BW: Welcome back fans. As we showed you earlier, the Maiden of Mayhem Punky and the Scrivener of Bedlam Gemma Rox....
JC: *aside* Do you get paid everytime you mention those nicknames?
BW: *aside* It's in their contracts with FTW, trust me tho, I cleaned them up from what Perle had suggested.
JC: *aside* That bad?
BW: *aside* Would you want Punky coming after you for calling her the "Juicy and Curvy Crazed One?"
JC: *aside* Ya got me there.
BW: Those two made an alliance with the Enigmatic Rowan Chance to combat the incoming Maestro of Machinations, Callista Quinn. At least that's what Rowan was thinking....
*clip begins..in the ring on one side is Callista Quinn and on the other Punky, Gemma and Rowan....from Punky's perspective*
I'm in the ring, defiantly standing tall with Gemma and Rowan - well, with Rowan, at least. Standing tall well above Gemma.
Purple hair loose around my shoulders, wearing my own merch because of COURSE I am - my FIERY VOLATILE PSYCHOPATHIC BRUTALIST shirt, with the sleeves torn off to show off my tattoos and the belly torn away because hey, rockin abs. My shiny Tanaka-style elbowpads, black fingerless fighting gloves. Ragged black denim cut-offs, heavy with zippers, and striped stockings going down to my custom blood-red Doc Martens. I smack my fists together for emphasis, waiting for my turn with the mic when Emily comes blitzing out, strident in her accusations and suspicions. Italians are so fucking melodramatic.
And then the lights go out and I roll my eyes. I somehow never get production time with the mic these days since I told the whiteboard producer he had a guttering fatty candlestub dick. I still think I was right on that one.
Then the lights come back up and Callista Quinn is there, delivering a London constable's handshake to the back of Em's pretty head. I tense up, fists curling. So this is it.
And then, of course, she says "Now."
I turn towards Rowan, splaying my hands out and she naturally turns towards me because, after all, there might be another kiss in it for her. Unfortunately, turning your back on Gemma Rox voids your FCF Arena insurance automatically, and Gemma reminds her of that policy with a sweeping punt between the thighs from behind. I catch the crumpling Black Widow and kindly lock her head between my creamy thighs so she gets a moment of bliss before I wrap her waist and snatch her up to my shoulders - I even lock my hands on hers and cross her arms across her chest to remind her of her darling the Red Enforcer - and then I snap her down in the straitjacket powerbomb.
As she drops, Gemma leaps up in that nimble way she has, folding her legs in the air and locking them against Rowan's back, pulling down on the Black Widow's shoulders so Rowan falls into a spine-shattering Backstabber/straitjacket powerbomb combination, Gemma rolling the brunt of the drop and bending Rowan practically in half on the landing.
The crowd is less than enthused. I release my grip as Rowan arches in agony - her back has never really had the chance to heal up all the way - and turn towards the crowd, smirking and dusting my gloves theatrically before I turn my back on them and face Calli with a wide grin.
Bet this helps my shirt sales.
*now from Rowan's perspective*
It all happens so fast, there's no stopping it.
The moment Callista looked at me and said that word, I knew what was coming. This is not my first time 'round and it's been years since I saw the turnip truck. I thought Punky would be the real danger. That's why I turned to her first. Take out Punky FAST, then deal with little Gemma.
Turns out, that was a mistake. Actually, the mistake was coming down here at all. At least, that's the thought that briefly runs through my mind as I feel Gemma's backside attack. It runs faster than a streaker through my head, then all I feel is pain.
I double over, falling into Punky's arms. Always a dangerous place, no matter the circumstances. I feel her put my head between her legs, then cross my arms.
ohgoddessno.
When she lifts me up, I get a look at her. I look straight into her eyes. The conversation that takes place between us is short and bittersweet.
We could have been the most dangerous team in the Fed.
We could have been lovers.
We could have been... everything.Her reply:
I've already got a bitch. And you ain't her.Then, I fall. My red hair, like a bloody halo, whisks up from the velocity. I can't use my hands to absorb some of the impact. I'm trapped. Suckered and trapped. Like a jabroni. Like a first-year rookie. All because of Punky's damn kiss.
I brace myself for the canvas, but that isn't where I land. I feel hands around my neck, knees against my back. The impact comes too soon. I'm not ready for it. And when it hits, something snaps inside me. The strength, technique and skill of two women working together in perfect syncopation coupled with my already injured back... it's just too much.
My neck arches back too far. The scream I make sounds like the wail of a grieving Faerie Queen. Anger, pain, despair...
I have no way to protect myself. And they break me.
They
break me.
I fall to the canvas, motionless. I can't feel my toes. I tell my body to move, but it won't listen. I have to get out of here. I have to do something.
