"Iron Orca" Kuroe vs Sydney Giovanni - Generations Clash!

清覧ありがとうございました！ ("Thank you for watching!")
明日テレビでお会いしましょう! AFWで!!  ("See me tomorrow on TV! On AFW!!")

It had been one long training stream, mostly donation readings and answering questions about her upcoming AFW appearance, but "Iron Orca" Kuroe Tetsushachi, a popular gaming, fashion, and fitness streamer, signed off for the last time before her big match, and she could not be more excited!

She was up against a genuine ring veteran, someone her elder with much more experience, but Kuroe was as pumped as she ever was. The following morning, she met with her talent agent and was driven to the site of AFW Friction, where she'd be in one of the opening matches, serving on the undercard. To her amazement, she spotted several fans as she was escorted in by her agent, keeping a low profile to avoid stalkers or any mishaps. Deep Sea Talent, the agency she worked for, stood to gain considerable exposure with one of their talents working on a mainstream stage like this, and thus were here to ensure that the match goes off without a hitch.

In the back, she met with a few close friends from Deep Sea who had been given VIP passes to support her, as well as her assigned personal trainers, which the agency had paid for to get Kuroe into tip-top shape for what was to come. In truth, this all made her even more anxious, believing that the pressure was truly on her to outperform everyone's expectations, as she was essentially a celebrity entering the wrestling ring for, as far as many people were aware, the first time at least in this capacity.

But it wouldn't be her first rodeo, not by a long shot, and she had refused to allow herself to come underprepared. This was her big moment; at only 22, she was determined to establish herself as a superstar in both the world of streaming and wrestling! With her attire chosen and her preparations complete, Kuroe made her way to the area just behind the entrance ramp, having not yet met her opponent. She'd studied Sydney somewhat, (though the match was only announced a week prior in promotional material, given that it was a mere opener), and felt at least somewhat confident that she was prepared for this, despite her opponent's superior experience, not to mention the size difference between them. It would be an uphill battle, but one she thought she was ready for.

"You're on in ten seconds, Kuroe," a stagehand remarked, and Kuroe's friends urged her on, "Do your best, Kuroe-chan!"

Animal:

An all-too-familiar cover of one of Kuroe's favorite songs began to play, blaring the same exuberant energy the "Killer Cutie" herself was known for. Excitedly, she makes her way down the ramp, high-fiving and playing to the crowd, spotting a few of her fans in attendance. She'd stop and hug them all if she could, but she knew she was on a time limit, and she wished to remain respectful of AFW's time; they had, after all, generously given her this chance!

Killer Cutie entrance attire V2.0:

She quickly slides into the ring, taking a bow to the crowd once more and doffing the capelet and other elaborate costume pieces worn purely for her entrance after one final play to the crowd.

Kuroe seemed more hyped for this match than her opponent, who looked totally indifferent to her. This was not a reaction the streamer was used to, and her thoughts drift to whether or not she was doing something wrong. In heavily accented English she speaks, "Let's have... a good match!" nodding in affirmation to her own words and enthusiastically bowing to her.

After a moment, the ringside cameras begin to roll and the bell rings. Kuroe paces around her opponent, unsure of how to engage against someone so much larger than her. A lockup? No, she definitely lacked the physicality to overpower her. Hopping about, she shows off a bit of footwork before going low, lunging forward and attempting to grapple Sydney's leg, aiming for a simple leg drag, hoping to trip her up and pull her to the ground, though likely to little success given the difference in size and strength.

Though having no real feelings toward her opponent, she nodded tiredly, letting out a soft "hmm" in the midst of her affirmation. She could tell Kuroe was nervous; after all, she was up against a veteran. Sydney didn't consider herself a good one, but she knew that her title alone would strike some fear in younger folks. The thought led her to sigh, but before she could even ponder what to do next, Kuroe would begin circling around her. It didn't take her long to realize that she was planning to attack at any moment, yet she kept a level of detachment unbefitting to the return of a legend. Though, the redhead wasn't sure if she even deserved such a right to be called something so bold. She had a championship opportunity, and she blew it—still having been grieving over the loss of her best friend back then. It was the match that ended her career, but it appeared that no one really remembered that, or at least, recalled the inner conflict as much as she did. She hated her former occupation, having just used it as a way to vent her frustration at her immature, slutty, and frankly, irresponsible mother. There might have been a time when pain turned to pleasure, but she'd never know what that feels like now. In fact, that would be especially true, the redhead being snapped out of thought once the masked wrestler grabbed at her ankle, causing her to topple over onto the canvas.
With one fatal swoop, her back shrieked in pain, and her vision was fuzzy. The landing was all that bad, but it managed to leave her vulnerable long enough for her opponent to do whatever she wanted. Not that she would have tried that hard anyway. She was just in it for her daughter—to do better than her own mother did. The same woman who straight up ditched her recently to mess around with some blond sleazebag. In a case that clear-cut, you could say the bar was low enough for her to accomplish her goal with ease. However, her daughter had become quite the handful as of late. It wasn't going to be easy, and Yona didn't exactly want to open up to her just yet. Even so, she had to keep trying if she wanted to save her daughter from that same anger that haunted her in the past. She had to keep fighting in this damned ring, only to fulfill a contract and to be given resources. Lucky for her, there was no part that ever mentioned her having to win.
"Good one, kid," Sydney commented, still wanting to at least encourage the woman—filled with the fear of one that just poked a beast, when in all reality, she had kicked a sloth.

