NEW - NOIR EXTREME WRESTLING

Aïsha:

Aïsha: I'm standing in the middle of the ring, microphone in hand, I quickly made my way to the ring during the break unoticed because I'm not supposed to be booked tonight. When the lights turn on, i'm here, in my pink gear . "Ladies and gentleman please wellcome, the FIRSTCLASS wrestler... ME !" A mixt of boos and cheering erupt in the crowd "I know i know after my first match some people don't want to see me here but that's the difference between you and me, you wait for your change, but i'm taking it. that's why tonight I honor you with the first ever FIRT CLASS OPEN CHALLENGE, so ladies of the lockeroom, if you have your lovely trunks on, get your butt in the ring and let's fly !" I say throwing the microphone under the ropes, streching waiting for someone to show up.

Hana_Jeong: I am sitting in my locker room, the weight of the upcoming steel cage match against Sara suffocating me. My phone buzzes on the bench. It’s a message from Lauren: "There's a bitch doing an open challenge in the middle of the ring. You should go there and send a message to Sara ;)" The frustration I’ve been holding in surges. I need an outlet. I need to hurt someone to feel anything other than this constant dread. I quickly pull up my knee pads, strap on my boots, and march toward the Gorilla position. My music starts and blares through the Hammerstein Ballroom speakers, cutting your speech short. I don't look at the crowd. I walk directly to the ring with a focused, dead-eyed expression. I slide under the ropes, storm straight up to you, and snatch the microphone violently out of your hand. I stare at you, my jaw set and my voice dripping with cold aggression. "So you want a challenge, right?" I ask, stepping into your personal space. "And who the fuck are you?" I shove the microphone back into your chest, hard enough to make you stumble. My hand stays close, positioned and coiled, waiting for the split second you lift the mic to your lips so I can deliver you an unexpected hard slap in the face.

Hana_Jeong:

Hana_Jeong:

Hana_Jeong:

Hana_Jeong:

Aïsha: I might be new to the federation but I know this music and the crowd sure does. I step back in the ring a bit nervous, adjusting my gear to do something of my hands. I've been in the public before so I know you, but there is something different about you today, maybe it's the darker gear of the makeup but you look more.. intense more.. agressive. But I need more to be afraid so when you push the microphone against my chest, I grab it. Not waisting a second I lift it to my lips ready to answer back but *SLAAAAAAAPPPPP* my head tilt on the side, the microphone flies away. I'm shocked, mouth open, a bit stunned by what just happened. "Did you just... slap me you fucking SLUT !" I shoot I raise my right arm and before the bell even rings I swing my biceps it trying to hit your chest with a big clothesline.

Hana_Jeong: The stinging heat of your insult barely registers, drowned out by the cold, mechanical need to dismantle you. As you swing that wild, desperate clothesline, I duck low, your arm sailing harmlessly over my head. The momentum carries me forward instantly, my boots digging into the mat as I race toward the ropes. I hit the middle rope and launch myself backward, using every ounce of that pent-up, jagged fury to propel my body through the air. I aim a running dropkick directly at your torso, attempting to drive my feet into your midsection and send you crashing into the corner

Aïsha: I send the closesline, big swing, using my hips to put as much pressure as I can but.. "Mffff stay there !" I protest missing my clothesline. Taken in my momentum I stumble forward and before I even fix my balance, you are here, in my back jumping the air to connect that dropkick. "Arghhhh!" The drop kick make me run to the corner, hopefully I maange to grab the top ropes with my both hands at the last moment. i'm standing in front of the corner, looking at the turnbukle I was about to crash in.

Hana_Jeong: I watch you scramble to find your footing, your fingers clawing desperately at the top ropes to stop yourself from collapsing into the steel turnbuckle. You’re vulnerable, breathless, and exactly where I want you. "Dumb bitch," I hiss, the words barely audible over the roar of the crowd. I don't give you a single second to recover or catch your breath. I burst into a full sprint across the canvas, my boots thundering against the mat. As I close the distance, I leap into the air, fully extending my legs and aiming the soles of my feet squarely at the small of your back. I attempt to drive you face-first into the corner, hoping the force of the impact will crush your chest against the padding and leave you reeling and wide open for further punishment.

Aïsha: I was about to turn around when I feel a push in my back, in a split second, the turnbukle I was looking at is now in my face. I land hardly on it, chest and face crushed against the corner. I collapse on my side grunting. I hold my face in my hands rolling on my side trying to leave the corner. "Arghh ahhh" I'm now all on four, walking along the ropes try to get few seconds to recover.

Hana_Jeong: I stalk toward you as you scramble on all fours, your movements sluggish and desperate. You’re trying to use the ropes as a lifeline, but I’m not going to let you find your rhythm. "Where’s the 'first class' now? Huh?" I sneer, my voice dripping with contempt. As you try to pull yourself up, I reach down and shove your head downward with the palm of my hand, forcing you back toward the canvas with a total lack of respect. Before you can recover, I pivot and swing a brutal low kick, aimed directly at the back of your thighs. The heavy leather of my kickpads connects with a sickening, audible thud that echoes through the quieted arena. I watch you buckle under the impact, intending to keep you grounded and trapped in the corner where I can continue to dismantle your composure.