But the pain in my back is nothing compared to the pain in my heart.
She kissed me. Looked me in the eye...
I-I trusted...
can't... keep...I claw at the canvas.
Need to... scape...Fate draws black curtains across my vision. And I sit in the darkened theater, waiting for the next act.
*Punky's view*
Planting Rowan across Gemma's perfect leap in that backbreaking powerbomb is the closest I've come to sex in the ring since the last time I actually had sex in the ring. Ah, those tours of Germany. What a country.
The Black Widow's scream echoes out as we
break her between us, a perfect fluid movement of divine violence that transcends the way lovers in perfect harmony. This is the way DEMONS move together, when they dance on the smoking bloody points of pins.
I smirk at the audience as they settle into contours of shock and disdain and rapidly twisting hatred, which escalates as Gemma turns around their stupid call-and-response on them - the sheep STILL answer her with their desire to call for help - right before she spikes Emily Layne's overly-painted face into the mat. I slither behind Rox, stroking her emerald hair back with slow languid fingers, leaning down to plant a teasing kiss on her as she sneers in grim satisfaction.
There's something so SATISFYING about being justifiably hated for doing what you want to do.
Because fuck them. You're doing what YOU want to do.
My eyes settle on Rowan, smoldering as I watch her twist on the mat, clutching at her injured back even half-unconscious. I run my hands through Gemma's hair as Calli slides into the ring like Eden's serpent. "Get that bitch up for me," I purr in Gemma's ear, black soft lips caressing her, and with a gesture to Calli, I'm tossed the microphone. Rox wrestles Rowan up to her boots on unsteady legs, her back clearly in agony and her eyes an intoxicating boiling mixture of pain and rage and dazed hurt and fury. I slink closer, hips swaying, and toss my purple hair back as Gemma snugs Rox in a half-nelson, forcing her to look at me.
I put the mic to my lips, leaning close enough to Rowan that the microphone brushes her mouth, picking up her pained breaths.
"Still want me to convince you with a kiss, Rowan?" I purr, silky and soft, my eyes half-lidded. I toss the microphone idly over my shoulder, and Calli snags it neatly out of the air, barely looking, and I lean closer still, my breasts soft against Rowan's gorgeous body, pressing close enough to feel the heat of her, the silky closeness, the need ...
... and then I SNATCH her out of Gemma's arms, taking the Widow's head and her arm in a clutch I know all too well, drawing an INSTANT burst of fury from the crowd. I look around and then TWIST my hips with a snarl, muscles tensing and abs like steel as I just WHIP Rowan off her feet, twisting her around and snapping back to PLANT her skull into the mat with her own fucking finisher, the Widow's Kiss DDT.
Rowan bounces bonelessly up and flops to the mat, spasming softly. I sit there with my legs splayed, and casually bring my gloved hand up from where it was wrapped around Rowan's neck, casually licking the leather with a pierced tongue like it was too good to resist. I reach and take her shoulder, rolling her over on the canvas and slither over to straddle her, slow and lascivious, and lean slowly, silkly down to mockingly kiss her unconscious lips, tilting smirking eyes up at the crowd. I slide back down her twitching body and rise up, standing above the fallen Widow, tossing my violet hair back as I stretch my tattooed arms above my head, clasping them together like the upright hands of a clock.
"Stroke of midnight, bitch."Then Calli speaks, and I turn to listen, grinning darkly.
I feel drunk with power already.
*back to studio*
BW: Now fans, after this shocking betrayal...
JC: Not really that shocking considering who did it..
BW: The Enigmatic Rowan Chance promised retribution.
*The camera opens on a wall of trophies and belts. It pans to the left, focusing on championships from all over the world. Little indie American leagues, Canada, Mexico, Japan. Then, the camera pans out and we see Gordon standing with a mic beside the wall.*
"This wall tells a story," he says. "A story of victories and defeats, triumphs and tragedies. And the woman who fought and bled for these championships is Rowan Chance."
Gordon pauses for a moment. Then, he says, "It's been a month since we've seen her in the ring. We've received thousands of letters, postcards and emails, all asking when she will return to the ring. Last week, we promised you an answer. And here, in her own home, Rowan Chance will tell us that answer."
CUT TO: Rowan's living room. A glass coffee table with drinks set out. Gordon sits on a plush sofa while Rowan sits nearby on the loveseat.
"Rowan, we understand you spent a few days in the hospital after that brutal attack by Punkie, Gemma and Callie."
Rowan nods. Her voice is calm and quiet. "That's right, Gordon."
Gordon asks, "What did they tell you?"
