[Lindsay C]

I'm dizzy, stunned, my head's swimming and I'm blinking my eyes hard. Trying to get my head back into this match. „Owwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww“ I moan as Lisa comes over and gives me that little smack to wake me up. I don't really know what's been going on over the last few seconds...or has it been minutes? I dunno...

I slowly sit up on my elbows, vision still blurry, and I can literally FEEL the bruises on my forehead appearing after Megan pounded me over and over again with these taped fists of hers. And no, my headband didn't really take a lot of impact off the blows.

Finally propped up on my elbows, looking around, I see Red, clutching his shoulder and rolling out of the ring. The ref takes a sigh of relief as the 2 legal participants are left alone in the ring again. I then look over at Megan, holding her head after Lisa's big kick.

Alright, get up, Lindsay...come on!

Easier thought that done, but eventually I make my way back up to my feet.

RP: How's this girl standing? WHY's this girl standing?! Seriously, why can't these girls just learn their lesson and stay down?

LvK: You're starting to sound like Megan.

RP: Good! That girl makes so much sense with just about everything she says and does. And eventually, she's gonna send these corn-fed midwest-dolls back on the farms they belong!

LvK: I'm...pretty sure, they're from big cit-

RP: BACK. to the FARMS. they BELONG!

LvK: *sighs* Well...doesn't look too good for your purple friend right now, though. The Dragon's back up and closing in on Megan. And Ms. Campbell doesn't look happy.

Of course I'm not happy!! My head feels like someone tried to get through my skull with a Jackhammer!

I'm rubbing my forehead as I step in towards Punky. She's starting to push up as well, on her knees, facing away from me. And I'm thinking...maybe it's time to give her a headache as well! A little grin comes creeping across my lips, I brush my hair back over my shoulders, then adjust my bright yellow wristbands.

Reaching down with my left, I grab one of Megan's Punkytails and pull her up to her feet. She howls and curses out real nice and loud as I get her up, then roughly turn her around to face her. My left hand on her shoulder now, grabbing it tightly as I lean down. Getting my face close to hers while wiggling the fingers of my right hand. She looks a little dizzy! I slowly part my lips, opening my mouth wide and hissing right at her face like breathing fire into it. Then I take a quick step back and throw my right hand forward.

Placing my palm on her forehead, my fingers spreading around, thumb on her one temple, pinkie finger on the other, the other 3 fingers spread around the top of her head...and I SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEZE. Gritting my teeth, my left hand goes to my right wrist as I squeeze down on her head.

LvK: The Dragon Claw!! Lindsay locks in the Dragon Claw! The Purple Vixen is in trouble! This could be it!

RP: Ohhhhhh no! Get your hands off her, Buckeye! That's not fair, she's...I'm pretty sure she's gouging Punky's eyes!

No I'm not!! And yes, she is in trouble!! Megan's arms are flailing a bit as she cries out in pain. Then her hands go for my wrists, pulling and tugging at them, but my arms are not bucking an inch. Even though she's putting everything she's got into trying to pry my arms off, it's not working. I see her biceps tensing, muscles growing, but still...nope!

I grit my teeth in effort, looking into her eyes as I squeeze down on her hard. I feel her grip weaken, and she starts to sway back and forth a bit. Her knees get all wobbly...

LvK: She's going down! Looks like she's fading! The Dragon may have her!

RP: Noooooo, she'll find a way! Punky ALWAYS finds a way.

Not this time!! Red's not in his corner, and not in the ring either. He won't save her this time! Megan drops down to a knee in my grip. Her moans and my grunts are a symphony of pain and effort. I'm standing tall in front of her, my legs spread a little, having a good stand, which gives me the perfect position to apply more and more pressure to her.

Then, from the corner of my eye, I see Red. He climbed up on the apron, still clutching his injured shoulder. He's yelling at the ref who's been asking Megan if she wants to give it up. He keeps asking, trying to ignore him, or...simply not hearing him? I don't know...but after a few seconds the ref is the one who's giving up. He turns to face Red, politely asking him what he wants, and also asking him to get back to his corner.

And Megan? Well, I'm guessing she's not really out of it yet, because the very moment the ref turns way from us, she pushes back up to both her feet with one quick push of those strong legs, and fires one of those legs up, between my legs!!

RP: See? Punky ALWAYS finds a way!

The crowd groans, then boos rain down on Megan who collapses back down to her knees after punting me between my legs. I drop to my knees as well, a silent scream on my lips, my hands go between my legs and...I'm struggling to breathe. The pain washes through me like...like something that really really hurts!!

Megan gives me a little shove that topples me over. Landing with my arms underneath me, so the ref can't really see that my hands are between my legs! She's pretty good at hiding the fact that she's cheated...very very good!

[RedEnforcer]

Punky has the big girl in a bad way and I'm yelling at her to get back over here. She makes it to her feet, but spins a bit. Yeah, she's still hurting, but she stumbles backwards to our corner. I lean over the top rope and make a loud tag so that ref guy hears and I make a note to apologize to Punky for slapping her ass that hard. My left arm is back to feeling numb again, but I'm not hurting as bad as Gracie is now. She is still cupping her delicate spot and making me wonder if Punky still has her steel-toed boots on.

LvK: The Enforcer seems to be favoring his left arm as he hauls Lindsay up to her feet by her hair.

RP: And that's why I never let my hair go long Keel.

LvK: I thought that was male pattern baldness.

RP: .......

She's still wobbly on her feet and her eyes look like she's a littke lost in the pain. I almost feel sorry for her, but I remember I have a match to win so I have her face me and with my right arm lift her up like a sidewalk slam, but then I bend my knee and extend my thigh.

RP: Devastating one armed slam onto his knee by the Enforcer!

LvK:And now the Dragon is splayed out over his knee and he is just bending her in a harsh reverse C!

RP: Looks like we're gonna see how flexible the Buckeye Bimbo is.

I watch the ref carefully. I'm not really able to push on her chin with my left hand as hard as I'd like, so I need to hurt her in a different way. As he goes to her face to ask about the submission, I let my right hand ball up into a fist and jab it quickly between Lindsay's legs and grind my knuckles where Punky hurt her before.

LvK:That's an illegal.... Oh my gawd, he's going to ruin her!

RP: That's the Greco Roman Knuckle Twist, Keel. She does look lovely writhing about like that.

As I keep grinding, I can hear Lindsay screaming and her arms and legs thrash about. Lisa is yelling at the ref and I watch him closely. At the first sign of him looking at me, my hand shifts to her thigh. He turns to Lisa and shrugs and goes back to asking Lindsay.

LvK: He's doing it again! That's so blatant!

RP: Only if the ref sees it Keel.

The crowd is up in arms with boos and screaming as I torture the poor long blonde some more.  And again I move my hand to her thigh when the ref looks my way.  I go for a third time and...shit that bastard caught me. He starts his count at 1...2...

LvK: The Enforcer breaks the hold, but grabs Lindsay's top and bottoms and just yanks her up in the air off his leg and slams her down to the canvas.

RP: I take it back, she looks lovely flopping around on the mat like that more than being on his knee.

I do an arm check and it's rested, but I need more time. I grab Lindsay's leg under her knee and turn to head to my corner, looking like a caveman dragging his wife. I go to tag Punky and sunuvabitch. She's not even looking at me! I drop Lindsay's leg and as Punky is staring off at the crowd I grab her shoulder and spin her around. I can see the wild, desperate look in her eyes as our gazes meet. "Get in the Gawd*BEEP* Game, Punky!"

[ThePurpleVixen]

I was really gonna enjoy watching Reddy work Linds' secret garden over, guaranteeing that all the blonde-chasers in Ohio would be deprived of her gangly companionship for many nights to come.  That shit is better than South Park, at least the newer seasons.  But then I heard my name, clear as fucking day.

"Punky."  A harsh but sensual whisper, a voice ragged with cut glass and orgasmic moans.  A voice like Rowan Chance's, but darker.

There's no fucking way I could hear a whisper in this crowd.  There's thousands of baboons in the audience all threatening to castrate Red for what he's doing to Lindsay's goodies and offering loud drunken opinions on our skills as wrestlers, our choice of attire and our doubtful parentage.

But I HEARD it.

I twist around on the apron, tearing my eyes off the spectacle of Red cheating like Roddy Piper in his heyday, and I rake the crowd with my eyes.  Wherever I look, they fall quiet for a moment, only to start yelling again as soon as my wide, strange, and furious gaze is off them. Stalking back and forth, the match falling away into sound and fury behind me, searching for a glimpse of that fucking mask.  That fucking spider.

That fucking Aika.

When Red takes my shoulder and jerks me around, my heart jumps into my fucking throat and I'm a quarter of a second away from decking him, knocking his molars into his fucking pancreas, but I keep my fist tensed at my side, and meet his angry eyes with my wide ones.

We stare at each other in fury and confusion for a long second before I shake my head, and growl at him.

"Stop staring at my *BEEP*in' ass all the time and ... YOU'RE LETTING HER GET AWAY, DUMBASS!"

Admittedly, that was a brutally unfair way to twist his perfectly legitimate complaint, but I wouldn't be a girl if I argued under FAIR rules.  But I don't have time to get huffed at by the Enforcer, as Campbell has taken advantage of our debate to start low-crawling towards her corner, and Lisa Starr is bouncing up and down like the fucking Trix Rabbit, leaning over the rope as far as she can to try get a tag.

LvK: She's GOT to get this tag!  Lindsay Campbell has suffered TERRIBLE abuse at the hands of the Countdown, and now she's got a shot at getting a fresh and furious Lisa Starr into the ring!

RP: She's not THAT fresh, van Keel!  She got her little ass kicked just as hard as the Duh-ragon did.  The Countdown's just gonna flatten 'em both until they BOTH need a hot tag ... and then they can go to the ER together!

LvK: ... why are you such a terrible person?

RP: It's all in my upbringing, van Keel!  My ma made me fight the dog for a pork chop for dinner and my dad used me as an ashtray!

LvK: I'm ... I'm sorry.

RP: Hell, I'm not. I learned ways to use a lit cigarette that won me two titles. Hey, and speaking of terrible people, INCOMING PUNKY!

I vault over the top rope and go pelting across the ring, long strides slamming the canvas.  People wonder why I wrestle in Docs - when I first started, I wore Chuck Taylors just like lil' Starr-struck, and later I wore Hayabusa boots.  I wear and train in Doc Martens because they're heavy as fuck, they have steel toes, and they make me sound like an oncoming train when I run.

Campbell's fingers are just inches from Starr's wavering hands as I bolt right past her, SNAPPING my right leg up and twisting my hips to throw my weight behind the kick, locking my long leg out like a lance and SLAMMING the waffled sole of my Doc against the side of Lisa's head, sending her flying off the apron with another Monster Queen yakuza kick!

*CRACK!*

"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

This crowd is starting to sound Japanese with those coordinated groans after every stiff kick.  I let my right leg drape over the top rope as I hang there a second, looking at Starr crumpled on the apron, and then I draw back around to see Lindsay getting up to her knees, a hand nestled between her thighs still and her head ringing.  She blinks up at me, her free hand still out for a tag that's definitely not coming.

"Sorry, sugar-tits.  Wrong number." I purr, and I get a handful of that strawberry mane and that neon headband and a hand around her extended wrist, yanking Linds to her big feet.  For a moment we look like we're about to tango before I yank her against me, her chin cradled on my shoulder, and I slowly force her arm down and firmly drive her own wrist up between her thighs, clasping it from behind to lock it in place.  She groans at the pressure as I yank up on her hand, my other hand slithering over her hip in a lover's caress before I get a handful of her tights.

LvK: Oh, this is just ... just ...

RP: Incredibly *BEEP*ing hot?

LvK: I ... no!  Terrible!  Terrible is the word I was looking for!

RP: Sure, van Keel.  You stare at Punky stroking the Dragon any harder and I sense a lotta Hail Marys in your future.

"By the way," I purr in Lindsay's ear once I have her firmly hooked for the wrist-clutch overhead suplex.  "You and your little buddy throw suplexes like *BEEP*ing pussies."

My knees bend deep, stockings tightening around the muscles of my calves, and I take a deep prana breath, clearing my head of everything for a moment - pain and exhaustion and the noisy crowd and the spider stalking me in the darkness - and I SNARL as I get this big girl up, up, ALL the way fucking up and over and SLAM her long body into the buckles with a Master Exploder that SHAKES THE FUCKING RING.

LvK: GREAT CAESAR'S GHOST!

RP: HOLY SHIZ!

I sit there for a moment after getting her over, and grin at Red through the purple hair that's fallen across my forehead, a little loose from my punkytails.  I reach back and get a handful of Linds' top, nestling my fist between her tits, and another handful of her little shorts, dragging her away from the corner by her top and bottoms.

My body slithers over hers, settling cozily onto her sweaty curves and vining my legs around her right thigh, my left forearm pressed to her cheek and pushing her head roughly down, right hand braced on the mat for the leverage.

ONE!

TWO!

"Come the *BEEP* on!" I snarl as the Dragon twists under me, breaking my grip and managing to get her shoulder just up enough to break the pin.  The ref thrusts two fingers in the air and I thrust one finger up at him to illustrate my feelings on the subject. He starts to say something but I bare my teeth at him and hiss a little something about wondering what his throat tastes like, and he wisely gives me a little space.

