Beyonce Vs. Helvetica Lee

Match Type: Standard
Winning Condition: Pinfall, Knockout or Submission

Beyonce was finally getting her first match after joining the AFW. It felt good to finally get in the ring and she was going to enjoy facing all the challenges of this greatest wrestling league. She didn't know who her first opponent would be and she didn't care. Unlike her old Joshi group, she was probably going to be put against another rookie. Someone who they thought would have similar experience. Beyonce didn't mind that one bit. Getting paid for something that would require so little effort would be just fine with her.

When her music started to play, Beyonce grabbed her large club and pulled the oni mask down over her head. She was going on first in the evening since she was a rookie but she didn't mind that either. Her music was serene and she had an odd look. The mostly Japanese crowd seemed rather intrigued by her attire. The Oni theme elicited a mild applause.

Beyonce slipped into the ring and went partially to her corner. She turned to face the entrance ramp and set her club on her shoulder. Her Oni mask set its unmoving visage upon the spot where her opponent would enter.

Helvtetica glared at the arena, her eyes finally settling on the arena lights. Once again, the hyper-competitive, self-proclaimed "student of the game" was getting a shot at the big leagues. Her opponent was a new face in AFW, a completely different sort of challenger than Helvetica was used to.

But she hardly cared. In Helvtica's mind, she'd already faced the stiffest competition that AFW had to offer, over her last few months in the league. She had hardly come out on top of those encounters, but that wasn't her fault. The AFW administrators had given her stiff competition, rough opponents. She couldn't help it if some of them took the cheap road to victory, right? Helvetica told herself that her remaining fans knew that she was the one to root for ...

And so, as she made her way to the ring, Helvetica regarded her upcoming opponent coldly. She'd never seen Beyonce before, and surely the girl had no idea what she was in for. Whatever skill she had, she wasn't prepared to face a woman who had watched dozens upon dozens of wrestling tapes, right? Helvetica's muscles tensed, as she regarded her fit young opponent. "You think you've got it going on?" she asked her opponent. "Bring it, then. I can't wait to make you my bitch," she said, her loose posture implying that she was all too ready for the match to start.

Beyonce watched as Helvetica came down the ramp. The girl didn't look like much. Her shape was soft and looked quite malleable but her attitude was actually surprising and seemed to brim with confidence. Perhaps there was some secret to her abilities? The Japanese-Egyptian considered her, remaining eerily motionless while she gazed at Helvetica through her mask. Maybe she was getting to face the best this company had to offer again. In her Joshi league she hated it but now she had come to appreciate it. She was forged in fire and hard as steel and this girl in front of her would be bludgeoned as if Beyonce was wielding her club on Helvetica.

Beyonce took off her mask and underneath, her red eyes settled on helvetica. They were almost more startling to behold than the mask. As she began handing off her things to the referee, her mask, her club, her beads and her gauntlets, she never broke eye contact with the "student of the game."

Once her regalia was off and placed out of the ring, Beyonce took one step forward and shifted her body. Her form took one that showed that she was no novice when it came to combat. She was a wrestler, a brawler and a Karateka all in one and she waited patiently for the bell, not saying one word in response to Helvetica's taunting.

Beyonce breathed easily as she waited for the bell, her chest rising and falling underneath the tightly wrapped tape was the only indication of movement aside from her occasionally blinking eyes.

Helvetica looked Beyonce up and down coldly, unsure what to make of her. Normally, the opponents she had faced were a talkative bunch, all too eager to get into shouting matches with the self-styled "student of the game." Not so much, this one. Instead, she kept staring Helvetica down with those unnerving, unwavering red eyes.

The fact that her trash-talking didn't even phase this girl got right under Helvetica's skin, settled in and took up residence. She scowled, giving a quick, sharp breath to push her hair out of her eyes. "Okay, that wasn't my best insult-job," she said, with a huff. "But I don't exactly have a lot to work with, here. I mean, here I am across the ring from 'Literally Who, the wrestler.' So, it's going to be a few minutes into the match, before I can tell you exactly why you suck. Hope you don't mind."

Fists settled on Helvetica's hips, she waited impatiently for the opening bell. Her opponent had come down to the ring with a rather fascinating look, even Helvetica had to admit that Beyonce had presence. Now, she just wanted to see if she could back that up, in the ring.

