FreeCatFights

*The iPPV begins with a series of logos from our sponsors: Squarespace.com, Highspots.com, Hulu Plus, Tweaked Audio, Converse, Nu-Skin, Master Classic Pocket Watches and Pabst Blue Ribbon*

*A series of federation logos appear next, all fading into view to share a single screen: All Phoenix Pro, Coastal Championship Wrestling, Lega Italia Wrestling, Steel Chicago, the Albion Wrestling Alliance and Rose City Wrestling.  All the various logos drift together into a flare of light, and the FTW logo flashes on screen before dissolving straight to a black and white, jittering grainy shot of Callista Quinn in the center of the ring from her infamous Countdown promo*

(https://s4ck.com/forums/proxy.php?request=http%3A%2F%2Fi.imgur.com%2FHsoSwyI.png&hash=6d80d1ec2ccd46c2f358ea54abba8b68b9003b76)

CALLISTA: Because I have come ... and I am not alone.

*A static sizzle cut to another black and white shot of Gemma Rox and "Punky" Megan Dow walking down a hall in grim confrontation.*

GEMMA: ... as much as you hate it, we're going to need her to pull this off.

*Another crash of static, to a dreamy gray shot of Punky and Rowan in a lingering kiss, with Punky's voice in a slight echoing voiceover*

PUNKY: After all ... lips don't lie.

*Smash cut to Emily Layne stalking onto the stage in a fury, still in fuzzy grained black and white*

EMILY: This is wrong! ... that's n-

*The scene and then the screen go black, and when everything comes back, it's in a flurry of technicolor motion with hypercolor anime blurs following the sped-up movement:

- Calli drops Emily with a Maglite shot on the stage
- Rowan takes the Stroke of Midnight powerbomb/backstabber combo
- Emily takes the 911 from Gemma and falls limp
- Rowan takes her own Widow's Kiss from Punky and goes ragdoll on the mat

*There is a series of jumpcuts now, laid over with Callista's cold steely British tones*

CALLISTA: We are the Countdown -

*A shot of Calli, Gemma, Punky and the Red Enforcer standing over a brutalized pair of tag teams from one of their frequent attacks, Punky smirking and dangling a blue sports bra with a Cuban flag on it from the end of a baseball bat like a flag*

CALLISTA: And TIME -

*Rowan guillotines Calli with the Maglite from behind*

CALLISTA: - IS -

*Emily fearlessly spears Punky to the mat*

CALLISTA: - UP.

*Lisa Starr glares defiantly into the camera, balanced on the ropes as the video fades to a shot of the arena, with 2500 roaring fans packed into the Mennen Arena.*

LVK: WELCOME FANS AROUND THE WORLD!  We are live from the historic Mennen Arena in Morris Township, New Jersey, and this is the premiere event for the bold new wrestling company taking America by storm... Fans, this is FTW!  THIS - is FTW: FIRST STRIKE!

RP: Don't adjust your computer box, kids - that doofus is NOT dressed up as the Doctor.  This is your play-by-play announcer, Larry Van Keel, and he really DOES think bow ties are cool.  I'm Rick Perle, your voice of reason for the evening.

LVK: I'm sure you'll be as fair and balanced as ever, Rick!  And we'll need someone to stay on an even keel -

RP: If that was a pun, I quit.

LVK: - because tonight things will be getting stormy as the Countdown faces off against the defiant defenders of FTW!

RP: Seriously, Van Keel. Leave the ha-ha stuff to me.  And whattaya mean, "defenders"?  These bimbos are just out for revenge, plain and simple.  They all got used to send a message, one way or another, and they want payback!

LVK: It is true that the Countdown has run roughshod over this newly-fledged federation, laying out competitors and interrupting matches at will to enforce their brand of wrestling on our fans!

RP: I used to like those three crazy broads more until they interrupted that Bikini Beachside Facesitting Showdown between Sweet Ashley and Daisy!  That was a quality, five-star, epic main event, and those three maniacs came out and hit them with so many piledrivers that both those cute lil' blondes ended up four inches shorter!

LVK: Yes, Rick, we've all suffered under the Countdown's tyranny - whether it be from being put in the hospital by them or menaced not to broadcast certain ideas or deprived of the joy of a simple facesitting match.

RP: Or told your bow tie was really stupid and they'd kick your ass if you wore it on the air.

LVK: MY BOW TIE CANNOT BE CENSORED!

RP: Yeah.  Just in case, I'm gonna move over to the Spanish announce table when they come out.

LVK: *clearing his throat* We have a slate of great FTW action for you tonight, brought to you from independent federations across the world joining together to create unique moments you won't find anywhere else!

RP: Yeah, Full Throttle Wrestling is really kickin' ass.

LVK: That's not what it stands for, Rick.

RP: Whatever.  Fierce Tiger Wrestling represents a whole new generation of wrestlers - ones who not only grew up watching wrestling on TV, but who grew up reading about it online, who know wrestling inside and out, who learned about Kenta Kobashi and El Mesias and Mike Quackenbush coming up, and who got into wrestling to do things THEIR way.

And no one does it their way in Fellatio Tongue Wrestling like the Countdown.

LVK: *sound of spitting coffee*

*Smash cut to a graphic of Callista Quinn in her Countdown shirt and black hoodie on the left and Lisa Starr, defiant in her rocker girl drag on the right*

LVK: *recovering* Well, folks, our opening match is hotly anticipated - the debut of Lisa Starr, who pulled an interruption of her own to drop a "pipe bomb" -

RP: More of a cherry bomb.

LVK: - about the Countdown holding her back!  She boldly challenged anyone from that formidable group, and Callista Quinn herself has taken her up on it!  This should be an absolute clash of styles between the graceful British pro with her merciless arsenal and the flashy Chicago-trained rock star!

And that match starts ... NEXT!

In my dressing room, watching the footage of the start of the show on a TV screen in the back as I get ready for my match. Right now I feel nervous, no doubt about that. My in-ring debut for FTW is just around the corner, and it's gonna be against one of the most dangerous girls here, the leader of Countdown, Callista Quinn! Seeing the graphic with me and Callista, knowing it's just a matter of time until *KNOCK KNOCK* ,,You're on, Starr!"

Taking another deep breath before heading out of the dressing room and across the back, towards the curtains. Hearing the announcer from the other side of that curtain as the crowd quiets down. ,,LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THIS NEXT MATCH IS SET FOR ONE FALL! INTRODUCING FIRST..." the lights dim, white and blue lights flash and roam the arena as ,,Architects" by Chicago's own, Rise Against, blares through the speakers. Two of the lights focus on the curtain, a blue and a white one, and that's when I come charging out. After one quick step I hop up a bit, and stop crouching where I land. Left hand resting on my bare, left thigh. My right hand, covered by a black, fingerless glove, balled to a fist, bumps against the floor once before pounding that fist into the air as I get back up to my feet.

Keeping my arm up as I make my way down towards the ring. My knee high, silverish white and black converse boots thud over the steel ramp. Tied tops of the blue laces bounce a bit with each step. Right above the boots, I got a pair of black knee pads on. On top I'm in a black t-shirt. The right sleeve torn off, also torn right between my chest and belly button, showing off my abs. Across the front of the top, there's a gray circle with a white and blue eagle fitted inside. And to finish off the outfit, I'm in a pair of tight, glossy black hot pants with a blue leather belt around the waist.

,,...HAILING FROM CHICAGO, ILLINOIS. SHE STANDS 5'5'' AND WEIGHS IN AT 115 LBS. IT'S LISA...STARRRRRR!"

Finally reaching the ring, I hop and pull myself up to the ring apron with a little help from the middle rope. My bright platinum hair, with the trademark blue strands, falls over my shoulders as I get to my feet, then leap up and over the top rope into the ring. Landing with a few bounces on my toes. Getting cheers from the crowd as I'm about to go 1 on 1 with one of the most dangerous girls in the business, and one of the most hated girls in FTW right now. I get in front of the announcer, hands on my hips and just looking up at him with a kinda dismissive look on my face. Grey-blue eyes locked on his...until I give him a little grin and flick my fingers against his nose before I turn and run at the ropes. Leaping up, wrapping my left leg around the top rope, right foot on the middle rope as I throw my right fist up again. ,,COME OOOOONNNNN!"

Yelling out into the cheering crowd before hopping back off the ropes and towards my corner. Moving my right arm, like waving at someone to come over. ,,Bring her in! Let's get this over with" as the music fades out and the lights turn back to normal. Bouncing on the toes of my boots in my corner, stretching, warming up as I wait for my opponent.

I sit there in the Countdown's locker room, glued to a monitor, whilst the others talk strategy for later on tonight. They know not to bother me when I'm preparing for a match. Of course, usually I prefer to prepare by watching my opponent WRESTLING, but as my opponent is a debutante in FTW, there's none to be had in this company's files. I'd sent someone to track down some footage of my young opponent, but that someone was Gemma, so all she came back with was 17 bottles of beer, a magnum of champagne, and a fifth of absinthe.

I need better minions.

Still, learn what I can. I watch Lisa Starr as she makes her way down the aisle, taunting the announcer a bit before giving a shout-out to the fans. It's something. Confidence is not lacking, despite her youth, but she maybe hasn't fully grown into herself as a wrestler, yet. A bit of impatience as she calls for me to come out. I smile a bit. I prepped the LONG intro.

The house lights go out, which is my cue, and I make my way through the locker room towards the curtain. Out front, an antique gold pocket watch appears on the monitor, while a ticking clock can be heard, leading into the clashing bells and alarms from the beginning of Pink Floyd's "Time". This segued into the bass riffs and keytar strains of "Final Countdown", blue and grey lights painting the crowd as it began.

I had a personal theme picked out, but I chose to forgo it in the name of faction unity. Want to know a little secret? None of us actually LIKE "Final Countdown" as entrance music. Not even me, and I'm the one who enforced it. This was by design. Red's easy-going enough, but Gemma and Megan are eclectic as hell in their tastes, and picky to boot. It's part of their charm. It's also part of why I need them.

One critical element of any large organization which has to fight for limited resources is avoiding becoming too predictable. It's a basic maxim of Sun-Tzu and Machiavelli alike: If your enemy can anticipate you, you are dead. Gemma thinks I'm unpredictable. She thinks that because she doesn't really understand me. I'm unpredictable in the way a good card player is: You may not know how I'm going to play a given hand, but in the aggregate, I play the odds. Gemma and Megan are truly unpredictable. I need to harness that, but it's not easy.

About a minute into the song, the lights go red, the pyro goes off, and I step out onto the stage, wearing that black hoodie I've used for camouflage in my runs through the crowd. I stand there on the stage, blue eyes hidden behind a pair of dark glasses, smirking at the crowd as they shower me with boos, threats, and other signs of disapproval, though the odd catcall or cheer can be heard as well. Some folks just love to root for the heels.

I move down the aisle at a saunter, my hands tucked into the pockets of the hoodie, putting on an air of casual disinterest, barely looking at the crowd, and at my opponent not at all. The entrance is at odds with the peppy music, and that's intended. It's irritating, and even people inclined to cheer me find themselves booing, out of sheer annoyance if nothing else.

I stroll halfway around the ring towards my corner, pulling the hoodie up over my head and tucking it under the bottom corner pad right by the post, showing the simple teal one-piece underneath with the Countdown pocketwatch logo across the back and stomach. Taking the glasses off of my face, I make like I'm going to go "Hitman" with them on a young child in the front row, but then I pull them back, pointing and laughing at the kid, before heading to the timekeeper's table, saying, "If these get lost, stolen, or broken, I will take my money back out of your hide, understood?"

At this point, the announcer says, a bit nervously, "AND, UM, HER OPPONENT. STANDING AT 5'11", WEIGHING IN AT 138 LBS, FROM MANCHESTER, ENGLAND.....SHE IS THE LEADER OF THE COUNTDOWN....CALLISTAAAA.....QUIIIINNNN!!!!!"

I climb the steps to the apron, lifting my leg and stepping between the middle and I give the teal pads on my knees and elbow two quick tugs, bouncing on the soles of my white boots before giving the top rope a tug, stretching my arms out a bit before turning to look across the ring, fixing my blonde opponent with the coldest, iciest stare I can.

As the lights go and I hear the ticking of the clock I got the feeling that this might take a while. While waiting for you to make your way out here, I turn and hop up to the middle ropes of the corner before turning and sitting down on the top turnbuckle. Arms resting on my thighs, and finally the music hits and...still no sign of you. I'm just sitting there, eyes locked on the curtains, waiting for them to finally part...flutter...anything! Just waiting for a sign of my opponent. And finally there she is!

My eyes almost immediately narrow as you come out there with this...almost bored looking stroll. Straightening up a bit to get a look at what you're doing closer to the ring and just rolling my eyes at your cheap trick with the shades. I remain seated on the top turnbuckle, licking across my lips in anticipation. Knowing that if I can pull the upset – and a win here would probably be a big one – that's gonna give my career a HUGE kickstart.

As you turn our eyes meet. Keeping mine locked on yours as I stand up straight now on the middle ropes, leaning forward before taking a step and I thud down with my right boot first on the canvas, bouncing out towards the middle of the ring on the toes of my boots. ,,So ya think you can scare me by going all Ice Queen on me?" smirking ,,Ask Gemma! She knows I'm pretty good at that myself!" Turning to my left, like heading back towards my corner, but halfway through the turn I stop. Putting my hand up, pointing finger on my ear. Nodding a bit before turning back to face you. ,,Oh and...the 60s called. They want their attire back!"

All I get as a reply from my opponent here is...nothing! Callista just keeps that icy glare on and eventually puts a little smirk across her lips. We're just staring at each other for a while, the crowd buzzing in anticipation, tension's rising. The announcer slips out of the ring, the ref glued to the neutral corner. Obviously lacking the guts right now to step in between us.

RP: Are they gonna do anything? This is...kinda boring!

LVK: Seriously, Rick? Can't you feel this? The crowd's buzzing, the atmosphere is electric here in the sold out Mennen Arena. Soak it in, man! Enjoy the feel, man!

RP: All I'm enjoying right now is the view! This Starr girl may be without a chance in the ring tonight, but she sure got a great a...

LVK: AAAAND now the ref's ready, and the girls seem to be as well!

Meanwhile, in the ring, the ref does the usual 'explaining the rules' thing. The usual crap nobody ever listens to. I'm bouncing on my toes, rolling my shoulders, keeping myself loose as Callista stands just a few feet in front of me, almost motionless. Our eyes still locked as the ref finishes his little speech and sends us back to our corners before "RING THE BELL" *DING DING DING*

RP: FINALLY! Here we go!

LVK: The two self-proclaimed "Saviors of wrestling" kick it off tonight. We don't know a lot about Starr yet, but it seems she wants to stay out of reach for now. Not willing to lock up with Quinn, one of the best grapplers in Fem Wrestling history.

We're circling in the ring, Callista in a classic wrestling stance. Moving slowly, methodically, calculated. While I'm moving a good bit faster – like Larry said – to prevent going toe-to-toe in a lock up with my bigger, more experienced opponent here. We're coming closer...and closer...and when Quinn lashes out, I duck and slip under her arms behind her.

"Too slow!" Grinning after each evaded lockup. Using my speed, rolls, backing up to stay away from the grappler. She doesn't seem rattled or frustrated, though. Instead...still very calm! Hearing her voice "You can't run forever." and I smirk right back at her "I'm not running. Just starting to take you out." Waving her in with both hands again, and here she comes again.

RP: We're over a minute into this match and they didn't even touch each other!! If Starr really is the "Future of Wrestling", I QUIT! This is boring!

LVK: Be reasonable for once! Look at the size advantage Quinn has. She'd just bully her around.

RP: Whatever...oh here we go again. Run, little girl. Run! *an annoyed sounding sigh is heard*

Callista keeps trying, and I'm thinking, hoping, she's feeling sure enough that I'll just try and evade the lock up again. She comes in, I duck away to my left, pushing forward off my left boot, and on my way past her, I through my right leg out and catch my opponent across the abs with my shin.