LvK: The amount of fight in all FOUR of these competitors is just staggering. They've ALL come back from moves that would just leave a lesser athlete flattened.

RP: I think that's why I got outta the game, really.  There's just so much stress on fighting back from the impossible, on getting up when all your body wants to do is lay down and suffer.  You can only manage that level of willpower for so long, ya know?

LvK: ... also you were banned for setting Chris Hopper on fire in River City.

RP: Right, yeah.  That, too.  It was like 50-50.

LvK: 50% being tired of fighting against impossible odds and 50% being banned from the ring for dousing a man in ether and setting him on fire during a wrestling match.

RP: Yep. Right down the middle.

I womanhandle Lindsay up to her athletic shoes. She's wobbly on her feet, but still takes a swing at me, her hand CRACKING across my jaw and sending me staggering back a step, drawing a cheer from the crowd. I hang on the rope a second, snarling as I draw my taped fist across my lips.  A sidelong glance shows that Lisa Starr still isn't back on the apron -

- so I come off the ropes and SLAM my shoulder into Linds' belly, spearing her lanky ass to the canvas and wrapping my left arm around her head, cradling her up as I lay across her tits, PISTONING my right fist down into her forehead again and again and a-fucking-gain until I get her split open at last, softened up from that last hammering I gave her.

I hiss in satisfaction as the crowd ROARS their rage, and Linds clutches at her head and kicks her long legs as I sit up and lick the blood off my tape with a loving curl of my pierced tongue.

LvK: Dear GOD in heaven, Punky is SICK.

RP: I know, right?

LvK: She .. wait, what?

RP: I mean, with all the STDs you gotta figure Campbell is carrying ...

LvK: ... classy, Perle.

If someone out there in the crowd wants me - if they want my blood - if they want to show me what they did in Japan ... let me show them what they're getting.  Let me show them some fucking blood.  Let me show them that I ain't afraid of no joshi.  I drag Linds back up, curls of scarlet running down her pretty face, and stand behind her in mid-ring, crossing her arms across her belly with my fists wrapped around her opposing wrists.

"Kono, sukoshi yūrei o mitekudsai!" I snarl in strong-voice Japanese, ducking my head and putting it between Linds' long legs from behind.  With a GROWL I stagger upright, getting the big girl on my shoulders and then DROPPING back, brutally slamming her back and shoulders to the mat as I arch back in a gorgeous bridge, balancing on my toes as I drop her with an OCEAN CYCLONE SUPLEX!

LvK: Good God, that could be it!  The referee drops, checking the shoulders - and checking Punky's as well, he has to with a bridge like that, but she's clean - and he counts!

BUT SHE'S OUT AT TWO, JUST BARELY!

RP: Campbell's lucky she's tall enough to use them long legs and twist her hips to break Punky's lock on her arms, or she'd have been friggin' done for. If she was smart, she'd have stayed down, like Punky keep tellin' her.

I sit up with furious dark eyes, satisfied with delivering the suplex even if Campbell kicked out. I glance over my shoulder - the Dragon is down and her blood is running onto the mat, and there's no sign of Starr.  Maybe I concussed the little bitch.  That'd be a nice treat.  I snake to my feet and hold my hand out extremely formally to Red, almost mockingly so. He hesitates a moment, narrowing his eyes at me - Dixie boys hate when you don't take 'em serious - and then SMACKS my hand hard enough to send painful tingles through the tape.  I flex my fingers and grin, getting to my toes and whispering in Red's ear, making sure I'm pressed up warmly against him so he's paying attention.

He nods - and smiles that big Smothers smile of his, so toothy.

I grin and we move to the center of the ring, dragging Linds to her feet. She protests like a high schooler being dragged out of bed by her mother, dizzy and bloodied and soaked in sweat after the long brutal brawl, but we get her on her feet, wavering in the center of the ring with me in front of her and Reddy just behind.

"G'night, sugar-tits," I purr, and then I LEAP, twisting around in the air, my punkytails whipping with me as my skirt flutters around my hips, and behind Linds Red drops down and swings his big heavy leg around in a half circle so he slams his strong leg behind her knees in a sweep just as I snap my heel around in a full rising circle, catching her under the jaw.

She's caught between two opposing forces and twists in the air like a cat hit by two cars at once before she flops to the canvas, a twitching mess of dead weight.

It's that little ECW throwback that we love to treasure, called -

RP: *doing a fairly decent Joey Styles* TOTAL ELIMINIAAAAATIOOOOON!

LvK: Oh dear God, that poor girl.  The referee has to just stop this.  The Countdown isn't going for a win, they're going for Lindsay's career.

RP: *still doing Styles* OH MY GOD!

LvK: Let's not get sued, Perle.

I look down in satisfaction at the Dragon's wreckage, standing and slowly extending my arms to either side, fingers folding into rock hands, throwing the horns.  Red simply lifts his fist and smirks behind his mask.

I wink at the big guy and slither to the apron, leaning on the top cable and wrapping my fist in the tag rope, getting my breath back.  Letting the crowd noise wash over me. All that hatred, all that rage, mingled with the contrarian laughter and cheers of the tattooed rebels and mutants who like seeing bad things happen to good people.

I don't hear any whispers now, no.

Not at all.

LvK: And the referee is going to let this madness continue - Lisa Starr is nowhere to be seen, the Red Enforcer has Lindsay Campbell helpless and Punky is ... looking around with those frightening mad eyes of hers again.  What was that she said before she hit the suplex made famous by Manami Toyota?

RP: She said 'Watch this, little ghost'.

LvK: ... really?

RP: I speak seven languages, Larry. Ya gotta know how to insult people no matter WHERE you're wrestling.

[The Second City Wrestlerette]

She was right here. Right in front of me. Just a few inches from the tag because these two idiots had to have another argument. Then, I hear the tag *BEEP*. Stretching out further. Hearing Punky's heavy boots thud over the boards. Stretching out as far as I can now! Wanting to get that tag before Lindsay gets clobbered.

And then the unexpected happens WHOAFFFFF!! I am the one who gets kicked! For the second time in this match that I feel that waffled sole smash against my face. I'm unceremoniously knocked off the apron, landing in a heap on the thin mats outside the ring, and that's where I stay for a while. Knocked silly, not moving and drifting in and out of consciousness.

By the time I'm coming back to my senses, the Countdown duo just laid out my partner with the Total Elimination. I hear the boos raining down, and a few drunk-ass punks laughing their asses off at our expense.

As the two bullies take their sweet time to pose in the middle of the ring, I'm starting to climb back up to my feet. My head hangs low, still feeling like Megan kicked it off my shoulders! My head just dangles off my neck. Holding on to the apron with both hands to get a halfway steady stand.

Looking into the ring, I see Red with his back towards me, in their corner, Punky's looking all over the crowd again. Taking a deep breath, along with a little moan as I sneak around the ring. Keeping my head low (voluntarily! Like...totally!) to remain unseen.

LvK: This isn't right. Why didn't the Red Enforcer go for the pin here? Lindsay has not moved since their last double team move. It's almost like...

RP: They just want to punish this girl!

LvK: Exactly! It looks like all they want to do is make this brave young woman suffer!

RP: I wasn't assuming, I was telling you. It's a fact! And there's a fine line between bravery and idiocy, van Keel. And these two cute bubble butts have crossed that line a LONG time ago.

Red's setting himself up as Lindsay starts to come back to her feet. And I'm lurking around the ring. Megan's in far-far-away mode, scanning the crowd for a ghost that isn't there. Eventually, Lindsay gets up, and Red takes off into the ropes. I positioned myself so Linds faces my way, and Red comes running right at me. He turns to hits the ropes, he's got a lot of speed for a guy his size!! But that'll come to a halt quickly.

I reach in with my right hand, hooking up his right foot and he's tripped up. Staggering off the ropes, almost falling over...but not quite! *BEEP* I curse as he finds his footing again. Alright, gotta move fast now! Punky hasn't yet realized what's going on, still looking for her Geisha or...whatever.

I leap up to the apron, stepping on the bottom rope with my left foot and as red turns around with an angry look in his eyes, I push up and lean into the ring. My right hand goes out and...

RP: What the hell?! She poked him in the eyes!! She...this is the GOOD GIRL?! Are you *BEEP*ing kidding me?!

LvK: It's just....she...they cheated as well!

RP: Really? That all you can say?! Red was about to take Campbell's head off! And that girl comes in, trips him up, pokes him in the eyes...I'm starting to REALLY like this girl!!

LvK: Don't say that. Just...don't!

The ref turns just in time to see me poke Red's eyes. He comes in, yelling at me to Get back in your corner!! and Stop poking eyes! and stuff like that. All I can do is roll my eyes. Shut up! I growl as Red staggers back, holding his eyes. These eye holes are awesome! Nice, easy targets.

As he staggers, I leap up, planting my feet on the top rope before leaping off towards Red with a Springboard. Pulling my knees up towards my chest and leaning back a bit. Reaching out with both of my arms, grabbing for the back of Red's masked head as I come down. Pressing both of my padded knees into his face as I pull his head down against them with both hands. And I come down....

THUD

The ring trembles from the impact I make on my back. Letting out a little groan...but Red's got the worse of the impact, having his masked face driven straight into my knees. Unfortunately I put my pads on before the match, which took some of the impact off. But I still busted his face pretty good. Not as good as Lindsay's face, though. I get to my feet, the ref comes to 'escort' me out of the ring...and just then I see that my partner's been busted open!!

WHAT THE *BEEP* *BEEEEEP*?! I roar out in anger, looking down at Red, clutching his masked face...no, no blood on his hands. Then checking over at Megan, who turns back towards the ring, looking a little annoyed that my loud yell distracted her from scanning the crowd. And...there it is!! Blood! The once black and purple tape...now partially covered in red.

She glares back at me. Her eyes looking...kinda empty, while mine burn with the intensity of a thousand suns. I'm gonna FUCK that BITCH up!! (No. No censoring here. These are thoughts. No need to censor thoughts! It's a free country after all.)

Pushing against the ref for a second or two, but eventually...I'm letting him force me out of the ring and back to my corner. Punky looks at Red, then actually turns around to face the ring again! Wow! She shows some interest in the match? Oh wait...not for long, as she's got her head turned to the side, scanning the crowd again...geez, that girl! If I was Red, I'd be almost as angry as I am right now.

Slowly taking my eyes off Punky, looking at Lindsay, who's still on her feet! Or...trying to stay on her feet. Her legs are wobbly, she looks REALLY confused. The eyes glassy, blood all over her face and that cute headband. HEY SUNNY!! OVER HERE!” I yell and smack my left hand against the top turnbuckle to get her attention, then grab the tag rope and reaching in with my free hand. Come on, girl! You can do it!!

[Lindsay C]

I'm 'standing' – if you want to call it that. My knees are wobbly, I'm hunched a bit, and my arms just dangle down my sides – in the middle of the ring. And all I see is a flash of black and blue as Lisa flies all over the ring! And I also see Red! Not only talking about the man who just ate Lisa Starr's knees, though. My eyes are crossed after being knocked silly by those two. I'm kinda looking at my own nose, and I see my blood on it.

”Hfffff....” is all I can answer to Lisa urging me on to make the tag. Slowly turning my head over towards her, and then I'm starting to actually walk over there! Sure, I may look like a Zombie straight out of the Walking Dead, but at least I'm moving. I see Lisa stretch her arm out towards me again, but halfway between the middle of the ring and my corner, I feel a rough grip on my shoulder. I'm spun around on the spot, followed by a loud

SMACK

that causes a louder

OHHHHHHHH!

from the crowd as Red got back up on his feet, turned me to face him, and then delivered a harsh, open-handed chop across the top of my chest.

I'm smacked right out of my dizzy state. The stinging pain does a pretty good job at waking me up. My eyes grow wide, arms cross across my chest as I turn and stagger away. Only to feel Red's hands bury into my hair at the back of my head. I'm yanked back into him, his chest smacks against my chest, which delivers a sudden halt to my movement. And then...

RP: Red's setting her up! This is gonna be it! Give it a few more seconds, this match is over!

LvK: He has her arms, this could be big trouble for the Dragon. So many things can go wrong from this position when you're facing the Red Enforcer!

RP: Exactly! You gotta wonder...is he gonna swing her around with the Red Reign or put her out with the Shen Long Slam? I don't even care! Both is gonna be AWESOME to watch!

LvK: There's so much wrong in what you just said. And what's bothering me, and our law team, the most: You need to stop yelling that A-word. We don't need another copyright infringement lawsuit.

I couldn't care less about lawsuits right now! I see Lisa in our corner, gritting her teeth, looking all angry at me being pulled away and set up for one of Red's big moves in the middle of the ring. His arms slid up underneath mine, his hands are locked on the back of my head and I'm trapped in a painful Full Nelson right in the middle of the ring. Arms dangling up helplessly, my face a bloody mess, my once neon-yellow headband soaked up a lot of it and is now shimmering dark red. Feeling the warm liquid roll down my face, and that's kinda...not to my liking!

Red holds me in place for a few seconds. Threatening to take me out once and for all, and also throwing some taunts across the ring at my partner. I'm getting some time to recover, and to let the Adrenaline in my body give me a second wind. Or a third, maybe fourth wind, looking how the match has been going so far.

