Casey. 3
Somewhere between twelve and fourteen minutes had already slipped by since the tag team match began.
From everything Casey had watched of the Inquisitors so far, their debut opponents—the Thunder Storms—had been complete idiots. Team Heritage, on the other hand, had been mid-carders in WWO, but they were solid technicians in their own right. Pairing them against the Inquisitors had produced a match with a blistering tempo. And it was flashy, too.
The cop sitting nearby was staring with his mouth hanging open. Hearts were practically dripping from Julia's eyes. What Julia would do after tonight? Casey didn't even need to guess. She'd follow the Inquisitors on every social platform and join their fan cafe before the night was over.
How long is this match supposed to run? They wouldn't give rookies more than twenty minutes, would they?
Just as that thought crossed Casey's mind, Alf locked Billy up and hoisted him into a German suplex, slamming him down hard. Then he bounced straight up and crashed down with a splash.
Ooooh—
The referee dropped into the count immediately.
One—
Two—
That was when Jake vaulted into the ring and stomped his boot square into Alf's back.
"Argh!"
"You bastard!"
The cover broke. James roared as he charged in, grabbed Jake, and drove him toward the ropes before blasting him with a lariat that sent him tumbling over the top. James followed him out and planted a moonsault onto Jake from the apron.
Wow—
James landed back-first across Jake. The impact left both of them sprawled outside the ring. Inside, Billy was still down. Alf clutched the ropes and staggered slowly to his feet.
Alf! Alf! Alf!
The crowd's chant rolled through the arena. For a team only two matches into their careers, the reaction was enormous.
Alf finally steadied himself, hauled the fallen Billy upright, and drove him down with a power slam.
Thud—
Alf was breathing hard—his gas tank was clearly running low. He walked slowly toward the corner and started climbing for the top rope.
Outside the ring, James had gotten up first and was trying to shove Jake toward the steel steps. But Jake spun hard and shoved James instead.
Crash—
James slammed into the steel steps and crumpled to the floor from the impact. Jake seized him by the hair and drove his head into the steps again and again.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
James went limp, out cold from the collisions with the steel. Jake, looking genuinely furious, kept stomping on him.
Alf, who had been about to finish Billy with a splash from the top rope, saw it and changed direction mid-climb. He launched himself out of the ring—no, he flew.
Oooohhh!
Alf came down right on top of Jake. From a height of at least four meters.
Jake caught him pretty well, but both of them had to have felt that.
Whoa—whoa—
Clap clap clap clap—
Alf! Alf! Alf!
The self-sacrificing bumps kept coming, and the crowd erupted into a frenzy.
"Nice! That's it! That's what I'm talking about!"
The cop was on his feet, pumped, throwing uppercuts at the air and yelling.
Still looks cool, though. A bump where you don't protect yourself is always the right answer.
With three wrestlers down outside the ring, Billy was the first to fully recover. He climbed down, grabbed Alf by the head, and dragged him back into the ring before climbing in himself. Using the ropes for momentum, he dropped a leg across Alf's throat.
Thud—
Alf's back arched from the impact of the leg drop. Watching it, Casey shifted her gaze outside the ring. James, the one who should have been coming to help, was completely out of it.
This is the finish, then.
Just as Casey expected, Billy took a moment to catch his breath, then climbed to the top rope and found his balance. Alf's cheers had been loud, but the crowd also gave Billy a solid round of applause for the strong match he'd put on tonight.
Billy steadied himself and jumped. His body spun horizontally through a full one-eighty—a rounding body press. He landed chest-first and went straight into the cover.
One—
Two—
Three—
Ding ding ding—
The tag team match ended in a victory for Team Heritage, but the Inquisitors had put on a performance no one would believe from rookies. Selma had been the same way—give these guys two years and they'd climb a long way up the card.
I'll give them that. They're good. Really good. And Glorious—no, Heritage—weren't bad either.
There had been some roughness on the hot tags and chain sequences, but for rookies in a tag team, it had been excellent.
