[RedEnforcer]

Remember, there are more was to punish than just using brute force

I hate wrestling agile opponents. They slide, slither, bend and matrix dodge all over the place. The best thing for me to do is inflict pain so they slow down. My right shoulder struck her hard I know it. But even so, there?s a numbness down that arm.

I can?t delay. My ass hurts but I?ve had worse.

I roll to my right just to get my feet under me and up.  Moved closer to her as well. I?m working my jaw that she has clamped with her leg and closing the distance.  The ref, I have no idea where she is. She must be letting us play by ECW rules which is fine by me.

I move in on my prey as she lies curled a bit on her back and side. Doesn?t look like those legs are moving too well so she can?t really get away. But I keep a respectable distance while really moving my jaw.

I bet it looks like she damn near broke it.  But with the ref behind me and out of he line of sight I lean forward.  Looking for all the world to be ready to taunt this little brat.

My lips part into a wicked smile.

And a bright red mist sprays from my mouth and towards the Doll?s eyes and face

When I?m done spewing the caustic mess from my lips I slide out of the ring and each in with my left hand for Kat?s lovely blonde locks.

Time to move this battle to the outside.

Time to lay into her with some pain.

[BustyTiffany35]

"MIST!?" I blurt out, jolting in my chair, leaning over the guardrail with a look of shock and disgust. "Really, Red!? You're gonna spit red MIST at the kid!?!"

[FightinKelly]

"Booooooooooo you cheater asshole Red!" I yell as i hope my friend can withstand the cheating move.

[Rowan Chance]

Glaring at Kelly: "Shut up, loser!"

Back at Red: "GO, BIG GUY! PUT HER DOWN FOR THE COUNT!"

[FightinKelly]

Looks at Rowan "you have something to say hun?" *folds my arms*

[Katherine The Great]

"Never trust a masked man, Kit-Kat."

And that's saying something coming from a man who spent years 'under the hood', as they say. One good thing about wearing a mask, it rarely gives away what you're feeling.

The look on my face now, though, says it all.

That hurt.

Even though you just dropped a luscious 130 (give or take) pounds on your shoulder, the pain that shoots up my spinal cord threatens to give that right shoulder of yours a run for it's money. I let out a scream as I drop off your shoulder and to my right side, landing with a loud *THUD!*. I shake my head and prop up on the elbow, my left hand rubbing my lower back, trying to massage the tendrils of pain away.

I have to start moving or, at least start to roll away. The way I see it, the change of venue would do me a world of good. Before I can't going though, you're in front of me. A ghoulish grin under an even more ghoulish mask as you lips part and then things go.....red.

I howl in pain as the red mist covers my eyes and I reflexively blink hard. My tear ducts start working overtime as I dig the heels of my hands into my eye sockets and try to rub the crimson hue from my eyes. Dropping to my back, my legs bicycle while my boots rhythmically pound the boards, barely jiggling my firm, thick thighs. I flop like a fish out of water, unable to see and the pain starts putting my threshold to the test.

As if things weren't bad enough, a wave of pain explodes in my skull and I'm rolled around to my hands and knees, forced to go where my hair is being tugged towards.

Too bad I can't see where that is, at the moment.

[BaneThePunisher]

*hrm*

[RedEnforcer]

If your opponent won't change her mind, change it for her by rattling it around her skull  

There are few things more lovely than watching a woman on her back in the throes of passion. While not exactly passion, the writhing and undulating my opponent's body is making in her very tight, very sexy outfit come pretty damn close.

I'm almost sorry to have to interrupt, but pain does not wait.  I know it's not waiting for me. This adrenaline rush I'm riding is bound to run out soon and then all the pain I've felt is going to rush back like relatives you didn't know you had when you win the lottery. But this doll has woken up my wrath and I'm gonna show her why she needs to fear me.

Usually pulling someone over like this when blinded is a lot quicker. But to be honest, I'm only pulling with one arm. My right is still kinda trashed for now with pain and the shoulder may be out. I'll have to remember to get that operated on one day.