RP: Wait, what? She connected? Action, HERE WE COME! Been about damn time...

After making the first contact in this match, it's time to bring some excitement to this place. The crowd cheers as I got Countdown's leader bent over a bit next to me. "Missy stunned?" I ask mockingly with a little smile across my lips before lashing out again. Turning to face her side, I throw my left leg around for a kick to the back of her thigh. Once, twice, then my right hand comes around the front in a big wide arch. A classic slapping motion, and it comes across Callista's upper chest with a loud smacking sound that echoes through the arena.

LVK: Wow, look at Lisa Starr go! Callista looks a little stunned. I don't think she expected this. Starr is fast and she shows it!

RP: Probably Quinn fell asleep during the first minute of this match. And now the Rockie changed the pace...it's kinda unfair.

LVK: ...Rockie?

RP: Sure! Rockin' Rookie!

LVK: ...

The crowd get to their feet as their rebellious Rookie goes to work on the tall Brit. Keeping the attacks going with a quick kick to the midsection, followed by a forearm across Callista's cheek, and then a low, sweeping Roundhouse kick right to the back of her right knee. This one takes the tall grappler – who seems to just take blow after blow here without lots of resistance – down to that knee in the middle of the ring.

LVK: Quinn's down. Starr chopped the tall girl down. This could be some early trouble for Countdown.

With my opponent down on a knee, I turn towards the crowd for a moment. Pumping my fist up in the air as they cheer for me. "Alright, then...here we go!" I tell myself and go for the ropes. Rushing past Callista towards the ropes behind her, picking up speed and running back...past her again to take the ropes in front of my opponent as well. Looking to pick up even more speed. My boots thud over the canvas, boards bouncing a bit, ropes shaking as I charge in, and then jump in. My legs are slightly spread and out towards my half-downed opponent as I'm going for a speedy little Hurricanrana on the long-legged grappler...

It never fails. Give a rookie a bit of room, and she's going to find an excuse to run. In this case, my young opponent took off running, bounced off the ropes, and came at me, looking for a flashy follow-up to her early offence.

When she came in, her legs spread, I stood up to both feet, getting my arms around her thighs, leaning back a bit to hold my centre of gravity steady as she tried to fall backwards. Realising her 'rana wasn't going to come off, she showed off a strong core, sitting up to try to defend against the power bomb she thought was coming.

It wasn't, though, and when she was sat up completely, I got my hands on her arse, lifting her up and over me and dropped down onto my back, sending her crashing face-first into the canvas. Not resting, I kicked my legs upward, pulling back on Lisa's thighs for leverage, landing on a crouch with my arse on top of Lisa's back. Bending Lisa's legs backwards and tucking her boots under my arms, I leaned back...

LVK: And just that quickly, Lisa Starr's early momentum is brought to a dead stop.

RP: We're seeing wrestling's REAL saviour now, Larry! Countering the Rockie's hurricanrana into a Reverse Electric Chair Drop and floating over into a Boston Crab? Brilliant! They should just award her the championship right now.

LVK: That's awfully premature, Rick. She hasn't even won a match, yet. And Lisa's not far from those ropes.

I was a bit disappointed not to hear any screaming behind me, just pained grunts and groans. I could also feel myself being pulled backwards as Lisa clawed at the mat, pulling us closer to the ropes. I knew what was coming, but there was no reason not to keep the hold on as long as I could...and that included AFTER the referee told me to break it.

LVK: She's got the ropes, but Callista's refusing to break the hold!

RP: Quinn's a veteran! She knows she has 'til five.

Once the ref's count reached four, I lifted my arms and stood up, letting Lisa's legs drop down to the mat. The man started to give me a talking-to, which only intensified as I gave a little jump, dropping both boots down onto the small of Lisa's back, which DID elicit a pained yelp from her.

I didn't bother to hide the smug smile on my face as I stepped back, largely ignoring the ref's warnings as Lisa used the ropes to help herself to her feet, one hand held behind her back as she stood. She glared hatefully across the ring at me, which I returned with that infuriating smirk of mine, stepping towards her, hands up.

She raised her arms as well, but I determined I wasn't going to give her time to cook up any tricks again, pushing forward and locking up with her. I pushed hard enough on the lock to get her resisting, then twisted to my right, letting go of her right arm and grabbing the left with both hands, twisting at the wrist and forcing her weight forward.

LVK: Quinn with a wristlock...oh ouch, she delivers first one hard kick to Lisa's chest and then another.

RP: It's a good move, but it's a shame to mistreat such nice perky-

LVK: Will you stop?

I took hold of Lisa's elbow, turning the wrist inward, transitioning into a hammerlock, pushing up on that wrist, pressing her knuckles up against her back to straighten her up. She swung her right elbow back at me, but I turned a bit, taking the hit on the shoulder. Height has its advantages.

I lifted my right foot, putting the sole of my boot against the back of Lisa's knee, giving the leg a shove and forcing her down to her knees. At this point, I was able to throw my weight against Lisa's back, forcing her down to the mat. She stuck her free hand out to try to hold herself up, but with my body pressing down on hers, all she could do was break her fall a bit.

Keeping both hands pressed on that wrist, I pushed up on the mat with my right leg, getting my left boot off of the mat and driving my knee into Lisa's arm just above the wrist. This got another lovely yelp of pain, which made me do it again, as much to hear that as to press forward in the match.

Cinching up on the hammerlock before holding the wrist in place with my right hand, I lay forward onto Lisa's body, my chest pressing down onto her back as I tried to get my left arm underneath Lisa's chin. "Have you figured out you're in over your head, yet?"

My early offense came to a sudden stop earlier, and now the veteran seems to have me right where she wants. Groaning underneath her as she' all over me now with that Hammerlock. Those knees that hammered my arm didn't feel very good either. Not at all liking where this match is going recently. Still I defiantly answer her question with a snarling tone ,,Have you figured out how stupid that watch on you looks, yet?" I growl, and after that my free arm grabs for Callista's arm that's working it's way across my chin and pull hard while quickly pushing to my knees, arching my butt up in the air quickly to toss Callista off of me.

After succeeding with that, I quickly roll to the side and get up to my feet, so does Callista, and we got another standoff in the middle of the ring. Rolling my shoulders a bit, rubbing my left arm and shoulder a bit after the work that's been done on it.

LVK: They're back on their feet! So far no one's been able to really gain control of this match!

RP: Are you kidding?! Quinn just took that girl to school with that sequence! Obviously, she's no match for the leader of the Countdown.

LVK: That remains to be seen. This match is far from over. And here we go again...

...as we lock up in the middle of the ring again. This time no evading from my side. I'm looking to show everyone that I can play this game as well! My opponent's got the size advantage, and I can see that smug look on her face as I'm bullied back towards the ropes. Or...am I letting her work me back? Hard to say by watching, but I know what I'm doing, and after a few steps backwards I take a little hop backwards, locking hands the back of Callista's neck, boots going to her lower abs as I throw myself back, and throw her up and over me with a quick Monkey Flip.

LVK: And there's a nice move from Starr! Gutsy move against her bigger opponent, but it seems to have payed off as Lisa's taking control.

RP: It actually worked! Now that's a surprise...

After the move I bring my legs up and kick out. Kipping back up to my feet, getting a little pop from the crowd as I do so. Turning to face Callista, who's working her way back up to her feet after the Monkey Flip. Hurrying over, and as she's still on her way up I wrap my right arm around her head, going right to a side Headlock.

LVK: And Starr keeps the pressure on! Quickly going to a Headlock, not giving Quinn any time to recover.

RP: I'm surprised she actually CAN do this! Thought all she does is kick and run. Nice to see the Rockie do some actual wrestling here.

I lean into the hold with all I got, working the headlock as tight as I can between my tensed arms and the side of my chest...

RP: I wouldn't mind bein-

LVK: Oh shut up!

Hearing more grunts and groans escape Callista's lips, her face seems to turn a little red as well here. "What's the matter? You're not giving up on me, are ya?" I grin...for now! But not for long as I feel her arms go in position. One around my waist, the other against the back of my thigh, hand on my ass and..."Uh oh"...I gasp as I'm lifted up high by my tall opponent before "OWWWWFFFFFF!" being dropped hard on the back of my head, shoulders and neck by a Belly-to-back Suplex. Bouncing once on the canvas, hands going to the back of my head as I roll to my side.

LVK: And just like that Quinn's free! Wow.

RP: Starr should stick to her kicks and stuff. It's simply not a smart idea to try and out-grapple the best grappler in the damn business! Even you should know that!

Meanwhile, in the ring, I'm being pulled over to lay flat on my back again, before having a forearm grind into the side of my face! Grunting out in discomfort as Callista goes for a pin. The ref drops "ONE...." and I kick out with authority!

LVK: A sloppy pin like that won't get Callista anywhere against this girl.

RP: You seriously think she's done yet?! This was just a message for the completely over-matched Rockie!

Rubbing the cheek that's just been roughed up by that forearm, and as I do that "Ohhhh HEY!" I gasp as I get a hand in my hair. Another hand goes to my chin, then I feel a padded knee grind into my back between the shoulder blades and I'm forced down flat on the Canvas. Callista's weight pressing down on my upper back through that padded knee. My neck arched a bit from the pull on my hair. "You should have stayed at home, freak." I hear her snarl from on top of me as the ref yells at her to release my hair. At the count of 4 she does, only to lock hands underneath my chin and pull back at it, while burying that knee into my spine! Straining my neck and arching my back here. The look on my face shows the pain I'm in as I'm trapped underneath my opponent again. Moaning out as my gloved, right hand goes up to her wrist, tugging at it while my right boot thuds against the floor in a slow, steady rhythm.

LVK: Ohhhh wow what a nasty Chinlock by Callista! She means business. Lisa better think of something fast, or this match might be over sooner than we'd all like!

RP: I don't know, Larry. I'm thinking Callista's gonna have some fun with that girl in the ring. This won't be over soon. Quinn's gonna take her time picking this lil brat apart.

"You know," I said as I wrenched back on Lisa's chin, arching her spine backwards, "I can tell your sort from a mile off. Loud and brash in everything you do. I put myself front-and-centre because it's what's needed to get what I want. YOU do it to compensate for insecurity."

With my hands pulling her chin back, Lisa couldn't open her mouth, but she nevertheless attempted a response, "FFUUUFFFF FFFFOOOO!"

"Yes, yes, fuck me, I know. That's the other difference. You talk shite at the start of a match to try to psych yourself up, or to try to wind me up. I talk it now, when I've got you beat and we both know it." This prompted another defiant response from Lisa, even less coherent then before.

Behind me, her boots started pushing at the mat, trying to inch us forward towards the ropes. I smiled and let her. It was half the ring's distance, and she'd expend a lot of energy pulling the both of us across it. When she was almost close enough to reach out to those ropes, I pulled my knee out of Lisa's back and stood up, pulling her up onto her knees, before twisting around, getting her head under my left arm, then throwing myself backwards.

LVK: And just as Lisa Starr thought she was going to get to the ropes, Quinn releases the hold and puts her face-first into the mat with a DDT.

RP: It's just like I said, Larry. Callista could have kept the hold on a bit longer, but she's doing this to show everyone in that locker room what they're up against!

Annoyingly, I misjudged our ring position just a bit, so dropping back like that meant I caught the bottom rope against the back of my head as I fell. Embarrassed by that slip, I stifled the wince and the urge to grab the back of my head, and instead rolled out of the ring, taking time to berate assorted people in the crowd for poor dietary habits and questionable hygiene. They were Americans, so there was an abundance of both.

It wasn't that I wanted to give my opponent time to recover, but I needed to get control of my emotions. Insulting fans calms me down. After enough of this, I rolled back into the ring to see Lisa still struggling to get up. When she got to her hands and knees, I swung my arm around, letting the flat of my palm connect with a hard smack on her arse.

LVK: Well that's just disrespectful!

RP: And hot!

When I reached down to grab a handful of hair to pull Lisa up, she popped right up to her feet, a look of utter rage in her eyes. Throwing her left hand up to knock my right away from her head, she swung her right arm, catching me in the side of the face with her fist, knocking me backwards. I had to swing my arms out a bit to keep my balance, and Lisa was on me quick as a cat, sending me back-pedalling again with another punch to the jaw.

She pushed me back to the ropes, sending me bouncing off of it and running across to the other side. I turned as I ran, taking the bounce off the far ropes on my back, trying to get my hands up as I came back, but I still caught a boot in the jaw, the other up against my chest, sending me down hard to the mat.

I took the momentum of the fall, though, turning around and rolling my way underneath the bottom rope.

RP: Again, just a smart, veteran move on the part of Callista, creating separation to prevent Lisa from getting momentum going.

LVK: Well Lisa might be going for momentum anyway, because she's running and SUICIDE DIVE THROUGH THE ROPES!

RP: Disqualify her!

I had barely got out of the ring and gotten a bit of breath in me before I saw a sudden rush of platinum-and-blue hair heading right for me, sending me crashing back into the barricade. Lying on the cold concrete floor around the ring, I could only hope that had taken something out of my opponent as well, but after just a moment of lying in a tangled heap, she pushed herself free, climbing back to her feet and pumping her fist in the air as the crowd showered us with a "HOLY SHIT!" chant.

I felt a hand in my hair, pulling me up back to my feet. Lisa grabbed hold of my right wrist and pulled me forward, whipping me up against the ring apron. I cried out in pain as the barely-padded wood of the ring caught me in the small of the back. Fighting to get some breath in me, fighting panic, I felt my left arm being pulled under the bottom rope around the ring post.

As I felt my left boot being pulled, I tried to turn my head to see what the bloody hell she was on about. I saw her lifting one boot and pushing it up against the ring post, then doing the same with the other. I yelled out a bit as I feel excruciating pain in my shoulder, and wedged my slim frame underneath the bottom turnbuckle, trying to take some pressure off of the arm.

It did so, but at a cost of making my ribs the focus, as they were pulled hard up against the unforgiving steel of the post. The ref came over, as I was technically in the ropes, and started a count. At three and a half, Lisa's legs went back down to the ground and the pressure eased off. I slumped downwards, my left armpit around the steel keeping me from slumping all the way back to my knees.

LVK: Lisa Starr now in total control of this matchup.

RP: But she had to cheat to get there!

LVK: Will you stop? Starr rolling back into the ring, and she's going to the opposite side of the ring.

I heard a sudden pounding of boots on canvas, and the crowd's roar elevates a bit. I didn't know what was coming, but I was pretty sure I didn't want to be on the end of it. Taking a breath in, I lurched to the right, dropping down to my knees and getting my body and my arm free and clear of the ropes, just in time to avoid Lisa's sliding kick.

"OHHHHH!!!!" yells the crowd, and I looked up to see that Lisa had slid in on her back, and that when I moved, she went all the way to the ring post, one leg around each side.

LVK: OH MY GOD!

RP: Ouchie!

I looked up and heard the count "EIGHT!" from the referee, which was really too bad because this was the perfect position for a ring-post figure-four, but as I rolled back into the ring, Lisa was already scooting back away from the ring post, grimacing in pain, her hand between her legs.

Getting back up to my feet, I reached down for a fistful of dyed hair, pulling Lisa back up to her feet, bending at the knees a bit, and then wrapping both of my hands around her waist, lifting upwards before dropping her back down across my waiting knee.

LVK: Inverted atomic drop! Callista Quinn is more than just effective, she's brutal!

RP: You sound surprised, Larry. This is the woman who GEMMA ROX and MEGAN DOW call "boss". Brutality is pretty much a given!

It seemed like a good time to see just how tough the rookie was, so I dropped down, laying my body across Lisa's chest, before leaning to my right, getting weight on her shoulders, while hooking the far leg with my left hand. The referee dropped into position, raising his hand and slapping the mat, shouting "ONE!"

