>>20958861>>20959319>>20959327Rage courses through ArKade’s veins as Ash speaks. She had a firm grasp on the ropes, and it didn’t matter. She had lost, yet wasn’t a beaten woman, and it didn’t matter. And worst of all, her former coaches in the GJPW were undoubtedly watching, and laughing. This was their doing, wasn’t it? The Japanese. Her excursion to the United States began with a well publicised desire to avoid having her match with MADDOTAKO be refereed by a Japanese official. Yet now she’d been screwed by an American one.
ArKade could countenance no explanation save for the referee being paid off by someone associated with GJPW. The small voice of reason suggesting that the referee was so focused on the positioning of her shoulders on the mat that she didn’t even notice her hand grabbing the rope? That was nonsense. Or maybe Ash’s body was inadvertently blocking the ref’s view during the pin? No way. Unacceptable. It was that damn new owner who wouldn’t show their face. It was them. It had to be.
The loud staticy sound made by the mic when Ash drops it before rolling out of the ring snaps ArKade back into the present. She grits her teeth. She was wronged. Now she’d make it right. She grabs the mic.