I take a few deep breaths, and then begin to growl in a mix of effort and anger. My arms start to shake, and Red's attention is turned back to me. ”NO! No you don't, you little *BEEP*!” Well, maybe yes, yes I do! I grit my teeth, my lips parting as I get to the point where my arms and shoulders hurt like hell! But I gotta keep trying....keep trying!! I feel his grip weaken...I know I can escape!

RP: Not again!! These god damn Vitamins!! I'm telling you, she's gotta be on drugs or something! She can't possibly...

LvK: She's going to! She's going to escape! The Dragon is still in this thing!

That's right. I'm still in this thing! And with one loud ROAR I throw my arms down and with that quick movement, Red's grip breaks and he staggers backwards, away from me. I don't know if it was his injured shoulder or my strength that allowed me to break the hold...but I don't really care, either.

”Ahh...owww!” I groan as I turn and look to stay right on Red. ”That. Wasn't. Nice!” I hiss as I quickly follow him. My eyes narrowed at him, for a moment at Punky who leans back with both her hands on the top rope. Seems like she wants some more distance from me as well!

But right now I don't want her. I want Red for grinding his knuckles into my kitty! And because he's the legal man in the match, of course. Before he finds his footing, I reach for the waistband of his trunks with my right hand and the left hand goes to his mask. Gritting my teeth as I start stepping backwards towards our corner.

Turning to run the last few steps, I push down to make him bend over, and once we reach the corner, I throw him forward, out of the ring between the middle and top rope and with a CLANG his injured shoulders slams into the ring post. After that impact, I collapse into the ropes at my left. Breathing hard and looking over at Lisa. I give her a little smile and nod, then weakly raise my right hand for her to smack it.

SMACK

TAG!

[RedEnforcer]

Yeah, shoulder is pretty dead now. I can't believe Lindsay got to me like that. She's way tougher than she looks. I ease off the ring post and turn around to lean against the corner, trying to get my bearings and...

WHAMMMMMM

LvK: Just outstanding running dropkick by Lisa Starr smashes the Enforcer back into the corner!

RP: She's cheating!

LvK: Cheating!?! She was legally tagged in and is the legal person!

RP: She's winning! She has to be cheating!

I'm rocked, dazed and hurting.  Lisa followed up the dropkick which slammed me into the corner with a running high knee to the face.  I am just lying back slouched against the corner as Lisa mounts and starts driving fists into my forehead.

"1....2....3...4....5....6....7......8.....9........10!"

LvK: The crowd joining in as Lisa delivers...

RP: Illegal closed fists!

LvK: ....shots in the corner and now she spins around and has the Enforcer's head and comes out of the corner and drives him into the mat with a devastating bulldog!

RP: And now she's playing up to the idiots in the crowd that buy into that Sucker Punch wannabe's spiel.  She's about as punk as Good Charlotte.


I feel fingers digging into my mask as I start to groan and push up from the mat. I don't think Lisa can get me
up and I am not about to help her. I reach up and grab for her hands, but that just irritates her for some reason and she ends up discouraging me with some rapid fire kicks to my side, my chest and then one to my face that leaves me woozy.  I look up and see her bouncing back off the ropes and coming at me. I think I get one arm up and then...

WHAMMMMMM

LvK: Another impactful dropkick to the Enforcer's face has him rocking on his knees!

RP: Starr is just a blur of motion, she's not stopping!

LvK: She backs up and...SHINING WIZARD!  She rolls the Enforcer over...hooks the leg...and...

RP: That's a 2! Just 2!

LvK: Starr looks up at the ref incredulously. But somehow the Enforcer got one shoulder up.

I don't know how, probably reflex and muscle memory, but I wrenched my shoulder up. And now it's hurting. I look up and see the arena lights, wondering where my partner is in the midst of all this. But before I can take that thought further, I feel tiny hands grabbing my arms and moving me somewhere.  Then I see a leg coming down on me. And then another cover.

LvK: Another 2 count!

RP: More like 2 7/8ths!  C'mon Big Guy! Get up!

As Lisa is talking to the ref again, I roll towards the ropes. Unfortunately I rolled away from my corner and towards enemy territory. I look up and see Lindsay looking down at me. She's mad I can tell. But she's also holding back. Good for her.  I'm kinda sad to know that one day she's going to be as cynical as the rest of us. I reach up on the ropes and start pulling myself up when Lisa comes back to me and helps me up, pushing me back against the ropes and launching me to the other side.

LvK: Irish whip and Starr misses the clothesline! Enforcer back off the opposite side and Starr launches into the air for a cross body...

RP: And she's caught! She's caught! What strength by the Enforcer!

LvK:  Lisa's trying to fight out of his grip and the Enforcer spins her and drives her into the mat with a Sidewalk Slam!

RP: And Lisa's folded up like an accordion! I have to say that is her best side.

LvK: Will you stop!


Yeah, that hurt, but I needed to do it. Finally I'm free of the Pixie and I crawl on over towards my side of the ring. Look at me, being the Ricky Morton. I head to my corner, aching like a motherfucker and reach out with my good arm for the tag.

[Rowan Chance]

As Red inches toward Punky, both arms reaching out, a voice calls out over the speakers.

"Maaaay-gaaan..."

A voice from the past... but a different voice. Changed like iron changed by the forge.

Punky spins around on the apron, her eyes focusing on the crowd.

LvK: We've heard that voice before!
RP: What's she doing here? This isn't her match!

"I'm here... Maaaay-gaaan..."

Words skim by Punky's lips. Her eyes narrow and darken. Almost black.

"And I want you to... hurt me."

Those last words sound like a petition to a dark goddess.

"Hurt me. Like only you can."

And those words sound like a lover's whisper.

LvK: Red is almost to the corner! He's reaching out!
RP: Turn around, Punky! Turn around!

But Punky doesn't turn. She jumps to the floor, her boots hitting the mats hard. She reaches under the ring...

LvK: She's looking for something...
RP: I think we both know what that is, van Keel!
LvK: Looks like... YES! It's the RED QUEEN!

Punky comes back up from the apron with a croquet mallet in her hands.


LvK: The Red Queen! We haven't seen that since...
RP: Since she took out Ursula van Winkle with it.
LvK: Punky ended van Winkle's career with that mallet. And this is the first time in years we've seen it.
RP: And I bet she has plans to use it on You-Know-Who!
LvK: You can't even say her name can you?
RP: Of course I can! I... just don't want to...

With that croquet mallet in hand, Punky jumps the barrier between the outside of the ring and the audience, her punky tails flying out behind her.

And back in the ring, Red reaches his corner... but nobody is there.

[The Second City Wrestlerette]

I'm down on the canvas, laying half on my side and motionless after being caught and taken down with that hard Sidewalk Slam. Okay...that hurt! That was stupid! Note to self: NEVER try to Crossbody someone who's about twice your size! It can't end well! And now I'm laying here, waiting for the tag and for Punky to pummel me again...and I'm not sure how much more of that I can take.

So I wait...

and wait...

and wait...

and, wait, WHAT?!

I groan and raise my head as I hear that voice. Looking left and right. The arena is silent except for that voice and the announcers. I roll over to my stomach, seeing Punky hopping off the apron and heading into the crowd with her Red Queen. While the Red King stands in the corner, looking shocked as his partner abandons him.

Alright. Now or never! I push up to my feet, and without hesitating for even a moment, I charge in...

RP: Oh, hey LOOK OUT!!

LvK: Oh my! Starr takes advantage of the distraction and runs right THROUGH the Enforcer!!

...and throw my right arm around. Blindsiding Red with a stiff elbow right to the back of his neck and head. The crowd, ref, Red and Lindsay are torn out of their little daydream – more like a nightmare – as Red is driven hard into the turnbuckles. I stay right on him like white on rice. Backing up a little and just pounding him with quick kicks to the back, ribs, before throwing wild fists and elbows into his devastated shoulder.

I'm getting lost in the moment of violence, barely even hearing the ref's count over Red's moans and screams of pain, but eventually, before DQing me, he bullies his way between myself and my victim and pushes us apart. I grit my teeth as I stagger back a few feet. My eyes filled with rage as I glare at the ref. “Alright, I'm off of him! Now GET THE *BEEP* OUT OF MY WAY!“

LvK: Starr is, let's say, on fire! She wants to finish this right here and now!

RP: She better be a bit more careful, though. If she keeps going like this, Countdown's gonna win this while she's beating the holy hell out of the Enforcer.

The ref...doesn't get out of my face? What's his problem?! I'm bringing some action to this place! I was beating Red to a pulp! WHY would he want me to stop?! I dunno, but I know what the crowd wants. Well...let's say...I know what I want! As Red slowly turns around, holding his shoulder, I force my way past the ref, slam my right fist into Red's shoulder to make him howl and bend over.

Then I take his arm at the wrist and step over it. Tightly straddling his shoulder, arm between my legs, and with one quick spin, I drop down on my back. Flipping Red along with me and we both end up down on the canvas. He's on his back, I'm sitting right beside. My legs across his chest, his arm between my thighs, and with a loud ROAR I drop back. Pulling at his wrist, pinning the back of his hand against my upper chest. I bridge up on my shoulders a bit, pressing my crotch against the back of his shoulder while pinning his body down with my legs, trapping him in a Cross Armbreaker.

LvK: Starr's going for the finish here!! She's got that hold locked in tight on Red's devastated shoulder!! She forced many submissions with this hold back in Steel Chicago! This could be it!

RP: I don't know, Larry. He's very close to the ropes! And also, Starr's such a little girl? She couldn't make him tap!

He may have a lot of size on me, but in this kinda hold, size does NOT matter at all! The crowd's on their feet as Red screams in pain. He bucks underneath my legs, and – unfortunately – Perle's right. We ARE very close to the ropes! And it doesn't take Red long to place one of his boots on the bottom rope, forcing a break...which he doesn't get, though.

Yet again I'm in my own world. A world in which the screams of pain from the opponent is a very lovely tune! Now the ref again, he's not agreeing. And my lovely partner doesn't agree either.

Starr! Release the hold! Come on! He's in the ropes!

”Lisa?”

ONE

”Lisa!”

TWO

”LISA!”

THREE

”LISA!! LET HIM GO!! STOP STOP STOP!” Pounding her fist against the top turnbuckle with every word

FOUR! LET GO!

Yelling out loud ”LISA *BEEP*ING STARR!!! YOU WON'T LOSE THIS MATCH FOR US!!”

”FINE!”

I roar out as the ref, Linds and some of the fans convince me that being disqualified isn't the best way to end this and I let go of the hold just before the ref's count reaches five. I roll over to my hands and knees, pound the canvas with my right hand and then get up to my feet. Adjusting my shorts, then brushing my hair out of my face. Glaring at the ref through narrowed eyes, then looking at my partner, giving a little nod towards her. ”Fine!”

I take a few steps back towards my corner as Linds reaches in for the tag, but once I'm halfway through the ring, I stop and turn back to Red. Grabbing for his mask to pull him up to his feet. Standing behind him and dragging him back to the middle of the ring. Reaching across the front of his neck with my right arm, my left hand goes down, grabbing his trunks. Getting him in an inverted Facelock in the middle of the ring.

LvK: Wait a moment. Is she setting up the Chicago Street Cutter? She...can't do that to the Enforcer, right?

RP: Why not? She already did everything she could to hurt him. And for a change this is something you'd actually find IN the rulebook! Not in Breaking Rules 101! Which, by the way, is available on shop.ftw.com and perlewrestling.edu for only 9.99!

LvK. How comes you're not complaining? What's wrong, Perle? Are you ill?

RP: Not at all! I just earned some respect for that chick! She's breaking the rules like a pro!

I take a deep breath as I bend my knees, and then, with a loud roar of effort, I straighten up and pull with my arms. I actually get the Enforcer's feet up off the canvas before twisting around to my right, dropping flat on my back and taking him down with me. Slamming his masked face first into the canvas, my shoulder and tensed bicep driven against his throat as I drop down with a version of my CSC.

Red's down, flat on his belly as I sit up. Dusting off my hands as the crowd's on their feet after hitting him with my finisher. Looking at Lindsay, who's...hopping up and down on the canvas like a 5 year old who just met Justin Bieber.

I push myself up to my feet, and to her surprise, don't go for the cover, but instead stride over to our corner. She stops hopping and looks at me as I hold my hand out for a tag. ”Ehm...”. She looks confused. She's so cute when she's confused! But finally she brings her hand out and smacks mine. Punky's still out of sight, so we might as well...

TAG!

”Time to finish him off!”

”But...you already did?!”

Smirking as I reach down and push my knee pad down off my right knee. ”Nope, I didn't.”

[Lindsay C]

I'm a little confused when Lisa doesn't pin Red, but instead walks towards the corner for a tag. And the look on my face makes that quite obvious. If you can see past the blood, that is. The tag is made and I slowly climb into the ring, still not sure why my partner didn't just finish the match. But the confusion is pretty much all gone when she slides the pad off her knee.

“Hm, well, okay!“

Red's pretty much finished after the CSC – he hasn't moved since – and I'm usually not one to rub it in. But against the Countdown it might be a good idea to send a little message. And also, they busted me open!! AND he had his hands between my legs without permission!! Both being things I don't really like, and he's gonna pay for it.