Rowan looks down for a moment, then raises her gaze to look back at Gordon. "Well, Gordo, to be honest, it was scary there for a few days. The Widow's Kiss DDT gave me a concussion, but more importantly, the power bomb into the backstabber was what gave me the most problems. I couldn't feel my toes for a day or two. Had trouble walking. The move also dislocated three of my ribs."
Gordon shakes his head. "That sounds terrible." Then, he says, "You've had back injuries before..."
Rowan nods. "That's right. But not like this. The doctors think it was coming off the 3-way match with Red Enforcer and Punkie that put me in the position of landing in the hospital for almost a week. That last powerbomb, Punkie's powerbomb, was the last straw."
"Did the doctors say anything else?"
Rowan nods. "They suggest at least a year off to fully recover."
"That's a long time," Gordon says.
Rowan takes a deep breath. "Yes. It's already been a month. And the Power Trio or the Three Fates or whatever it is they call themselves, have been running roughshod all over the Fed like they own the place."
Gordon says, "Have they cleared you to wrestle?"
Rowan nods. "Yes," she says. "I'm cleared. But they want me to take a year off. And that's a year without putting food on my table. A year without paying rent. A year without..." Rowan pauses, her cheeks growing red. Then, she slowly--
slowly--turns to the camera.
"Punky..." she says, her voice suddenly as dark as vengeance. "Punky... you made three mistakes."
Rowan lifts one finger. "The first was picking the wrong side."
She lifts a second. "The second mistake was picking me to make an example."
And then, she lifts a third. "The third mistake was
NOT. FINISHING. THE JOB."
Rowan turns, directly facing the camera. "You think there's safety in numbers?" She shakes her head, smiling. "No," she says. "There's no safety for you. Not any of you. Not you, Punky. Not Gemma. Not Callie. Not one of you is safe."
Rowan jumps to her feet, her face flush with fury. "
BECAUSE I'M STILL STANDING! YOU SEE THAT? I'M. STLL. STANDING."
She glares at the camera, her eyes full of darkness. Her voice drops down low and you hear something you've never heard before. A deep and dark sound. A predatory sound. Not the sultry, seductive Rowan. Something else. Something ancient and deadly. And when she speaks, all the color flushes from Gordon's face. His eyes bulge out like he's seen his own grave and the grave digger standing over it with a shovel and a smile.
"As long as there's a drop of blood in my body. As long as I have a breath in my lungs. As long as I can crawl... I will find you. Each of you. And one by one, I will break you in ways that modern medicine hasn't figured out how to fix. I will humiliate you."
She pauses...
"I will
DESTROY you."
Gordon sits still, unmoving. Then, finally, he says, "Um... yes. Uh... let's go back to the studio."
*back to the studio*
BW: Unfortunately, she was not to get her retribution right away. With the aid of the Sultry Seductress Emily Layne, Rowan Chance survived a 2 on 1 ambush which led to to a tag team match at the show that was the birth of FTW, First Strike! Which is available on video at ShopFTW.com ( http://www.freecatfights.com/forums/index.php/topic,40877.15.html ) Also, the preFirst Strike highlights and more are available in the Birth of Countdown DVD also available at ShopFTW.com ( http://www.freecatfights.com/forums/index.php/topic,40049.135.html )
JC: Again, we weren't asked to be part of this even tho we have seniority!
BW: *turns to Johnny and says just loud enough for the mic to pick it up* I know Johnny. I know. Maybe Perle handed out necklaces in the front office. *back to the camera* But shenaxxxxns would disrupt an amazing match.*join the match in progress. Emily looks like she'll be able to tag in Rowan, but just as she nears...*
Emily has Punky's ankle, dragging her toward our corner, pulling her along the canvas, Punky's skirt pulled up around her waist. I can feel the audience's excitement build and I extend my hand for the tag, smiling. I see the look on Punky's face and I meet her eyes.
"Tick, to--"
Everything freezes. I look straight through Emily and Punky toward the main stage.
Red is there. And he's holding...
"To--Tantalus?"
... oh, Goddess, he's bleeding.
Red holds Tantalus up like a trophy, up over his arms. His massive, powerful arms.
"Hey Rowan!" he shouts from the stage. "Wanna see me break his back?"
By the side of the stage, I can hear Callista's voice.
"Tick, tock," she says.
I move from the edge of the mat to the metal stairs. Nothing else matters.
Nothing. Else. Matters.The man who trained me. The man who gave me my strength. The man who...
I'm walking toward the stage, away from the ring. And I find Callista in my way.
She has one hand in the pocket of her hoodie. I know what's in there. I've felt it. More than once. Her smile says everything. She doesn't need to talk.
You have to go through me.But I don't pause. I walk straight toward her. My eyes focused on one man as if he's the only person in the world.
LVK: Obviously, this is a plot to get Rowan Chance distracted.
RP: And it's worked. Like clockwork, you might say.