My eyes closed, lips drawn back, baring my teeth as I grimace and moan out in pain after taking two consecutive shots between my legs. First by the ring post, then Callista's knee. After slumping down to the canvas, I feel her drop down across my chest, leg hooked and the ref counts. After he slapped the canvas for ,,ONE!" I pull my free leg up, and right after ,,TWO!" I kick out hard with that leg and twist my body to the side. Getting my shoulder off the canvas to break up the count. ,,TWO!" I hear from the ref and crowd alike. With me rolled to my side, my right hand goes between my legs as Callista kneels above me.

After a few seconds, I feel a hand in my hair, along with a mocked, pity-filled voice ,,Such a brave girl, aren't you? Should have just stayed down."  She says, before the hand grips my hair tightly and I'm pulled to my feet. Groaning, my hands going to Callista's hips to help me climb to my feet. Taking some time to catch my breath. Still a little bent over, feeling a pull in my hair as my opponent wants me standing straight. And what she wants, she shall get! I straighten up quickly and throw my arms up. Knocking her arms to the side before throwing my right arm forward. Smacking a harsh forearm across her chest. She's staggering..."GOOD!" I hiss as I step in, throwing my left leg out for a kick to her ribs, then a knife edge chop across her chest, when suddenly ,,AAAHHHHH!"

LVK: A blatant poke to the eye!! Oh come on! Just as Starr fought back into this, she's stopped by that underhanded move! That's just not right!

RP: I don't see the big deal here. This happens! It's brilliant! A simple move like that and control is back where it should be!

The crowd boos, the ref tells my underhanded opponent that what she just did isn't really in the rulebook! I'm bent over, my hands covering my face and my burning eyes as Callista just stands there. Soaking the boos, the complaints, the groans of pain in and clearly enjoying every second of it. "So you don't like being spanked?" She asks before sending another smack down to my butt. That smug smile on her face only fades a little bit as after that she wraps her arms around my waist, stepping in next to me. I feel her hands lock on my six-pack abs. And after dipping her knees a bit, my legs come up off the canvas. Being lifted up, flipped over, and then she drops to her back. Taking me down right next to her, back first with a perfectly executed, and pretty effortless looking, Gutwrench Suplex.

RP: Ohhhhh nice! Some more spanking!

LVK: AHEM! Wow! After the poke to the eyes, Quinn just TOSSES poor Lisa Starr through the ring with that Suplex. Look at the impact! She bounced at least a foot back up!

RP: I still see some bouncing there.

LVK: *a whisper is heard* Are you fucking kidding me?! *normal voice* And now she's going for another Pinfall!

Yet again a leg is hooked as I lay groaning on the canvas after that suplex. The ref starts counting once Callista's long body is on top of mine. "ONE......TWO....." and again I kick out at two, using my free leg. My eyes closed, I'm breathing hard as I roll to my side. My right hand goes to my lower back, just hoping to get some time to recover now! But instead "Come here, you little brat" I hear that voice again. That stupid British accent annoying the hell out of me right now! But even more annoying than that, is the feeling of her hands in my hair again. Moaning as once again I'm brought back up to my feet by her.

LVK: Callista Quinn is relentless here! Lisa needs to do something, and she better do it fast.

RP: Oh come on, don't act like you're not enjoying this! It's always a lovely sight to watch the great Callista pick apart one of these cute, tight, young wannabes!

LVK: Oh would you sh....focus on the match?! What's Quinn doing?

To answer that question, she's got me lifted up across her chest right now. One of her arms between my legs, the other over a shoulder. Feeling her get a tight grip of the back of my shorts. Feeling like she's about to deliver a rib-breaker or two here. But instead, she twists her body to the side a bit before throwing it the other way. Pushing at my legs, using the grip on the shorts to get a better shove. Her other arm stays on my shoulder, acting as a pivot to keep me in place as my body spins around, and at the right moment she drops down to a knee, dropping me down brutally across her outstretched knee and thigh. Forcing a loud scream from my lips as I bounce on that knee a bit.

LVK: OH MY GOD! What a brutal Spinning Backbreaker by Quinn! Wow! This has GOT to be it!

RP: Someone call the Chiropractors! They're gonna have a busy night with that girl.

LVK: A...busy...night?

RP: Sure! Chiropractor stuff, you know?

While these two dorks argue about Chiropractors, I'm unceremoniously dropped off Callista's knee and down to the canvas. Another pin. This time more cocky again, without hooking a leg. I'm not sure why she's not going for a tight pin. Maybe to keep me in this match so she can work me over some more? Or is she just so sure this is the end? Well...I kinda DO feel like a few vertebrae just popped loose. "ONE....TWO..." and I kick out again. The crowd starts getting to their feet now. Clapping, cheering for me...knowing I need support now to get back into this.

"Sure that was only two?" "Well...of course, Ma'am!" "...Good" Hearing the conversation between Quinn and the ref as I try to get some air back into my lungs, and some feeling into my back. Eventually, I'm being pulled to my feet again...again by my hair, and once I stand I'm shoved back towards the ropes. Set up for an Irish Whip by my tall opponent. Being sent running across the ring by her, turning to hit the ropes back first.

RP: Oh this is gonna be good!

I come running back, seeing Callista's back in the middle of the ring, one of her long legs raised and that boot in perfect position to re-organize my face! But I duck! Running past her, the crowd gasps as I run towards the ropes behind her, eyes narrowed, focused. 'This might be my last chance' I think to myself as I jump forward. Planting my feet on the middle rope. Using my speed and the elasticity of the ropes to launch myself back. Spinning in mid air as Callista turns around, throwing my right leg across and...

LVK: Wow!!! What a counter by Starr! A Springboard....whatever!! Big kick to the side of Quinn's head. Big girl's DOWN!

RP: What? How could that happen?! How can that girl even stand?!

The crowd's on their feet as both me and my opponent are down in the middle of the ring. Callista with her eyes wide open after that big kick, me grimacing in pain, gasping for air. The ref steps in, checking on us before starting to count us both out here! It takes me until the count reaches "FOUR!" to get back to my feet. Staggering a bit, leaning back against the ropes, brushing my sweaty hair out of my face and watching my opponent. "Come on..." I gasp, and then, once she starts getting up I take off again. Running right at her and throwing both legs up. Like for a straight Dropkick, but only slamming my right boot across her chest. We both land on our backs, I quickly scramble back up to my feet and run for the ropes. Callista stands, and I go for the same move again! Knocking her down once more!

LVK: Starr is ON FIRE! Callista doesn't know where she is right now! Where's that girl getting the energy from?!

RP: I don't know...did you check her for drugs?

LVK: She's Straight Edge as far as I know.

RP: Even worse if she's doing drugs!

LVK: sighs

I'm standing, pumped up. The adrenaline pumps right through me, giving me the strength for this comeback. And now...time to set this girl up! Breathing hard as I get right in front of my opponent. Squatting, left forearm resting on my left thigh, bumping my gloved, right fist down against the canvas. Waiting....waiting....and once Callista's back up on her feet I step in. My right arm goes over her left shoulder, hand gripping the neck tightly and I reach around her right thigh with my left arm. Hooking that leg, taking a few deep breaths as I get in as close as I can. She's taller, heavier...but I can do this! I got the technique for it, and the Adrenaline helps! I take a little hop step before...

LVK: EXPLODER SUPLEX!!

RP: What the hell?! She shouldn't be able to do this! Quinn's the Queen of the ring, what the hell?!

LVK: Where's she getting that energy from?! Starr's gonna take this! I'm telling you! A HUGE upset's in the making here!

The crowd goes absolutely crazy after nailing the leader of Countdown with that Exploder Suplex. The ropes are still dancing after the impact. We're both down for now. But after about 5 seconds I pull my legs up and kip up. Landing, a little shaky, but on my feet and I pump my right fist up in the air. Chest heaving, a shiny film of sweat coats my body as I stand there and just enjoy the moment before heading across the ring. My opponent's spread out in the middle of the ring. I can't detect a lot of movement from her as I reach the corner. Smacking my hands down on the top rope before starting to climb up, facing out of the ring. Once I reached the top ropes I look back over my shoulders, spreading my arms and soaking up the cheers from the crowd once more.

LVK: She's looking to finish it now! Starr is gonna finish Quinn. You just HAVE to see this to believe it!

RP: Here comes the low-flying Kamikaze Chick!

Bending my knees a bit before taking the jump. Arms spread, flipping backwards as I sail through the air. Looking to finish Countdown's leader with a Moonsault off the top rope.

(Watching backstage, holding my breath.)

Lying there on my back, I feel dazed. The crowd noise is starting to blur, and that's not a good sign. My opponent busting out an Exploder was so unexpected that I barely had time to tuck my head, and I took that landing far worse than I'd have liked.

Chest heaving as I suck in air, I try to force myself through the fog of my mind to take stock. I'm on the mat, I'm not being pinned or otherwise touched, and I'm not hearing my opponent's awful ring music, so the match is still on, but she's elsewhere. Where? Look around, god damn it! Look left! Look right! There! Top rope! Groaning, I lean back and pull my legs up off of the mat, getting my knees up.

LVK: NO! SHE GOT HER KNEES UP!

RP: YES! SHE GOT HER KNEES UP!

Lisa's midsection crashes down hard onto me, stretching my leg muscles painfully, but as she rolls off of me, clutching at her stomach, boots kicking at the mat, it's easy to see who got the worst of it. Seeing the ref counting us down, I lie there for a moment, getting a good bit of breath in me, before pushing myself up to a sitting position.

Seeing that I'm nowhere near the ropes, I groan, rolling over onto all fours, before pushing myself back up to my feet, breaking the ref's count at six. Looking across the ring, Lisa was still struggling to her hands and knees, so I walked over towards her, positioned myself facing her head, and reached down, wrapping both arms around her waist and lifting upward.

RP: POWER BOMB!

LVK: Lisa Starr bounced hard off the mat, and Callista going for a cover. One! Two! Thr-no, she kicked out!

I wasn't going to waste time arguing or showing off, now. Had to keep pushing. Going for Lisa's hair, I pulled her back onto her feet, shooting one hand between her legs and going for her shoulder with the other, lifting her up off of the mat.

LVK: Callista now going for a body slam, wait no, she's drops Lisa's shoulder right across the knee!

The shoulderbreaker hit perfectly, and Lisa was again on her back. This time I made no effort to cover her. I knew what my target was, and I was softening her up for that. I got down on my knees and reached under Lisa, rolling her over onto her stomach, grabbing for one of her legs.

RP: God this is fun to watch. Isn't this fun for you, Larry?

LVK: It's certainly a display of Quinn's skill and experience. She's got her leg now, possibly going for a single-leg crab? No, I must correct myself again, she's wrapping that leg around her shoulders and...can she get her up? Yes she can! Stretch muffler.

Lisa was crying out in pain now as all her weight pulled down on the leg padlocked around my neck, torquing that knee fiercely. The ref came in, asking if she wanted to submit, but she shook her head. I bent my knees a bit bouncing her up and down, worsening the pain, and saying, "I think she's nodding upside-down!"

The ref gave me a sour look, and called out "No submission!"

I would have shrugged, but my arms were a bit occupied. They were also a bit sore, so I decided it was time to put Lisa Starr down. In every sense of the word. Keeping her upside-down, I jumped up one more time, but this time I pulled my feet up, bringing my knees in and dropping Lisa head-first in a sort of impromptu piledriver. Little Miss Dyejob crumpled in a heap on the mat.

I stood up, smiling at the booing crowd and slowly drawing my thumb across my neck. It was time.

Rolling Lisa onto her tummy once more, I put my left foot in between Lisa's legs, facing her feet. Reaching down, I turned her left ankle inward and pulling back on the right, hooking one ankle with the toes of her other boot. The toehold locked in, I leeeeeaaaned backwards, arching my back and reaching behind me, getting both hands under Lisa's chin, and bridging as tightly as I can.

RP: MUTA LOCK!

LVK: Indeed, Callista has got that Inverted STF cinched in tight.

RP: Inverted STF? That's a Muta Lock, Larry. Are you blind?

LVK: They're the same hold you idiot!

NOW I heard crying out, and it was indeed delicious. The ref asked her if she wanted to submit. I could feel her head shaking side to side, but I knew it was only a matter of time. She pulled at my hands with her fingers, but I'd twined my fingers tight, and they weren't going anywhere.

Lisa still had enough energy for one last-ditch effort though, and she started clawing at the mat, trying to pull us backwards. I knew we were in the middle of the ring, though, and wasn't worried. We inched back, and I kept a tight bridge. We inched back again, and I held on. We inched back again. And again. And again.

Frowning, I looked "up" and saw we were now barely a yard away from the ropes. "Alright," I grumbled, "you've made the valiant effort, now give up. You're not making those ropes." We inched backwards, "Dammit girl, you-!" we LURCHED forwards as she somehow wiggled her shoulders a bit to get herself some purchase against my bridge. Reaching out with her right hand, clawing at the canvas with her left...her fingers just did grasp the bottom rope.

"SHE'S IN THE ROPES!" the ref shouted.

LVK: SHE'S IN THE ROPES!

RP: NO! HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE?

"HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE?" I shouted, but the ref was starting a count. Mouth agape, I released Lisa's chin, slumping down to the ground. The crowd was screaming loudly. I was sitting there, stunned. After a moment, I pushed up to my feet, looking around the ring, and seeing that hoodie of mine still in the corner where I'd left it at the beginning of the match.

I walked into the OPPOSITE corner, and reached for the top turnbuckle, reaching around for the corner pad and untying the laces as quickly as I could. I had gotten it most of the way off, when I heard the ref shout, "DAMMIT, QUINN!"

I gave him my best, 'What, me?' look

LVK: There, how are you going to justify that? Callista blatantly tried to cheat by exposing the steel turnbuckle!

RP: Maybe she noticed it was loose and was trying to fix it?

The ref interposed himself between me and the corner, saying "If I catch you breaking the rules again, that'll be it! Disqualified!" and he began re-tying the laces of the pad.

I darted back across the ring, stepping lightly as I could so as not to attract the ref's attention, dropping down to my knees and grabbing hold of the hoodie. I reached into that big front pouch, immediately found what I was looking for, and pulled the Mag-Lite out.

Lisa had made it back to her hands and knees, which was far enough as far as I was concerned, so I stepped forward, swinging it, and cracking it across the back of Lisa's skull, immediately tossing it out of the ring.

LVK: NO! THAT DAMNED CALLISTA! THAT'S NOT RIGHT!

RP: THE ENDS JUSTIFY THE MEANS, LARRY!

LVK: LIKE HELL THEY DO! COME ON! NOT THIS WAY!

The ref turned to see me pulling Lisa's limp body off of the ground. Dunno if he heard the shot or not, but without the weapon, it could have been anything, right? I turned around, facing away from Lisa, tucking her head between my legs while hanging onto her arms. Turning us around, I got my head down between her legs, lifting her up and over on my shoulders before letting her crash down headfirst to the mat.

RP: And it's all academic now! Callista hits the Kudo Driver! That's it! That's all she wrote!

LVK: And there's the cover! ONE! TWO! THREE! DAMMIT!

When the ref called for the bell and the music started playing, I pushed off of my unconscious opponent's body, my arms climbing skyward. "THE WINNER OF THIS MATCH AS A RESULT OF A PINFALL......CAAAAAALLIIIIISTAAAAAA QUIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNN!!!!"

LVK: She may have won the match, but she had to use nefarious means to do it against some very game opposition.

RP: Yeah, yeah, the kid's good and all, but FTW is LUCKY to have wrestling's saviour, Callista Quinn!

LVK: If it weren't for bad luck, we'd have no luck at all.

RP: Will YOU stop?

Final Countdown played as I climbed up off of Lisa, not envying her the headache she'd wake up with as Gemma, Megan, and the Red Enforcer all jogged down the aisle. Gemma and Red climbed in the ring, surrounding my fallen opponent, while Megan prodded a cameraman into position.

Gemma held up Lisa's head for display and pointed at her while I took the mic Megan handed me, "One down! The rest of the trash in the locker room to go. The Countdown are here, the Countdown are real, and TIME!" I said, getting the crowd to chant along. "IS! UP!" We slapped hands (and arses) and ducked out of the ring.

Still on the apron, I grinned down and said, "Red! Fale me!"