I step up towards him as Lisa climbs out of the ring and gets ready to climb to the top rope. I quickly scan the crowd, looking for Megan, and I find a spot out there where the fans don't look at the ring, but at her...and back away in fear of being hit with that hammer-thingie. It's gonna take her a while to come back from there, but still there's no time to waste.

I step behind Red and pull him up to his feet, having him bent over in front of me, taking his left arm and putting it down between his legs before grabbing for the wrist from behind with my right hand. Then I bring my left arm up underneath his right one, cradling his neck and shoulder with that arm to get him in position.

LvK: The Dragon sets Red up for a Pumphandle Slam! And...look, Perle! Starr's going for the top rope!

RP: And Punky's nowhere to be seen! This...isn't good! I'm starting to worry here. The Enforcer's not looking too good and...where the *BEEP* is his partner?

LvK: Apparently she's hunting that ghost. If your translation earlier was correct, she told the little ghost to watch this. Well, it looks like the ghost IS watching! She should not have summoned her.

I have Red in Pumphandle position, Lisa's on the top rope. The ref looking left and right before wisely stepping backwards out of the way. Taking a deep breath, looking up at Lisa. And with a little nod, I grunt out in effort as I try to lift the heavier Enforcer up off his feet. Grimacing, my entire body tensed as I get him up and horizontally across my body. I can't hold him up there for very long, and I won't have to.

Lisa jumped off the top turnbuckle almost at the exact moment I lifted Red up. She comes flying through the air, her bared knee out towards Red as she comes down. And when she does, I drop down to my left knee. And within split seconds, Red's back comes down across my right thigh and knee while Lisa drives her knee down against his head.

The crowd groans, then roars in approval as we hit Red with a combination Pumphandle Backbreaker/Top Rope Kneedrop. Lisa rolls through after the impact and ends up on one knee, her hair hanging over her face and her gloved, right hand pressed against the canvas as the Enforcer crumples off my knee and to the canvas in a motionless heap.

LvK: This could be it!

RP: No! No way, no way! Where's Punky?!

She's still nowhere to be seen. I drop down to my knees and roll Red to his back. Laying my body across his, wrapping my arms around his legs and rolling to my back across his upper chest. Hooking both legs as I go for the pin, hearing the ref and the crowd count in unison.

ONE

TWO

…

THREE!!

The ref calls for the bell, the crowd cheers, and I release Red's legs and sit up next to him. My lower back still against his side. Looking down at my hands, seeing the blood on them as I must have checked if I'm still bleeding maybe once or twice too often. My face a mix of blood, sweat and hair. After a few seconds I brush the hair out of my face and wipe my bloody hands over my shorts before getting up to my feet.

The referee is actually nice enough to help me up to my feet, giving him a little smile as he takes my wrist. To his other side stands Lisa, a satisfied, kinda dirty grin across her face as she looks at out downed opponent. The crowd cheers again as the ref raises our arms. I let him hold them up for a few seconds before LEAPING at my partner. Giving her tight hug in the middle of the ring, while letting out a loud ”YAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYY!!” which makes her wince.

We did it! We beat them!! It's over!! It's...uh oh...

My eyes grow as I see the crowd divides like the Red Sea. And a very angry looking purple haired woman comes racing through them. My hug breaks and I just stare at her like I've seen a ghost. Lisa sees the look on my face and quickly turns. But with a bit of a different look on her face. While I'm backing up, Lisa stands her ground, even taking a step towards the middle of the ring, growling and snarling at Punky to ”Oh you want some more? COME ON IN AND GET IT!”

Lisa has never been one to back away from a fight. I'd love to give Megan a smack or two myself after she busted me open. But the match is over, the fighting is done for tonight, and the most important thing: she's got that Red Queen in her grasp. And I don't want to be hit by that. NOT. AT. ALL!

She keeps coming closer to the ring, and I tug on Lisa's arm

Come on, let's get outta here.

No reaction.

Lisa!

No reaction. And Punky's now hopping over the guard rail back to ringside.

Lisaaaaaaaaaaaa!!

Nothing!!

She's got a weapon!

I see that.

She doesn't even look at me!! Instead she stares down at Megan who's heading left and right outside the ring, that...THING in her hands. Looking like a caged Tigress.

I REALLY want to go now!! I got a headache, and she'd only make it worse!

Tugging harder on Lisa's arm, and with a pouty sounding ”Fine!” she steps back with me and we both roll out of the ring at the opposite side of which the Purple Vixen slides in. I'm heading up the ramp, facing it, while dragging Lisa along with me who can't keep her eyes of Megan. But finally, eventually, we disappear behind the curtains.

And now I need a towel, at least one band-aid...and a beer!

[ThePurpleVixen]

thatgoddamnghostcxntthatcockthirstyfuckdollgonnafuckingbrainthatlittlepsychobitchIsweartoeverydarkgodlisteninggonnasplatterherheadlikearavenegg ...

Ah, the funny thoughts that run through your head when you're pelting up a steel ramp with your boots clanging like the march of grim death and a lead-loaded croquet mallet in your hands.

I run the crowd, quick as the dead, slamming past the grasping hands and gaping faces of the audience, seconds ahead of the Sportatorium security staff in their crisp Carolina blue polos surging up the stairs behind me to stop the drunken crowd from getting handsy and to stop me from crushing some ticket-holder's skull for getting in my fucking way.

No coherent thought.

Just her.

Just hammering Aika flat as a god-damn Far Side cartoon.

I hit the clear space I'd seen in the stands.  The dark spot, where anything could lurk.  The spot in the corner of the stage-side cheap seats where the lights don't hit, where no one was sitting but whatever was in the shadows, and I rage into the darkness, ready to fucking crush ...

... nothing.  Because of course there's nothing there.

Of COURSE there's FUCKING NOTHING there.

That psycho BITCH.  That mind-gaming little CHIMPFUCKER.

I'd been so god-damn worked up the whole match, waiting for something, staring at this one dark spot over and over, that all she'd had to do was get on the mic, SOMEWHERE in the fucking building, and I'd taken off like a greyhound after the fucking mechanical rabbit.

She wasn't up here in the stands.  She wasn't on the stage.

She was just somewhere with her fucking mask on.

A sound like a car crash back in the ring drew an echoing "OOOOOOOH!" from the crowd, and I slowly turned around, staring over the heads of the cautiously advancing Sportatorium goons, their hands held up in cautious conciliation like zookeepers at feeding time who've realized the meat ran out.

My friend Reddy just got crunched.

The guy who trusted me to get out of my own fucking head and help him.  The guy who ignored the shit Calli Quinn heaped on me and believed in me. 

"Son of a BITCH," I snarl, unbleeped because I'm way the fuck up here where the cameras can't record me.  Just as fast as I raced up here to do fucking nothing, I'm racing back.

I can't stop the three count.

But like Iron Man Downey Jr. said, if I can't save the world, I can damn sure avenge it.

I blast past the security staff in their polo shirts and slacks, slam a few drunks back into their seats with the ferocity of my passing, and shoulder-check a popcorn girl over the second row in a fountain of buttered kernels before I vault the railing.

The blondes are in there, glowing with their victory.  Lanky Lindsay, bloodied but still bright as a daisy, is wisely trying to fall back, but lil' Lisa Starr is holding her ground. I stalk across the mats, my fury so intense that my teeth are grinding with a sound in my head like a drill bit twisting into concrete.  Red crackling energy pulses at the edge of my vision, summer lightning flaring in crimson.

If Lisa Starr wants to stand in for Rowan ...

If she wants to take her place, here and now ...

"... then I will GLADLY crush your *BEEP*ING THICK CUBBY SKULL, LITTLE GIRL." I seethe, sliding into the ring under the bottom rope with the Red Queen so tight in my taped fist that my knuckles flare white as a desert bleached skeleton.

But then that boiling blood and seething adrenaline starts to ebb down the drain as Linds pulls Lisa out through the ropes on the other side.  Starr's probably still casting her angriest and most dramatic looks at me, but I don't even see her anymore once she's out of my ring.

I do see Reddy, though.

I see the big good ol' boy who let me work out in his gym when I was down South, the man who made shrimp and grits for all us indy workers staying in the terrible little hostel in Bremen we were stuck in during the Euro Catch Wrestling Festival.

I go to help him up, and he staggers to his feet and shoves me back hard enough to send me into the ropes.

The audience gasps.

RP: Oh *BEEP*, that's a bad idea.

LvK: We ... could be in for some trouble, fans.  The Red Enforcer clearly and RIGHTFULLY angry with Punky for what just transpired, but in the best of times that young woman is extremely unstable ... and these are not the best of times.

RP: And she has a big *BEEP*ing hammer.  We gotta get someone down here.

Time slows for a second as my blood races in my ears, pounding like the high tide, and I hang back against the steel cables.

It's been a LONG time since I let someone put a shove on me like that without coming back at them hard enough to break their teeth loose.

My grip tightens on the Red Queen hard enough that the tape on my fists creaks.

... but just for an instant, and then guilt hangs my head down like a lead weight.

I move closer again, and Red shoves me back, but not as far.  I move in one more time, and he doesn't resist as I take his arm and loop it around my shoulders to help him out of the ring, although tension vibrates him like a violin string.

"Sorry, Reddy," I murmur, low and secret as a confession.  "I'll fix it.  I'll fucking fix this so it never happens again."

He doesn't answer.

But he lets me help him all the way to the back, with the Enforcer on one arm and the Red Queen in my fist.

[ThePurpleVixen]

RP: ... and they're gone!  We made it through a whole match with that psycho Punky AND that vindictive little wannabe Starr and the table didn't get smashed!

LvK: Don't count your carpenters before they've billed you, Rick.  There's still a lot of action to come here on FTW: Second Coming!

RP: World-class shilling, van Keel.  Do you sell razors, too?

LvK: You KNOW that I offer my endorsement to St. Olaf's Razors for Ice Fishermen - because you never know when a snow bunny will come out on the pond!  But speaking of razors, tonight we'll see one of the sharpest and deadliest minds in wrestling -

RP: Beautiful segue, Morgan Freeman.

LvK: - trying to seize the inaugural FTW World Championship from the contender ... the beautiful, determined, enigmatic Emily Layne!

RP: Roll tape!  An' cut those Southern yahoos out!

Footage Courtesy of Celebrity Deathmatch Entertainment Concepts, Inc.

Footage starts with the view of the New York City sports center arena from outside.

Christian Recanati: amiche ed amici, appassionati di wrestling, benvenuti dall arena di New York City dal vostro Christian Recanati.

Guido Pieda: e da Guido Pieda!

then switch inside the arena showing hundreds of cheering fans waving at the camera!

CR: Allora Guido, sei pronto? Come ti senti?

GP: prontissimo! Quando iniziano a menarsi?

CR: Stiamo per assistere ad un gran match, uno dei primi della nostra Emily Layne nel continente americano!

Image switches to Emily,in her locker room securing the belt around her waist,wearing shorts of jeans and a black top, hair free to loose over her shoulders.

CR: Ed eccola sui, sempre in formissima la nostra Emily! Vi ricordiamo la sua carriera, due volte campionessa italiana, campionessa europea, dei fantastici feud contro rivali del calibro di Queen Maya e Saraya Knight!

GP: stai parlando arabo, parliamo di cose interessanti, è mai stata con un calciatore?

CR: Hahaha! Ma noooo! Non è mica una velina!

Sadie is in her locker room too, wearing a black bikini, hair in a pony tails.

GP: e questa chi è?

CR: Ed ecco la sua avversaria! Si chiama Sadie Davis! Una ragazza che ha saputo costruirsi un nome ultimamente nel circuito del wrestling!

GP: non mi sembra abbia il fisico per lottare!

CR: Non ti far illudere dal fisico Guido! Questa ci sa fare!

GP: in che senso?


Sadie looks up to the monitor of her room,the screen shows a man appearing in the aisle.
Its the commissioner of the shows who is ready to make a special announcement.

GP: E lui chi è? L arbitro?

CR: Non proprio, lui è Ben Whip, il boss dello show che stiamo per vedere.
Sembra che abbia da dirci qualcosa.

He says: " I decided the ring is far too small to contain the bitter hatred these two ladies have for each other. So, Sadie and Emily tonight you will participating in a no holds barred, falls count anywhere match. Nothing is off limits!" The crowd ercupts with excitement "And since you fans wants to see it, the match starts...NOW!"

CR: Oh Oh! Questa è proprio una bella sorpresa Guido!

GP: non ho capito nulla, che vuol dire fol count eniuer?

CR: È una stipulazione particolare di match, praticamente l'incontro potrà finire in qualsiasi parte del arena!

GP: Anche in bagno!

CR: anche in bagno! Aspetta aspetta, guarda guarda, sembra che Sadie non sia molto felice!

Sadie is shocked. she moves out of the locker room and walks towards Emily room.

CR: sembra che Sadie stia cercando Emily negli spogliatoi

GP: ma si può??? Cosa sta succedendo??? Aaaahhhh!!!!

Emily slams one of her boot against Sadie nape,makin her stumble into a Refreshement Stand.

GP: Ma questa è una rissa bella e buona!