I'm pulling the sexy doll over to the edge of the ring and she's on her hands and knees. Not only does this give the opposite side a very lovely view of her full, fit bottom as she moves, it keeps her hands from wiping off the mist too quickly and that stuff really affects you the longer it stays in your eyes.  I hated when Kabuki would put on his demonstrations of the different colors of mist and use me as a freakin' practice dummy.  I can hear the hooting and hollering of the rowdy crowd, so they really must be getting a nice view. I bet she's got some kinda wedgie going to get that loud a reaction. She should feel special, Her ass is about to be Twitter famous.

I pull her through the bottom and middle rope and encourage her to lay a little flatter with a forearm between her shoulders. Her belly has to hurt when it meets the bottom rope like that.  I shake out my right arm after that blow because it's like a million pins and needles.  Yeah, the pain I've been trying to ignore is coming back. I gotta keep on this quickly.

My left hand releases her hair and my left arm wraps around her head as I keep up my crazy smile.  Here I am, sweat pouring down my body, lips looking like blood is flowing from the sides, my pale freckled flesh looking a bit flushed, but under my scary mask is a smile that goes from ear to ear and maybe farther as I set up my target for the next step on the path of pain.  I can hear her fans yelling for me to stop, don't do it even as some others cheer for me to pound that Yankee doll senseless. (I know California isn't the North, but Yankee pretty much is anyone not from the South and even some Floridians.) I mentally prepare for this and, like a lightning strike, drop down to my back quickly...Her head in my grip. A Hangman's DDT from the ring to the floor.  That should rattle some sense into her noggin.

JC: HOLY @!#$#@#$

BW: Language Johnny, we're trying to keep it PG.

JC: That was a vintage DDT! I haven't seen anyone use that since..hell that Lady DDT woman over in Japan!

BW: That is definitely not a move out of the Enforcer's playbook.

JC: It's a sign Bob. The California Doll has taken it to the big bastard and now he's gotta whip out all kinds of moves to try and take her out.

BW: But is this desperation Johnny or is he just trying to show off?

JC: I don't know Bob, but for her sake, I hope she can pull it together.

[Rowan Chance]

After the DDT...

"Hey! That's my m--"

Stops. Looks around. Makes sure nobody noticed.

"YAY RED! WAY TO STEAL THAT LADY DDT'S MOVE!!!"

[BustyTiffany35]

"OH MY GAWD NO!!" I scream out loudly as Red snaps back to nail the Hangman's DDT on the Doll, driving her head/face first into the arena floor. I groan and shudder as the impact of the kid's face smacking into the ground echoes throughout the ring side area. "Ugh, c'mon, Red! Are ya tryin' to kill the kid!? That was too damn far!"

Abruptly, I pause in mid-rant, and turn to Rowan arching my brow.

"WAIT, hold up a minute. What did ya just say just now??"

[Katherine The Great]

"What's your prediction for the fight?"

"My prediction?"

"Yes, your prediction."

"Pain!"

Ok, that wasn't any ring advice I ever got from either of my parents, but was from an old movie about a boxer who fights Mr. T. This isn't boxing, but the words couldn't be more true.

Pain. The searing kind. The kind that seems to attack you on a cellular level and make you want to scratch your skin off. Whatever sort of red gunk Freakshow spit in my eyes, it's burning like a California wildfire. My eyes continue to water as I moan and flop on the canvas like i'm having an epileptic fit. I (obviously) can't see and the blood rushing to my head makes hearing anything that much harder. Of course my pain receptors are firing on all cylinders and my scalp feels like someone's using it for a pin cushion. I'm being pulled along by the hair and I compliantly roll up to my hands and knees, forced to abandon my attempts to get this crimson shit out of my eyes as I'm brought to the edge of the ring....I think. I'm sure the gathered crowd, some baying for the blood of the Dahl House Champion, is getting a nice view of my fishnet clad rear as my suit had steadily been sliding up between my toned ass cheeks. I shake my head, grimacing while sweat and red powder fall from my face and I feel the ropes. Edge of the ring confirmed. The pressure from your arm flattens me and you drag my chest and tummy over the bottom rope until only the toes of my boots remain hooked over the strand. My arms waving wildly as I groan..."No...wait.....please...." just before I get that sinking feeling, my arms flailing, and it's lights out.

