Gwendolyn DuPont Bettencourt vs. Libby 'Liberty' Vella - Rage Against the Machine

Liberty Vella, the hardcore champion who was never defeated, fighter for the people, getting saved from a woman half her size by the referee, only two minutes into a match. No matter what else happened here, this was a dark day.

Couldn’t think about that now. She was far from done. She’d pulled out of worse.

She clutched her chest and took the opportunity to get some breath back, sucking air back into her lungs and nursing her chest, running her hand over a spot where she could’ve sworn Gwen’s boot left an imprint. She grabbed one of the ropes with one hand, eager to get back on her feet. Liberty just had a bad start, that was all. Nothing she couldn’t handle.

She’d just started to get up to one foot when Gwen came over and ‘helped’ her along,, getting a tight grip in Liberty’s mane for a handhold. The former champion hissed as the other former champion pulled her back up and yanked her in the side headlock, squeezing tighter than you'd expect from her small frame and proudly parading her around the ring. As if she didn't have a care in the world. As if the match was already in her hands, and everything else was just a formality until she grew bored.

But Liberty wasn’t a show pony. She was a proud, raging Italian stallion, and she’d had just about all she could stand of Gwendolyn DuPont Bettencourt’s constant bullshit.

As Gwen pulled her towards the center of the ring, Liberty pushed forward with a sudden surge of energy, driving them both forward like the raging bull she really was. She grabbed Gwen’s arm with one hand, pushed her back with the other, and shoved her hard into the opposite corner, putting all of her considerable muscle behind it. ”Fuck off!”

Gwendolyn's intention of corralling Liberty out of the corner was merely to prevent further interruption from the pin-stripped official. The heiress attempting to position her loathed opponent dead center in the middle of the ring where matters between the class warriors could be settled unabated. Striding confidently with a smug grin as she trodded the grungy anarchist forward to the incensed displeasure of the pro-Liberty audience. The swaying tempo of the match had remained in Gwen's corner since the offset with the hardcore champion visibly shaken and stirred from Gwen's more technical and evasive style of wrestling.

Liberty's winded breaths gently wafted down the side of her chest as the headlock was securely tightened, the heiress hoping to whittle Liberty down even further before she could proceed with her further demonstration of her innate superiority.

Or that was the intended plan of attack, before the boorish reprobate would strong arm her way free with an overwhelming surge in strength. One that propelled the dainty aristocrat forward with just enough instinctual wherewithal for her spin in place so she would land back first into the corner's shaking turnbuckles. "Gah!.." Gwen yelped as her legs kicked up slightly before settling back down, now cornered with a rampaging anarchist staring her down.

Liberty put her all into that push, and ageless rewarded with a sight that made it worthwhile: Gwendolyn DuPont Bettencourt, with her back against the corner, in the perfect position for some well earned retribution. ”How’s that for your fucking divide, goldilocks?”

Liberty gave her chest a good beating, arched her back and roared like a beast, taking a moment to rally the crowd behind her, feeling the energy surge through her veins like wildfire. She had a lot more to go around all the sudden, and she knew just where and how to redirect it.

Liberty dashed away from Gwen, storming over for the opposite corner. She spun around, slammed into it with her back for a little added kick, then charged straight towards Gwen. She was a living, breathing, raging eighteen wheeler, and she was going to crash into this little princes with a full-on body splash!

After having subjected Liberty to a nigh unsettling number of tenderizing kicks from the heiress' well-formulated offensive, Gwendolyn simply assumed that the tactless anarchist had been pummeled to the point where even her hapless mind would be too rattled to think up a way of countering the headlock. An error in judgment that led to Gwen being propelled off with enough jarring force to slam her own back into the nearest turnbuckle.

After slumping into the trembling corner with both of her hands tightly gripping the adjacent top ropes, Gwendolyn peered upward after the roar of the crowd and from Liberty herself brought her attention to the rampaging wildebeest stampeding away only to rebound off the opposite corner. An entire stadium fueling Liberty's momentous comeback from their deep-rooted desire to see the haughty aristocrat be on the receiving end of some punishment for once in this match.

"Tch..." Gwendolyn scoffed but remained unfazed as she glared back towards the 171 pound freight train of flabby muscle on a direct collision course with her svelte and regal frame. The heiress huddled back and pressed her curvy rear into the middle turnbuckle as if she were bracing herself for the full bodied splash...only for her to kick out both of her legs at the very last second to reintroduce Liberty's greasy face with the familiar treads of Gwen's boots.

Just to look at Liberty, storming her way across the ring at a solid 7 MPH, her long hair flying behind her in a beautiful steam, you would think she was dominating the match up to this point. She was confident. She was sure. She was a raging lioness, heading straight towards her helpless prey. ”Incoming!”

But this gazelle had a bit more kick than Liberty first thought. And all that kick came exploding in her face, as she barrelled straight into the waiting, pristine boots of Gwendolyn DuPont Bettencourt.

Liberty let out a sound that was not unlike a grunt and a scream poorly mixed together, as her head arched back from the impact. Eyes shut tight, nose shrilled, lips numbed. She staggered back as the audience collectively winced at the impact, and rightfully so - it sucked every bit as much as it looked.

Liberty - the former hardcore champion, the idol of a million anarchists the world over - was sent reeling from the blow. She spun around and staggered away from the corner with her back turned to it, as she massaged her aching jaw. ”Fuck’s sakes-”

Staring down the rampaging anarchist and patiently biding her time, Gwen was stricken with a sense of deja vu from the blatant familiarity of the set up. The uncouth brute barreling towards her with reckless abandon, only to once again be waylaid with one well-timed counter that simultaneously deflated the burgeoning hopes of an entire audience in the process and derailed Liberty's collision course.

