The Return Of El Coyote (Shah/El Coyote)

[jarahamee]

Pete Devilson Vs. Maneater Amazonia. It was the second fight in the eight-fight mixed gender elimination series, and it was clear at this point, five minutes in, that the villainous Maneater was winning. The large venue was reasonably full, but not as crowded as it usually was. One might surmise that the difference in turnout was likely due to the gender of the second participant, or perhaps, the lack of interest in mixed-gender matches.

Regardless, the fight’s turn began with the transformation of the bikini-clad Amazon into a horrific and still bikini-clad slavering canine-like beast, as she grappled with the imposing Pete. He was muscular, easily taller than she was, with horns, wings, and a body-conforming shining metallic red bodysuit. He grinned toothily, even as she grappled him, his talon-like claws tearing into her flesh as she flipped him and barreled him directly into the ground.

There was a loud gasp as he wrapped his wings around her, maneuvering wildly to turn her away, but she was heading towards a pin, climbing his body, shoving him down and twisting to force him into submission. His body moved unnaturally, writhing, legs wrapping around her, but she had him, fair and square.

Finally, his face pressed against the ground, Pete submitted.

The applause was thunderous, and Maneater Amazonia raised her now slavering muzzle towards the ceiling and made a loud, horrendous cackle as she resumed her humanoid form. Somehow, miraculously, her ridiculous outfit did not slip.

“No one can defeat me! Not even our next challenger, EL COYOTE!”

[hadopelagic]

It'd taken EL COYOTE lots of under-the-table payments and sweet-talking to secure a spot on the night's lineup, especially since EL COYOTE had never wrestled before. Oh, Vegas had seen more than her share of matches. UFC, WWE and WrestleMania, lucha libre, and even supernatural matches. In fact, she'd become Maneater Amazonia's biggest fan over the past two months. She'd heard rumors of a hyena witch in Wathais, a shapeshifter who played the heel in underground wrestling events. Although hyenas weren't phylogenetically canines, they knew the value of a pack, and that made them honorary wolves. As far as Vegas was concerned, the scientists got it wrong.

Well, the first time she saw Maneater throw a man through the air, Vegas knew that she must have her as family. The woman possessed incredible strength, sure. But more importantly, she could put on a show. And wasn't that a rare and necessary gift? The question was: how to reach her? If Vegas approached Maneater after a match, she might mistake Vegas for a simpering fan without boundaries. Which. Fair. However, Vegas was so much more than a fan. She was Opportunity Incarnate.

If Vegas wanted to be taken seriously, she had to approach Maneater as an equal.

Donned head to toe in silver spandex, with a half-face luchador mask trimmed by faux fur and a pair of coyote ears (which were repurposed cat ears she'd purchased from a Halloween store), Vegas charged into the ring with her hands raised high. She'd braided her hair and disguised herself as ANGEL, her BROTHER! To be honest, the disguise never took much effort. Vegas was fairly androgynous, and her chest was so flat, she didn't need to bind it.

"MANEATER AMAZONIAAAA!" she shouted, deepening her voice. "I'VE TRAVELLED MANY MILES TO FIGHT YOU!"

She jumped and landed in an exaggerated stance, her legs spread and bent, her finger pointing.

"IF I DEFEAT YOU IN BATTLE, YOU MUST BUY ME A DRINK! AND IF YOU DEFEAT ME, YOU MUST BUY ME TWO DRINKS TO NUMB THE PAIN!"

Her eyes flickered over the rowdy audience, searching for a familiar face. She'd told Mistress Sita about her plan to meet the hyena witch (and the high likelihood of an ass-whooping with probable broken bones.) The underground wrestling scene was rude and gross--in other words, the last place a classy lady like Sita belonged--but perhaps she'd enjoy watching the show.

Was that a glimmer of beauty in the high box, above all the rabble? Just in case, Vegas winked. Ah, a rose among the weeds <3 Then, Vegas returned her attention to Maneater.

"Is it a deal, mi chica magnifica?"

[jarahamee]

Maneater Amazonia strutted up onto the stage to meet her opponent, shrugging off her red cover-up robe and showing off her best sides. She flexed, showboated, roared, and then turned all the way around, before looking El Coyote up and down.