Aïsha: I find myself with the head pinned against the canvas, my face getting rubbing on it. Ass up exposed in my small pink trunks give you the perfect angle to punish the back of my thighs. The sounds is awful, my muscles jiggle as I collapse on my belly screaming in pain. the leather came whiping my skin which is already turning red. I roll on my side arch my back trying to rub my thighs with my hands but it's useless. I'm in trouble, I need to do something, I can't just stay there getting beat up but yet, I can't find a single opening you just keep punishing me over and over

Hana_Jeong: I stand over you, relishing the way you squirm, your skin already welted from the force of my strikes. I reach down, gripping a thick handful of your hair, and yank your head back, forcing you onto your feet with a sharp, unkind tug. You’re stumbling, favoring the leg I just destroyed, but I don't give you a moment to pity yourself. "Come here, girl," I command, my voice cold and devoid of empathy. With a powerful shove, I send you reeling across the ring in a classic Irish whip. You hit the ropes hard, your momentum carrying you back toward me, the pain in your leg making your movement jagged and labored. As you bounce back into my orbit, I leap into the air, reaching out to plant my hands firmly on your shoulders. I attempt to swing my legs up, aiming to wrap my thighs around your head and twist my hips with violent force, attempting to execute a swinging hurricanrana that would send you spinning into the canvas.

Aïsha: "No please wait just a second !" I ask beforre you just pull my hair backward. I barely standing on my legs, they are shaking completly destroyed after the perfect kick. Without any hesitation, you grab my arm and send it to the opposite rope with the irish whipe. I run the best I can and when I'm back in the middle of the ring, you jump and wrap your legs around my neck. "Ahhh not that.. fast !" I grab your purple trunks and bend my knees. I put my weight backward and resist to the pull. I have you in my hands, your legs over my shoulder. And I try to lift you for a powerbomb position. but on the lift my both legs get numb and I collapse on my knees. "Ahhhh shit..." i complain now in the middle of the ring.

Hana_Jeong: I don’t let you breathe. As you collapse, struggling with the numbness in your legs, I reach down and haul you upward by your hair, your head snapping back as I force you to your feet. The sting of my palm against your cheek is sharp and immediate, followed by a second, even harder slap that leaves your head reeling. "How dare you come here and challenge everyone?" I bark, my eyes burning with the displaced rage I’ve been carrying since my confrontation with Sara. I don’t wait for an answer. I shove you violently, sending you stumbling toward the opposite corner. You hit the turnbuckle with your back, the breath forced out of your lungs in a sharp gasp. I am right on your heels, sprinting across the ring with predatory speed. As you connect with the padding, I attempt to plant my lead foot firmly into your face, aiming to drive the full force of the impact through your jaw and rattle you against the steel frame of the ring.

Aïsha: the first slap lands right on my cheek but the second one, brutal, take my jaw at the same time stunning me for good. I stumbale backward, looking in the void, only standing on my feet as you pull on my hair. you hsove me in the ring, I put my arms over the top rope to not collapse. I look at you too dazzed to do anything "this bitch is crazy!" I think before getting my jaw smashed by your running big boots. My head bounces on the impact my arm drop from the ropes and I collapse on my ass legs spread in the corner. saliva drooling from my lips, i grab the middle ropes with my hands but I barely moove. "uhhh uhhh hhh"

Hana_Jeong: I look down at you with a mix of disgust and grim satisfaction as you slump against the turnbuckles, your senses clearly rattled and your composure completely shattered. The sight of you drooling and dazed in the corner only fuels my contempt. "Oh my god, is that drool?" I sneer, my lip curling in disdain. "You are a pathetic jobber." I reach down, grabbing a fistful of your hair to haul you away from the ropes. I drag you, limp and unresisting, toward the center of the ring. With a sharp tug, I shove your arm over my shoulder and hook my grip around your waist, pulling you tightly against me. I arch my back, gathering my strength to attempt a quick, devastating suplex, aiming to hoist you high and plant you back-first into the canvas with as much impact as I can muster.

Aïsha: Once again i'm dragged and I can't resist. I drop on my knees twice and each time you yank on my hair to pull me back on my feet. Now standing in the middle of the ring, my arm is trappped over your shoulder and you lift me with easy. A perfect suplex, arched and slow in the middle of the movement and then brutaly fast on the drop. *BONG* the ring shakes, I drop on my upperback before collapsing next to you. I'm barely mooving, breathing, trying to regroup on my hands and knees but i'm clearly in autopilote. The referee check on me quickly, I push his arm away. focusing on my breath, still looking in the void.