Well, not quite 'lights out'...that would be too easy, you see. Instead, I'm treated to a lightshow of stars as they dance in my field of vision and my skull feels like it was just used for a pitching backstop. My head throbbing as I slowly roll and try to pull my legs in closer to my body. I still can't see and can still barely hear while I try to roll to my back and, again, dig the heels of my palms against my eyes, trying to get the red dust out of my eyes. I crawl along the dirty floor like a bum trying to score a free cigarette butt. Finally, getting to the guard rail, I grab the cold, steel, bars, and try to get to my knees. I feel a hand grab my chin and I know it's not yours because it just holds it, as if trying to hold my head still. I open my mouth to start to protest a fan touching me when I feel cool liquid start to run over my eyes and down my face. The burning stops and my vision starts to clear, albeit a bit blurrry. I blink rapidly as things go from a red haze to an out of focus arena with a bunch of slack jawed fans gaping at me. I squint and glance around, trying to find my mysterious benefactor (it could have been anyone, who knows?), but no luck. I need to focus on where -you're- at and I start to turn to face the ring, still on my knees, but doing a bit better than I was just a few minutes ago.

Unfortunately, I don't think that feeling is going to last.

[RedEnforcer]

If they won't go the way you want 'em to go, encourage them. With pain.

Moves on the outside are powerful, impactful and bring out the "Oh Shit!" factor in fans.  The only problem is when you drop someone on their head with a DDT on the floor, you end up hitting the floor yourself. As much of a pounding as it hit Kat with, I'm on my back and it just hurts.

My shoulder is screaming at me and I think part of the air got knocked out of me.  I lie there and think, Damn I'm getting too old for this

I'm sure after all the bumps, bruises, broken bones and hearts people wonder why I still do this. I smile and remember being on my back on the cold concrete at age 17 (yes I lied about my age) in Charlotte after a training session.  Building rings before Great American Bash tours all over the US. Being up close and seeing the Midnights and Cornette, the Horsemen, Dusty, all my favorite heroes and villains.

If I weren't doing this, I'd probably be slaving my days away behind a generic desk typing on a generic computer wearing generic work outfit and watching the clock till quitting time.

This, the rush of adrenaline, the pain, the sweat, the blood, all of it reminds me I'm alive. And as I come out of my reverie, I look over and see my opponent recovering from the move and crawling so slowly towards the railing for escape or a time out. She's a good kid. Needs to grow up some in the business and maybe get knocked around a time or two and learn to respect her elders.  She's been taught well, but experience is the best teacher. I haul my aching self up (I am going to need a long stay in the big tub tonight) and make my way over to her.

It looks like she got some water to wash off the mist but that won't help her right now. I put my left hand on the railing to brace myself.  Towering over her as she turns to face me. I'm sure she still can't see me so I snap quickly and launch my right boot into her battered core to make breathing a bit harder. I smile at the feeling of her flesh being mashed under my boot.  Once I get my foot down on the concrete, my hands go for her hair and haul her up to her feet.  I can't believe this tiny young thing has given me so much of a fight in this match. I need to shut that down before she can regroup though. 

My right arm snakes between her legs and I grab at the back of her suit near her bottom. My left hand on her right shoulder to brace as I haul her up in the air.  I really want to press slam her into the fans, but the damage she's done is making just lifting her 130 lbs frame a chore.

I'm not going to get her up all the way. Time to adjust. I get her up to shoulder height and move her right over the railing. The fans are cheering wanting her to make a guest appearance. I just smile and let her go. I've aimed that belly of hers right over the guard railing. That should knock some of the fight out of her. I just hope it's enough. Because damn, my arm is throbbing now.

