Exhibition Match, Part 2

TPA. The promotion was nowhere near WWO's scale — but that smallness came with its own advantages.

Unlike WWO, they didn't tour much, so the arena, the practice facilities, everything was under one roof.

"Clean. Nice. Almost feels like the WWO Training Center."

"I heard that aside from the arena itself, it's pretty much the same."

"Yeah. I can see that."

"This way."

"Mm."

A practice room with three rings. Empty because of the show that night — but the air still carried a faint trace of sweat, as if someone had been drilling hard only moments before and just left.

"Shall we start with stretching?"

"Yes."

While they stretched side by side, Charlotte stole glances at Charina. She wasn't quite at the level of a former gymnast-turned-wrestler, but her flexibility was roughly ninety percent of the way there. Her form was clean, too — nothing sloppy. She'd clearly been taught well.

"Did you have an athletic background?"

"No. Nothing formal. Just recreational marathons, mostly."

"Marathons? That's unexpected. So your cardio's solid, then."

"Yes. The downside is selling exhaustion gets tricky. I don't sweat easily."

"That's a blessing. Less chance of canvas scrapes, and your opponent's hands won't slip."

"So I've been told."

After stretching, they worked on falls together. Charina sold well, and her bump technique was just as clean.

"So Team 3D Academy was your first real wrestling training?"

"Yes. Before that I practiced at home with a dummy."

"Heh. Unusual case."

"The coaches said it worked out for the better — no bad habits to unlearn."

"They're right. Fixing something you learned wrong as a kid is no small thing. The second you start thinking about it, your rhythm falls apart."

They traded small talk until both of them were fully warmed up.

"Ready to go a round?"

"How many minutes? And how do you want to finish?"

"Fifteen. And of course I win. With your name value, you're still a long way from beating me."

Charina had watched Dorothy — TPA's top woman — job out for people. But Charlotte's standing was a different animal entirely. Even if Charlotte wanted to put someone over, the office and the rest of the roster would fight it tooth and nail. The career and prestige she'd built wouldn't allow it.

"I wasn't asking who wins. I was asking whether you're finishing with a submission or a pinfall."

"Clean pinfall. We don't know each other's moves, so we'll call them out before we hit them."

"Everything else runs like a real match, though — right? Aside from calling the moves."

"Right. Though I have to say — you show up out of nowhere wanting to work, and you don't even ask why?"

"Heh. Same boat. There are way too many people I'd love to go find and just work a match with."

Charlotte had watched Charina on television and wondered. Was she using wrestling as a launchpad into entertainment? Building heat here so she could jump to film? But that answer just now suggested otherwise. If anything, her mindset felt a little like Charlotte's own.

"I like that answer. Bring it today. Show me a performance I like, and I'll give you a gift."

"A gift? I don't really need anything. Just working is enough. This is plenty exciting on its own."

"My gift will be very useful to you."

Charina tilted her head, puzzled.

Cute little thing… Charlotte thought. Male fans would melt on the spot if they saw that face.

"A veteran at my level can pitch and adjust storylines. Halloween Battle — your side's working with ours. I can make a one-on-one between you and me happen. Interested?"

The girl looked stunned for a second — blanked out. Fair enough. A singles match against Charlotte Flair was something even solid two- or three-year veterans rarely got. This wasn't ordinary push.

"Rina?"

"Huh? Yes! I'll give it everything I've got."

"Go set the ring bell and come back."

"A veteran at my level can pitch and adjust storylines. Halloween Battle — we're working with you. I can make a one-on-one between you and me happen. Interested?"

The moment Charlotte finished speaking, a ding chimed in my head and a quest window appeared.

I must have blanked out again for a second. Charlotte ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠called my name, I answered immediately, set the ring bell for fifteen minutes, and came back. While I was at it, I activated the Active Skill Timer.

"Let's lock in the opening. We lock up for about ten seconds, test strength, then I grab your head and throw you. Rope rebound into a flying knee to the face, then a German suplex. We swap control roughly every two minutes."

"Got it."

"Let's go."

Just the two of us in an empty room. The lights were set like a theater stage — only the ring we stood on ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was lit.

And so our private match began.

Charlotte locked up, bent her knees, seized my hair, and threw me. I didn't fight the force — I took it the way she led.

THUD—

The sound rang out like we were miked, like we were in a basement.

"Good!"

A short note of satisfaction. She hauled me up, sent me into the ropes, and hit a flying knee. Nearly six feet of her jumping — her knee came straight up to my cheek. A split second before contact, I caught it with my left palm.

WHACK!

THUD—

I took it and went straight down on my back. Charlotte grabbed my hair again. Her eyes were wild, the corner of her mouth curling up. Already fully locked into the match.

"German."

"Yes."

She locked around my waist from behind. The moment she gave a light pinch, I jumped with her. I flew back a long way.

THUD—

The second my back hit the canvas, I rolled through into a full back somersault. If there'd been a crowd, that spot would have drawn a huge reaction.

"That was way too light. I could probably hit a chokeslam on you."

"Go ahead."

"Heh. Fine. That's the finish tonight. Your turn — moonsault. Control swap."

"Got it. I'll just roll out of the way."

"Good."

The second she finished speaking, she climbed the middle and top ropes and hit the moonsault. The moment she jumped, I rolled hard. From flat on my stomach I grabbed her neck, hauled her up, and tucked her head under my arm.

"Bulldog."

"Good choice."

A few running steps, a slight release of tension in her neck, and I sat down hard.