CR: Si Guido, questo è il significato di NHB Falls Count Everyhere! Si può fare di tutto dappertutto!!!

Sadie grabs a metal napkins dispenser and lifts it up above her head but Emily spear her into the counter of the stand.

CR: Attenzione, Sadie ha in mano un dispenser di fazzolettini ma no! Emily reagisce con una perfetta spear!!!

GP: Non usare parole difficili Christian! Mi è già difficile seguire il match!

CR: Mica solo per te!!!

Sadie steals a crutch to a old lady watching the match

GP: Ma che fa??? é illegale!!! Qualcuno chiami i carabinieri!!!

CR: Ma non ci sono i carabinieri a New York!

GP: Da quello che so io, i carabinieri ci sono sempre!

Sadie attempts to hit Emily with the crutch but italian lifts the metal dispenser, the crutch hits the dispenser with a loud clang

GP: Ahiaaaa!!! Che botta!!!

CR: Un impatto pazzesco Guido!

Emily and Sadie rolls across the floor,throwing punches.

GP: ma sei sicuro che sia un match di wrestling???

Sadie stomps Emily, then straddle her back and use a shirt to choke Emily over the counter of a Souvenir Merchandise Stand but Emily drives her elbow back and gets free.

CR: Ottimo controattacco di Emily che riesce a liberarsi della pericolosa presa di sadie!!!

Emily whips side into the Souvenir stand, Sadie s body ends inside the stand.

CR: Irish whip!!!

Emily and Sadie faces each other, the counter of the stand between them as Emily grabs Sadie s hair and stun her forehead into the fake championship belt which is laying on the counter.


GP: AAAAAAHHHH CHE MALE!!!

CR: un impatto incredibile! deve essersi rotta il naso!!!

Sadie whips Emily toward the men restroom of the arena

GP: LO AVEVO DETTO!!! SONO UN GENIO!!!

Sadie slams Emily face into one of the urinary stalls, then Emily does the same to Sadie while a scared man appears from one of the door and runs away in terror.

GP: AHAHAAHAHHAHA Ma chi è quello?Huh

Emily slams her shoulder into Sadie belly, gripping on her rear and bullying Sadie body into the head to toe mirror behind her, both end down on their butts.

CR: Emily sbatte Sadie contro l'enorme specchio del bagno!!!

GP: non dirmi che cade, ti prego fa che non cada!!!

The head to toe mirror suddenly falls down, vertically before crushing down shattering in hundreds pieces of broken glass.
Emily eyes are wide opened, Sadie is crouching down, her hands covering her ears.
The bathroom becomes a chamber of horror!

CR: OH MIO DIO! OH MIO DIO!!!

GP: Ecco appunto! qualcuno ora le fermera giusto???

CR: credo di no Guido, nessuna regola, nessuna pietà!

GP: ma sono almeno sette anni di sfiga!!!

Sadie grabs Emily by the hair and throw her down but while she falls, Emily hooks Sadie ankle and both crushes down over the dangerous floor!!

GP: GUARDAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!

Emily wriggles in pain with Sadie over her, camera panes to Emily back which has a piece of glass pointing on her rib.

GP: sento dolore anche io!!! Qualcuno le tolga quel pezzo di specchio!!!

CR: Probabilmente è l'incontro più brutale mai trasmesso dai nostri teleschermi!!!

Sadie is about to pin Emily when Emily grabs a piece of glass and hits Sadie belly with it.

CR: OOOHHHH HAI VISTO GUIDO?Huh?

GP: Pensavo che certe cose non si facessero più dal medioevo!

Sadie staggers back outside the restroom, Emily follows her and hits a roundhouse kick on Sadie face.

CR: Splendido calcio volante di Emily che colpisce il viso sanguinante di Sadie! Nonostante la stanchezza Emily è ancora in ballo e può vincere il match!

GP: io sarei già in obitorio!

Sadie charges into Emily's body only to get back body dropped into the steep of stairs behind Emily.

CR: E guarda questo! Perfecct back body drop della campionessa italiana che fa cadere Sadie giù dalle scale con un capitombolo pazzesco!

GP: l'avevo detto io, sette anni di sfiga!

Emily stomps Sadie before unwrap her belt and starts to whip Sadie s back with it.

CR: Emily non da nessun segno di cedimento e usa la propria cintura come frusta per colpire la schiena e il sedere di Sadie che non sembra abbia la forza di muoversi!

GP: ehm, mi sa che dovrei seguire più spesso questo tipo di eventi! Altro che motomondiale!

Camera panes to Sadie whimpering face, she is in tears as she nods to the ref.

CR: SI ARRENDE! SADIE SI ARRENDE! è FINITA, EMILY VINCE QUESTO MATCH SENZA LIMITI!!!

The ref motions his arms signaling the end of the match.
Emily uses the belt to choke Sadie while the ref is still motioning his hands and the crowd is going nuts.

GP: Ma non era finita?

CR: si ma sembra che Emily abbia un conto in sospeso con Sadie!

Emily is celebrated by the fans while Sadie body lays down.

CR: Grazie a tutti amici telespettatori e alla prossima!

GP: Buonanotte e buone botte!

CR: e questa da dove è ti è uscita?

GP: ero un appassionato di Celebrity Death Match!

RP:I'm SO GLAD we found a way to get more Sadie into this show.

LvK: Yes, she's a colorful and unique performer.

RP: We should get her to come out and do guest commentary. Or maybe we could just drop things off the table and she could bend over to pick them up.

LvK: Classy, Perle. So the determination and guts of Emily Layne are beyond question ... but what of the leader of the Countdown, the mysterious and dangerous Callista Quinn?

RP: Good question, Larry, I dunno how we're gonna answer it in the time we have.  Oh, wait, I've got an idea: ROLL TAPE!

Footage courtesy of the Quinn Collection

April 19, 2011
18:45 JST
Nagoya, Japan

I sat on the hard plastic bench, lacing up my boots, wearing a big comfy black hooded sweatshirt over my ring gear. As always before a match, I had headphones on to drown everything out, to centre my focus. Today, my mental soundtrack was accompanied by Beethoven's Fifth, specifically the iconic first movement, allegro con brio.

I'd already done the rounds of introducing myself, repeating the few phrases of greeting in Japanese that I'd memorised, (reverting to English for introductions to my fellow foreigners.) It would do for now, but I really did need to learn the language better.

I'd been touring with JWP, who'd had a show in relatively nearby Shizuoka last night. Tonight was a break before the weekend shows in and around Tokyo, but Oz Academy happened to need a fill-in. I was that fill-in. It was...appropriate, I thought, given who I was wrestling.

I'd first met “La Santa”, Gabriela Dos Santos, in the first year in my career at a show in London. She was one of the giants of women's wrestling. Not literally, of course. She stood a mere 5'2, and weighed just a smidgen over eight stone. But she was a big name wherever she went. America. Japan. Germany. Mexico. Anywhere you had women's professional wrestling, you knew La Santa.

She was scheduled to wrestle Kay O'Connor, then our champion, but Kay was rather fond of drink, and following her previous night's libations, had had an unfortunate run-in with some constables that ended with her in the dock. I was asked to fill in.

I didn't expect to win, of course, but I was able to get some sequences of control...or so I thought. I won't go too deep into it, but I came away feeling like I wasn't that far away from greatness. What an idiot I was. A couple years later, I'd end up wrestling the famed Spanish wrestler again in Calgary, and I'm ashamed to say it, but I was perhaps less respectful of my veteran opponent than I should have been.

In retrospect, it was obvious what had happened in London: She'd gone easy on me to give the punters a better show then stretching me from pillar to post would have been. Two years later, I thought I was much better than I'd been two years ago, (which was true,) so I'd surely be more than a match for her, (which was not.)

La Santa was perfectly willing to ease up to ensure the paying customers got a good show, but that didn't mean she was going to listen to shite from the jumped-up girl I still was. I got more lessons that night than I had in months of time in Manchester, and by no means did my fellow northerners go easy on new girls. It ended with me in the middle of the ring, pounding at the canvas with my hand as I screamed out my submission.

I don't know which match embarrasses me more, but they both rank pretty highly on my list.

We had a third match four years later in Chicago. Beforehand, I introduced myself to her MOST respectfully. I don't know if she remembered me or not, but she made no allusions to it, and responded in kind. The match WAS close that night, and I was no rookie anymore. If she had tried to take it easy, I'd have known.

So, once again, I was filling in. The match was something of a first, as Mayumi Ozaki famously didn't like to pay the extra cost for foreigners to wrestle for her. She'd made an exception for La Santa, (everyone did,) and since I was only being brought from 150 miles down the road, my trans expenses weren't a budget-buster either.

Ozaki, via an impromptu translator, explained that La Santa was being prepared for a championship match against the newly-crowned Oz Academy Openweight Champion, Aja Kong, in ten days. (I later learned that it was Ozaki herself who Kong beat, which explained a lot. I got the message. I was a tune-up match. I smiled respectfully and nodded when I needed to.

Later, after shaking Gabriela's hand once again, she said, “Good to see you again. I've been hearing good things about you in JWP.”

“Sounds like the Japanese all right,” I said jokingly, “You only ever hear good things about people they loathe. Not like they're letting ME anywhere near their title, unlike some.”

“The old barriers are coming down,” Gabriela said. “They have to. You'll see.”

I nodded and went off by myself. I hadn't the tenure or the political clout in JWP. I as much as knew that if any foreigner were to get a shot, it would be that idiotic American who still carried around the title belt of a promotion that went defunct over six years ago.

Wrestling in Japan hadn't been without it's upsides, and it WAS lucrative, but I had to admit it wasn't all I'd hoped it would be. Maybe it was better a decade or two ago. Maybe it would be again. But the bitter pill I had to swallow wasn't going away.

Bah. Thoughts for another night. I had a “tune-up” to prepare for.

*two hours later*

'It was her own fault.' That thought resonated through my mind as I pushed her forward, dropping down onto my arse, dropping her back-first onto the mat once more. 'Her own bloody fault.' I thought as she slumped down. I rolled her onto her side, pushing her legs away, and I sat there, looking at her lying there in a heap. I reached for her leg.

It was just going to be another match. I'd show up, wrestle, try to win, and win or lose, I'd get paid. One night among thousands. Nothing special. Nothing unique. I grabbed hold of her left ankle, pulling it upwards, wrapping the knee around the back of my head, holding onto her boot with my left hand, and her thigh with my right. I heard the announcers call out 'STURETCHU MUFFLAH'

'Oh sure', I thought sarcastically. 'THAT “L” you can manage, but the ones in my name...' One more gripe among many. In Japan, I'd wrestled as “Princess Quinn” because they claimed to find “Callista” too hard to pronounce. It sounded like “Princess Queen”, to me, which was just ridiculous.

Before the match, I'd heard that called, and actually been surprised at the amount of streamers tossed into the ring. Maybe Gabriela genuinely HAD been hearing positive feedback about me. Still, as was generally the case when my mood improved, someone else ruined it by opening their bloody mouth.

As we met in the middle of the ring, the ref gave us instructions first in “English”, then Spanish, then more loudly in Japanese. If his Spanish was as poor as his English, then La Santa could be forgiven for talking to me during them. “Let's give them a good show,” she said.

A moment after she said that, a smile crossed my face, one that didn't make it to my eyes, “Just a tune-up match,” I answered, turning and heading back to my corner. I'd never cared for masks, and I'd never wanted to wear one during a match, but I wanted one right now because I'd barely managed to turn around before the rage erupted on my face.

Good show. Good show. Good bloody show. Like I was still that fucking rookie she toyed with? I thought I'd earned a little respect in Chicago. Apparently not. I looked up and saw that I was gripping the top rope in my corner with both hands. Fans on that side of the ring were pointing at me. I forced my facial expression to smooth out, and tried to find a semblance of calm.

I didn't exactly achieve that calm, but I got to where I needed to be: that head-space where a plan comes into being. La Santa was most famous for her high-flying, but really, what I'd learned in our matches was that it was her technical prowess that was really impressive. Trying to ground her might take her aerial attacks out of play, but she was just as effective on the ground.

I played it cagey. If she tried to wrestle close-in, I'd match with her, and if she started to get the advantage, I'd use my greater power (and her lesser size) to force a break. If she tried to pick up the pace, I'd take a powder, getting out of the way, or out of the ring altogether. It was arguably the opposite of a “good show”, and the crowd, normally not so easily incensed as your Western crowds, was letting me know they didn't much appreciate my tactics.

I stopped to jaw with a few of them, and as I'd hoped, the crowd noise rose. When I saw the ones in the front row look up, I dove to the side, rolling on my shoulder as La Santa crashed into the barricade where I'd been just a split-second ago. Lifting my smaller opponent up off of the ground, I said, “Time for that 'good show' I promised,” before hurling her face-first into the ringpost.

In matches where I'd totally outclassed my opponent, I really did tend to just wrap it up quickly. Whether it was to avoid even memory of that match in London I couldn't say, but I never saw any advantage to myself or to the other person for me to drag it out any.

This match, though, was different. First, systematically hurting every part of her. Slams and bars. Suplexes and stretches. I didn't let up. I didn't relax. If she wasn't in a painful hold, she was being prepared for something equally painful. A piledriver. A brainbuster. An inverted atomic drop because fuck her.