Expressions were hard to read behind a mask, but you could see Red's body language slump a bit. "Oh come on, boss! I'm Filipino, not Tongan. I can pronounce actual syllables!"

"Red," I said warningly, "Do you want to be picking up the bar tab tonight?"

He sighed and walked over towards me. I turned around and he put his head between my legs, holding onto my thighs and I sat back, riding on his shoulders as we all strolled back up the aisle, me holding my wrist up to my hand and tapping it with the tick-tick-tick gesture as we existed.

Callista's sequence of moves after my missed Moonsault was simply devastating! Then I was knocked out by that shot with the damn Mag-Lite across the back of my skull! And after that vicious Kudo Driver, I just crumpled to the mat in a motionless, lifeless heap. Not even realizing Quinn's rabble came to the ring to have a good time with her boss and my out-cold body. Once they left the ref comes in to take care of me and I'm starting to come back to.

RP: HAHA!! Look at that! Quinn knocked that brat into next week! That's what happens when you mess with a superior!

LVK: Oh will you shut up? That girl there put up a great fight! And Callista couldn't finish her without using that god-damned Mag-Lite!

RP: Oh she lit her up good, yeah!

LVK: That doesn't even make sense!!

Getting a round of applause from the crowd as I get back up on my feet, but it's not something I can enjoy right now. Mostly because I feel like I was just run over by a truck (which, when you look at Callista, is kindof a true statement) and also...cause I just lost my debut match! I'm not in a good mood, and the ref gets to feel it as I give him a little push as he's helping me back up. "I can handle this! And you keep your damn eyes on the wrestlers, okay?!" I growl, then limp towards the ropes with one hand on the back of my neck. Climbing out of the ring, then making my way up the aisle, out of the arena. Eyes on the floor, giving the crowd a little wave before disappearing behind the curtains.

RP: We won't see her for a while. Poor girl can't even walk straight! This is just toooo funny. Cocky brat got what she deserved.

LVK: How did she deserve THAT?! By fighting? By not submitting? Kicking out? Quinn ran out of ideas, and cheating was the only thing she had left!

RP: You're just pissed cause your girl lost...

*scenes open with Emily walking through the corridors of the backstage in her new black and white outfit. Then the camera moves to the first rows of the arena with fans holding up signs of The Black Widow and Emily Layne, yelling and doing some weird faces for the cameras.

RP: And we are back live from the  Mennen Arena in Morris Township, New Jersey,  for this premiere event of this new wrestling company!

LVK Alright guys and we are ready for our main event of First Strike! You don't want to miss that guys!

In the titantron are showed scenes from the previous match.
A big white written "Earlier tonight" appears in the screen,in the background the scene of Calli raising her knees in reaction to Lisa moonsault attempt.
The scene turns to Calli moving to the corner and unlace the pad of top buckle before hanging the maglight in her hand and nailing Lisa with it.
Kudo driver from Callista and three count.
Finally The Countdown is in the ring mocking Starr with Calli pointing to the camera,promising more victims there

RP: that was a show of dominance over the brand FTW, Callista proved to be the better wrestler tonight

LVK: I think we're watching a different show, The Countdown leader had much trouble to pull the win, and she did only with one of her dirty tricks

RP: Whatever!

* the titantron turns black with a white written across the whole screen

"LAST WEEK AT FTW"

- Rowan calls out Calli and The Countdown in one of her aftermatch
- Megan shows up and goes face to face with Rowan
- Calli runs through the audience and nails Rowan from behind
- Rowan bravely fights back but get hit by the maglight between her legs while she was wrapping her legs around Calli head.
- Emily runs in and spear Megan
- Calli traps Emily in a surfboard hold
- Rowan jumps from the top buckle and guillotine Calli
- Rowan and Emily shake hands,surrounded by an enthusiastic audience

RP: it looks like a new team is born in the FTW last week! Rowan and Emily decided to ally together to fight The Countdown!

LVK: This is amazing! They are so different but they have a common enemy right now! And they look very determined! Who can stop these two?

RP: I have a list of names...

LVK: oh come on!

I'm awaiting behind the stage, bouncing on my tiptoes, my eyes and face looking confident, as always, its too much time that I am being assaulted backstage and in the ring, this must stop.
I asked to make my entrance alone for tonight although this is a tag team match, me and Rowan are both big girls, we made our statement in our leagues and we already did in this one, we dont need to gang up.
We're different, very different, but that doesnt mean we can work together, and we will to put The Countdown apart.
"its your moment" I hear a voice behind me, I dont even look back at him. I just nod and stretch my neck left and right.
The pyros explode and the arena is filled with "So what" by Pink as blue and white lights pointing toward the ramp, sliding up and pointing right at me as I appear in the stage.
I always smile when I make my entrance, but not tonight, my eyes look concentrated and kinda cold. I stand there, with my hands on my hips, looking around to the crowd and finally forcing a smile as I start to move down and giving some high fives to the guys on the first rows

"INTRODUCING FIRST, HAILING FROM MILAN, ITALY..STANDING AT 5'7" WEIGHING AT 137 POUNDS...HERE WE HAVE...EMILYYYY LAYNEEEEEEEEEEEE"

I wave my hands and stop before getting to the apron

LVK: And here she is, looking good as always!

RP: we shall see after the end of this, I dont think she will still look good! But I must admit that now I would...

LVK: Okay Rick, we got your point about this!

I stand there, wearing my white laced wrestling boots with black trims, white leather booty shorts with a big black E on my right hip and a big black L on my left hip. White halter top with black trims, cut just under my breasts, exposing my whole toned abs and large part of my back. Hair tied up in a high pony tail, white taps wrapping around my elbows and knees.
I adjust my top before turning back and face the apron, hands on my hips.

LVK: It looks like she is waiting for her tag team partner! That's a cool move I think!

RP: I think she is just making sure she wont be attacked from behind *giggles*

LVK: This one was lame Rick!

I stand behind the curtain and hear my music start: Joan Jett's "Fetish." I hear the crowd roar and I can't help but smile.

Tonight is the night we put the first nail in the coffin of The Countdown.

I watched the previous match. Callista proved she needed to cheat to win. The so-called "savior of wrestling" needed to pull out her trusty mag light to save her own ass.

I let the music play just a little bit longer, then I push the curtain aside and the crowed booms even louder, blasting out the sound of the music. I turn my hips and show off my curves, raising my hands up above my head, then bringing them down parallel to the ground, my fingers splayed. The symbol of the Widow's Web.

Tonight, I'm dressed for business. Long, black pleather pants with red webbing pattern. Black gloves that go up to my elbows. Tall boots that go up to my knees. My breasts tied up in a pleather bodice. My long, brown hair tied in a braid down my back. I give the audience a good, luscious stare and smile. Then, I move down to the ring, slapping hands as I go.

At the ringside, I meet Emily. We give each other an exploding fist bump, then each of us climbs up into the ring in our own way. For me, it's always the same. I lift my left leg high above my head, doing a vertical splits, then put it over the top rope. I swing my body over the top rope and land on the other side, my back to the ropes, arms coiled over the top rope. I grab the second rope below and lean back, letting my hair fall back and my back arch. I feel a small twinge of pain there. A reminder of what Punky did to me before.

But I don't need a reminder. I remember. That combo powerbomb/backstabber nearly broke me in half. Put me in bed for a week. I couldn't feel my legs for days, unsure if I ever would.

Tonight, that isn't going to happen. Tonight, I'm going to get my hands on Punky, one way or another.

One way or another.

I turn and look at the curtain, waiting for our opponents to enter...

LVK: Rowan looks confident as ever!
RP: Confidence don't mean squat, and you know it!

LVK: Tonight is Rowan's chance--pun entirely intended...
RP: Please tell me you didn't say that.

LVK: ... her chance to get revenge.
RP: It's both their chances, jerk off. Now, let's see the REAL wrestlers enter...

The house lights go down with Rowan and Emily in the ring, plunging the arena into a sudden darkness broken only by the innumerable cellphone flashes the audience produces.

RP: Do you think Emily and Rowan are making out now that it's dark?

LVK: I wish you weren't next to me sometimes, Rick.

It took me a long, painful debate to get Callista to give me even a LITTLE wiggle room on my Countdown entrance.

The same antique golden pocketwatch appears on the screen, its ominous ticking filling the arena as the crowd hails down their furious disdain, save for those rebellious souls who always cheer the bad guys.

The same blue and gray spotlights begin to play over the crowd, illustrating faces twisted with wrath and lust and sloth and gluttony.

But instead of f'ing Pink Floyd, we get the screaming, blazing finale chorus of Black Flag's "Forever Time".

#TIIIIIIIIME!  TIME!  TIME!
#FOREVER TIME!
#IT'S TIME TO KISS ME GOODBYE
#ONE LAST TIME!
#IT'S TIIIIIME!

The curtains part and the two of us step through, Punky and Gemma, the poison kiss and the iron fist, shades of purple and green.  The hatred and lust roaring through the crowd both increase considerably.

Then the good music, of course, fades to that god-awful keytar.  And "The Final Countdown" begins, as it inevitably does.

I stand at the head of the stage, purple hair pulled into punkytails held with grinning silver skull clasps, long violet tails that hang over my shoulders.  I'm wearing my white cotton FIERY VIOLENT PSYCHOPATHIC BRUTALIST shirt (available now at punkymerch.com!) with the sleeves and belly torn away, so really it's just FIERY VIOLENT and the upper half of PSYCHOPATHIC.  The rest is implied, though.  I have tiny white denim shorts, and in each pocket is a heavy gold pocketwatch, the chains criss-crossing my hips and buckled to the belt loops.  Thigh-high striped white and black Beetlejuice stockings plunge to glossy black Doc Martens with steampunk brass gear accents, and I smack my fists together in black fingerless leather gloves with a clock face on the back of either one.  Black lipstick, black nail polish and heavy black eyeshadow complete the Goth maniac look.

I stand defiant at the top of the ramp, boots planted wide and fists at my hips, surveying the crowd with a smirk.

Gemma has her green hair falling loose around her shoulders and black make-up to match mine.  She slithers forward between my sprawled legs, wearing a sleeveless Countdown shirt with the pocket watch on the front, the collar cut low and wide to show off the lovely ink across her breasts.  A blue and black plaid microskirt flutters over blue tights, and she wears her knee-high heavy black boots and blue elbowpads with the pocket watch on them.  Rox comes up to her knees and I run my hand lavishly through her green hair, striking an almost tauntingly sensual pose with her at the head of the stage as the keytars blare and the blue lights flash around us.

The two of us make our way to the ring, marching almost in lockstep with the crowd pushing at the railing, reaching out for us, swiping at us, ignored completely by us as we focus on the two in the ring.  My dark eyes dance on the limned forms of Rowan and Emily.  Emily Layne.  Rowan Chance.

Fucking Rowan Chance.

Ring announcer Chuckie Guiteau has the call:

"STANDING AT A COMBINED WEIGHT OF MORE THAN ENOUGH TO KICK EVERYONE'S ASS AND A COMBINED HEIGHT OF TALLER THAN YOUR MOM, THEY ARE THE HANDS OF THE DOOMSDAY CLOCK, REPRESENTING THE COUNTDOWN - GEMMA 'G-FORCE' ROX AND 'PUNKY' MEG DOW!"

Charlie did a good job reading the card.  We won't have to break his thumbs after all.

We hit the apron and vault over the top simultaneously. Landing with heavy boots crashing the boards, Gemma and I strike a Roman centurion pose, right fists thrust out towards the hard camera.

LVK: And of course they'd use a fascist salute.

RP: Know what "fascist" means, van Keel?  It's from the word "fasces", a bundle of rods held together.  You can break one stick, van Keel, even with noodle arms like yours.  But a bundle, all together, bound as one? 

THEY DON'T BREAK.

LVK: Stop defending fascists on the air, Rick.

RP: YOU AIN'T THE BOSS OF ME.

I grin, white teeth gleaming behind black lips, and spare a wink in the darkness for poor lost mad Rowan as the house lights come back up.  She wants me so bad.

But like all the poor fuckers in the audience tonight, she can want me ... but she can't have me.

Gemma and Punky and Emily may be in the ring with me, but I only see one other person.

Staring at her. No smile on my face for the fans. My boots firmly planted on the mat. There is no way I'm stepping out to the apron.

I think I hear Emily ask me which one of us should start. I don't say a word. She asks again. Not a single word. My eyes unmoving. Unblinking. Daring her to stay in the ring and not step through the ropes and stand on the apron.

Emily gets the point and steps out. Apparently, so does Punky. So, it's me and Gemma. That's fine. I can beat her within an inch of her life. I'm patient.

Very, very patient.

I look at Gemma in the ring, then I look at Punky, standing behind the ropes on the apron. I point at my wrist.

"I got time," I mouth to her.

The ref calls for the bell and the match starts.

I move very slowly, circling Gemma. She circles me. We get to each other's corners and when we do, I spin and reach out to grab Punky, but she ducks off the apron to the floor, laughing at me. "Not that easy, Chance!" she shouts.

And with my back turned, the first assault hits.

I go smashing into the turnbuckle, face-first. The hit from behind knocks the wind out of me, stunning me for a moment. Then, I feel myself flipped over, putting my ass firmly on the mat. A forearm across my chin, tight.

A headlock? A fucking headlock?

I bridge up, reach behind and flip Gemma over my shoulder. She lands hard and I grab her left arm while she's on the mat.


LVK: We've seen this before! With Gemma seated on the mat, Rowan grabs her arm and delivers a devastating short-arm clothes line!

RP: That cutie can be brutal when she wants to be!


With Gemma stunned, I drag her to our corner and tag Emily. I've still got Gemma's arm when Emily grabs the other. We both twist those arms, lock them between our legs and drop...


LVK: A beautiful double-arm breaker!

RP: Makes me wish I was back in the ring! I'd let those two do just about anything they wanted to me... as long it was both of them doing it.

LVK: Will you please STOP!


I hear the two announcers chatter and I wish Gordon was here calling the shots. I step out of the ring and stand on the apron, watching Emily go to work. She lays down, straddling Gemma's right arm, pulling it, trying to wrench it from its socket. I can see the pain on Gemma's face, but I look up and see Punky on the other side of the ring. She's shouting at the ref and the fans, ignoring my glare.

I'm so focused on her, I almost miss the tag. I slap Emily's hand and step in. Gemma's on the mat and we both lift arms again. This time, we flip her over on her stomach, lift the arms up, put them between our legs and...


LVK: Ooooh! A reverse double-arm breaker this time!

RP: Shades of the Minnesota Wrecking Crew! The girls are showing their roots. And they sure as hell ain't blonde!

LVK: You just don't know when to stop, do you?

RP: Nope.


With Gemma on the mat, clutching her arms and shoulders, the ref asks her if she wants to go on. "FUCK YEAH!" she shouts at him, kicking at him for even asking. Gemma starts moving toward her corner for a tag... and I let her.

I look at Punky... and I find my smile.

"Tick, tock," I mouth at her.

But it isn't time yet. Not yet. I grab Gemma by her right arm and drag Gemma to the corner. Another tag. This time, we throw Gemma into the ropes and as she comes flying back, we both move like a couple of Ricky Steamboats, grabbing those wounded arms with deep arm drags, throwing her halfway across the ring, toward our corner. I almost step out... but take a moment to STOMP on Gemma's right arm before I do.

Emily picks Gemma up. Our opponent is barely moving. It's almost time. And almost too easy.

Too easy...

I see Gemma's eyes flare for a moment. I try to shout a warning, but it comes too late. Gemma's arm flexes and flashes upward toward Emily...

RP: Now THAT is what I came here to see!

LVK: A low blow! A vicious low blow by Gemma! And it's put Emily flat on the mat!



I reach over the top rope for my partner, but she's out of range. Gemma staggers to her feet, falls backward. She's within reach of Punky.

I shout at Emily to reach for me... but I see the tag on the other side...

Gods bless Gemma Rox.  The very earth itself could be splitting apart on the day of judgment, and she'd still find a way to uppercut someone in the goody basket.