The advertising was true. She had to admit that the guy did resemble a coyote, and even smelled a little bit like one. She smiled, exposing her sharp, almost conical front teeth and cocked her head to the side as she looked down at him.

“Well, considering the beating you’re about to receive, I think I can buy you three beers if you lose, senor.”

She grinned broadly, and squared her shoulders.

“You’re green, but you must have promise if you’re here. Show me what you got.”

And with that, she lunged forward to meet him.

[hadopelagic]

Weight classes were important for a reason, namely, the simple physical fact:

FORCE (of tackle) = MASS times ACCELERATION

Fortunately, that also meant it took less force for Vegas to accelerate, given her smaller mass. So she had speed and agility on her side. There was no way she'd win the match, but with enough dodges and funny business, she might last a few minutes. Enough to put on a show.

Why not have fun? She already got what she came for: a chance to drink with the hyena.

With a whoop of delight, she slid through Shah's legs and leapt upright behind the beast. No time to gloat; Vegas had to put distance between them. Spryly, leapt back twice.

"Aren't we supposed to shake hands before the fight?" EL COYOTE asked. "I thought it was tradition. Or is that only boxing? You're right. I'm very green. You won't have any trouble with me. If you can catch me, that is."

[jarahamee]

Shah chuckled, her furred ears pointing forward as she grinned toothily. If nothing else, her opponent was funny, and the fans did enjoy banter between the fighters. In fact, she’d say it was a draw.

She wheeled around, surprisingly quick on her bare heels. Her lacquered toe claws skidded across the floor while she turned, claws out. She was ready to tackle El Coyote…whenever he stopped and was within range.

With her superior mass, there was no way he could resist (at least not easily) and avoid being knocked over, which would have been the beginning of the end for him.

“WELL MISTER COYOTE, WE CAN SHAKE IF YOU WANT, BUT WRESTLERS USUALLY GREET EACH-OTHER BEFORE A MATCH. THERE’S NO SHAKING OR BOWING OR ANYTHING ELSE, UNLESS THAT’S YOUR THING.”

The cheers and boos rang out as El Coyote dodged Shah again, avoiding her powerful swipes, and slipping free when she grasped his slender arm.

Finally, in an effort to capture him, she lunged forward, dropping to all fours, in an attempt to tackle El Coyote.

[hadopelagic]

The Maneater was clearly in her element; she moved with remarkable grace. Twice, in quick succession, Vegas narrowly avoided her grasp. She couldn’t use luck to win. Every good luck had to be balanced by bad. And it was poor sportsmanship, in any case.

Suddenly, Maneater seemed to tire of the games, since she went on all fours and pounced. Backed against the ropes, Vegas’s only route was UP. She’d leapfrog over the charging woman. Easy.

However, Maneater must have expected the move, because the moment Vegas jumped, she felt hands on her waist. For a moment, Maneater held her high, like a ballet dancer. Then, WHOOSH. Vegas was on the ground, getting pinned by one hell of a heavyweight.

“That’s quite a handshake,” she said.

Then, motivated by the desire to go out with a bang, Vegas slipped into a high-pitched damsel’s voice and mock-begged Shah, “Oh! Please don’t eat me! I’m no man!”

[jarahamee]

Shah’s eyes went wide, and she stopped dead, still holding Vegas’ by the waist over her body, like a mother with a child.

Her grip did not loosen, but she did not finish her flip (which was a far better outcome for Vegas, that was sure). Instead, she simply rolled to her side, and plopped Vegas down on her ass, rolling to her feet in a stooped position.

“You’re…a woman? I usually fight women but I’ve never had someone transform like that in front of me. Well, you tricked my nose, you must be a real trickster!”

Shah moved into her grappling pose, red, talon-like nails extended in an eagle-claw pose, leaning forward in a crouch with her head down. Her red lips curled away from her sharp white teeth, dark eyes flashing.

“So, what’s your angle? You still think you can take me, El Coyote?”

[hadopelagic]

Vegas had expected to surprise the fighter, maybe throw Shah off her game. But this? This was an encore. Or perhaps the show'd just begun.

No longer ensnared, Vegas did a KIP-UP, a move she'd perfected after watching several kung-fu movies.

"THAT'S RIGHT!" She ripped off her mask and threw it to the ground. Then, Vegas pulled a tube of lipstick from her sports bra (under her wrestling spandex), put on the bright red makeup, and threw it into the audience. "I am not EL COYOTE! I am LA HERMANA DEL COYOTE! My brother skipped town when he saw you fight."