I never went for a pinfall. When I had her in a crossface, and her resistance was next to nil, I loosened up a bit and said, “I think I'd accept a submission at this point.”

“Go to hell,” she spat out. “Pin me and choke on it.”

It was a good idea, so I spent the next few minutes putting her into and out of chokes. If she ever felt close to passing out, I'd let go of the hold. If the ref lifted an arm and she didn't respond the first time, I'd push my way in between them, pushing or kicking Gabriela out of the ring, earning the ire of the ref and the fans alike.

Speaking of spectators, I noticed Ozaki herself standing in the entryway, looking daggers in my direction. I smiled and went on about my business. At one point, I lifted my opponent up in a bear hug, (one not held all that tightly,) and marched about the ring, displaying her like a trophy. Still, Gabriela groaned in the hold. Leaning forward, she murmured. “Do as you wish. I will never give you a submission.”

“I know you won't, love,” I answer, smiling. “I've moved on to the next best thing.” I pushed her forward, dropping her down onto her back, then pulled her leg up over my shoulders. I wrenched the stretch muffler for every bit of effort I could, bouncing on the mat and bending at the knees as I did. At first Gabriela tried to keep her mouth shut, but she couldn't for long. I'd targeted this leg earlier. Now I was wrenching that knee painfully. She screamed out, but as the ref dropped to his knees to check on her, she shook her head no.

Good. Much as I'd like a submission back, I thought this would be even better. Eventually, body gave before mind did. I felt something give, and La Santa's screams echoed throughout the arena, before they were silenced by unconsciousness. I dropped her onto the ring, the crowd actually enraged to the point where two young men threw coins at me.

Just two, of course. Most Japanese fans would never think of doing that. But still, it was an achievement nonetheless. The ref was looking to Ozaki, but I spared him the need by immediately walking out of the ring and back up the aisle. He gathered his wits, and began to count. Ozaki looked on the verge of attacking me herself as I passed her and said, “Good tune-up.”

The record will show that in four matches against “La Santa” Gabriela Dos Santos, I was never once victorious. The record is incomplete. I may not have won a match. But did I beat her? You be the judge.

Ozaki ended up putting Ran Yu-Yu in the match against Aja, (astonishingly, she actually won,) and while it wasn't Gabriela's last match, it was her last match for over six months, at which point she competed in a few trios matches in CMLL before hanging up her boots for good.

I put Beethoven's NINTH symphony on repeat for the entire drive back to Tokyo.

LvK: And that woman is now our commissioner.

RP: Jimmy Two-Tons?  Yeah, it's Perley.  I'm changin' my bet. Two large AGAINST Quinn.  'cuz I just saw that *BEEP* she pulled on the commish!  I KNOW IT WAS BROADCAST EARLIER.  I WASN'T WATCHIN' THEN.  JUST DO IT.

LvK: And let's see what our cameras captured between Callista Quinn and the incendiary Megan Dow -

Earlier Today

I arrive at the arena, pulling my bag behind me as I do. It's a light day, today. Some promo work for the upcoming PPV, then probably hit the gym for a couple hours. But I've brought my gear with me. It's the second thing they beat into you as a rookie, (right after "This hurts. A lot,") always have your gear ready. Never know what opportunities you might miss if you don't have it with you. I'm clad in black leather boots, blue jeans and the ubiquitous black Countdown hoodie, (on sale at countdownmerch.com, shop.ftw.com, and any third-party vendors we could intimidate into carrying them,) and a pair of black sunglasses. I've got a bulky set of headphones over my ears. Nothing's playing out of them, I just like the excuse to ignore people. mtc
callistaxqI open the door and step into the backstage area, taking my sunglasses off and tucking them in the hoodie's pocket, careful to put them on top of rather than underneath the heavy mag-lite already in there. I take a quick look around at who's here.

I showed up at the arena so early that the staff was rightfully nervous and hesitant to let me in.  Fortunately, I had my FTW staff lanyard and at least one of the night janitors leaving recognized me ("Oh, she's that crazy chick.  The one with the purple hair, not the other one.").  That gave me time to find out how to get into the rafters and clamber around up there, muttering to myself and scattering handfuls of adhesive-backed thumbtacks along the rafters in the dark.  Let's see that daffy bitch get up here and do her little Crow act now.  Then I roamed the back halls for a while, getting familiar with the place - I think I was here on a tour with Backfist Wrestling once, but that was years ago - and  then finally I run out of ways to pace around muttering so I just take up a spot in the little workout area.

Since I'm the first one there I have to set the heavy bag up myself, snarling as I hang it on the hook in the backstage area.  Wearing a ribbed cotton Joker tank (the Miller one where he's got a Batarang in his eye and he's broken his own neck, laughing HA HA HA HA HA HA) and a pair of cargo shorts, my morning flannel tied loosely around my waist, I give my fists a once-over with athletic tape and unload on the bag, thudding into it over and over, the rhythm of my fists letting me lose myself.  I don't even hear the door open, but I feel the sunlight fall across me.  I look over my shoulder, narrow my eyes, and then turn back to the bag, sweat running down me as I unload an even angrier combination than before, snarling to myself as I finish with a heavy hook that sets the bag to reeling.

Glancing over at my teammate pounding away at the heavy back, I purse my lips, frowning. I saw that look. Well fine. I pull the hoodie up and over my head, revealing the white cotton tank-top underneath, setting it down on my bag, and moving to take a position on an unoccupied bit of mats (which just so happens to be kinda near the heavy bag, somewhere you can't possibly miss me,) facing away from you. Not wanting to work up a sweat before my promo, I slip into a t'ai chi ch'uan routine, moving gracefully through forms, maintaining careful balance as I slip from position to position.

I watch you approach through a mist of sweat - I have a promo scheduled too, sometime, but I've never given a fuck if I look like a dripping maniac.  It just helps me sell more of the Fiery Volatile Psychopathci Brutalist shirts.  I deliver a few more combinations, low and then high, and then I start to throw in Muay Thai as you go through the elaborate forms of the taiji.  I snarl louder, throwing my elbows into the bag, clasping it and driving my knees up into it.  You've got your back to me, and I'm supposed to rush up and make the first move,but I'm not Sadie.  I am, however, as noisy as a gorilla testing Samsonite luggage.  "RNNRAH!" I roar, jumping to grab the hook with both hands as I SLAM both knees up into the bag.

I lift my hands, slowly, turning slightly at the waist before sliding my left foot forward, my weight still balanced on my right foot, but shifting forward as I bend the elbows and turn to the right, then lift my left hand to eye level, palm downward, sweeping my right arm in an arc. "RNNRAH!" I hear behind me. My lips curl upward slightly, but I continue through the form, turning, my eyes sweeping past you as I pull my hands in towards my midsection, bending gently at the knees.

I slither down off the bag, landing on my battered Vans.  I shake my fists out, the knuckles tingling and a little sprung from the harsh working-over, and I slide back a couple of steps.  My eyes slide over you, going through your forms and being all smugly serene.  My lip curls in a sneer as I turn sideways and lash out with a superkick, bantaming forwards and thrusting my right leg out as I arch my body into a wide V, hammering my foot right into the bag's goofy cross-eyed smiley face drawn on with Sharpie.  *SMACK!*  I bounce off, taking a few breaths, and put my hands on my hips, looking over at you for a few long quiet moments.  "You oughtta open your chakras more," I add, deadpan.

"And your midichlorian count is low," I deadpan back, "You should eat more fibre," not missing a beat with the form, before finishing it up in a simple cat-stance. I practice t'ai chi ch'uan because it has been medically proven to aid in balance, and enhance psychological health, (though for you, that might be a bug rather than a feature.) That does not mean I've suddenly become a Taoist, or devotee of hokey religions of any origin. I stand up straight and look your way. "Doing alright, Meggers?"

I snort because you can make me laugh even when I'm blackly furious.  That's always annoyed me.  "If I eat any more fiber, Red threatened to get a biohazard shutdown order for the Countdown's bathroom," I manage to half-grin before I turn back towards the bag, staring at the stupid goofy face on it for a few long moments before I punch him again between the eyes, making the steel hook clank, and turn back to face you.  "Why was I the only one after Rowan?" I finally spit like something nasty that's been stuck behind my teeth for a few days.  "SHE cost me that match.  And she's still running around, free as fucking air, ready to Looney Toons her way into my business again.  OUR business."  I step forward, my taped fist socking my open palm, *smek*.  "We ALL shoulda been after her."

I give a shake of my head at what literally is toilet humour. I usually have to work my way down to the gutters of my mind. You seem to inhabit that area naturally. "Because the rest of us were focused on the task at hand," I say, jaw setting a bit as I metaphorically bite my tongue on a particular follow-up to that. Expressing too much frustration with you will be counter-productive. "Rowan is a distraction. The next step is the title. When you," I start, again biting off words, revising them on the fly, "When your match went poorly, the job was to soften up Emily for Sunday." There. That was neutrally said. "Asking why we were all headed for the ring is like an American tourist in London complaining about everyone driving on the wrong side of the road."

'Heh, that's a good one. Got to write that....wait, S*BEEP*, I said that aloud'

My eyes don't miss much on that lovely ice-carved face of yours after all these years.  The little smug glitter in your eyes when you're thinking you're better than everyone in the room.  The way you lift your chin when you're inwardly toasting your own bon mot.  The way your jaw sets when you're trying to sound diplomatic in order to manipulate someone.  I turn and lace a punch into the bag.  "Emily is SOFTENED.  She's fucking TENDERIZED.  If I'd hit her with anything else she'd have been listed as fucking Kobe beef.  ROWAN is the god-damn problem."  I swing another hook into the bag, a low and nasty shot that'd hit just under the floating rib.  "You told us, Gemma n' me, that we were doing this for a fucking REASON," I hiss, and drive another jab into the bag.

"And that we were a fucking TEAM.  I don't remember being told that we were doing this so we could play Arn and Tully for you to fucking win gold in a league with no tag belts." I snarl, and snatch the back of the bag with my left hand, yanking it into a right forearm smash that'd hit right around the throat.  "ROWAN disrespected us.  You have Emily in the ring, tonight, with nowhere to fucking go, surrounded by us and still fucked up from what I did to her back and neck.  ROWAN should be who we went after. If we'd gone after HER, Red wouldn't have gotten his fucking shoulder cranked off." The idiot. " This is supposed to be about US," I growl the word and piston my knee into the bag, leaving it swinging as I turn back to you. "ISN'T it?"

In a soft, low voice, one you probably know means that I'm furious, I answer, "'Us'?" Narrowing my eyes, I step forward, gently laying my right hand on your left shoulder. "I may be arrogant, egotistical, manipulative," I say, giving that shoulder a gentle squeeze, "all the elements that go into a properly megalomaniacal villain," I step forward, tilting my face down a bit as I gently press my chest up against yours so our eyes stay locked...and then I reach behind and seize hold of a handful of purple hair, yanking your head backwards and saying, "But I can fucking count."

I let go of your hair, stepping back to create a bit of separation, raising my voice and saying, "The rest of US were headed to the ring! YOU were the one who felt disrespected by Rowan! Just like YOU were the one who picked Rowan as the target for US to make our debut on. Do you recall that, Megan? I said 'You know these girls better than me. Pick someone good enough that it'll send a message, but not so good she'll be a problem.' Well? That message seems to have gotten a bit garbled. As for 'respect'..." I snort, shaking my head. "We get disrespected every time we walk out there. It's what we bloody signed up for. You want 'respect'? Start following the rules and telling the marks what lovely people they are."

"But if you're in this for US, don't you dare disrespect your teammates by charging off quixotically after your personal windmill and have the gall to bitch at me for not hitching the rest of the team to you. I will quite simply not have it!"

When you touch me I tense up, but not too much.  But then you grab a handful of my sweat-matted violet hair, loose and wild down my shoulders, and as you yank my head back my lips skin back from my teeth in a snarl.  My fists clench at my sides, my forearms standing out like steel cables.  When you let go of me, my head snaps forward, purple hair hanging in my face and hiding the burning fury of my eyes.  The point about Rowan stings, visibly.  I picked Rowan Chance for personal reasons, to try to exorcise myself of a personal demon, but picking her was just as bad a choice as picking me would have been.  Like me, Rowan is relentless, fearless, and merciless.  Like me, Rowan is fucking crazy.  I take that lash as something I've earned - but the rest makes me go stock still.

My fists are lax at my sides and my back almost slumped until you snap at me.  You won't have it.   You simply won't have it.  My heavens, Horatio, it shan't be had. I bolt forward, quick as a hungry ghost, my hands coming up to cradle your cheeks roughly and my thumbs pressing in brutally hard just below your eyes as I yank your face to mine.  I wonder how well you remember SPARK, and how I almost put Gemma's eyes out with my thumbs.  "WE were supposed to be changing WRESTLING.  WE were supposed to be a MOB, and that means if someone fucks with you YOU FUCK WITH THEM RIGHT BACK AND TWICE AS HARD!" I snarl, my voice cracking in my fury.  "WE ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE YOUR PERSONAL GOD DAMN GOON SQUAD, QUINN, NO MATTER HOW FUCKING BAD YOU WANT GOLD!"  I shove back roughly from you before you can decide I'm enough of a threat to come at me, and I back away until I bump into the heavy bag - and I whip around, smashing my fist into it and setting it swinging.  I wrap my arms around the bag, clasping it, and almost hang on it, finally looking as tired as I am as all that rage drains from my head to my shoes.  "I guess it doesn't fucking matter," I finally say after a long quiet. "Tonight we will get you your fucking belt and I will take care of fucking Rowan Chance." I sigh, pushing my forehead into the bag.  I'm open to you hitting me, but frankly at this point, I'd fucking welcome a little mindless violence.

