Fistycuff Throwdown (Beth vs. Phoebe)

Phoebe Oakley marched down the entrance ramp to the tune of the folk classic “Wabash Cannonball,” giving the audience a little smirk as they cheered for her. Being a very new fighter in AFW, she did not have much of a personal following to speak of, but she at least had the respect of everyone who had come out to the arena that night to see a good fight. She was just fine with that.

Tonight, she was told, would be a different sort of match than the first one she had participated in: rather than wrestling, she would be fistfighting. She had all but jumped for joy when she had been informed. While she dearly loved submission wrestling, fistfighting was a passion of hers, and she had been brawling on street corners and in backyards ever since she still had most of her baby teeth.

She climbed up into the ring, stomping her feet, throwing her arms up in the air—just generally psyching herself up for the match. She did a little shadow boxing as she returned to her corner and awaited the arrival of her opponent.

The arena was built up different tonight, iron mesh caging around the ring instead of the basic Japanese pro wrestling ring setup, due to the fact the organisers wanted something more since it would be a bare knuckled fistfight match. Funnily enough, Oakley's opponent had not arrived yet, making the crowd look around a bit in confusion, but cheer on the cute cowgirl in the centre. But even the amazing Asami had ways of making a better entrance, as the ring filled with pink mist from the smoke machines, revealing quite the small silhouette, of a girl sitting at a table, drinking tea as it would look...

Clearing to reveal Beth herself! dressed up in her little Lolita dress and top hat, Gothic, but still a cute one for the fans out there, sipping a big gulp of her warm tea glancing on over at Oakley. She looked less than impressed, but quite in the bad mood since she hated getting her clothes mucked up in fights, but needless, her last 3 hypnotised servants had become too dim...they're minds nothing but a mush of stupid to her. Forcing her to resort to street fighting to hypnotise more servants into obeying her.

"And whats this? a foul stenching cowgirl wanting to fight me? god you must be very stupid indeed..." Beth said vaguely, raising one pink brow as she leaned back on her tea chair, for she had never really seen a cowgirl before...which made her think. Quite possibly, could the girl Oakley be a worthy servant? she giggled, putting down her cup on the saucer as Beth smiled a little, wiping the remnants of hot tea off her small lips with her hanker chief.

Phoebe was a little put out by the girlâ€s strangely spectacular entrance. Why couldnâ€t she just walk down the ramp like a normal wrestler? Phoebe asked herself, though the answer soon became apparent when the smoke cleared and she realized that her opponent was some prissy little emo the size of a teacup pig. Crossing her arms over her chest, Phoebe snorted at the girl in disgust.

“Brave words, bitch, from someone your size,” Phoebe shot back, her cheeks reddening very slightly. “Did mommy diaper you and dress you up all special for this fight? My word, you just look sooo precious!”

She put her fists up, ready for the match to begin. She had thought it might be a bloody one, but, seeing the diminutive stature and seemingly frail figure of her opponent, the cowgirl figured it wouldnâ€t last more than two or three minutes, tops. “By the way,” she added, “if you call me foul-stenching or stupid one more time, missy, I swear I wonâ€t let up until I beat you into a fucking coma. From now until the day you die, youâ€ll shit your pants of fear at the mere mention of my name.”

[quote="Daaharu":370kmg6j]Phoebe was a little put out by the girlâ€s strangely spectacular entrance. Why couldnâ€t she just walk down the ramp like a normal wrestler? Phoebe asked herself, though the answer soon became apparent when the smoke cleared and she realized that her opponent was some prissy little emo the size of a teacup pig. Crossing her arms over her chest, Phoebe snorted at the girl in disgust.

“Brave words, bitch, from someone your size,” Phoebe shot back, her cheeks reddening very slightly. “Did mommy diaper you and dress you up all special for this fight? My word, you just look sooo precious!”

She put her fists up, ready for the match to begin. She had thought it might be a bloody one, but, seeing the diminutive stature and seemingly frail figure of her opponent, the cowgirl figured it wouldnâ€t last more than two or three minutes, tops. “By the way,” she added, “if you call me foul-stenching or stupid one more time, missy, I swear I wonâ€t let up until I beat you into a fucking coma. From now until the day you die, youâ€ll shit your pants of fear at the mere mention of my name.”