As she spoke, Vegas unbraided her hair. With a shake of her head, she released the puff, which was wavy because of the tight braid.

"You were too much for him! But when it comes to me and women ..."

She CHARGED at Shah.

"The STRONGER, the BETTER!"

She SLAMMED into the hyena ... and ricocheted off the solid wall of muscle, landing on her ass a second time.

"I'm going to die tonight, aren't I?"

[jarahamee]

“Not die. No one dies in wrestling…”

Shah grinned widely. Too widely to be human. Her laughing dark eyes became blacker, the irises enlarging to cover more of her eye as she watched El Coyote bounce off her broad body and land directly on the ground in front of her with little more than a jiggle.

“What’s the plan now?”

She asked, her smile devilish as she got on all fours, splaying out her fingers and toes. The fight might be short-lived, but it was time for the crowd-pleaser.

The werehyena flexed at the crowd, then stretched her arms out, gesturing towards herself. 

The chanting started immediately. The crowd loved Maneater Amazonia.

MAN EATER
MAN EATER
MAN EATER
MAN EATER

Shah tilted her head straight up towards the ceiling, her body distorting monstrously as she grew. One foot, two feet, three feet, four… What was she now? Ten feet tall? Coarse fur poked out under her wrestling outfit, face elongating. Bones cracked and popped, her back hunched and bowed. The change was horrifying and disproportional.

Soon, a massive creature, long armed, short-legged, with a yawning red maw stared back at Vegas and licked her chops.

[hadopelagic]

Vegas put her hands on her hips and leeeeaned back to look at Shah's FULLY TRANSFORMED MONSTER SELF. Magnificent. She could probably bite the head off a full-grown man.

"Aaaaa hahaha! You think you're the only one who can transform?"

Vegas imitated Shah's self-congratulatory gesture and did her own chant:

Coyote, coyote, coyote!

It was ... not well received. Never fear. In the blink of an eye, she changed. Vegas was no longer a lady in a luchadora outfit.

Instead, she was a little coyote tangled in spandex. With a couple kicks of her feet, she freed herself. Then, with a shrill howl, Vegas scampered toward Shah and nommed her leg, giving it a little nip, the type of bite she reserved for play-fighting with the werewolf puppies.

[jarahamee]

The coyote got a mouthful of thick, uneven, and rather wirey fur as she nipped at the wrestler’s tree-trunk leg. The massive, hunched creature turned, almost on a dime, swiping towards Vegas with cupped hands. The first time she missed entirely, the little coyote bouncing out of the way effortlessly.

Shah, however, seemed completely unperturbed, and swiped with her other hand, claws open as she reached out towards the coyote, this time sweeping its much smaller body up and towards herself, almost cat-like.

She followed it up with another playful bat, aiming to grasp her body more firmly this time.

“DO YOU GIVE UP, EL COYOTE?”

Shah asked, her tongue lolling from between her black lips. The way her mouth moved seemed inhuman and unlike the way a man might talk, but it did not seem to matter. The words poured out all the same, monstrous and distorted, but properly enunciated.

[hadopelagic]

She'd given it her best shot, but El Coyote was no match for Maneater Amazonia. Vegas allowed herself to be caught ... and then she PLAYED DEAD, her tongue flopping out of her mouth in a very tragic display.

There was one problem, however. Vegas was stuck in her four-legged form until she found a private room to change, unless the audience wanted a different kind of show. One that involved her bare ass.

Maybe, while Maneater finished her show, Vegas could scamper to the VIP box seats and be carried somewhere quiet. Hopefully, Mistress Sita would linger a couple minutes. Not that Vegas would blame her for leaving ASAP. She was a woman of refined taste. A diamond in a seedy gravel pit. Vegas was still astonished that she'd agreed to watch the show. Astonished and flush with affection for the dear lady.

Her thoughts turned to the war. Surely, the rebels wouldn't target her darling Sita, who was intelligent and beautiful but not a *fighter.* Ah, but they might. Because Sita was powerful in a different way. A more influential way, one might say. She was an entrepreneur, with wealth and connections through her companies.