Hissing through her teeth in pain, the green-haired succubus knee-walks to the corner while Emily crumples in shocked pain, clutching herself in a way that makes the referee tilt his head quizzically.

LVK: THAT WAS A BLATANT LOW BLOW!

RP: If the ref didn't see it, it didn't happen!

LVK: What does he THINK happened there?  Did Emily just have a MUSCLE SPASM?

RP: Maybe it's her time of the month.

LVK: ...

RP: Those cramps are murder.

LVK: I hate you, Rick.

Gemma makes it over and I snatch the tag, vaulting over the top rope.  Emily is just a breath away from reaching out to tag in Rowan, and of course THAT won't do, so I go PELTING across the ring with my punkytails streaming out behind me. I rush up behind Layne and wrap my arms around her waist, clutching her tight as she reaches ... reaches ... Chance is reaching out, they're just a fingertip away ...

And I plant my feet and bend low, THRUSTING my long stockinged legs back and carrying the Italian up high into the air, putting some SNAP in the suplex as I take her up so that as I bend into a back-bridge, I unlink my arms and just send her hurtling overhead, turning a complete flip to CRASH onto her face and tits in the center of the ring, hitting the release German suplex that Japanese fans and SvR gamers call the SHUTTLE LOOP BUSTER but other people just call an overhead release German suplex.

Rowan snarls in fury, and as I come up to my feet I approach her with a sweet, poisonous smile. Her fists curl and her eyes glare pure hatred at me - so I swing my right hand out and CRACK a slap across her cheek, the echo of it swallowed by the collective GASP of the audience.

Only in wrestling does a bitch slap draw more shock from the audience than throwing a 140-pound Italian over your head.

Chance immediately tries to bull into the ring, forcing the referee to rush over and struggle to hold the Widow back as I smirk and turn back to Emily, walking smoothly to her feet.  I take her boots in both hands, splaying her legs and swiftly dropping a knee into her aching mound, blowing a kiss to the crowd as she sits up groaning before I take Layne's hair and drag her to her feet.

LVK: What a sickening display!

RP: That looked like a perfectly legal shot to the lower abdomen to me.

LVK: GIVE ME A BREAK!

RP: What, only Bret Hart can call it that?

"Time's running out already," I purr, dragging Layne back to the Countdown corner.  Rowan's eyes meet mine with an intensity that makes me lick my lips.  I loop my left arm around Em's right shoulder and bend down to hook her left leg up with my right hand behind her knee.  Holding her across me I grin and bend my knees low, throwing the gorgeous daughter of Roma overhead to CRASH her back and shoulders into the turnbuckles with my MASTER EXPLODER suplex, letting her crumple to the mat in a heap as the audience roars their disdain.

"Enough fucking show-off suplexes," Gemma growls. "Lemme at her."

I flicker a glance back at Rox as I slither up to my feet.  She rolls her shoulders, suppressing a wince but affirming that her arms are moving properly after Rowan and Emily's little Rock and Roll Express attack on her huggers.  I extend my hand towards her with a smirk, keeping my eyes on Rowan across the ring as we do a too-cool-for-school Outsiders no-look gimme-some-skin tag.

Gemma leaps in lithely and begins laying boots into the fallen Emily, hammering her under a brutal hooligan assault.  I offer a few boots of my own - no punk can resist a good boot party, after all - until the referee musters up the courage to urge me out of the ring while Gemma scraps Emily up off the mat.

The little Rox - the Countdown's firecracker, no doubt - hits a brutal European uppercut in mid-ring and then takes Layne's wrist, twisting her for a hard Irish whip as I stand on the apron and turn to the crowd to smirkingly confirm for a few fans in the front row that I did indeed turn their moms and girlfriends lesbian last night.

Gemma s stomps were pretty nasty and they stunned me for good.
When she twists my wrist and whips me into the corner I can't do a lot, my body runs without control against the ropes, bouncing on them and running back toward my rival.

Gemma is waiting for me, her feet firmly planted on the mat, her legs partially opened, her upperbody bending forward.
I have not the freshness to kick her and my body is caught by her hands, she lifts me up,using the momentum to flip my body over her.

RP: BACKBODYDROP! And the ring shakes!

I heavily land on my ass and small of the back, my face shows that the impact was hard enough.
I sit there, arching my back, wincing.

"what's wrong fucker???"

I hear Gemma yelling at me before driving her heavy boot straight in the middle of my back.

"OOOOOWWW" I groan and falls on my side.

Gemma quickly gets on her knees and lays over me, grabbing my right leg with both arms and lifts it up.
The ref gets on his knees too for the count.

RP: ONE... TWO... AND THREE!

LVK: You missed something, Emily actually broke the pin at ONE!

RP: Seriously? I'm surprised!

The ref shows the index finger up,signaling that it was a one count only when I pushed my shoulder up.
Gemma drives again her boot down at me, does she know any other way to wear down her opponent? Uggh!
It hurts by the way!

Gemma grabs my pony tail and twist her fingers in my hair, forcing me up and my head between her strong muscular legs before pointing her thumb toward her neck.

LVK: is she calling already the 911? Isn't too early?

RP: not really, she realized that this is not really a match!

I so remember this move, she cut it already on me some weeks ago. This time I'm not going to be facebustered down and I bulge my biceps, roughly shoving on her legs and pop my head free,from this position I suddenly grab her ankles and yank them forward and up, forcing her to awkwardly fall on her cute ass between the cheers of the crowd.
I cross her left shin over her knee, tryin to be as quick I can, stepping my right boot between her legs and spin around, trapping her in a tight Boston Crab!

LVK: Oh my! That's a wonderful counter by Layne! A Splendid Boston Crab! Finally we see some wrestling!

RP: Wrestling? *opens his right hand and looks down,like he is reading across his palm* I never seen a decent wrestler since Rome fell!

LVK: What? Are you interested into history now?

RP: history is my second lov..my third...*mumbls* my fourth love

LVK: so, when did Rome fell?

RP: Mmmmmm 1492 A.D.!

LVK *facepalms*

RP: hey I missed that episode of National Geographic!

The ref kneel down, lookin at Gemma as she winces and curses me.
"what do you say Gemma? Talk to me!"

"YOU MOTH****ER, AS****LE, FILTHY CO*****ER, FUCK FUCK FUCK!"

LVK: I think that meant "No"

I try to pull and tug back but little by little Gemma forces us toward the ropes and she lunges her hands on the bottom rope, grabbing it.
I release the hold and move backward.
My hands on my thighs, crouching low and waving one hand at Gemma

"come on dwarf! I'm here! Get me!" I taunt the green hair girl, knowing that she can fall in the trick. Without any further waste of time she runs into me for a clothesline but I lean my body backward, planting the palm of my hands on the mat in a perfect bridge. Gemma arm hits only hair.
I nipup and turn back to face her.
She runs again into me but this time I run too into her and take advantage on the momentum and catch her thighs,carrying her body for a step forward before slam her down hard!

LVK: SPINEBUSTER! WOW!

I get up again, catching breathe and look at Rowan behind me.
Nodding at her. Gemma is making her way up and I grab her wrist, twisting it and whipping her body toward the ropes in a Irish whip.
I run against the opposite ropes to take more speed.

LVK: Look at this! Emily is ready for some kind of running impact move!

As soon I hit the ropes I feel my back burning in pain as Megan sneaked behind me and drives her knee hard between the middle and the top ropes in a nasty knee smash that forces me down on my knees!

RP *laughs out loud* that was for sure a impact move! *laughs*

LVK: that wasn't fair! Megan isn't the legal one in the ring! The ref must do something!

The ref rushes at Megan, warning her pointing his index finger at her, the problem, my problem, is that now he is not lookin in the ring!

Very entertaining event

I watch Punky put a knee in Emily's back and I see Emily crumple to her knees.

Punky throws a kiss my way. I nearly jump through the ropes, my lips curling into a sneer. Punky laughs and Gemma picks up Emily's wounded frame and starts working on her.

RP: Oh, a devastating back breaker!
LVK: That, combined with Punky's knee to the back may finish off Emily for good!

I watch the pin and the ref going down for the count. I can't just sit here. I can't...

I'm jumping through the ropes when the ref counts "TWO!" but Emily kicks her shoulders up. No need to break that count. I slide back between the ropes.

"Come on, Emily!" shout at her. I look out at the crowd, stomping my feet. They clap in unison. A chant begins. I turn back to the ring just in time to see Gemma squeeze Emily into a merciless surfboard hold, pulling Emily's back further than it should go. The pain on Emily's face twists and distorts her features. Her lips wide open, bracing on a scream.

I reach over the top rope. "Emily! I'm right here! I'm right here!"

I lock eyes with her. I see recognition. She drops an elbow down into Gemma's face. Then another. A third elbow breaks the hold and both women fall to the mat.

Gemma holds her chin, her eyes filled with rage. She looks at Emily, clawing her way over to me. She grabs Emily by the ankle and pulls her back to the other corner. A quick tag and Punky is back in the ring, dropping an elbow on Emily's back.

"Oh, does your poor back hurt?" Punky asks Emily as she writhes on the mat. She looks over at me. "I'm sure Rowan knows how you feel."

Without even thinking, I jump through the ropes. The ref grabs me and pushes me back, careful not to cop a feel, accidental or otherwise. I push him aside and rush toward Punky, but the Purple Priestess of Pain ducks out of the ring as soon as she sees me coming. I chase her around the ring, the ref trying to catch up with us.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Gemma run into the ring, grab Emily's neck and put her knee against Emily's back, pulling hard.

I run back into the ring behind Gemma and leap, grabbing her around the neck from behind and use my momentum to pull her forward, smashing her face into the mat. The crowd explodes and I rush back to my corner, ducking between the ropes, grabbing the tag rope and extend my hand out to Emily.

RP: That was a BLATANT cheat!

LVK: What's good for the goose is good for the gander!
RP: Except the only gander in there is the ref!

LVK: You know what I mean.
RP: Sometimes I don't think YOU know what you mean.

Emily crawls toward me. Gemma is still out of it, but she's coming to.

"COME ON!" I shout at Emily! "COME ON!"

Just as Gemma stumbles over to her corner, Emily gets to ours. I slap her hand and jump into the ring. The crowd roars.

At the same moment, Gemma reaches out to tag Punky... and Punky backs off the ramp to the stairs.

Gemma looks at her for a moment... then turns just in time to see my heels strike her right between the eyes.

Quote from: bigbadrose on July 05, 2014, 03:03:05 PM
Very entertaining event

(From all of us putting this mess together... thanks!)

Quote from: Rowan Chance on July 05, 2014, 08:23:19 PM

Quote from: bigbadrose on July 05, 2014, 03:03:05 PM
Very entertaining event

(From all of us putting this mess together... thanks!)

(Yeah! Thanks :) )

Back in the locker room area, I've put off celebratory libations in favour of water. I'm watching what's happening on the monitors. Next to me, the Red Enforcer is clearly engaged in the match, pumping his fist when Gemma or Megan score a good one, and wincing underneath his mask when it goes the other way. It's just a bit too even for my liking, so it's time to set the next phase into motion. "Alright, time for plan B," I say, standing up.

Red nods and says, "Right, boss," heading out of our locker room. I pull on the hoodie, tug another mag-lite into the pocket, (good thing I bought those in bulk!) and make my way through the backstage area to gorilla. One of the backstage hands spots me, and notes that I'm not supposed to be out there. I pull the mag-lite out of the pocket, and he remembers he's got something better to do than get hit in the head, and darts off to go do that. Tucking that torch back into my pocket, I head through the curtain, strolling across the state and down the ramp with my hands in the hoodie's pocket.

LvK: Oh what is this?
RP: It's the leader of the Countdown! She's obviously come out to provide moral support.
LvK: I'm sure.

I wince a little on Gemma's behalf as she takes Rowan's dropkick to the face - but frankly, if that's the worst thing to happen to Gemma's face this week, she'll count her lucky stars.  Right now she's counting little chirping cartoon birds circling around her head, however, as the toxic green little hand of the Doomsday Clock rebounds off the ropes and topples to the mat.

Rowan is on her in an instant, in a flurry, pounding away.  Chance is furious, fighting like a mad dog, and she keeps casting flaring glances my way.  Which is fine.  Whenever those crazy eyes seek me out then she's taking her eyes off Gemma.

Rowan goes right back onto Gemma's arm after her initial pounding, pulling her right arm out in a savage armbar and really pouring her weight on the shoulder, yanking at the elbow with an intensity that would be alarming if it was MY arm.  Gemma seems pretty distressed about it, but she manages to snarl and claw her way to the bottom rope and hook it with her left hand, forcing the referee to break the hold after Rowan seems reluctant to let go.

Just about then, the crowd ripples like water with a stone tossed into the cold depths, heads turning to see the long languid hooded figure emerging onto the stage.  Rowan pauses, just for an instant, in hauling up Gemma by the hair -

- and an instant is all a villain needs.

Gemma jabs her left thumb up into Rowan's eye, twisting it neatly with a flick of her wrist to really grind that cornea, sending the Black Widow staggering back and clutching at her face.  Rox cradles her right arm against her chest and backpedals to the corner, slumping in the buckles while I slap her shoulder.  The ref acknowledges the tag as I bound neatly to the top rope and balance there like Venom for a long moment until Rowan just barely starts to lower her hands from her face.

RP: Beautiful recovery by Rox!  That chick's got MOXIE.

LvK: She POKED ROWAN CHANCE IN THE EYE!

RP: That's basically the dictionary definition of "moxie", van Keel.

I leap, springing off the taut steel cable and bring my right fist CRASHING against the side of Chance's pretty face with a springboard haymaker.  It's way better than Roman Reigns' Superman punch, if you ask me.  It's got magic to it.  It's like a Shazam punch.  Chance drops like a rock as I land crouched with one fist pressed dramatically to the mat and my left hand out-thrust past my hip and behind me, soaking in the boos of the crowd.

I straighten, bouncing on my toes, as Rowan snarls and rolls over, fighting past the pain and dizziness with her fury, her burning need to get her hands on me, and she heroically fights to push herself up to her knees on clenched fists - and I snap a kick across the back of her head, my long striped leg beautifully straight and cracking like a whip to hammer my Doc across the base of her skull.

She topples again, and the crowd groans in mass sympathy.  I smirk and scoop Chance up quick, by the hair, and FLING her forward into our corner.  She barely turns to let her back crash into the buckles, and sags there for a second, hate burning in her eyes as she looks at me.  I smile with sweet poison glossy on my black lips and bound right up to her, close enough to kiss, and let Gemma tag in on my shoulder as I bend down, wrapping my hands arond the middle rope. I launch myself twice into that firm belly I've kissed so sweetly, hammering my shoulder into Rowan's abs to drive some breath out of her - and I stay bent over, grinding my shoulder in with a smirk as I hear Gemma's boots pound the mat.  Rox steps up onto my back and NAILS a high kneesmash into Rowan's aching head, and I can feel the Widow sag in the corner.  Gemma bounds off, back to the mat, and I straighten and kiss Rowan's cheek fleetingly as our bodies brush before I slither out of the ring, just missing her furious grab for me.

"Miss me?", I purr.  I'm so sweet.

Gemma, of course, hates being ignored and boots Ro low in the belly, then grips the top rope and hammers her with a flurry of stomps, pausing only to flip off the referee with that British double V before she backs away a few paces and rushes in, tucking her knees and thrusting out with a savage dropkick against Rowan as she slumps on the middle buckle.  Gemma immediately tags out to me again, then hauls Rowan up, holding her in a front facelock and lifting Chance's right arm up, exposing that gorgeous body for me.  I lick my lips and LASH a kick into her breasts, savoring that delicious groan as the referee tries to get stern with me.  I flick him away and pull Rowan close, hooking her a reverse facelock, nestling her under the heat of my tattooed right bicep, arching her gorgeous body.

I take a moment to smirk for the crowd and caress Rowan's exquisite breasts with my left fingertips before I snap down savagely to HAMMER the back of her head and her neck into my right knee, planting my left on the mat and outstretching my right thigh to make a landing pad.  Christian used this move a lot, but I learned it from Steve Keirn so I still call it the Gatorbreaker.