Kuroe's heart skips a beat as Sydney tumbles over, she didn't think she had it in her! She'd wrestled sporadically on the independent scene but in truth, her nervousness was eating at her up until this moment. In just their short exchange, Kuroe quickly became emboldened, quickly moving to capitalize on her teeny sliver of momentum.

Grabbing Sydney's wrist, she twists to as to hold it against her back and pressure her shoulder, the Orca herself squatting and trying to keep herself in a dominate position against her prone opponent, knowing full well she could be overpowered if Sydney were to get back to a vertical base. Kuroe's heart pounds, adrenaline already fueling her movements as she contends with her inner panic. As for the turmoil inside Sydney, her motivations or lack thereof to even be here, Kuroe was entirely ignorant, from her perspective it truly did feel like she'd, at least momentarily, gotten one over on a more experienced foe.

"Y-yes!" is all she manages to mutter, seeming to be fully in the moment, though truthfully she was not sure where to go from here. If she could keep Sydney down with her hammerlock for more than an instant, Kuroe's next move would be a couple of quick knee strikes to Sydney's side, thinking she could wear her down and win out on a war of attrition, knowing that her own greatest asset was her boundless stamina. If she could tire the Italian out, she'd have a chance!

Sydney felt the sudden shift in momentum catch her off guard, and before she could fully process the situation, Kuroe had seized control. The hammerlock applied by the enthusiastic newcomer brought a twinge of discomfort to Sydney's shoulder, and she winced in response. Her mind raced, grappling not just with the physical predicament but the unexpected turn of events.
Feeling the pressure from Kuroe's squatting stance, Sydney struggled to find a quick escape route. The redhead wasn't all too concerned about throwing some attacks of her own, but she certainly didn't want to put herself through pain. She might've been a bit too old for that now. Then again, she could always throw out a mean punch if she truly tried to. She always had such a strength in her—having a significant record of knockouts, for wrestling of all things. However, faced with a timid, yet enthusiastic rookie filled her with some doubts on if she could really do this.
She questioned her own motivations for being in the ring, wondering if she could muster the drive to turn the tide. Did she even need to fight? She was only here for her child, and to put an end to this entire family feud her own mother started with her sister about a century ago.
Regardless, she was in a fight—a professional one, but a fight nonetheless, and that only became more apparent to the distracted veteran as a knee struck her side repeatedly. The Italian wrestler grimaced with each impact; her cheeks flushed a bright red. She didn't want to fight, and she didn't know if she had the motivation to do such. She felt guilty that she couldn't give her fans, and her opponent the old, fierce heel: Sydney Giovanni, but she's changed too much to go back. She didn't have that same animal in her that wanted to fight.
She took her beating, looking into the stage lights with somber eyes. It reminded the redhead of her very first match—once faced with difficult odds. Even so, she rose to the top, in spite of her adversity, and lost all the glory in less time than it took to win the championship. She might just very well be down for the count; at least, in her opponent's favor.

Kuroe seems to have the early advantage, or so she thought anyway. This was an uncommon occurrence, Kuroe being an endurance fighter above all else, and she expected this match to open much differently than it currently was. Still, she wasn't going to think too hard about it, hoping to keep her momentum going and continue to sap away at Sydney's strength. After her series of knee strikes, Kuroe shifts her stance and her grasp on her opponent, reaching for a sleeper hold and moving her position to get atop Sydney's back, from where she intended to keep the hold clutched.

She had her doubts that her opponent would stay down long, but these were the fundamentals she had been taught. Work to her strengths, and force a battle of attrition, this was her way. She had no idea her foe's heart wasn't in it; all she knew about Sydney was of her history, of her cheerier exploits in her prime, and of course her obvious physical advantages. The match had barely been going a minute now, and Kuroe had no reason to believe her opponent wasn't giving it her all.