After the match, TPA seemed to be advancing one of its own storylines—some no-name wrestler got under the champion's skin, the champion stormed the ring for a brief brawl, and then left. Another men's singles match followed. More wrestlers Casey didn't recognize. Being placed this late on the card, she'd expected them to have something special—but the talent just wasn't there. It made her wonder just how thin TPA's roster really was.
"Um…"
"Yeah? What is it?"
"I thought TPA had some veterans who came over from WWO or EAW. Why aren't any of them out tonight?"
"Mm. The men's side has a lot of injuries right now. On the women's side, Anne and Natasha and a few others had matches last week. Anne Clemens, Natasha Bland—Ana?"
"I don't know Anne that well, but I know Natasha. Famous for all the wrong reasons."
"Exactly. Tsk. Popularity or not, some talent you just have to cut. Karl Overdia signed way too many people. Soft-hearted for a guy who doesn't look it."
The cop launched into a detailed rundown for Julia and Casey of who TPA's current champions were and how good they actually were. Casey asked if they were bothering him, but he waved it off and kept talking. He didn't seem particularly interested in the match currently in the ring either.
The unremarkable men's match finally ended.
"Her debut's probably next."
"Wait—a rookie's closing the show?"
"Overdia's soft-hearted, sure, but he's not stupid. He ran the numbers."
Then the deep boom of drums rolled through the arena. The crowd answered instantly.
Whoa—whoa—
"That's Olivia."
A woman strode out in black wrestling gear studded with gold foil accents. She was shorter than WWO's Nadia Jackson, but her waist and hips were even bigger. At a glance she was at least a hundred kilos.
"What's Olivia's size?"
"Her profile says 175 centimeters and 100 kilos, but in reality she's probably 110? 115? That profile's from last year. She's put on weight since then."
"That's seriously heavy."
"Yeah."
Olivia marched down the ramp, climbed the steel steps into the ring, and made a full circuit, greeting the crowd. Once she was done, every eye in the building swung toward the entrance tunnel—desperate for even a one-second glimpse of the next wrestler, the much-rumored Charina.
Zing. Zing-zing-zing. Zing—
A fierce guitar riff hit, and the cop lurched to his feet so hard his belly jiggled. His lips and cheeks were trembling. He looked like he'd taken a massive hit—and yet there was something almost moved about his expression, like he was drowning in old memories. Looking around, most of the people who appeared to be in their forties or older wore the same face. The older guys were cheering and clapping harder than the young crowd.
A woman in a red sleeveless top, black pants, and a white backpack glided into view on a skateboard.
Casey had expected a storm of camera flashes and a roar from the crowd. Instead, it was strangely quiet. Everyone seemed stunned by the sight of her. Casey herself was no exception.
She's… she's way too pretty. The real thing is several times more beautiful than the photos.
Charina coasted toward the ring on the skateboard—neither too fast nor too slow. She left the board and backpack by the announce table, stepped up onto the apron, leaned her back against the ropes, and looked out over the crowd. A faint smile touched her lips.
"Ah—"
Casey let out a sound before she even realized it.
After about ten seconds of surveying the audience, Charina grabbed the ropes and flipped backward into the ring.
In pro wrestling, skill, promos, and acting all mattered—but so did looks. On that front, Charina was operating at two hundred percent. Three hundred, even. She was almost unfairly beautiful. The thought hit Casey unbidden: Why is someone who looks like that doing pro wrestling? She was pretty sure half the crowd and everyone watching at home were thinking the same thing.
It wasn't until the ring announcer belted out Olivia's introduction that the cop finally snapped out of it.
"Shit!"
"What?"
"I need to find whoever took those photos and bury them. They clearly shot her with their feet."
—Making her debut tonight, from Orlando, Florida—standing 166 centimeters and weighing 50 kilos—Cha~ri~na!—
The ring announcer's call sent the crowd into a frenzy. And then the match began.
Maybe it was the debut nerves, but Charina looked a little dazed at the start. Olivia seized complete control of the early going. Whether it was because Charina was so light or because she was selling, every time she hit the canvas she bounced like a basketball. And every bounce came with a scream—a beautiful voice Western wrestlers almost never had.