Holding Rowan just like that, bent over my thigh with my arm wound around her head with her body writhing beautifully, I stretch my left arm back and take another quick tag.

LvK: And ANOTHER tag by the Countdown.

RP: That's smart play, Larry!  It's a tag match!  You want to take full advantage of every 2-to-1 opportunity!

LvK: I think Punky just wants to make sure Chance doesn't get an opportunity to fight fair.

RP: Only a MORON wants a fair fight.

Gemma leaps smoothly over the top rope, vaulting and twisting her body in the air to drop her left elbow across Rowan's stretched chest, crushing her ribs.  I release the convulsing Widow and let Gemma scoop her up.  The two of us hook her arms over our shoulders as the ref starts to count us and we share a smirk as we lift Rowan high, kicking our feet out simultaneously to drop her on her shoulders with a double suplex.

I return to the ring apron as the referee furiously warns me about DQs and so forth.  Gemma poses, lifting both arms and tapping her wrist with one finger as the crowd rains down their sweet hatred.  Rox slowly pulls Rowan to her feet and launches a kick for her belly - but Rowan catches it!

Gemma bounces on one foot for a moment, but smirks, and twists into a swift and brutal enziguiri ... which Rowan ducks!

"Fuck!" I spit, simultaneous with Calli, who has made it down to ringside, standing mid-apron near my side.  Rowan immediately staggers over the fallen Gemma, heading for Emily, who is FRANTIC in her corner, bouncing up and down and thrusting her hand out, pounding the top turnbuckle which starts a rally clap by the sheep in the crowd.

(Damn them!  I love rally claps!)

Rowan is just inches away when Gemma manages to shove herself off the mat, cursing in fluent Brit -

LvK: Did she say "flaming arse"?

RP: WASH YOUR MOUTH OUT WITH SOAP!

- as she lunges and catches Ro around the waist.  Gemma plants her feet and tries to recreate my amazing German suplex from earlier - except Rowan elbows her way free, hammering Gemma in the side of the head, and then snatches the littler grappler's hand from her waist and yanks her into a brutal short-arm clothesline, drawing a huge cheer from the crowd! 

Rowan hits the clothesline so hard that she falls with Gemma.  Shaking her aching head and breathing heavily, Rowan again heads for Emily, who is just hammering the holy hell out of the top buckle now.  Chance crawls across the mat and she is just about to snatch the tag when I bound into the ring, grabbing her ankles and DRAGGING her back to our corner as the crowd RAINS down hatred.

Disregarding the referee's righteous rage, I drop a tattooed elbow across the back of Rowan's head and leave her shuddering on the mat as I roll to my feet and smack Gemma's ass, demanding she clear her cobwebs and get me in the ring.  Shaking her green head, Rox gets up to her knees and makes the tag legally to a chorus of hatred.  The two of us get Rowan on her feet and take her to mid-ring, slinging her to the ropes and readying for a brutal flapjack-neckbreaker combo ...

... but Chance vaults over me as I bend to take her waist, and then slides under Gemma's grasping hand, tumbling to the corner and TAGGING in Emily Layne to a bunch of hallelujahs from the crowd.

LvK: THERE'S THE TAG!

RP: I HATE this part!  WHY DOES BEING TAGGED IN DRAMATICALLY GIVE THEM SUPERPOWERS?!

I'm sitting in the back, watching the match trying to cheer Gemma and Punky on, but then Callista deigns it time for her plan to go in action.  I think there's a reason Bond villains have the same accent as Callista, they both like hearing themselves speak.  I can't believe Gemma got me wrapped up into this and now I have to listen to her and her master plan for saving wrestling.  One loss to Gemma and I'm wrapped up in this group trying to take down this superfed and rule it.  Callista tells me it's time for plan B and I grit my teeth and hiss out "Right, boss" with as much politeness as I can muster. Don't get me wrong, I'll cheat in the ring. But this outside the ring jumping people and stuff, not really to my taste.  But because I'm a man of my word, I'm in.  Now that doesn't mean I have to do it just like they'd want.

I get up and leave, pulling out my Samsung Galaxy SII and hit the familiar speed dial code.

"Sadie, dinner out is a go."  

"Really, going with the cheesy spy code?  You really want to do this?"

"I've explained, I've got no choice. For now. Will you help me, darlin'?"

"You really have to ask, you dumb ape?  I got your back and hanging with those cold bitches, somebody has to.  Jeez, a little tit here, a little ass there and you're nearly tripping all over your own..."

"SADIE! Come on now, you know it's not like that. Well, mostly.  Anyways, do you see him?"

"I got him.  I figured he'd be bigger and more ninja like considering how Rowan talks about him."

"Can you stall him while I get there?" I hurry up my pace and pick up a folding chair.

"Oh I got him. I wore my slutty best to get his attention.  You know the cutoff jean shorts with those Superman panties you like so much just peeking over the top of the waistline."

"SADIE! Be serious!"

"I am serious, I got them just showing like you boys like to see, oh here he is. See ya soon, ya big ox."

I put my phone away and shake my head. Gawd that girl can be so damn frustrating at times, but I wouldn't want anyone else at my back.  She may be like the kids say "cray cray" but I know where her loyalties lie.  I can't say the same for the rest of Countdown.  Gemma says she's good with me being at her side and won't turn on me, but we saw what she did to Rowan. Callista would throw me under a double decker bus to get what she wants. Punky is the only wild card.  I can't bank on a wild card. So I have Sadie with me and I didn't tell anyone else about this. I didn't need them talking me out of it. I'm in a nest of vipers and I need to have an ally.

Ahh, there he is. Lord Tantalus.  That man has quite the hold on Rowan and we're banking on that to mess up her match tonight. And there's Sadie, wow she is pouring on the charm.  She even has that Red's Gym shirt she cut into a belly shirt and tucks under her bra. Gawd that's sexy. And those short shorts. With that new tan she has, she really looks. Wait, she's looking at me. And her eyes are widening and she looks pissed.  Oh shit, yeah I need to do this.

I run up behind Tantalus and slam his back with the metal chair like a roided up Barry Bonds chasing Hank Aaron's record.  Hmm, he looks like he might still get up. WHACK!  Still moving. WHACK!  
"Red is that as hard as they let you swing now? Damn you're whipped, gimme!" Sadie takes the chair and slams it again and again and again onto Tantalus's body.

"Ok, that's enough Sadie, let's drag this guy's ass out where Rowan can see it."
"Sure thing.....boss"

It looks like Rowan is doing those kind of marines training, vaulting over Punky and ducking Gemma before finally reaching for my extended arm and slaps my hand with energy.

The ref lifts his hands and slap them,signaling the tag.

I can hear the loud roar from the crowd as I quickly step between the ropes and I'm in the ring.
It seems that the arena is about to crush in any moment, I don't hear such a loud noise since when the drummer Scott Columbus performed "Thor" in Milan.

Megan and Gemma look at each other. Gemma is the one a bit more dazed, they don't have to decide who should go at me first.
I decide who I will go at first!

I march into Megan, she moves into me,probably everyone is waiting for a spear, which I already used on her last week.
I see her right arm lifting up, going for a forearm smash or so, but I quickly step aside, wrapping my left arm around her right armpit, sneaking behind her body, my left arm forcing her right arm up while I bring my right arm around her waist and I suddenly launch myself back, flipping her over me in a powerful half nelson suplex!

RP: I can't believe it! Can Italians do suplex???

LVK: Layne is one of the most talented wrestler from Europe Rick, she is showing that!

RP: my ex girlfriend was Italian too, she had many talents herself

LVK: I'm not talking about those talents!

I quickly roll up on my feet, Megan is bridging up on her feet, clutching her back with her right arm. I see Gemma comin at me. I bring my left foot up to kick her side but she catches it.
I spin and drive my right boot against her cheek in a enzeguiri kick.

RP: that's bullshit Larry! The first rule in wrestling is to not perform the same move of your rival! We already saw that move!

LVK: though the outcome was pretty different!

Gemma body falls down behind the brutal kick.
I look back and see that Punkz is stirring, slowly making her way up.
I grab Gemma head with two hands and lift her up, I grab her wrist and whip her into the ropes.
But I'm not planning to wait for her in the middle of the ring, I'm running right behind her and as soon her back hits the ropes, I'm on her with my arm spread wide in a huge running clothesline that catches her upperchest and neck.

Gemma s body flips over the top ropes with her legs and ass up before crumbling down on the apron ring at first and rolling down on the concrete next to Callie.

The whole crowd is on their feet, welcoming each move with a explosions of wild cheers and screams.
But there is no time to soak in the cheers.
Being alone in the ring with such two villains (plus their mastermind outside of the ropes too)

I look out, panting, my face red, Calli is nervously lookin toward the gorilla before our eyes lace.

"wanna get some too?" I yell at her, but I get from her only a cold glare, her hand presses on her pocket for a moment.

RP : this Emily Layne is such arrogant! Calista is not doing anything there!

I hear the buzz of the crowd, I can hear the stomps of Megan Doc Martens on the ring and I turn back,just in time to step forward into her moving body, she leaps toward me in a some kind of body splash avalanche attempt and I catch her mid air with my right arm around her upper body,my left hand slides down under her thigh as I hold and lift her body up takin advantage on the momentum of her run before crushing down on my ass and slamming her body down in a sitout spinebuster!

BAMMMM

Another loud explosion of cheer from the crowd.
I hold on Megan leg and push my body forward, one arm over her body as her shoulders are flat on the mat

The referee kneel down and slaps his hand down on the mat for the count.

ONE

TWO

But Punky lifts her right shoulder breaking the count causing the disappointment of the arena.

LVK: That was close!

RP: oh please, I never saw such a fast count since when I was playing hide and seek!

I get up and bring up with me Megan right leg, kicking the tip of my boot straight into her muscular thigh twice.
I turn and give a quick look at Rowan, she recovered enough and she extends her right hand out.
She is waiting this moment since the beginning of the match, getting her hands on Punky.
She doesn't say anything.

I shake on Megan leg with myleft hand before dropping down with my elbow up against her thigh again before getting up and start to drag Punky body toward our corner.

LVK : we are about to see a tag I think! Rowan is eager to get in the ring! Her eyes are filled with anger!

RP: wait a minute Larry, what's happening?

A loud buzz coming from the curtain.
I stop for a moment and look in that direction,so Rowan does

LVK: I sense that this is one of Calli tricks!

Emily has Punky's ankle, dragging her toward our corner, pulling her along the canvas, Punky's skirt pulled up around her waist. I can feel the audience's excitement build and I extend my hand for the tag, smiling. I see the look on Punky's face and I meet her eyes.

"Tick, to--"

Everything freezes. I look straight through Emily and Punky toward the main stage.

Red is there. And he's holding...

"To--Tantalus?"

... oh, Goddess, he's bleeding.

Red holds Tantalus up like a trophy, up over his arms. His massive, powerful arms.

"Hey Rowan!" he shouts from the stage. "Wanna see me break his back?"

By the side of the stage, I can hear Callista's voice.

"Tick, tock," she says.

I move from the edge of the mat to the metal stairs. Nothing else matters. Nothing. Else. Matters.

The man who trained me. The man who gave me my strength. The man who...

I'm walking toward the stage, away from the ring. And I find Callista in my way.

She has one hand in the pocket of her hoodie. I know what's in there. I've felt it. More than once. Her smile says everything. She doesn't need to talk.

You have to go through me.

But I don't pause. I walk straight toward her. My eyes focused on one man as if he's the only person in the world.


LVK: Obviously, this is a plot to get Rowan Chance distracted.
RP: And it's worked. Like clockwork, you might say.

LVK: Callista Quinn is standing between Rowan and the stage!
RP: She's going to get another taste of that mag light!

LVK: It seems so, she isn't even looking at Quinn! She walks right by her, as if she wasn't there!
RP: Quinn can't believe it, either! But nobody turns their back on Callista Quinn! NOBODY!

LVK: That seems like it's going to be the case... she's walking up behind Rowan, raising that mag light and...
RP: What??? What was that!?!?!

LVK: Ladies and gentlemen, just as Callista Quinn was about to strike, Rowan turned...
RP: Do spiders have radar?

LVK: Perhaps that famous "spider sense" we hear so much about. Just as Quinn was about to strike, Rowan turned and dropped Quinn with her patented Widow's Kiss!
RP: That float over DDT ought to be banned! Chance ought to be banned for using it on the floor!

LVK: Callista Quinn is on the floor, her head cradled in her arms! We may have a concussion here! Her famous, or should I say, infamous mag light rolls on the ground.
RP: And Rowan Chance is still walking up the ramp toward the stage like a zombie.


I get to the top of the stage. Something was in my way, but I... dealt with it.

Red smiles under his mask, holding the limp and bleeding body of my mentor... my sensei... my...

"Stop right there, Ro," he says.

I stop.

"Don't, Red," I tell him. "Don't push me this far. You don't know..." I pause. I'm afraid to say any more.

Red's smile falters for a moment, then looks behind me. "Sorry, Ro," he says to me. "But all's fair, you know."

He drops Tantalus at my feet and walks away. His body crumbles, his face covered in blood. Red walks to the back. I fall to my knees. I can hear sounds from the ring behind me like distant echoes through water.

I'm afraid to touch him, to hurt him further.

You were right, I tell him. I should have... I should...

The words come to my lips softly, like a kiss. "I'm sorry."

I hear someone screaming my name. I don't care. I take his head between my hands, gently, and put it in my lap.

"You were right," I whisper to him, parting his blood-caked hair from his closed eyes. "It's time."

My eyes narrow when Emily drags me over to Rowan like a fresh kill, my back still pulsing with pain after the spinebuster on the heels of that half-nelson suplex (nowhere NEAR as crisp and graceful as MY suplexes, obviously, making it all the more insulting that she'd dare to use it on me). Chance is going to tag in and rip into me like a fat bulldog going after a chop bone.

But then she doesn't.

I stop my clawing at the canvas for a moment and tilt my head up.

Chance is gone.  Just GONE.  The audience is all turning their heads towards something on the stage like birds on a wire watching a hawk soar by.  The referee is staring at the stage is open-mouthed distraction.  Emily is just staring blankly at the apron where Rowan is supposed to be, stunned as a dynamited fish.  Good.

I don't need to know why Chance left or see what the audience is seeing. I see a ref not paying attention while my opponent isn't looking at me, which is just the worst kind of mistake.  I twist my hips, lithe as a snake on the mat, and snap my free foot up, cracking it like a whip to hammer the round steel toe of my Doc Marten up between Layne's sultry thighs.  She crumples with a groan, being particularly sore there after the tender attentions Gemma and I have paid her throughout the match, and I roll to my knees.  I snap a hard roundhouse kick at the back of Emily's head, hammering her with a *KRACK* and dropping her facefirst to the mat like a sack of spaghetti.

Rox comes sliding into the ring and - what the hell, the referee is STILL distracted. I spare a glance and see some commotion on the stage.  Some plan of Calli's, then.  Fine.  That's what Calli's there for; ridiculously convoluted plans.  I'm here to break stuff.

We'll start with Emily Layne.

I hiss softly to Gemma.  "Time Stands Still," I purr.  All of our doubleteams are time and clock puns.  Whatever.  We both haul Emily to her feet and drag her to the ropes, pushing her arms out wide along the top rope.  I slither out between the top and middle ropes, hooking my legs around her arms and reaching down for her ankles, yanking them under the bottom rope to pull her lovely legs out and wrap my tattooed arms around her shins.  With a flex of my lithe body, I lock her in the Tarantula, my punkytails hanging down as I grin upside down like a tarot card prophesizing bad things to come.

Before Emily can really even begin wailing in pain properly, bent backwards in the steel cables and my embrace around her arms and legs, Gemma rolls up to the top rope with that eerie inhuman balance of hers, and wraps her iron thighs around Emily's neck, hooking her boots neatly and locking up Emily's screams in her crushed throat.  The crowd finally draws their attention away from the bloodied drama on the stage to take note of the fact that we're breaking Layne in half, and they register their disdain in the strongest possible terms.

