Anna Daniels

Manager(s):

Additional Information:

Gimmick: Multitudes stuffed in the body of a Time Lord. Endlessly shifting.

Bio: No bio fits. None ever can. We've been here a long time.

General Moveset:

Common Moves: Dirty boxing (punches, eye gouges, headbutts, etc.), Muay Thai nonsense (strikes, clinches, and the almighty takedowns), Enzugiri, Spike hurricanrana, 720 DDT, Minami Roll, Tiger suplex, Facebuster, Reverse Frankensteiner, Spin-out sit-out powerbomb (Blue Thunder Bomb)

Trademark Moves: Anna to the Infinite Power (Multiple revolution tilt-a-whirl headscissors twisted into whatever the hell whoever's at the helm feels like doing. Expect the unexpected), Cake or Death? (Corkscrew shooting star press, sometimes transitioned into an elbow drop or twisted into a leg drop. Another one of those dealer's choice moves), Sombras Que Corta (Neckbreaker cutter), Threeish Doctors (Tiger suplex --> Tiger suplex --> Australian "suplex"; maybe sneak in a pin), Finger snap (Self-explanatory; we demand your fingers as tribute. Yubi yubi, motherfuckers)

Entrance Description:

The entire area fades to black, causing the PRIMEates in attendance to steadily come to a hush. After a moment, the beginning guitar notes of Solid Space's "A Darkness In My Soul" begin. Nothing comes on the PRIME*view to note exactly who is coming out. Suddenly, a spotlight pierces through the dark pointed to the top on the entrance ramp. Anna Daniels stands there, her profile positioned towards the light. She lets it wash over her while letting the fans get a good look at the merchandise. Finally, she glances at the ring with a small smirk on her face.

As The Muse takes her time heading to the ring, she wistfully observes the goings on around her as if getting into a certain type of groove that only she can hear. Her strolling sways almost like she's dancing from time to time. Her robe and headpiece--once more regal and dazzling artifacts from her homeplanet--are in various stages of disrepair and utter damage. Anna slaps a hand or two, nods a little to those in attendance. Once ringside, she motions for somebody to take the robe and headpiece which when taken nearly make the poor sap fall over.

She makes her way to the stairs and slinks along the apron, whiping her feet before entering the ring. Immediately after, she nearly chases off the ref in a suddenly blur of action before smiling yet again. Casually, she strolls to a corner with her head bopping before perching herself onto the top rope laid out like a French girl people like to paint.