"And that'll be fucking that."

My bio in FTW's 'Talent' section reads 'grew up fighting on the mean streets of Salford, England.' It sounds much better than 'raised by two university professors, moved to a decent city when she was two.' When I start to get angry, I forget to pepper my speech with slang and start slipping into Received Pronunciation. When you push forward, I flinch back, but when you catch me, my eyes go wide as you press your thumbs up against my orbital bones. My right hand slips into the pocket of my jeans, slender fingers slipping through the brass knuckles. My teeth clench and my muscles grow taut. Calm. Must be calm. Maintain order. Maintain tact. Maintain diplo-"OF COURSE IT FUCKING MATTERS YOU PURPLE-HEADED GIT!" And then when I really lose my shit, the slang works its way back in.

"HOW THE BLOODY HELL DO WE CHANGE WRESTLING FROM THE FUCKING MIDCARD? DO THE HORSEMAN CHANGE WRESTLING IF ARN'S PROTECTING RIC'S WESTERN STATES HERITAGE BELT YOU DIMWITTED COW? DOES THE NWO CHANGE WRESTLING IF HOLLYWOOD HOGAN IS SPRAYPAINTING THE TELEVISION TITLE? YOU CHANGE WRESTLING FROM THE TOP! IF YOU HADN'T BEEN SO GODDAMNED OBSESSED WITH YOUR EX, I WOULDN'T HAVE TO FUCKING WORRY ABOUT THAT TOP, CUZ IT'D BE THE TWO OF US RIGHT FUCKING THERE!" I say, chest heaving up and down as I shout myself a bit hoarse. Lovely, and me with a promo coming up. I clench my fist, considering hitting you, but I force myself to look away, settling for taking a chunk out of the plaster in the cheap gym wall by hurling the brass knuckles into it at high speed.

I take a deep breath, then another, saying in a softer voice, "The thing about obsessive types is, they don't LOSE their fixations." Unfortunately. "We could have dealt with her as a group afterwards. Instead, you're fighting Rowan, and Gemma and Red have to deal with the blondtards, and Red's not at 100%. This is...." I struggle to find a word that truly encapsulates the situation... "NON-OPTIMAL."

I turn my head from where it's pillowed cozily against Mr. Heavy Bag and despite everything, I actually have to fight the urge to grin a little.  It's been a long time since you shouted at me properly, and even longer since you let loose with a "git".  You whip your brass knuckles into the wall and I DO grin a little, then, as I calculate exactly how close I just came to getting my jaw broken.  Of course ... that wouldn't necessarily have STOPPED me, and then FTW would've been REALLY short for tonight's show after someone hosed all the blood out from back here.  You take deep calming breaths - and so do I, pranayana breathing and letting my eyes close.  I look like I'm slow dancing with Mr. Heavy Bag, swaying gently at the end of his short chain and hook with my arms wrapped around him.

Like most of the people I dance with, he's probably just happy I'm not hitting him.  "Yeah.  It ain't great," I say finally, encapsulating not just the situation we're in tonight but ... a lot of things.  "Maybe we oughtta ... " I start, and then stop, shaking my head as I snap my teeth together.  I wave my taped fist, shaking that idea off.  "Fuck it.  We'll deal with it an' ... shit'll work out the way it works out."  I grin and set myself in a familiar stance by the bag, letting it go and moving back - bouncing on the balls of my feet with my left foot forward, my left arm up and bent sharply up at the elbow, fist curled into a light claw with my right fist chambered at my hip, I do my famous terrible Bruce Lee impression.  "Not tense - but READY.  Not thinking - but DREAMING." 

What really makes me grin is how much you hate it when I do my Bruce Lee impression.

It's one of the many reasons I don't train against my teammates. When emotions get involved, good or bad, control becomes more difficult. Gemma and I have lost more money due to injuries we've inflicted on each other than from getting rolled while falling down drunk in Wales. I don't even want to THINK what would happen if you and I "sparred". Then you do your fucking Bruce Lee impression and I groan audibly. "You'll pardon me if I don't accept 'dreaming that shit'll work out' as a suitable plan," I say sourly. "Ehhh. As you say, fuck it." I walk over towards where I flung the metal knuckles, retrieving 'Plan B' from the drywall. "Gotta go cut my promo," I say, heading back to my bag and saying, "Best of luck tonight."

"See, now you're on the trolley," I grin, and lash out with a series of tiger claws to the bag, heavy leather smacks ringing out, driving it back until I finally step aside, letting it swing wildly with the chain clanking desperately.  "When in doubt, fuck it."  I shake my hands out and bow my head to you as you get your bag.  "Yeah, you too, Calli-san.  Anata no gādo o iji."  Bet you haven't heard that one since we last toured Osaka.  I watch you disappear, stalking off, and I take a long few breaths. At least now I know you're as pissed off as I am, even if it's for all the wrong reasons.  I look back over my shoulder at the bag, still swinging on its chain - and then I lash back at it with another superkick.

*SMACK-CLORNK!*

There's the wrench of metal as I superkick the hook out of the wall and drop the bag with a thud to the floor.  Sighing, I move to the wall and pick up the Red Queen from where she was tucked in a corner. I swing the lead-loaded croquet mallet over my shoulder, dig my vaporizer out of my pocket and click the button, the LED glowing a soft red. Inhaling a long puff of clove vapor, I let it drift out of my nose like an angry dragon. I glance around before I stalk off down the halls.
 
They're not gonna furiously pace themselves, after all.

The instant I leave the room, all expression disappears from my face. I'll keep my guard up, all right. I've got to. As you Americans like to say, I face threats both foreign and domestic. And unsuitable plans are quite simply something I don't do. Time to get a bit of "help" from the unlikeliest source of all....

RP: Yeah, Jimmy Two-Tons?  Put it back on Quinn.  YES, I JUST WATCHED THE SECOND PART OF THE VIDEO.  SHADDUP.

LvK: Fans, the action will be intense and brutal tonight, as these two women vie for the premiere title of the unique FTW organization.  But speaking of brutality, now we're about to see things take a turn ... for the dark.

RP: Oh, screw this.  I'm gonna head to the back.  You can call this match Joey Styles-style, van Keel.

LvK: Man up, Rick.  We'll be seeing an all-out war between the dangerous and disquieting Aika and the always explosive Gemma Rox!  But first, I'm told we have some further comments from Callista Quinn.

RP: Oh god, I hope she didn't hear me betting against her ...

[Callista]

On the large screen in front of the fans, and on the screens of everyone watching at home, (or in the portions of windows not advertising dodgy Russian Viagra knock-offs on the screens of assorted illegal streamers,) darkness appears. After a few moments, a bright light flashes on, then pulls back.

It's Callista Quinn's ubiquitous Mag-Lite, now held at chest level to illuminate the woman's face from below. A microphone rises up into the shot, and she begins to speak. “Emily Layne...”

*Ten minutes ago*

I love being in the main event, but I hate waiting for the final match to arrive. Everyone has their own pre-match rituals, be it talking with your mates, a particular warm-up routine, (I think Megan channels Orwell and does a Two Minutes Hate on Rowan Chance,) but the point is there's this time that has to pass.

When it's just me, I'd do some stretches followed by some t'ai chi movements, then I'd watch matches of my opponent, try to get a feel for them, delving past their strengths and weaknesses to get down to the nitty gritty of how they move, how they think, and how they wrestle. But with TV, and with all that comes with leading Countdown, I've got all this time to kill, but not enough to pass it the way I want to. It's an annoying conundrum.

I'm sitting in a corner of the locker room, the hood of my sweatshirt pulled up over my head. Back  leaned up against the wall, I sit there, watching a match on my phone, (the TV I kicked into oblivion not having been replaced yet, naturally,) but instead of watching Layne, I'm watching my two Countdown cohorts proceed to piss away the tag match against Lisa and Lindsay. Barring the odd DQ, it's the second loss Countdown has suffered in FTW. As with the first, this comes when Megan allows herself to be distracted.

I'd like to be dispassionate about the result, (after all, it's not like it affects ME,) but I shake my head nonetheless. That is a situation that will need to be addressed. It will need to be addressed later, though, because tonight is about more important things.

I make my way to the shooting area, nodding to the production crew before approaching the interviewer. “Two minutes!” the producer says as the interviewer adjusts his tie as he coughs, trying to clear his throat.

I hold my hand out, saying, “Give it here. I'm flying solo for this.” The man has the audacity to pull a face at me, (a pout, no less!) before grudgingly handing the microphone over to me and slinking off.

“One minute!” the producer calls.

I hold the microphone in my left hand, reaching into my hoodie's front pocket with my right and pulling the trusty Mag-Lite out. I look to the producer. “Five seconds before we go live, kill all the lights,” I say.

The producer frowns, “Without lights, they won't be able to see you.”

Inwardly, I sigh. “Yes, thank you, Kevin. You may trust that I understand the rather rudimentary physics involved. Now, as we're a bit pressed for time, explanations will have to be truncated, so I'll be blunt: I'm me, and I'm holding this,” I say, giving the torch a shake, “do you really think that this is a suitable point in time for you to argue with me?”

Kevin sees reason and tells his people, “Fifteen seconds! Lights out in ten!” The lights go out, everyone gets quiet, and I hear the voices of the announcers.

“But first, I'm told we have some further comments from Callista Quinn.”

“Oh god, I hope she didn't hear me betting against her...”

There's a momentary dip in the crowd noise. They were prepared to boo, but all they see is a blank screen. That stage set, I press the stud downward, the light shining directly at the camera's lens, before I lower my arm, pointing the light up at my face while I look downward, the hood of my sweatshirt hiding my eyes. There are the boos now, interspersed with cheers from the sort of fans who cheer for heels. I lift the microphone to my lips and I begin to speak.

“Emily Layne,” I begin, my voice low and somber. “This is the one and only time you'll hear your name from my lips. Because as desperately as you wish it were otherwise...none of this is about you. You are an obstacle on my path. Nothing more.”

“It is my path that is important. It is the journey that matters. It is my destination...which will bring salvation.” I lift my chin, raising my eyes and looking into the camera, letting the brightness of the torch's white light and the dim background create a harsh contrast. “I walk a dark path in order to bring forth light.”

“And when the light comes, you will all know true joy. When the new dawn that I have brought forth spreads across the world of professional wrestling...then shall we be saved!” My voice rises and so do my eyes, my head tilting back so I can gaze upwards into the heavens which only I can see, a beatific smile upon my face. My voice barely above a whisper, I say, “You cannot know how greatly I desire that day...”

I look back into the camera, eyes and expression grimly blank. “But that day is not today. Today that light will not be seen. Today is a day for darkness. Darkness so deep you could swear it had substance...darkness that could swallow you whole, and leave nothing behind.”

“Today....that darkness....claims the FTW championship.”

I press the button on the torch and the light flicks off.

[Rowan Chance]

After Callista's promo, the camera goes back to the announce desk. There are three men sitting there, not two.

LvK: That was ominous.

RP: Yeah. Like foreshadowing for what's about to happen.

LvK: Did you say "foreshadowing?"

RP: Hey, if Iron Maiden can be literate, so can I!

van Keel shakes his head and looks at the camera.

Ladies and gentlemen, what we are about to witness…

RP: Put the kids to bed. That’s all I’m sayin’.

LvK: He ain’t lying, folks. From everything we’ve seen and everything we’ve heard, the… thing? creature?… that Rowan Chance has become is not for the faint of heart.

RP: I like it, van Keel! I like it! She’s brutal. She’s vicious. She will do anything to win.

LvK: Well, maybe you can ask her out on a  date one of these nights.

RP: You think I haven’t?

LvK: I think you’d need to change your adult diapers if you got even close to her.

RP: That’s pretty low, even for you van Keel!

LvK: Ladies and gentlemen, this is the first appearance of “Aika” here in FTW and joining us here at ringside at our announce table is Lord Tantalus, Rowan’s… Rowan’s… well, I’m not exactly sure what to call you, sir.

Lord Tantalus: You can call me Lord Tantalus.

RP: Show some respect for the man, van Keel!

LvK: (to RP) Where did you learn that word?

RP: What word?

LvK: “Respect.”

RP: From your mom.

LvK: (sigh) Tantalus… I’m sorry, I can’t call you “Lord.”

LT: That’s fine, Mr. van Keel. I understand.

LvK: You have been the… tutor? Mentor?… of Rowan’s for…

LT: Forgive me, but I must correct you, Mr. van Keel. You will not be seeing Rowan Chance in the ring tonight. The woman who will be… wrestling… is someone completely different. Just as the Great Mutoh is not Kokushi-Muso or the White Ninja, so is Rowan not Aika nor is Aika Rowan.

