Team Work chapter 252
September 25th, 2020
Stephanie hears the whispers. Ordinarily she might feel a little bad for her brother, but she'd called it all of those weeks ago, and the exclusion of Raw Underground from the brand tells her everything she needs to know. It's with a happier spring in her step that she makes it through the halls before entering her office and settling right in to book, her thoughts feeling clearer and more concrete than ever as she smiles down at her screen. No more sharing this, she thinks. No more having to run things past my brother.
Once more, Team Work, you are all mine.
The first match of the night pits Tommaso Ciampa against Jon Mox. Both men circle each other, glancing around the empty arena, missing a crowd right now, but they don't let it hold them back as they finally get started, exchanging blows and strikes, sometimes staggering their opponent for a moment before they settle and begin all over again. Mox hits a brutal right punch that Ciampa responds with by elbowing him in the jaw. Mox then runs Ciampa into the turnbuckles and Ciampa leans there just long enough for Mox to follow up with a forearm straight to the throat, Ciampa struggling to catch a breath for a few, panicked moments, before Mox grips him and slams him down hard, covering him and punching him repeatedly as the referee tries to interject, pull them apart.
Finally Ciampa regains his bearings and fights back, kneeing Mox in the stomach before pushing him away and getting enough distance to run forward and knee him in the jaw, Mox collapsing backwards from the force of it. Ciampa then snags him around the jaw and pulls him to his feet once more, dragging him to the ropes for Willow's Bell. He almost has it, can feel it deep in his bones, but then Mox fights back again, reverses the grip and tugs Ciampa in, slamming him back in a bone-rattling Paradigm Shift that leaves spots dancing before Ciampa's eyes as he tries to figure out what exactly happened, and how quickly everything changed.
He comes back to himself just in time, however, kicking out and rolling away when Mox gets off of him, cursing under his breath. He takes only a couple of moments to reorient himself and when Mox returns to try to drag him upright to attempt more offense, Ciampa is there, Ciampa knees him in the face, and then lunges back to his feet on his own, tugging Mox over and slamming him down with WIllow's Bell- everything finally, slowly slotting back into place and leaving him feeling a kind of bitter relief as he scrabbles at Mox's leg, holding on tightly when the referee counts the pinfall and the bell rings, allowing him to breathe somewhat easier.
For you, Willow, he thinks, standing up and letting his hand be lifted. Always, always for you.
Zelina Vega defeats Susie, and Ridge Holland wins a five man eliminator gauntlet, looking on smugly as the Thunderdome reacts negatively to his success. Brodie Lee makes fast work of Montez Ford, and RVD beats Josh Woods.
Adam Page sneaks a win in on Roman Reigns, angering the Tribal Chief even further than his cousin has managed, and Hikaru Shida defeats Candice LeRae. For one night, their tenuous partnership is thrown aside, Nia Jax and Shayna seemingly enjoying beating each other down, although any offense Shayna gets in is barely registered, and ultimately Nia Jax gets the win over her. Kip Sabian defeats Damien Priest and Rohit Raju gets the victory over Mansoor.
Drew McIntyre and Cesaro defeat Angelo Dawkins and Lashley, and King Corbin wins against Shinsuke Nakamura. Thunder Rosa beats Tenille Dashwood, and Mira partners with Isaiah Swerve Scott in a winning effort against Trey Miguel and Kyle O'Reilly. Danny Burch defeats Angel Garza.
The main event is intergender. Asuka laughs and prances as she makes her way to the ring, a sharp glint in her eye as her music cuts off and her opponent's begins. She tilts her head and smirks as Roderick Strong makes his way down to the ring, eyeing her suspiciously as she yells at him in rough sounding Japanese. The bell rings and he tries to set aside every misgiving, treat this like another match, but he starts off on the wrong foot from the beginning because she has no hesitation and almost seems eager for the fight, all but laughing in his face whenever he resists outright hitting her, or seems to pull his punches, break up the momentum of his own knee strikes. She has no such qualms and eventually it gets through to him that she doesn't care, she just wants a fight.
So he tries, a little harder, whips her into the ropes, shoulderchecks her over, and she laughs, a little winded but clearly enjoying herself more now, and all he can do is frown and watch as she prances and preens, still yelling at him. The match picks up a little then, he meets her blow for blow, usually, but he still feels a step behind, and it ultimately costs him as his attempt at dropkicking her falls apart and she meets him with a kick to the chest, downing him all over again. He wheezes and stares up at the lights as Asuka shrugs, staring down at him. He's not quite ready to give this up, however, and snags her, twisting her down in a schoolboy pin, but she's been around for too long to get caught by something like that. Not only does she decisively kick out, she twists around and grabs his nearest limb, tangling him up, wrenching back, yelling hoarsely at him as she traps him in the Asuka Lock.
It hurts more than he imagined it could, his arm feeling like it could snap out of socket at any moment, and he struggles to find some way free, but she seems almost annoyed with him now, her yells more abrasive and mocking, and he tugs at the multicolored fabric wrapped around her knee with the hand she isn't tearing at, trying to find some reprieve. But there is none, he can do nothing but struggle aimlessly, his mind fogged with pain already, and when she drops back with a pleased noise, he knows. Tapping out feels like just a formality at this point but it's still a disappointment, even as he sits there dazed in the corner of the ring and watches her laugh and yell, twisting her body around in a strange, post-victory dance that probably only makes sense in her own mind.