"The match will not last that long."

That was the one sentence response Beyonce gave to Helvetica's renewed attempt at trash talk. Her eyes never left the "student of the game" while she spoke her cold words.

And then the bell rang.

Beyonce cleared the distance as quickly as she could, her hands held between her chest and her chin in a fighting stance. Once she felt like she was in striking distance, she flashed a quick, straight punch right at Helvetica's nose. She had no wind up but a true fighter may have been able to do something about it. In Beyonce's head it was even a rather sloppy opening punch, but the Japanese-Egyptian had already made up her mind that the girl in the high school swimsuit with her hands on her hips standing before her did not know the first thing about fighting.

Helvetica wrinkled her nose, startled with Beyonce's cold, dismissive tone. That, coupled with the wrestler's unwavering glare, was starting to get more and more nerve-wracking for the cocky American.

"You'd better not be boring, then-" Helvetica said, stopping abruptly as the bell rang and Beyonce rushed her. "W-hey! Wait!" The "student of the game" was so taken aback by Beyonce's sudden start to her offense that she offered no resistance to the sharp punch.

"Waddfug?" Helvtica squealed, reeling back, barely staying on her feet. Her hands clasped over her nose, and she hoped not to feel blood pool in her hands. Helvetica's rather ample figure hit the ropes, and rested there while she stared at wide-eyed wonder at her opponent.

"What," she said, gasping the word, "the hell was that? That was the sloppiest goddam punch I've ever seen! You should be ashamed of yourself! That's how you open a match?"

As Helvetica stumbled backwards and tried to blurt out a response through her cupped hands, Beyonce continued to pursue. She reached out to get a rough handful of the "Student of the game's" bangs. If she could get a good grip on them, the Japanese-Egyptian would turn her body and drop to one knee, hoping to face plant Helvetica right into the canvas.

Helvetica was still shaking the stunned pain (and more than a few tears) out of her face, while Beyonce was pressing her advantage. Who did this girl think she was? Did she have no regard for quality advice, when she heard it?

"Aow!" Helvetica blurted out, as her hair tugged and tore at her scalp. "Hairpulling? Are you serious?" Her tone changed, however, as she saw Beyonce's toned figure dropping to her knee, pulling Helvetica down face-first.

"Oh. I get it," she muttered, just before her face slammed into the canvas. Wincing and moaning in pain, Helvetica rolled onto her back, toward the rope. A perfectly reasonable strategy, she told herself. Using the ring space. Not a retreat, at all. And she certainly didn't need to nurse her aching face. But she might do so, anyway.

Beyonce pushed up once Helvetica ate canvas and rolled away. Beyonce's red eyes focused on the squirming "Student of the game" and she pursued. As She approached, she lifted up her foot and stomped it down as hard as she could, aiming to drive her heel right between Helvetica's voluptuous chest and onto her sternum.

Beyonce leaned over and stared harshly at Helvetica. "I suggest you take three seconds to contemplate your future. Unless you like the taste of my sloppy punches or don't like the thought of having a career in the ring." It was Beyonce's harsh way of telling the "Student of the Game" to stay down, or else.

Everything in the arena seemed to be spinning around Helvetica. Every light in the building, from the lights high in the scaffolding to the flash photography of the fans, seemed to be driving past her eyes and into the American's aching face mercilessly. Helvetica realized that, even while her previous opponents' sloppy technique and clumsy offense (to her mind, if no one else's) had managed to cause her physical pain, this was something different.

It really hit her around the same time as Beyonce's boot, the heel of which drove sharp and hard into her chest. The soft, sensitive skin of Helvetica's soft body squirmed and strained beneath her, as waves of pain shot through the "Student of the Game's" sensitive body. "Hhggnnnn!" she grunted, as her legs flopped uselessly upward. Uncharacteristically, Helvetica actually listened through the pain, as Beyonce laid down her ultimatum.

"You're-" Helvetica grunted, struggling to breathe, "you're ac- actually trying to win!" The American was wide-eyed, looking almost bewildered. "But- you have to make it look good! You're scary as hell," she said, struggling to roll her shoulder up and avoid a pin count. "So you have to make it look scary. Any dumb bitch can cripple somebody ... "