Priss Asagiri vs. Layla McCarthy ~A Stunning Debut~

Twice more Priss would swing the chair into Layla's back. Afterwards, she would throw the chair away, the weapon a bent, dented piece of metal now.

At this point, the ref had already called the bell for Priss's disqualification, but she didn't seem to mind. She didn't seem to care about the match itself, just about inflicting as much pain as she could on the small girl. After she flung the chair to the side, she moved to lift Layla's body up, moving to fling her back into the ring.

After she did so, Priss would turn back to the announcer's table, grabbing another chair and sliding it into the ring as well. Then, she knelt down by the ring and grabbed something out from under it. It was a hefty looking baseball bat, which she clutched tightly as she slid back into the ring herself. She grinned down at Layla, tsking and shaking her head.

"Show's over, little girl...any last words?"

"AAHHHH!!! AHHHHHHH!!!!" Layla screamed when two more chai blows crashed down on her, damaging her already damaged spine. Priss had hit Layla so hard that the chair was actually disfigured from striking her small body. Poor Layla was in a world of hurt after the chair was tossed away, tears flowing from her eyes as she sobbed quietly. And worse yet, it seemed Priss was not quite finished with her.

Limp as putty when Priss picked her up again Layla was rolled into the ring without resistance, coming to a stop in the middle of it. She looked like a complete mess, her face covered in blood, her short hair strewn all over the place, and even her clothes had been torn slightly. But none of that would matter when Priss slid into the ring, and Layla's eyes widened with fear at what she brought with her.

Eying the basball ba with utter horror, Layla looked up at Priss with fearful eyes. "P-Please....no. D-Don't do it...." she sobbed. She no longer sounded liek the tough girl that came into the ring, but rather like the girl that used to be oicked on before coming here. Layla had never been in so much pain in her life. Her past beatings were nothing compared to this. She would give up anything, even her self-respect, to makee the pain stop.

The fear on Layla's face meant nothing to Priss. Nothing at all. She kicked her chair to the center of the ring, then moved back to Layla, starting to kick and stomp at her body, trying to roll the girl over onto the chair.

Once there, she would grab her bat, then flash Layla another sick grin. "Batter up!" She yelled to the crowd, before taking a pair of quick swings down at Layla's body, trying to beat her against the cold metal of the steel chair.

Layla could see in her horrible opponant's eyes that there was no mercy for her. This was especially true when Priss started aiming hard kicks onto her body, Layla yelped and sobbed in pain, her body eventually turning onto the chair Priss set out for her. She lay on the cold steel panting heavily, unable to see what Priss was doing until the bat came down. "AAHHHH!!! AHHHHHHH!!" Layla screamed in agony. It hurt so much, and now Layla was starting to fear for her life. She didn't care about the match. She just wanted to get out of here alive.

Finally, finally Priss decided to show the girl some mercy. She flung her bat away, glancing down at Layla and shrugging. "Hey, like I said, nothing personal, kid."

Then she turned away from her, as if forgetting she was even there, walking to the ropes and motioning at the announcer's table for a mike to be thrown to her. An official complied, tossing it up to her. The biker caught it, moving towards the ropes facing the entrance to the ring. She leaned against them, raising the mike to her lips.

"Hey Sarah! Sarah Gatt! Are you back there, are you listening?"

Whne Priss was finally done Layla lay with a pathetic blubbering heap on the steel of the chair. She had nothing left, and could only lay there bleeding, hoping that Priss was done with her. Instead she seemed much more interested in calling out Sarah Gatt, a crazy thing to do on its own. If Sarah Gatt had heard Priss, she wasn't showing up, but the crowd was at the edge of their seatings waiting for Priss to continue. Did she know Sarah somehow?

Priss grinned, shaking her head, leaning on the ropes still as she got no response from Sarah at all.

"Heh, should have known you were too big a chickenshit to show yourself."

She stepped back from the ropes, tsking into the microphone as she paused a moment, then continued.

"Tell you what. I don't want to embarass you too badly out here in front of all these people. Since you're too big a pussy to come meet me here, why don't you come out to the parking deck after the show tonight? Lowest level, all the way in back. Come alone, alright? I just want to...talk, after all."

Another pause. "And if you don't show?"

She motioned towards Layla with her head, then continued again. "I won't be as nice to you as I was to the midget here."

With that, she dropped the mike and went to slide from the ring, moving to make an exit and hoping that Sarah got her message.

As soon as Priss finished her challenge and Priss left the ring, medic rushed past her down the ramp to tend to the injured Layla. She was in bad shape to say the least, so they immediately loaded her on a stretcher and crried her from the ring. Layla's pain, however, ran deeper than her skin. Her entire beating, her entire humliation was just a way for Priss to callout Sarah Gatt. It was a crushing thought. That was the last thing she thought before she finally drifted out of unconsciousness.

Elsewhere, having wacthed the whole event unfold, from the beating to the challenge, Sarah Gatt scowled at the TV she watched it from in the gym. People rarely called her out, and she didn't know who this Priss girl was. But there was one thing she did recognize in that match. Her leather jacket. Priss had been wearing it, and now the question was how did she get it?

Guess I'm gonna go find that out, Sarah thought to herself, and would gather her things together before leaving the gym. She had a meeting to attend....




Winner by disqualification, Layla McCarthy