I CRANK back on her boots, yanking her knees against the bottom cable, flexing my long stockinged legs to almost separate her shoulders as Gemma crushes her throat, balanced like a pin-up girl reclining on the top rope.  Emily starts to go a lovely shade of maroon by the time the referee notices us and rushes over, apoplectic in his rage.  I love when referees get all worked up and invoke the wrath of God, since it means they're not counting.  By the time he remembers to finally start counting, Em practically has drool trickling out of the corner of her lips.

LvK: THIS IS A DAMN MUGGING!  WHAT KIND OF THUGGERY IS THE COUNTDOWN GETTING AWAY WITH HERE?!  Rowan Chance's mentor, HAULED to the stage like a BLOODY SACRIFICE by the Countdown's KNUCKLE-DRAGGING GORILLA ...

RP: HEY.  Enforcer's knuckles don't DRAG.  At least not when he keeps his hands in his pockets.

LvK: ... and now the so-called "Hands of the Doomsday Clock" are just TAKING APART Emily Layne who's left ALONE in this ring!  This is RIDICULOUS!

RP: Deep breaths, van Keel.  It's just entertainment.

LvK: You call THIS entertainment?

RP: Well, Punky and Gemma seem to be laughing, at least.

The count finally reaches four, and Gemma and I both release Emily simultaneously.  She flops almost bonelessly to the mat, shuddering and clutching at her throat.  I drop sinuously to the apron and lay there with my head propped on one hand and one leg langurously bent to drape my hand on my knee as Gemma rests on the top rope, one arm hanging down and almost brushing my cheek, the two of us hitting a five-second pose for the benefit of those with flash photography before we roll back into the ring.

Rowan's stil gone, so Gemma steps to the apron as I haul Emily up and BULLWHIP her to the corner, throwing my whole body weight behind it so she CRASHES in at top speed.  As I get to one knee, I reach out and grab the referee's belt, pulling him close to me as Gemma wraps the tag rope around Emily's throat and strangles her in the corner to make sure she doesn't collapse too fast.  She kicks and gurgles as I ask the referee to PLEASE check out my left forefinger.  I assure him that I thought I heard a snap and I don't want my career ended like Sin Cara's.

LvK: OH, GIVE ME A BREAK!

RP: CHILL, van Keel!  Punky is just trying to make sure she didn't suffer a CAREER-THREATENING injury during the course of this hard-hitting scientific match!

LvK: ... how do you say things like that with a straight face.

RP: Sold my soul to win the title back in Atlanta in '83, and since then I've picked up a Valium habit.

LvK: Ah.

I'm finally assured by the teeth-gritting ref that my finger is fine, and I get to my feet and neatly brush past him as Gemma unwinds the tag rope and holds the end of it, prim and legal.  Emily sags down in the corner looking half-strangled and I come FLYING in with a gorgeous flying body splash, just CRUSHING her in the corner.  Gemma tags my shoulder and leaps over the top rope, running to mid ring and then rushing in with a neat handspring that ends with a back elbow, CRUSHING into Emily's jaw and drawing a groan from the crowd as I hit the far corner and come BOLTING in again, Gemma just getting clear as I LEAP and tuck my legs, wrapping my arms around my knees and DESTROYING Em with a running CANNONBALL SPLASH in the corner!

I bounce off neatly, and roll to the apron. Gemma hooks Emily up, muscling the bigger girl up to sit on the top turnbuckle.  Gemma bounds neatly up to the top rope and tags me in.  I vault over the top rope and twist to the middle of the ring where I take a stance, my right foot forward and chambered and my right hand low, fingers dancing on my thigh as my left hand waggles in the air behind me.

LvK: Oh, good God, what are they going to do ...

RP: This feels like a clear day in Japan with a single bomber flying overhead.

Gemma moves as neatly as an elf even with her shoulder and neck clearly bothering her, and I bite back the pain that wracks my spine because we have to hit this FLUIDLY.

Gems doesn't even glance back at me.  I don't look to nod for her or count to three. We don't need to.

We're the hands of the clock because we have fucking TIMING.

Gemma Rox leaps up and snatches her powerful legs around Emily's neck, smoothly snapping herself backwards and just FLIPPING Layne off the top with a huracanrana.  But not just a simple one, no.  Gemma puts extra SNAP into it, hard enough to over-rotate the Italian so she comes down practically on her boots ... and as Emily comes down and her toes just brush the mat, I LASH out with a brutal thrust kick that hits her under the jaw with an echoing *CRACK* ...

RP: HOLY SHITBALLS!

... and Layne is thrown to her back like she was shot from a grassy knoll.

I didn't understand a lot of what happened to me after that low blow kick that Megan sent to my crotch.
I just felt pain and pain and more pain for long minutes!
Trapped in the ropes and hanging at the villains corner.

The last kick on my jaw when my body was roughly thrown down by Gemma hurricanrana was like a train landing straight on my jaw and my body fell down, lifelessly looking.
I lay down on my back, my legs spread apart and my arms above my head, moving only to breathe for some long seconds.

The crowd( which booed during all the brutal action that Gemma and Megan performed on me) now is in a deadly silent, probably someone is wondering if I'm alive or not.

I bring my hand on my jaw, tryin to stir but I feel pain everywhere.

RP: That was a REAL tag team action! These two girls know what is a team! They didn't need to say anything to themselves, they did anything with perfect timing!
Anyone know what to do in that moment!
That's wrestling, pure wrestling! We should all thank Callista for what she is doing in this federation!
What's on the other corner instead? We have Emily alone, where is Rowan? Is that a tag team? They were such big friends last week! What happened now?

LVK: I don't know what you're talking about! Wrestling? What I saw is only people ambushing other people and using illegal tricks!
Rowan came to help his mentor Lord Tantalus!
I am sure that Callista is behind anything happened to Lord too!

RP: you're blind Larry! Anyway, now the question is: who is Lord Tantalus?

LVK: I really hate you Rick, I really do!

Punky meanwhile is on her knees and hands, moving around me like a predator with her prey and I feel her chest brushing on mine.

"Piaciuto tesoro? Ti ho fatto male?" she mocks at me in my own language while playing with  my mouth with her thumb and index fingers,forcing a sad face across my face.

LVK: what is she sayin?

RP: they're booking a private session

LVK: do you speak Italian too?

RP: yeah I told you, my ex girlfriend was Italian, from Paris!

LVK facepalms (again)

RP: and here goes the pin!

Megan chest lays on mine.
The ref starts to count, kinda fast as he wants to call the EMT as soon as possible.

ONE

TWO

I don't have the strength to kick out

But

At the last second Megan grabs my hair and tug my head and shoulder up,breaking herself the count.
The crowd gasps and boos the purple haired villain.

LVK: Oh no! Oh my God no! That's insane! She won it! Why is she doing this now?

RP: Remember Larry that's not about winning or losing Larry! This is about saving wrestling!

Megan lifts me up by my hair, ready to set up her finisher, I am bending forward now, I hate all of this, I hate being brutalized that way, I need to stop this, no matter how!
I re group my last energies and put one knee down on the mat, my fist close in a tight ball as I drive my forearm as hard I can between Megan legs in a dirty low blow!
Punky wasn't wait for this, she stumble backward, her hands clutching between her legs before crumbling down on her side.

LVK: Holy Shit! Emily is still in the match! I can't believe it! She just..aehm

RP: this is BULLSHIT Larry! That was a blatant low blow! *stands up* COME ON REF! DQ HER!

LVK: Chill Rick, that wasn't the first illegal move of the match!

The ref looks at me, I think that he is kinda understanding the situation, and he decides to not sayin anything about the low blow.
The crowd is going nuts now, no one was waiting for a reaction now after that violent series of brutal moves on me.
I barely stand on my feet, staggering backward toward the ropes, holding on them to stay on feet as I see Gemma furiously running toward me.
I am not able to contrast her with a move, so I need to be smart and I hold both hands on the ropes and duck the British green haired girl, makin her body stumbles and flips over the ropes and outside the ring again.

I pant and cough.
Megan is still down, her face on the mat, her ass sticking out and up, her hands still between her legs, her right foot kicking on the canvas.
I stumble forward, not able to stay on my feet, I get on my knees and hands to crawl toward my corner and look for Rowan.

Speaking of Rowan, where is she? I don't see anyone in our corner! She has again the chance to beat on Megan!
I don't see her since when we noticed that buzz coming from the curtain!
Well to say the truth, Gemma and Megan didn't give me many moments to check what was happening in the world around me!
I crawl to my corner and reach for the ropes there,lookin around if I see Rowan while I try to control Megan with the corner of my eye, recovering some.

"Fucking hell," I murmur, picking myself up off of the ground after that DDT from Rowan. I look back to the stage and see Rowan still there, clasping onto her geezer mentor.

The way Megan had first talked about that bloke, once I'd got round to asking her about our erstwhile enemy, I'd thought he was a figment of Rowan's fevered imagination. Megan had looked at me strangely, over that. "She's not a LUNATIC, Calli," Megan had said, "A little off, maybe, but no crazier than I am!" I forbore to answer that.

In any event, Rowan seemed out of the fight for the moment, so I turned my attention to what mattered right now: what was going on in the ring. Megan and Emily are both down in the ring, Gemma is down outside of it. "Unbe-bloody-lieveable," I mutter, rolling my eyes skyward, merely the latest in the proud history of evil geniuses let down by inadequate henchpersons.

The ref seemed on top of things, and Emily was crawling towards her (empty) corner, so I'd have to be crafty if I were going to tilt things. Pulling the hoody off of me, I climbed up in to Emily's corner, grinning and holding my hand out like I was looking for the tag.

LvK: Oh what is this supposed to be?
RP: Well that's just amazing sportsmanship on the part of Callista Quinn!
LvK: ...WHAT?
RP: Rowan Chance leaves her partner all alone, and Callista volunteers herself to fill in, even against her own teammates. That's just heart-warming.
LvK: Oh good God...
RP: I can hardly contain my admiration!
LvK: Unfortunately for us.

Emily reached out her hand towards me, then stopped, a look of confusion on her sweaty face. The referee's look was decidedly more annoyed. "Quinn! What do you think you're doing?"

I grinned cheekily, answering, "She seemed to want to make a tag. I didn't want to disappoint her!"

"Get off the ring, Quinn! Now!"

Meanwhile, Emily's confusion had been replaced by rage, and she got her feet under her, pushing off of the mat and pouncing at me!

I pulled my arm back and hopped off of the apron, grinning up at the spitting-mad Italian girl. "Sorry puttana," I said, still grinning ear to ear. "Ref says I can't tag in for ya. Hard luck!"

"You cheating little-" Emily began, opting to give me a lesson in far more advanced Italian cursing culminating in what was either a threat to my parents or my childbearing capabilities, when Megan's arms went around her waist, lifting her feet up off of the mat and throwing Emily over her body, dropping her down hard on the back of her head.

RP: And after the distraction from the Brit, the American gives the Italian a German!
LvK: You were saving that, weren't you, Rick?
RP: Totally worth it.

oO(I don't know why Calli would be surprised by what happened in the ring.  Quinn laying unconscious on the concrete while Gemma and I double-team someone is essentially how we spend every Friday night downtown.  The only thing missing was the pool of saliva under her head and the crumpled can of lager in her hand.)

(Point the first, I could be facedown on said concrete, attempting to confess my sins in the believe that the sidewalk was a very scrapey confessional and I'd still be the soberest female member of Countdown, and point the second, what's unusual about you and Gemma double-teaming someone is that Emily didn't pay you each a fiver for the privilege)

Back in the production truck, the director cuts from A to B and C. A is the hard camera, focused on the ring. B is the guy at ringside. It's what C is doing that's got the director pissed off.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he's shouting at C.

Because C is on the ramp, his camera focused on me. His shot looks like the end of a romantic tragedy: the heroine holding the fallen hero in her arms. Not exactly the kind of shot you want on a wrestling show. At least, that's what the director is thinking right now.

But then, something... changes. The director looks at C's shot. His eyes go wide.

"Holy shit," he says. Then, he hits the controller on the shoulder. "Go to C."

The controller asks, "Are you high? Nothing's going on..." but then he sees it, too.

"Holy shit," he says, echoing what the director said a moment ago.

"Go to C," the controller says and he flips the switch. Now, everyone who's watching sees it, too.



LvK: The devastation in the ring is just brutal, folks. The courage Emily is showing here is something to be remembered, win or lose.
RP: Fuck me.

LvK: What did you just say?
RP: Look at the monitor.

LvK: Are you drunk? I don't...
RP: LOOK AT THE FRIGGIN' MONITOR.


___


My eyes lift from Tantalus and shift down to the ring. Something dark and terrible rips at my insides, screaming to get out. Something I thought I put away a long time ago. I can feel it behind my eyes. It's been chained for so long. Hungry for so long. I see the camera peering at me. I look into it just once.

Just once. The man takes a step back. He's right to do that.

I can't let it out. I can't. But I can feel its rage. I let it flow through me. I use it. I don't let it out of the cage, but I embrace its fury. It's too dangerous to let out. Too dangerous...

I don't walk down the ramp. I prowl. My limbs are like a panther's limbs. It's hunger burns in my blood.

I reach the ring apron and pull myself up. Three women are there. I see Emily, struggling to get back up. I see Gemma, doing the same. And then, there's Punky.

No, not "Punky." Megan.

She pulls Emily up and I slam my shoulder into Megan's back, throwing them both into our corner.

Then, I leap over the top rope, slap Emily's limp shoulder and leap back over the top rope.

Megan is there -- right there. Our eyes meet. Our faces close enough for a kiss.

And so I give it to her. Hard and brutal. And with her head in my hands, my legs split, my body falling down, my back arching, holding her head as I go, pulling down on her neck, snapping it down with me as I go. Megan bends down with me, then her neck snaps back, and she falls back-first to the mat.

Gemma sees that and I can see the thoughts running through her head. "How the fuck did she do that?"

I smile at her. "You're next, doll," I say.


LvK: An amazing move!
RP: I love when these two get in the ring. It's like wrestling plus lesbian porn.



She rushes at me. I roll forward and then slide to the left, one leg catching hers, sending her down to the mat.

But Gemma anticipates that move, rolling forward herself, using that momentum to slam a kick into Emily's chest while she leans against our corner. Emily crumbles into that corner and Gemma spins around. "You're good, baby," she says, "But there's always someone better."

My legs slide me back to a standing position while my hands rise above me, pulling on invisible handles. The crowd goes nuts. It's my version of the Shawn Michaels "kip up."

It's the signal that "shit just got real."

Gemma rushes in and swings a powerful shot straight to my jaw. The crowd "Boos!"

My face slams to the side, sweat flying. I throw a punch back, slamming into Gemma's cheek. The crowd cheers.

Another fist to my face.

Another fist to hers.

"Boo!"

"Yay!"

"Boo!"

"Yay!"

The crowd may love it, but brawling has never been my strongest skill. One blow stuns me hard, and I stumble back. I throw a blind punch and she ducks, catching me around the waist from behind, throwing me up and over her shoulder, slamming my shoulders and back to the mat.


RP: Looks like your girlfriend's come back got cut short.
LvK: It wouldn't even help if I ignored you, would it?
RP: Nope.

LvK: Rowan is still on the mat...
RP: ... and Gemma is signaling for the Roxslide!

LvK: Rowan's starting to move...
RP: ... but it's too late!


I'm crawling up to my knees. I don't know where Gemma is, but being down is never a good place to be. I hear the crowd chanting. Something's about to happen. I can't stop it. All I can do is...

... I feel Mjolnir slam against my chin, knocking my head up and over my ass, landing hard on my neck and shoulders. Everything goes white.

I feel someone rolling me onto my back, lifting my leg. I feel the ref's hand slam down next to my shoulder.

"One..."

"Two..."


LvK: She kicked out!
RP: That was a three! That was a friggin' three!