LVK: Callista Quinn is standing between Rowan and the stage!
RP: She's going to get another taste of that mag light!
LVK: It seems so, she isn't even looking at Quinn! She walks right by her, as if she wasn't there!
RP: Quinn can't believe it, either! But nobody turns their back on Callista Quinn! NOBODY!
LVK: That seems like it's going to be the case... she's walking up behind Rowan, raising that mag light and...
RP: What??? What was that!?!?!
LVK: Ladies and gentlemen, just as Callista Quinn was about to strike, Rowan turned...
RP: Do spiders have radar?
LVK: Perhaps that famous "spider sense" we hear so much about. Just as Quinn was about to strike, Rowan turned and dropped Quinn with her patented Widow's Kiss!
RP: That float over DDT ought to be banned! Chance ought to be banned for using it on the floor!
LVK: Callista Quinn is on the floor, her head cradled in her arms! We may have a concussion here! Her famous, or should I say, infamous mag light rolls on the ground.
RP: And Rowan Chance is still walking up the ramp toward the stage like a zombie.
I get to the top of the stage. Something was in my way, but I... dealt with it.
Red smiles under his mask, holding the limp and bleeding body of my mentor... my sensei... my...
"Stop right there, Ro," he says.
I stop.
"Don't, Red," I tell him. "Don't push me this far. You don't know..." I pause. I'm afraid to say any more.
Red's smile falters for a moment, then looks behind me.
"Sorry, Ro," he says to me.
"But all's fair, you know."He drops Tantalus at my feet and walks away. His body crumbles, his face covered in blood. Red walks to the back. I fall to my knees. I can hear sounds from the ring behind me like distant echoes through water.
I'm afraid to touch him, to hurt him further.
You were right, I tell him.
I should have... I should... The words come to my lips softly, like a kiss. "I'm sorry."
I hear someone screaming my name. I don't care. I take his head between my hands, gently, and put it in my lap.
"You were right," I whisper to him, parting his blood-caked hair from his closed eyes. "It's time."
*Back to the studio*
JC: *BEEP BEEEP BEEEP BEEEEEEEEEEEEEP* Enforcer.
BW: And fans, later in the match the Enigmatic Rowan Chance would head back into the ring and tag in. But when it came her turn to tag out...
*back to the clip, from Emily's perspective*
Damn Callista!
I finally had escape the brutal two on one beatdown when she showed up at my corner.
That still made me wonder.
"where the hell was Rowan?"
I tried to have some kind of hints from the commentary and realized that she ran to the curtain where Lord was dragged half out cold.
Still, why did she leave me alone?
Where are gone all the good assumptions we settled last week?
Where are gone all the sweet words for each our during the last few days?
We wanted to be a team, a real tag team, working together to kick the bad girls asses and make the REAL wrestling triumph!
It seems that it worked only in the beginning of the match.
At the first chance, Rowan left me alone in the ring, she had better priority it seems.
And now?
Now she stole the tag after that German suplex and shoved me and Punky toward the corner,our corner.
I slowly get on my knees, tryin to recover as much strength and energies I can after all that series of double moves that Gemma and Megan performed on me.
My back hurts, my neck hurts, my head hurts,my belly hurts.
Is there any part of my body that doesn't hurt?
I don't follow the action anymore, inside and outside the ring now as Lisa attacked Calli after her sweet interference to help me out and offering me the tag.
My mind is filled with many thoughts, this tag team failed before it started, and we must admit this.
Rowan wants to do her way, Rowan can't be a real tag team partner, not for me, we are too different.
Plain and simple.
We won't success, we won't move forward, we won't make progresses.
She is the Black Widow, I am Emily Layne, we have the same enemies but we won't work together, it will fail, we just need to deal with it.
As soon as she moves to me,with her hand extended, I step back.
"we are done Rowan, we failed, things can't go on this way" , I simply say and jump off the apron ring,leaving her in the ring alone, just like she did some moments ago.
LVK: WHY?..WHAT?..BUT..BUT..EMILY IS LEAVING THE RING! OH MY GOODNESS NO! THIS IS WRONG!
RP: Larry, chill, that was going to happen, they finally recognized where the strength of FTW is!
They're not The Countdown! No one can be like them!
The crowd is shocked too, they don't know if they have to boo me or what, they're just in silent, still not believing on what is happening there.
I just walk away toward the ramp.
*Back to the studio*
BW: And so fans, the Enigmatic Rowan Chance was left alone and fell to the hands of Countdown. The full match can be found at ShopFTW.com ( http://www.freecatfights.com/forums/index.php/topic,40877.30.html ) And after this message, we'll see the effect of the Lurker of Shadows Lord Tantalus's beatdown on Rowan Chance.