After Maneater Amazonia accepted Vegas's defeat, she placed her gently on the ground. In a flash, Vegas flipped upright, grabbed her spandex outfit (plus underthings) in her mouth, and scampered out of the ring. She darted around legs and up steps and somebody grabbed her outfit by the leg, forcing Vegas to play tug-of-war for a couple seconds before she gave up and let him have it. Defeated twice, she bounded for Sita's box seat, just narrowly making the jump.

Out of breath, she hopped onto Sita's lap and curled up into a tired ball.

[jarahamee]

Shah ignored the coyote as she played dead, holding out her arms as the praise rained down upon her, turning in a wide half circle as she returned to human form. The one advantage to being a professional is that the costumes she wore returned to proper shape after she shed her monstrous one.

Her jaws spread wide as she cackled loudly, Vegas’ view quickly becoming obscured by the rowdy crowd cheering and howling in response.

They hardly noticed as the former wrestler-turned-actual-coyote made an impressive jump into an expensive box seat.

The only person who mattered did, however.

Sita welcomed the retreating Vegas into her arms, gently pressing the chair(and attending human) next to her away to make room.

She smiled, which was always a little toothy.

“Oh Puppy. You did marvelous. I think you made a great show with what you had at your disposal.”

She reached down to stroke Vegas’ fur delicately, draping her delicate golden shawl over the animal’s shoulders without changing her own seated position.

Below, the next match was already starting. It was a full day venue, with acts every thirty minutes.

“Did you get everything you wanted, my sweet?”

The vampires’ gaze was haughty but affectionate as she looked down at Vegas.

[hadopelagic]

Vegas adjusted herself under the shawl, ensuring that it covered her body. No problem there. Sita was taller than Vegas, taller than most people. The vampire was statuesque, like those elegant Greco-Roman sculptures in the Met, which towered over mortals and never aged a day.

Still on Sita's lap, she transformed into her human form; the cheering masses were at her back. Slyly, she adjusted the shawl until it covered her like a dress.

"Yes." She grinned somewhat wickedly. Vegas couldn't help but feel giddy; the maneater had taken her bait. And based on her strength and charisma, she'd be perfect for Vegas's family. "The groundwork has been laid."

Somewhat reluctantly, she shifted to sit beside Sita instead of *on* Sita. They had company, after all.

"I've endeared myself to her. Our first impression was memorable, and when she thinks about me, she'll remember the cheers of the crowd."

Vegas nudged Sita's pal in the arm and winked.

"Plus, she's agreed to drinks. It's a dangerous thing, to drink with me. That's my arena. Luckily, I want to give Maneater a gift, so if she accepts, we'll both win."

Her attention returned to Sita, who was always a vision.

"Can I buy you a drink first, Mistress?" she asked sweetly. "There's a hidden venue down the street; the bartender serves cocktails with vintage Angostura bitters and rare Cognac."

As she spoke, Vegas played with the course of luck: she cursed the man who'd stollen her uniform with a tiny bout of misfortune and then balanced the scales by giving Sita good fortune. Vegas wasn't sure how it'd manifest. Would she find a missing earring? Would she receive a call from an old friend? Whatever the case, she'd be happy.

[jarahamee]

Sita placed her arms on either side of Vegas’ body, trapping her in place playfully as she settled on Sita’s lap and resumed her human form. While she had fed before attending the half-day of matches, that had been several hours ago, and now her skin and body had started to cool, making her feel even more statue-like.

She released Vegas to allow her to move into the empty seat next to them. Unlike Vegas, she had not forgotten about the woman sitting next to them, who Vegas would recognize as the accountant from the party.

“I think a celebratory drink might be in order. I’ll let you choose my drink, and I’ll give you my opinion.”

Her red lips quirked upward in a slight smile, and she placed her hand under her chin as she looked down at Vegas.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later, in a nearby bar on Drunk’s Row, Shah sat down by herself to have a late dinner and a couple of beers. It was a dark place, but she could see well in low lighting, and she enjoyed not being bothered.

There were a lot of people here who probably didn’t want to be found, and all the better for her.

The ribs she had been served had been well and truly gnawed, with pieces of the bone itself missing, and she had consumed at least five beers so far, and was amid acquiring more.

She took out her phone and flipped idly through social media sites, chewing on one of her bright red nails as she pondered sleeping in the next day vs. taking an early morning walk.