Gwendolyn would slump back into her corner after witnessing the spittle fly out of Liberty's mouth from the stiff boot to her by now reshaped face. The wincing crowd having honestly lost count of the number of times Liberty has had her face smashed in by Gwendolyn's dynamic kicks, but the disorientation from the smack to her jaw was clearly evident by her stumbling steps away from the corner.

Recognizing the opportunity in capitalizing her opponent's rattled state, Gwendolyn swiftly climbed up the corner turnbuckles behind her. The heiress would perch herself atop the padded turnbuckle and steady herself by crouching low with her hands on the top ropes. A growing buzz of anticipation from seeing the wealthy socialite seemingly preparing to take to the air.

Eyeing the shell-shocked anarchist from behind with a predatorial glint in her hazel eyes, she waited until Liberty had ceased her staggering movements before catapulting herself forward. The airborne heiress intending to wrap her arm around the back of Liberty's head and implant the anarchist's frequently pummeled and throbbing face into the canvas in a diving bulldog!

You didn’t need to really watch the match to tell what was happening in the ring. All you had to do was look at the crowd, watch the roller coaster of emotions they were going through, and you could tell what was going on merely through inference.

When it looked like Liberty was going to turn the tides back in their favor and get some real offense in the match, they leaned forward, eyes wide, expecting the massacre. They knew what she did with women who pissed her off, and they were anticipating that same, dreadful fate for the deserving Gwen.

But when Liberty’s face once again met with Gwendolyn’s boot, disappointment crossed over all their faces in unison. They’d have to wait for that lovely moment just a while longer. If it came at all.

Liberty was a little disappointed herself, but she was still determined to get back in the match. Before she had the chance, though, she felt a slender arm around her head, locking in and holding tight, driving her forward, and-

”Guh!” Liberty’s face crashed into the mat. Gwendolyn was a lightweight, but she managed to get a surprising amount of force into the move. The former Entropy champion planted the former Hardcore champion into the canvas with a resonating leaving her a muddled mess in the center of the ring. On the floor. Face down. Sweaty hair splayed alll around her head.

Gwendolyn remained propped up beside the flattened anarchist after landing on her curvy backside, crossing her extended legs and smirking arrogantly down at Liberty. Her dismantling of the uncouth reprobate was unfolding precisely as she anticipated. An expectation perhaps she alone banked on. Everyone else in the audience though was still trying to process how the privileged blueblood was managing to consistently turn the tide of the match in her favor and add to the aching misery in Liberty's battered face.

"My, it certainly must have been an arduous task for someone with your primitive and wholly inadequate skill level to become Hardcore champion. However, for someone of such divine class and civility such as myself, attaining championship gold simple came... naturally~..." Gwen elegantly enunciated while climbing back to her feet, slowly ushering the anarchist to her knees by firmly grasping her grimy mane of jet black hair.

Upon bringing Liberty to her knees, Gwen would attentively brush back whatever meandering locks of hair were obstructing the anarchists pummeled face. Politely primping Liberty up before extending her toned leg and applying a series of thunderous shoot kicks to her unguarded chest. The audience responding with groans of sympathy with each one before Gwen rear back for one final and impactful shot to her chubby cheek. In case she hadn't made it abundantly obvious that she was intentionally targeting Liberty's battered mug throughout the entirety of the match.

The crowd broke out into a long, droning burst of fresh boos as Gwendolyn once again managed to avoid the fate she so rightly deserved, escaping Liberty’s clutches yet again. The former hardcore champion appreciated their sentiments, but she couldn’t really share in them. Plain and simple, she was getting her ass kicked.

Not that she was going to acknowledge that verbally. ”Naturally?” She hissed - as much as someone with her husky voice could - while her hair was roughly yanked, forcing her up on her knees. She was dazed, but even in her foggy state she could tell that Gwen was totally full of shit. ”That’s bullshit, you cheated like a motherfucker to-”

Liberty didn’t have the chance to finish voicing her opinion of Gwen’s more controversial matches, as she suddenly had to deal with a boot sinking deep in her chest. And another boot. And another after that. And another after that. Blow after blow rocked her world, making her sweaty chest flop about as she reeled. Just when Liberty was getting her senses back, just when she was getting ready to catch Gwen’s foot and drag her under it, the haughty heiress changed things up with a new target for her devastating kicks: Liberty’s face.

Liberty’s eyes squeezed shut as everything grew fuzzy and her senses left her for a moment. Her mighty body swayed back, then fell forward on her hands, as she placed her palms on the mat to keep from falling flat on her face.

Cutting off Liberty just before she could offer any counter arguments towards the legitimacy of her infamous title reign, Gwen would continuously pelt Liberty's wobbly chest and sternum with her shin. She had become so practiced in the skill of debating the validity of her wins that Liberty wouldn't have made much headway in any case. Instead, the heiress sadistically practiced her well-defined and graceful kicks against the teetering brute with mounting ferocity until even her own legs were growing weary from having been put to repeated use that night. All before rearing back and delivering yet another swift punt square to Liberty's beastly face.

Liberty's swaying mass led Gwen to believe that she had once again floored the slovenly anarchist before she would catch her self on her hands and knees. An unfortunate setback, but one that Gwen was already pondering delightful painful solutions to.

"Hmm~..." Not long after Liberty would collapse forward, Gwen would dash off to the sides and bounce off the adjacent ropes back towards her hunched over opponent. After stepping her pearl white boot atop Liberty's shoulder blades, Gwen would catapult herself upward using the anarchist as a stepping stone. Gwen would tuck her legs inward after a second of heart-stopping airtime and attempt to spike both her knees into Liberty's lower lumbar.