Shayna Baszler is such a crucial part of the TakeOver fabric in this, the best era of its illustrious history.
She arrives. She menaces. She systematically hones in on the arms of her opponents, batters them with a sociopathic zeal, feigns a level of inexperience to allow her opponents a brief flurry of hope, and then contorts their arms to disgusting angles. She leaves, her satisfaction manifested as a sickly, dead-eyed grin, her badass aura heightened. This all takes around ten minutes. In a sickening way, this delights but does not exhaust the audience. Baszler, in minimalist masterclasses that do not outstay their welcome, just makes us hungry for more punishment.
This is all in stark contrast to her initial forays in the Mae Young Classic, in which there was a tentative and somewhat messy quality to bouts that were 50/50 in structure (and are somewhat irreconcilable in retrospect). The new Baszler, surging in confidence, patrols her matches with the nous of an old pro despite having only wrestled on a full-time basis for just over a year.
The rate at which she has improved is as frightening as the aura she projects.