloak. Yona was confused at first, but once she realized it was a mask, she wasn't going to question her luck. She quickly put it on before hesitantly taking down her hood and tossing her cloak into the crowd.

Mask Included:

She had a feeling people would notice that she looked familiar, even with the mask on, but shockingly, the audience and commentators both seemed to be completely oblivious to her similarities with Louise Heisenberg. She chuckled to herself, just for a second. She never knew how bland she looked or that she could be confused for any other brunette in the ring. In fact, the commentators even started to theorize on her identity and didn't get it right—not even close. In a way, it gave her the spirit to take control of the match.

Without uttering a single word, like she typically would, she confidently placed a hand over her hip and pointed at her two opponents, urging them to come at her. Even though she felt reassured enough to show herself with a hood, she still wouldn't risk her identity being exposed if people were to hear her voice—the same voice that she made sure all her opponents remembered.