Hana_Jeong: I stand over your broken form, not even bothering to watch the referee’s check. You are just a body now, a tool to release the pressure building behind my eyes. "Stay there, jobber girl" I growl. I reach down, planting the sole of my wrestling shoe firmly against your forehead, rubbing it back and forth with deliberate, cold disrespect. I watch your eyes struggle to focus, the humiliation complete as I step over you and begin to scale the turnbuckle. The crowd noise is a dull roar, but I only focus on the target. I reach the top, my silhouette sharp against the arena lights. I poise myself at the peak, my muscles coiling tight, before I push off into the air. I attempt the perfect arc of my moonsault, rotating backward through the space, my body descending like a falling blade, aiming to crash the full weight of my frame directly onto your midsection.

Aïsha: "Ahhhh ahhh nghhh ahhh" I moan when my head is rub on the canvas, the sole of your boots crushing it, making my scream when you put more weight. "Ghh what's wrong... ahhh" I'm hummiliated, frsutrated, my body won't react it's the first time I get in such a situation completly helpless. I'm on my back spread eagle looking at the roof light when suddenly a shadow cover my body. before I can moove you crash right in my stomach, all the weigh momentum concentrated in my stomach. "AGHHHHH ahhh Ahhh!" i scream holding my belly in my hands, my body is taken by spsasm, I can't tighten my abs at all they have been crushed on the moonsault.

Hana_Jeong: The impact of the moonsault knocks the last bit of air from your lungs, leaving you gasping and defenseless beneath me. My own midsection burns from the landing, but I ignore the pain, channeling it straight into the hatred I feel for everything this night represents. I hook your leg, pulling it back with a violent jerk, and grind my elbow pad into your cheek, forcing your face into the mat. The referee begins his count, his hand hitting the canvas in rhythm with the roar of the crowd: "One... two..." At the count of two, I break the pin. I reach down and yank your head back by your hair, forcing your face toward the rafters. A collective gasp ripples through the Hammerstein Ballroom; they don’t recognize me. They’re used to the sweetheart, the hero, not the monster staring back at them now. "I’m not done with you, bitch," I snarl. I haul you up by your hair, forcing you onto your hands and knees. I drag you across the mat like an animal on a leash until I spot Dan, the lead cameraman, crouching near the ropes. I shove your head toward the lens. "Hey, Dan," I call out, my voice dripping with cold, terrifying calm. "Make sure you focus well on my face." I stare directly into the glass, my eyes wide and unhinged, before shouting, "Sara! This is dedicated to you!" I drop your head and instantly bridge over your back, sinking into the Crossface Chickenwing. I trap your left arm behind your back, locking your wrist in my thigh while my other arm snakes around your chin and neck, pulling your head back at an unnatural angle. I drive my weight into your spine, cranking the hold with every ounce of strength I have, stretching your shoulder socket to the point of tearing while simultaneously crushing your windpipe.

Aïsha: My legs is hooked in an exposing position, face pinned on the ground with your forearm I try my best to moove, just a little bit but my body feels so heavy I just can't. When the referee counts for two I know it's done I will not kickout from this, i have a weird feeling of relief thinking this disaster is about to stop when suddenly, from nowhere my shoulder raise from the canvas. I'm confused, i didn't do anything, what happened ? I need more time than the crowd to understand what you just did but before I can be mad about it I find myself trapped in the most painful crossface chickenwing I got in my whole career. Body bent in half my face hiden in your arm both of my own arm trapped in my back people just see my midesction in tight pink gear getting streched in unatural angle. I scream loudly muffled by your biceps. I'm stuck I can't moove an inch, my spin burn my stomach numb my face spinning I want to tap frenetically but i can't even do it my arms are traped. I yell "STOP STOP I SUBMIT" but my mouth is behind your arm. the referee take time to understand what is going on and you realize than i'm already completly out cold your your brutal hold.

Hana_Jeong: The referee is shouting at me, her hands clawing at my shoulders, desperate to break the hold. I ignore her for a split second longer, reveling in the terrifying pressure I’m applying the same pressure that has haunted my dreams for months. Finally, the realization that you’ve gone limp hits me; your body has completely shut down. I release the hold and let you drop, your form hitting the canvas with a hollow, lifeless thud. I don't look at you with regret. I don't even look at you with pity. Instead, I deliver a sharp, dismissive shove to your side with my boot, pushing your limp body away like I’m clearing trash off the mat. The referee signals for the bell, her face pale, and she begrudgingly raises my hand in victory. The arena is deafening, but it’s not the cheers I’m used to... it’s a stunned, confused silence that has curdled into low, angry boos. I don’t offer a smile. I don’t acknowledge the fans. I don’t reach out to high-five a single person. I stare straight ahead, my expression is cold and I march toward the ropes. I exit the ring without looking back, my boots heavy on the floor as I disappear into the dark tunnel of the backstage area, leaving the wreckage of the match and the old version of me behind in the ring.

(END)