THUD—

Charlotte's face drove straight into the mat. I followed with a basic slam and a Samoan drop in sequence.

"Rope rebound. Hit a headscissors whip."

"You can support it?"

The most common accident on a headscissors whip is the receiver not being able to handle the attacker's weight. Lifting wasn't the concern — my thin thighs were what worried her.

"Olivia hit it on me in practice."

"You're insane."

Hearing that someone Olivia's size had done it, she laughed with a slightly stunned look.

After the headscissors whip flipped control, Charlotte started chaining power moves she didn't usually get to throw — a spinebuster like a ssireum belly-to-belly dump, grabbing my waist and driving me straight into the mat, then another Samoan drop. I rode her lariat over, locked both her legs with my left arm and both arms with my right, and applied an armbar. Charlotte broke it by falling backward and immediately set up her specialty on my leg — the figure-four leglock.

"Kicking with the foot."

"Mm."

I kicked her ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in the chest to escape.

Working with this woman was too much fun. Our chemistry couldn't quite match what I had with Selma, but something was happening in the moment — pure improvisation. It felt like those YouTube videos of a pianist and a guitarist who meet by chance on the street and just start playing. And I wasn't the only one feeling it. Charlotte's expression kept getting brighter.

I took her big boot to the face, rolled, and said:

"About thirteen minutes in."

Charlotte looked massively startled.

"What? How do you know that?"

"I counted in my head."

"Are you serious? That much time already? You're not off?"

"It should be pretty close."

"Haa. What even are you?"

"Coach Bibi and Coach Devon say I'm beautifully crazy."

Even mid-match, Charlotte clutched her stomach and cackled.

"Oh, come on! Those old guys never change."

"Go into the finish now."

"Before that — let me take your shooting star press once."

"Got it."

Charlotte lay in position. I climbed the top rope.

"Coming."

"Go!"

Charlotte's eyes were wide open, locked on me. I landed dead center on her chest — my knees hitting the canvas first, of course.

"How was it?"

"You've practiced a lot. Clean. One more lift for the road?"

"Yes."

Charlotte tried to hoist me for a chokeslam, but she clearly hadn't drilled it much — the technique was a little short. She got me up somehow, but couldn't drive it properly.

"Do it like the Deadman. That's easier."

"Support the waist with the other hand?"

"Yes. That's how I do it too."

Only after she set the position the way I described did the chokeslam land clean.

THUD—

"Not covering?"

"Cover, my ass…"

The second she finished, the ring bell we'd set went off.

DING DING DING—

"Haha. Unbelievable. It really was about thirteen minutes. If I told the other girls this, would they even believe me?"

"Who knows. Though if it's coming from Flair, they probably would."

"Don't make it weird with the 'Flair' — call me Charlotte."

"Yes."

She held out her arm and pulled me up.

"A match this fun — it's been a long time. If that damn Sara hadn't run off…"

I wasn't sure Sara Bankis deserved the blame. Back then Charlotte had absolute push from WWO thanks to her father, and her gimmick itself was "invincible." Sara Bankis lost every big match. Of course it burned her up inside.

"You mean Sara Bankis? I've heard her selling is incredible… I'd love to work with her once, too. Any chance she's coming back?"

"Paul called her several times. She turned him down. Looks like she's planning to retire in EAW."

"I see."

"Anyway — recognized. I'll do whatever it takes to book you and me at Halloween Battle."

The moment she said it, another ding rang in my head. I didn't even need to look. Quest complete.

"Thank you. Really — thank you."

"I should be thanking you. First time in ages I've gotten to go all out — and I even got to debut a chokeslam."

Then she suddenly laughed.

"What's funny?"

"First match I've ever worked without using a chop. And looking back — no spears, no joint locks either. I turned into a full powerhouse."

"Mm. Dorothy said something similar."

"Miyu might even pick you up for a powerbomb. You know Miyu? Miyu Sky?"

"Yes. I saw her from a distance when I was over on Law."

"You're Korean-American, right? How are you with Japanese people? Getting close would be good, honestly. More than anything, the match would be a blast."

I thought so too. A match with Charlotte would be fun — but the real spectacle would be working Miyu Sky. A different kind of classic from what I'd had with Anne. Two luchadoras going at it — rare enough in the women's division.

"One last thing. Show me that."

"Which?"

"That weird submission you invented."

"You mean the CSD."

"That's the one."

"Lie down for me?"

Charlotte dropped flat on her back, staring at the ceiling. I slid my legs in fast.

"Haa. What kind of position is this…"

She sighed, but I paid it no mind and locked onto her ankle first.

"Don't try to tough it out. It actually hurts."

"My ankles are flexible. Go ahead."

I twisted immediately.

"Aaaagh! Wh— what the hell?"

She didn't tap, but the tension went out of her.

"Even guys can't hold this. It hurts way more than it looks."

"My pride's taking a hit. In a position this ridiculous…"

Hell. Now my pride was the one taking the hit.

"I can also do this."

Charlotte was a beauty with a great body — no question. I bounced my hips in a rapid rhythm, grinding crotch against crotch.

"Hey. Hey. Stop. Th— that's enough! Stop!"

I released the hold and backed off. Charlotte's face was a little flushed.

"What kind of perverted move is that… Did Uncle Bibi invent this?"

"No. Even the coaches were at a loss over it."

"I thought only Japan had that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠kind of sexual culture. Looks like Korea's no slouch either."

"I was born and raised in Orlando, actually."

Charlotte didn't say another word about the submission.