[Katherine The Great]

"Even if you hate your opponent, Katherine, always give them a modicum of respect."


My eyes are still going like Niagra Falls, working overtime to try to wash whatever Far Eastern, powdery, concoction you spewed into my eyes. The water (thanks again, mysterious fan!) helped, a lot, and turned things from "red blobs" to "sort of in focus blobs"> I shake my head as I turn, only to see a pair of muscled legs right in front of me.

"OOOOFFF!!" I grunt out loudly from pursed lips as your boot drills down into my flat tummy. My cheeks puffing as the hard exhalation of air blows sweaty hair from my face and my ass jerks back towards the very appreciative crowd. My arms wrap around my lower tummy, biceps framing my golden globes while I struggle to catch my breath. My core feels like mush and I can barely do a sit up, at this point. It's all I can do to keep breathing and my gasps and pants punctuate that fact. I just want to sit here and catch my breath. Just for a few minutes. That's not asking too much now, is it?

Apparently, it is.

You hands in my stringy, golden, mane as you "encourage" me to get back up to my boots. I, reluctantly, take your sage advice and get to my feet. Whining and gasping the whole way up. You easily hoist my 130lbs up into slam position, but don't quite get me all the way there. Instead, I just hang suspended in the humid air. Shaking my head and gasping out, "No, no...puh...puhleese..." while my limbs hang limply. As easily as I go up, I go back down. The guardrail almost cutting me in half as you drop my toned tummy across it.

Another loud "AWWWWWFFFFFF!!" blasts from my lips, my mouth works wordlessly  as I close my eyes and shake my head. A look of abject agony etched on my sweaty face, I go limp. My arms and upper body draped over the railing and into the crowd, my spread legs and fishnet clad rear pointing towards the ring. My golden skin gleams from the lights above as a hush falls over the once rowdy crowd. A steady chorus of "booos" now echo in the grimy venue...not that I would know much about that, trying to get my lungs to start working again, and all.

Never think things can't "get worse"....because I'm here to tell ya....they sure as hell can.

[RedEnforcer]

Don't ever humiliate an opponent. Unless they deserve it, then kick them in the balls if you have to.

I lean against the railing. My shoulder is screaming at me for that, but it was worth it. This pain in the ass brat has been trying to out heel me the whole match.  Pulling out all her tricks to try and take me down. I need to make this hurt. 

I stand there gathering myself.  Sweat is just dripping off of me. My mask is plastered tightly to my face, some of the powder mix still on it. My chest and abs have a reddish flush from heat and exertion.  I flex my fists to keep the blood flowing in my arms, especially my right one. My standard tights feel a bit tighter now against me as this match has me very stoked. I need to send this girl a message. One that she won't forget anytime soon.

My eyes shift over to where I hear my old nemesis Johnny Caudle barking like the trained seal he is into the microphone. 

A slow smile plays over my face.

I look down at my opponent, body nearly bifurcated by the railing. Her ass up in the air and her suit nearly wedging tightly between.

My smile gets wider.

Yes this takes precious seconds from me, but it sure as hell is going to be worth it.

I grab her suit just above her hips and pull up. Then with a hard, vicious streak I snap the fabric forward, shoving it hard, splitting your cheeks and giving the front row a lovely sight to see.

But I'm not done.

I pull back with my left hand and slam the palm quickly and sharply onto your left cheek and then the right....Hard enough to get some red on that bronze flesh of yours.  And then I just shove you forward into the front row, to the surprise and delight of the folks in the audience.

Smile still plastered on my face, I wheel around and stalk towards the announcing table...

JC: Oh fuck, that sunuvabitch is coming this way!

BW: Johnny, I've been told by production to go to the back. I'll see you later.

[Rowan Chance]

"I WANT TABLES!"
clap! clap! clap clap clap!

"I WANT TABLES!"
clap! clap! clap clap clap!