But something, an instinct of sorts, tugged at her heart strings, and it made her uncertain. Taking the moment of close proximity, Kuroe whispers in the best English she can muster, "Are you okay??" having little time to exchange much else. It was a legitimate concern even if, to her at least, unfounded. But Kuroe was here to do two things: Her best, naturally, and entertain the crowd. To put on a show for her fans, supporters, and subscribers, that was her calling. She expected this to go back and forth like some of her favorite parts of the previous small-time matches she'd partaken in. Mounting dramatic comebacks or overselling her opponent's offense to make them look stronger, this is what she was known for, where she was at her peak as an entertainer.

With all 100 lbs of her bodyweight hanging on Sydney like a stuffed backpack, Kuroe held on like this and waited to see how her foe would react—if there was fight in her or if something really was amiss.

Sydney felt the pressure from Kuroe's sleeper hold as her opponent mounted her back. Despite the physical strain, there was a momentary pause, almost as if Kuroe's words had cut through the intensity of the match. Sydney's mind briefly wandered, contemplating the sincerity of the question. She appreciated the concern but found it peculiar coming from an opponent in the midst of a match. Back in her day, for a lack of better words, there was no mercy between competitors, or even an ounce of remorse for the other's situation. You fought, and you fought to win. That was the world she was in back then, and now, she was met with someone that was actually concerned for her—the only two people that had ever cared for her are buried six feet under: her husband, and of course, her best friend, Louise. However, there was a stubborn side of herself that wouldn't confide in anyone anymore. She wasn't going to risk any more shots to her heart.
Amid the confusion of emotions and the grip of the sleeper hold, Sydney couldn't help but cough faintly, a mix of exhaustion and genuine disillusion with a sport she once loved. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just... do your thing- I'll make you look good," Sydney replied, her voice carrying a weariness that transcended the physical exertion. Despite the weariness, for some reason, she clung to her consciousness—her face red as a cherry. Her head looked as if it were on the verge of popping through her pale skin. She still had to sell her defeat if she wanted to even stay on AFW grounds, so with a surge of determination, Sydney attempted to power through Kuroe's sleeper hold. She planted her feet firmly on the mat, lightly trying to shake the woman off, but with a minimal amount of strength that'd assure her masked opponent a clean victory.

Kuroe wasn't entirely sure what Sydney meant but was starting to get an inkling of what was going on - her opponent seemed to be holding back. Was she paid by the agency, perhaps, to job out? Make Kuroe look better than she was? These thoughts plagued the Iron Orca as she clenched the hold, the height difference between them making it a bit hard to maintain her grip even if Sydney did little to really struggle free. After a few moments, Kuroe decides to salvage the spot, transitioning the hold to an irish whip, throwing Sydney to the ropes.

In the momentary lapse she had before Sydney's rebound, Kuroe took a brief glance around at the crowd... she seemed to have been placed in an exhibition match where she could truly show off her entire arsenal. She wasn't sure how she felt about this, if word got out that her opponent threw the match, it would damage the credibility of both of them. Still, the veteran had said she'd make her look good, Kuroe would have to trust that Sydney wouldn't make a mockery of her even if she wasn't going to fight for real.

Resolving to put her mixed feelings about this situation aside, Kuroe prepares to deliver a leaping enzuigiri kick to her opponent on the way back from running the ropes, assuming she would make the return trip . It was a move that always got a pop from the crowd, and she could use a second after the move to gather her thoughts and play it up... above all else, the audience needed to be happy, and she intended to make a show of this, especially if she was being given free reign of it.

Sydney bounced off the ropes after the Irish whip, her body moving almost mechanically. As she approached Kuroe, she couldn't shake the internal conflict. Part of her wanted to resist and show her true abilities, but another part seemed restrained, whether by choice or obligation. As Kuroe prepared for the leaping enzuigiri kick, Sydney made a conscious decision to go along with the flow for the sake of the show.
The impact of Kuroe's kick sent Sydney sprawling to the mat, and she sold the move well, making it look more devastating than it actually was. As she lay on the canvas, Sydney cast a quick glance at Kuroe, a mix of resignation and cooperation in her eyes. She could tell that Kuroe got the idea as well. She wasn't holding back as much as she used to be. She understood the unspoken agreement between them—put on a spectacle for the audience, regardless of the underlying circumstances. That's all wrestling was to her in the end—a silly little game, and she lost far too long ago. The redhead coughed, holding her throat. Kuroe's foot had landed directly over her neck. She might've been hurt, but it didn't matter much to her. There was only her daughter, and in a way, she'd learn the very same lesson if she let her wrestle any longer. She had to find her, but here she was, indulging such a gimmicky princess. She sighed, once more, to let her exhaustion be known.