RP: This is something I completely understand, Lord Tantalus. I’ve seen this Aika in action and everything about her is different. Her move set. Her attitude. Everything!

LvK: Well, we’re going to see exactly what all that means…


Suddenly, a clock appears on the screen, counting down to midnight.

RP: And it looks like it’s that time!

3…

2…

1…

And the raging chorus of Texas Hippie Coalition’s, “Turn it Up” hits and the crowd explodes into boos.

COME ON, COME ON, COME ON, TURN IT UP!
COME ON, COME ON, COME ON, TURN IT UP!
COME ON, COME ON, COME ON, TURN IT UP!
COME ON, LET’S TURN IT UP LOUDER!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=szjQ0VOWl2E&list=PLeeCFXX03smdp3WhDRxXF_x1rmZkEieAR

Gemma appears at the top of the stage. She looks amazing. Heavy black new rock boots, custom made for strong style kicks, adorned with studs and silver buckles. Torn fishnets lead up to a tiny red and black tartan mini skirt that lays on top of a red spandex bikini bottom. Looped around the waist is her black studded leather belt. Her midriff is on show, pale and toned. Her 34 D’s jiggle while held in place by a red string bikini top with a glittering skull and crossbones over each breast. She has a red choker around her neck and her fists are taped tight.

She looks out at the audience with eyes painted in thick black eyeliner matching her black lipstick and nails. Blood red curls fall over those dark eyes as she smiles sarcastically at the boos.

“Go on and boo!” she shouts. “You know you all want me!”

Gemma prances down to the ring, ignoring the boos and wiggling and bouncing, showing it all off. One pretty boy in the front row catches her attention. She pauses by him, gives him a look up and down… she gets a little closer… a little closer… then she raises two fingers in his face and laughs.

“Dream on, baby!” she shouts, giving him the two-finger salute.

Gemma climbs up into the ring, climbing up the corner ropes and raises her arms up high.


LT: Pride goeth before the fall.

RP: What’s that?

LvK: Icarus symbolism.

RP: Oh, yeah. Everybody knows that.

The lights go out. Complete blackness. A gentle, almost mystical orchestral keyboard part echoes in the distant corners of the hall.  Then, a high, angelic voice sings.

"Sparkling angel... I believed... you were my savior... in my time of need..."

White and golden spotlights swirl around the audience. The music slowly builds.

"I see the angels... I'll lead them to your door... there's no escape now... no mercy no more... No remorse 'cause... I still remember..."

"I still remember... THE SMILE WHEN YOU TORE ME APART."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VK9qfVQ4Z04

The stage explodes in light and fire and a figure clad all in white silk and feathers, hooded in a silver halo. Wide wings on her back. She stands looking down at the stage, her hands crossed in front of her. The crowd is silent, unsure of who this is. They’ve never seen her before.

A name appears on the screen above her:

AIKA

[/i]


Then, she slowly raises her head and her hands... spread apart. Suddenly, she grabs the robe/cloak and tears it away, revealing an all black spandex suit, tinted with blood red. A mask on her face, black with red webbing. She spits what Gordon would call "a suspicious red fluid" from her lips. She looks down at the stage... looking at you. The song's bridge builds again.

"I still remember..."

And the lights go out again.

Then, they come back on, and she's in the ring, in the opposite corner. Smiling at Gemma, her lips dripping crimson.

Across the ring, Gemma looks at Aika, her eyes showing no fear. The ref looks at them both… then rings the bell.

And Gemma RUNS across the ring at an unmoving Aika. Gemma slams into her enemy, throwing her into the corner. Aika’s body hits the corner, her arms flailing out at her sides between the second and third ropes. Gemma’s taped fists pound at Aika’s sides and the masked woman raises her arms to block. The ref steps in, trying to pull Gemma out of the corner, but she keeps punching, slamming those fists of hers into Aika’s sides.


RP: I didn’t expect this!

LvK: Looks like Gemma has caught Aika completely off guard! She’s pummeling the masked woman without mercy or remorse!


Finally, the ref pulls Gemma off and Aika slumps into the corner, unmoving. Her head is down and her wet hair falls over her masked face.

“Is that it?” Gemma shouts over the ref’s shoulder at Aika. “That the scary voodoo boogywoman who’s gonna send me to the back screaming?”


LvK: Aika hasn’t moved from the corner. She’s lying there like a broken doll!


Gemma pushes the ref aside and runs to the corner. Her taped fists fly as she slams them into Aika’s head and shoulders. The masked woman raises her arms to protect herself, but her limbs are weak and rubbery. The ref rushes in again, trying to pull Gemma off. He begins counting. When he gets to four, Gemma backs off, her taped hands raised up, palms out.

The ref looks down at Aika, confused. “Do you want to continue?” he asks.

Aika says nothing. But her legs twist and suddenly, she’s back on her feet, her masked face obscured by the long, wet locks of hair.


RP: Did you see that?

LvK: Aika just stood up like… like…

RP: Like a @#$% ghost!

LT: Or a vengeful spirit.

RP: Don’t talk like that!


When Aika stands, both the ref and Gemma take a step back. But she doesn’t move. She doesn’t step forward. Aika stands in the corner, motionless. As if waiting for something…

Gemma smirks. “I ain’t afraid of no ghosts,” she says. Then, she steps forward, her fists up and clenched tight. She swings a feint with her right, then ducks in a jab with her left that clocks Aika square in the jaw. The masked woman stumbles back, falling into the turnbuckle, grasping the top rope for balance.

“You’re no ghost!” Gemma shouts. “You’re just Rowan in a stupid mask!”


LvK: Gemma now throws a series of vicious blows. Lefts, rights and uppercuts. And Aika is barely blocking any of them!

RP: Like she wants to get hit.

Tantalus: She does.

Both men look at Tantalus. Under his mask, he smiles.

[Rowan Chance]

Gemma thinks to herself...

Seriously, what the fuck is this? I came in here to beat down some jumped up voodoo loving dipshit and instead I get a punching bag? I’m working this girl over like a rookie. Like some fucking journeywoman fighter drafted in to fill a slot. I was told Rowan Chance was the shit, Hell, Red speaks of her like she’s fucking royalty.


She laughs.

Just thinking of Red gives me reason to pause my onslaught for a moment and take a quick look around the ring… that fucker promised he’d be here. He PROMISED! God damn it. Fine, I’ll pound this silly tart out alone. GAWD this is frustrating!"

Now don’t get me wrong, I love beating on a jobber as much as the next heel but this? This feels wrong. I’m hitting her like a ten tonne hammer and she’s not screaming. Even Punky would be wreching up and gasping after the body blows I’ve landed in this match! But the way she just got up after that cornerwork pounding I laid on her… That was creepy.


The Ref screams, "Damn it Gemma! Open those fists!”

He roars and I oblige. Gripping her hair instead I drag her out of the corner and HURL her across the ring! The way she runs is even odd, not fluid or natural. Just a little off kilter. Well this next hit might knock the crazy out of her… as she bounces off the far ropes back towards me I sprint off towards her and leap up high! Extending my right leg as I cut a scythe through the sweaty arena air and…



LvK: OH MY GOD! Gemma just laid out Aika with a mid-air spinning heel kick! Aika's crumpled to the mat like Gemma tossed her away like a piece of trash! That connection was brutal! Aika's on the mat and she isn't moving! Surely that’s the end of this match?

RP: Haha! I don’t think your girl wanted to get hit with that Tantalus! She’s lucky her head is still attached! Did you see how her head spun?

LvK: Careful Rick! She might hear you…

RP: I mean… erm… an unfortunate turn of events there, wouldn’t you say so Lord Tantalus?

Tantalus: Fortune has no place in this contest. The outcome has already been decided.

RP: Y… yeah….. Aika clearly has Gemma right where she wants her….

*Rick leans over to Larry*

RP: Where the hell did you get this guy?


I look down at the thing that used to be Rowan Chance and I smirk.

Then, Gemma says, "Hehehe Damn girl... That one just HAD to hurt, Huh Ikea?"

The Ref says, "Aika."

She laughs again. "Whatever."

I circle here, looking to see if she’s out before committing myself and my jaw drops wide open as…


LvK: AIKA JUST GOT UP! SHE JUST…. SHE JUST SPRUNG RIGHT UP!

RP: If I was Gemma Rox the first thing I’d be doing after this match is demanding a banned substance test! No way could Rowan Chance take a hit like that and get right up!

Tantalus: Gemma isn’t facing Rowan Chance.

No… no fucking way… I gasp, my eyes wide as I witness something I don’t quite understand. No girl on the fucking roster could take a hit like that and spring back up. Nobody! I clench my fists, my eyes narrowing and my teeth grinding as this masked freak silently taunts me with her refusal to stay the fuck down. Fine. I was happy to beat her to a pulp but I guess this is going to take something more severe. I crouch down then LAUNCH myself at her!

[Rowan Chance]

Gemma pounces on Aika, slamming her to the ground with a Thez Press, then pounds on Aika, driving the masked woman down to the mat. The ref tries pulling her off, counting up to four before Gemma backs up a step, then goes straight back in.

The ref grabs one of her fists. “If you don’t back up, I’m disqualifying you.”

Gemma laughs, not even paying attention. She looks down at Aika, her words punctuating every punch.

“WHY!” (punch) “WON’T!” (punch) “YOU!” (punch) “FIGHT!” (punch) “BACK?”

Just then, Aika drops her guard and puts her hands on the canvas. She slides fast, sliding between Gemma’s legs, and then, in a heart beat, is standing up behind her.
Gemma turns just in time for Aika to lift her leg with the speed of a bullet and slam it into Gamma’s chin. The impact hits Gemma so hard, she’s lifted from her feet and she lands flat on her back, her head hitting the bottom turnbuckle.

Aika stands still for a moment… wavering… then falls flat on her stomach.



RP: HOLY @#$%! WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?

LvK: An knee from Aika, straight to Gemma’s jaw! At such exploding speed like I’ve never seen before! Like a...

LT: Shining Wizard?

LvK: Yes... exactly like that... But she did it while Gemma was standing...

RP: She could have broken Gemma’s neck with that!

LvK: Neither woman is moving. Gemma looks like she’s had the lights taken right out of her. And it looks like Gemma’s pounding assault has done its damage on Aika.

RP: The ref’s up to five!

LvK: Aika is starting to stir. Gemma seems… no, wait! She’s also lifting herself up!
 


Both women are moving. Gemma, pulling herself up by the corner ropes and Aika in the middle of the ring, staggering to her feet. Gemma is up first, shaking her head. She looks at Aika, still on her knees, and smiles.

Gemma moves forward with the prowl of a predator. She reaches down and grabs Aika by the hair. The masked woman doesn’t look up: she simply thrusts an open hand–fingers first–under Gemma’s jaw. Gemma’s eyes get wide and she releases Aika’s hair, moving both hands to her throat.



RP: That was a BLATANT throat strike, van Keel and don’t even tell me you didn’t see that!

Tantalus: It was a strike to the jaw, slamming the jaw bone upward.

LvK: I don’t know, folks. Whatever it was, the ref is allowing it.

RP: More favoritism from the officiating staff here at FTW!
 


Gemma staggers away while Aika clamors to her feet. She sees Gemma with her hands to her throat and she smiles under her mask. She poises herself… waits for Gemma to turn… and…



LvK: A vicious thrust kick! Straight out of the playbook of the Great Kabuki!

RP: Gemma’s fallen straight on her back and Aika is going right for the pin!

LvK: The ref counts one… two…

RP: And a kick out from Gemma! You see van Keel, it’ll take more than special effects to keep Gemma down!

LvK: Aika’s moving fast, wrapping her legs around Gemma’s head and neck, squeezing down in a powerful head scissors.

RP: I’d pay money to have her put me…

LvK: We know, Rip. We know.



Aika holds Gemma tight in the head scissors, Gemma gasping and trying to roll out, but Aika keeps her from turning. Gemma squeezes one hand between her shoulders and Aika’s powerful legs… and she’s able to twist…

She gets her feet under her… then twists up, putting Aika’s shoulders down against the mat. The ref goes down to count.

“One!”

And Aika lifts a shoulder, stopping the count.

With Aika’s upper body down on the mat and her legs up, locked around Gemma’s neck and one arm, Gemma raises a taped fist and grins, looking down at Aika…



LvK: And she drops that taped fist straight down onto Aika’s mid section!

RP: And that’s enough to break the hold!



Aika grasps her belly, just above the belt as Gemma gets back to her feet. She sees Aika on the mat and she drops into a mounting position, knees on either side of Aika’s shoulders, throwing punches down at the masked woman. Aika tries to put her hands up, but the fists fly fast.

“Open those fists!” the ref shouts. “Open them up!”

Gemma only laughs at him. She looks up. “Look at her! She’s nothing! She’s…”


That’s when Aika reaches up, swinging her legs over Gemma’s shoulders…



LvK: The Widow’s Kiss! The deadly gogoplata! And Aika’s got it locked in tight!

RP: That woman can put that hold on from ANYWHERE.



Gemma’s face shows her surprise. Her eyes go wide, her mouth opens. Aika pulls her face closer, tightening her grip.

Closer…

Closer…

Then, with Gemma’s eyes bulging and her lips turning blue… Aika gently kisses those lips… then WRENCHES down on the hold.