"Ahh!"
Depending on how you heard it, the sound was almost sensual. Then Olivia hurled her into the corner, and with a sharp Kyaaak! Charina tumbled out of the ring. It was clearly a Flair flip—timed perfectly, used well, never looking forced. Olivia followed her out and crashed down on top of her with her full body weight.
A splash from 120 kilos onto 50 kilos. And she'd done it from the apron onto a wrestler already down outside the ring. Even Casey, who knew the business inside and out, was stunned. Charina had sold it successfully, but she still must have had the wind completely knocked out of her—and if there'd been a botch, her ribs would have been broken.
Nooo!
What the—
Oh my God!
The crowd was calling on God and Jesus. Thankfully the catch had been clean enough; once the ring-out count started, both women made it back inside.
Then Charina's comeback hit. She'd rolled in first, and as Olivia entered she cracked her across the head, set her feet, and hit a suplex.
Wow—
Ooooh—
A woman lighter than Casey herself lifting Olivia clean off the mat was a genuine spectacle. Unlike a German suplex, where the recipient jumps backward to help, a standard suplex simply cannot be done without real strength. If Casey hadn't seen it with her own eyes, she would have called Julia a liar for claiming it was possible.
After that, Charina worked the crowd and hit an Eclipse. The level of performance was nothing anyone would associate with a rookie—or a twenty-year-old.
Casey thought Charina was going to run away with it one-sidedly and end the match. Then a lionsault missed, and the momentum flipped again. Big wrestlers like Olivia usually had stamina issues and avoided this kind of fast-paced match. But she seemed to have surprising gas. Breathing hard, pouring sweat, she still kept up.
And then came something you almost never saw—a corkscrew crossbody. Charina's aerial game was right up there with WWO's "Genius of the Sky," Miyu Sky.
Charina planted both hands on her knees, looked down at Olivia sprawled on the mat, caught her breath—then locked Olivia's head between her thighs, grabbed her around the waist, and hoisted her high into the air.
"Hah—"
"Is that… is that…"
"What am I even looking at?"
Casey gasped. Julia and the cop stared like they couldn't believe what they were seeing even as it happened in front of them.
Thud—
A sit-down powerbomb landed perfectly. Olivia's limbs twitched. Charina stepped across her stomach, climbed to the top rope—and Casey watched a shooting star press draw a beautiful arc through the air.
Thud—
It landed clean on Olivia's chest. The referee's count followed.
One—
Two—
Three—
Ding ding ding—
—The winner of this match… Charina!—
The ring announcer's call dropped, and a roar went up loud enough to shake the roof of the building. Casey was part of it. She had watched countless matches in her life, but she had never seen one this shocking.
Once the win was official, Charina hopped outside the ring, pulled something from her backpack, and held it up.
"Is that spray paint?"
"What is that?"
She pressed it against her palm and squeezed. A mass of light-green foam studded with black flecks filled the big screen.
"Hrrk! What the hell is that?"
The cop shuddered as if just looking at it filled him with revulsion.
"Mint chocolate whipped cream?"
Once Julia said it, that was exactly what it looked like. Charina gave a sultry little smile with her eyes and flicked her tongue out, licking the cream.
Hahhh—
The collective male sigh from the crowd was entirely justified. Even as a woman watching, Casey had to admit that licking cream off her hand with her tongue was an extremely sexy image. Charina beamed, clearly pleased with the reaction. Then she squeezed more cream into her palm and shoved it into Olivia's mouth.
Olivia recoiled, thrashing in pure disgust.
"Ghk—ghk—"
Looking thoroughly miserable, Olivia rolled sideways and tumbled out of the ring. Cream smeared all over her mouth, she waddled away with a pitiful exit.
Force-feeding mint chocolate to the person she just beat… A gimmick about making people eat hated food? A Gen Z gimmick? I don't even know what kind of gimmick this is, but that was one hell of a promo. This is violence that isn't violence. Who even came up with this? I thought TPA was completely rotten… but maybe not entirely.
Casey, a mint-chocolate hater herself, felt goosebumps crawl up her arms just watching it.