LvK: The ref is saying it was close..
RP: It was more than close, van Keel! That was THREE!


I feel her lift my body up, my head only now coming back to this world from the other. She lifts me up in a gutwrench... and I SLAM down, my back WRENCHED against her leg. Old pains I thought had gone to sleep... they wake up and scream at me, "We're baaaack!"


LvK: It's Gemma's Hellbound! An amazing mod on her own move!
RP: This is gonna break Rowan Chance in half! After all her back injuries, there's no way she's escaping this move.



She pushes down on my knee and my chin, pushing my back further against her knee. It would be easy to give in here... save my back... all those old injuries, never quite healed...

... no. No. I remember Tantalus on the top of the ramp. These women... these damn women...

I lift the leg she isn't holding down with her hand and put my shin under her neck. Then, I reach up and grab her hair, pulling her face down toward me, my back screaming as I do...


LvK: OH MY GOD! IT'S THE WIDOW'S WEB! THE WIDOW'S WEB!
RP: How the Hell does she do that? She's putting on a submission hold while she's in a submission hold!

I pull down, watching Gemma's eyes widen, my shin against her throat. And the further she pushes against me, the harder my leg pushes against her larynx.

The ref doesn't know what to do. He's asking both of us, asking if either of us wants to quit.

"NO!" I shout at him.

She wants to shout, but I'm cutting off her air, crushing her throat.

I see her eyes starting to fade. I feel her grip on me fading, too. But my back is breaking...

I scream out loud, pain rushing through me. Pain I can't take... Pain I can't... going dark... going...


LvK: Gemma's let go of the hold!
RP: And Rowan can't keep hold of hers!

LvK: Both women fall to the mat, Rowan is grasping at her back. Gemma grasping her throat.
RP: Not a good sign, van Keel. Not a good sign.

LvK: The ref is counting both women... he's up to five!
RP: This match can't end this way! It can't!

LvK: Up to seven... Rowan pulling herself up.
RP: Come on, Gemma! Get up!

LvK: Aren't you supposed to be neutral?
RP: If you aren't, I won't, either!

LvK: Rowan is on her feet! Gemma is on the ropes, pulling herself up.
RP: Look out, Gemma! Look out!

I've spent my time in my dressing room after the loss to Callista. Obviously, I've had happier times in my life. I'm angry, disappointed...and all the ice-packs I used only helped to numb the pain a bit. Still feeling that little bump on the back of my head after being hammered with that damn mag-lite. After taking a shower, I've decided to get the hell outta here. There's nothing left for me to do, and to leave while the show's still on is probably the safest way to evade these nosy reporters who want to know what it feels like to lose your debut match!

In a light denim pair of jeans, torn at the knees and across the back of my right thigh. My Chucks thud softly over the floor as I close the zipper of my gray Chicago Blackhawks hoodie over my black t-shirt and pull the hood over my head. Sports bag swung over my right shoulder as I make my way out of my dressing room and towards the parking lot. I didn't even have the TV in my room on, but on my way through the back of the arena, I can't help but look at one of the screens that's crowded by workers. I stop and watch, shaking my head and narrowing my eyes at the screen as I see the bloodied body of Lord Tantalus carried onto stage by the Countdown's Gorilla. ,,Son of a bitch..." mumbling under my breath.

While watching, some girl stands next to me, a grin all across her pretty face as she proudly pushes her chest out and hooks her thumbs into the sides of these blue panties that peek out over the waistline of her cutoff jeans. That blue looks a LOT like some sorta Superman outfit would. With my face and body pretty much hidden, no one really has a clue who I am, neither does she as she gives my shoulder a smack and speaks with glee ,,Pretty cool stuff, huh?" Not answering, just turning my head towards her a bit for a moment before glaring back at the screen. ,,Not a talker, are ya?" she huffs before heading off with a happy hop to her step.

My eyes go back to the screen, seeing the carnage. Bodies flying all over the ring...well, mostly Emily's body, actually! And just as Emily seems to get some time and the chance to make the tag...Callista goes up on the apron! ,,OH WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT cxnt DOING?!" I hiss, and the guys and girls watching the same screen seem to recognize my voice and turn to look at me. ,,What ya staring at?!" I growl before taking off. Dropping my bag at the door to my room, opening the zipper of my hoodie to reveal a blue t-shirt beneath it.

Just before I get out to the stage, I see another screen and..."Wait, wha?" stopping for a moment, seeing Rowan and Gemma, locked in stalemate in the middle of the ring. Just staring at the screen for a few seconds. Feeling like a fan right now, engrossed in the match...until my mind comes back. I'm not coming for THEM! I'm coming for Quinn, that beanpole from hell! Running again, just pushing past security.

The crowd sees me come through the curtains and rise, a buzz going through the arena as I hop over the downed Tantalus and keep going for the ring.

RP: Ah what the hell is going on now?
LvK: We got another visitor! Is...is that Lisa Starr?
RP: Hey, she can't be here! What does she think she's doing? The ref should ban her from the building!
LvK: And what about Quinn?
RP: She's...looking out for her teammates...
LvK: She better look out for herself now! Starr's coming right at her!

That's right, I am! Quickly circling the ring before she even knows I'm here. Just launching into her like good ol' Jon Moxley would. Just leaping at her chest to chest, firing away on her body and head with wild, windmilling blows. Having her staggering, and soon pressed back against the ring apron as I cover her face and chest with forearms, elbows and fists. Using some Necessary Roughness on the cursing Brit who'd probably just love to have a Shield right now.

RP: Somebody get that br atoff Callista! This isn't right!!
LvK: The crowd thinks it's right. And we're here for entertainment, so...this IS right!

With four girls down in the ring, the ref has an easy job right now, count to ten! But he can't quite focus on that with me being all over Quinn outside the ring. He turns to the ropes, leaning out and yells at both of us to "GET OUTTA HERE!" Shortly after that, Callista finally shoves me off and I stagger back towards the guardrail. She's looking up at the ref, then into the ring with a hint of a panicked "Do something about this!!" look on her face. And as no one really reacts to it, I guess I'll be the one to do so! Running right back in, grabbing for her right wrist, twisting it, extending the arm out at her side before before throwing my free forearm against the shoulder. Then, with a groaning Callista, I walk to the ring post, wrapping that twisted arm around it before PULLING back hard and let that exposed shoulder smack against the cold steel.

RP: This can't be happening!! Why doesn't anybody do anything!! Where's Red? WHERE IS RED?! The Rockie has gone totally nuts! What a sore loser!
LvK: Oh would you stop?! She's evening the odds, that's all!

With Calli holding her sore shoulder, the pain evident on her face I quickly move in again, trapping that arm on her back with a Hammerlock, head under her other arm, mine around her waist, I quickly snap my back back and take her down with a Belly-to-Back Suplex...just with her landing mostly on that trapped arm. With a loud shriek of pain she flops up and rolls on her belly, clutching that poor, poor shoulder on her. The ref has climbed out on the apron, losing sight of everything inside the ring as I stand over Callista. Bending over, forcing her right arm back again and sliding mine under hers. The hand moves up towards her shoulder as I keep that arm locked back in a Chickenwing as my left arm slides across her  neck. Inching that hand closer and closer towards my right one.

LvK: THE RESTRING! Lisa's going to work on Quinn! I don't think I ever heard her scream like that! This Crossface Chickenwing is getting to her. Wow!
RP: The ref has gotta stop this!! She's gonna knock poor Callista out...AND pop that shoulder! This isn't right!

Gritting my teeth as I roll over in the hold. On my side behind Callista as I work the hold. Hearing some screams, gasps, moans of the trapped leader of the Countdown. She's pulling at my arms with her free hand, my legs wrapped around her body, applying a bodyscissor for added fun to this thing! At least...more fun for me!! "LET GO OF HER, STARR!" I hear from right above me as the ref dropped off the apron. Seeing him stand there, I decide to give Quinn another good wrench in the hold, forcing a loud scream out of her that echoes through the arena.

RP: Enough is enough!! Finally the ref steps in! He should be fired for taking so long! Just like Starr should be fired!! Tat lil brat TOTALLY snapped!! She's gotta be punished!! And even I'd take care of dishing out that punishment...if needed.
LvK: Oh come on! Quinn got what was com...wait a moment...punishment? You're not talkin about...
RP: ...just saying.
LvK: You ARE talkin about it...

The ref finally dragged me off the moaning wreck outside the ring that goes by the name "Callista Quinn". I'm letting him push me back, my arms raised as the crowd cheers for me after watching me take the devilish Brit down and heard her screams. "Get back in the ring" I growl at the ref as I just keep backing up. Stopping once I'm standing at the side of the ring opposite to Callista's. Leaning back against the guard rail, ass resting against it as I place my hands on my hips, watching the match...but always keeping an eye on that dirty Brit at ringside.

I rolled to the apron and let Gemma snag a tag after Rowan's little kiss.  I think the little bitch split my lip with that ... fucking ... kissing jawbreaker thing.  I dunno.  Whatever it was, I'm more than happy to take a break and massage my jaw and stretch my back on the apron while Rox asserts herself.  Watching Rowan get ragdolled when Gemma's boots crash into her face with the Roxslide paints a bloody grin on my face.

I'm stretching against the ropes still when Starr comes sprinting down and jacks Calli, and for a moment my eyes narrow - but Calli had a specific plan for Gemma and I for this match, and jumping off the apron to stop a maniac little Phil Brooks fangirl wasn't part of the plan.  Quinn can take care of herself, although I wince a little on her behalf when she hits the ringpost.

But then my eyes are back to Gemma and Rowan, locked together in agony in their mutual submission holds.  Fucking Widow's Web.  Crazy bitch can get that on from anywhere.  Emily is barely up to her knees on her side of the ring by this point after the beating we laid on her, and Gemma is pulling herself up on the ropes on our side of the ring by the hard camera.  Rowan is up with the freakish speed of the obsessed and coming after my emerald-haired partner like the monster in a movie ...

... and the referee is still staring at Quinn and Starr.

I tug one of the heavy brass chains that cross my hips, pulling an ornate pocketwatch from my denim shorts.  I click it open, my dark eyes wide and sparkling, and reveal a handful of capsules, bright and glossy as jelly beans.  One drops into the palm of my glove and I brush my hand over my mouth.  Not even the announcers catch it, with everyone watching Lisa's helpful distraction.

The watch drops back into my pocket as I roll a capsule neatly from my cheek with my pierced tongue and bite down on it, flooding my mouth with the burning sweet taste of the Japanese poison whose brewing I learned from Master Tajiri.  They were difficult lessons - the poisons burned, and were unforgiving to imprecise mixtures, and that man had even weirder tastes than one might suspect by looking at him.  But was it worth it?

Ask the opthamologists around the world who consider me a patron saint.

I slither across the apron and push Gemma aside like a fan pushing Gemma aside to get my autograph, pursing my glossy black lips to give Rowan a kiss of my own, snapping my head forward like a cobra with my punkytails whipping to BLAST her in the face with a mist of bright crimson.

It's hard to hurt Rowan - I know this from long and bitter experience.  She soaks up pain like parched ground drinks the rain.  But the red poison hurts like the kiss of fire.  It hurts like having your face pushed into a barbeque grill.  It hurts like something Jigsaw or Bosch would come up with.

She fights it.  I can see her fighting it, and her hands tremble as she fights to resist clutching at her face, staggering back with her nails sinking into her palms.  But her eyes can't stop streaming, and she can't keep them open.  All that fury, all that will, and she can't stop the way her throat closes or her nose sears.  I grin and spit a crimson gob through my forked fingers at her.

My grandma taught me that's how you get rid of demons.

Gemma staggers to the corner, still clutching at her throat, and I tag her shoulder as the referee turns around, a loud smack that draws his attention.  I vault the ropes and run straight for Rowan, catching her by the wrist and twisting us around in a do-si-do, sending her hurtling to the corner where she crashes that aching back into the turnbuckles, making her arch deliciously.  Before the official can get too good of a look at her, I go sprinting in and TWIST from the hip, throwing my right leg up high and straight as a lance, launching the heel of my Doc square between her eyes with a running Yakuza kick that hits with a *CRACK*.

After I hit, I wrap my right leg around the top rope, clutching it with my left hand and leaning forward over the rope, smirking and pointing back at Chance as she crumples bonelessly to the mat.

"YOU SEE THAT?" I grin maniacally at the camera, crowing with glee.  "Busted her the FUCK open!"

LvK: Now hold on a damn minute!

RP: What NOW, van Keel?

LvK: Rowan Chance's face was soaked in crimson BEFORE she hit the corner!

RP: Well, it's obvious, isn't it?

LvK: ... WHAT is obvious?

RP: Punky's Monster Queen-style Yakuza kick hit so hard that Rowan was busted open CHRONOLOGICALLY.  It was so brutal that Chance started bleeding BACKWARDS IN TIME.

LvK: GOD, I hate you.

I move quickly back Rowan, nestling a hand in her hair and one in the back of her tights, yanking her into a curve as I drop a pair of quick, driving knees into her back before dragging her up.  She snarls and goes for me like a mad dog, blinded and burning as she is, and catches my throat in both hands.

Strangling me.  Murderously fucking strangling me, she bulls me back to the corner, snarling to herself in tongues.

Do I fight back, fire with fire, gouging her eye, jabbing her throat?

A nice girl like me?

I hold up my hands, innocent ingenue that I am, and the referee is forced to get between me and the competitor who has clearly been driven mad by the taste of her own blood.

RP: Thank GOD the referee is finally taking this match into hand!

LvK: THIS IS RIDICULOUS!  We SAW the playback!  Punky BLASTED Rowan in the face with that ... that toxic MIST of hers and then almost kicked her head off her shoulders and now she's playing innocent!

RP: Are you saying Chance should be ALLOWED to strangle her in the ring, van Keel?

LvK: Well, of ... of course not ...

RP: Damn right.  Rules are rules.

And the referee regretfully peels Rowan's hands off my throat, letting me get a chance to massage it with my left hand.  He forces her back, and she is just FROTHING to get at me for some reason.  I suddenly take his lapels, turn him around and pull him close, gasping, seemingly barely able to get a breath.

While he's distracted, Gemma slips into the ring and jumps up behind Rowan, wrapping her hands under her chin and planting her folded knees into the center of her back, dropping down to arch the Black Widow over the Roxstar in a brutal Backstabber.  Or so people claim, anyway.  *I* didn't see a thing, since I was only concerned for my health.

LvK: GIVE ME A DAMN BREAK!

RP: Rules are made to be broken.  And so is Rowan's back.

G-Force neatly rolls back to the apron as the referee assures me that I'll live - and sure enough, I feel much better.  Rowan seems to have collapsed but before he can get too much of a chance to investigate I'm on her, pulling her up by the hair and dragging her to the corner again, where I hammer her head against the top buckle a few times - a little out of rhythm to make sure the audience doesn't fucking count along like this is Sesame Street - before I give her a shove into the buckles and then back off a few quick paces and RACE forward, bringing my knees up to cannonball splash into her back with my running GHOST TRAIN in the corner.

Her scream is PIERCING, sweet as a falling angel.

That back must hurt.

I decide to finish it.  Layne's probably still down, Starr's not gonna be able to do anything else without costing her lame new friends the match, and I'm pretty sure I can break the Widow once and for all right fucking now.

I drag her crippled ass to the middle of the ring, twisting her to face me, and I lean close, bloody lips kissing her poisoned ones fleetingly, my body brushing hers with a warm silky sweetness that makes the world fade away for a moment before I jam my knee into her belly, folding her up. I underhook her arms behind her back and snarl, FLEXING both arms to muscle her up and lay her spine over my right shoulder, her agonized crimson face up at the lights and her boots hanging behind me.

RP: THE DOLLBREAKER!  PUNKY'S GOT THE DOLLBREAKER!

LvK: Oh, sweet lord!  She might break Rowan Chance in HALF!  Someone has to stop this!  STOP THIS MATCH, DAMN IT ALL!

But even as I start to hook her up and hang her in the unique torture of my submission hold, I can feel her weight shifting. Even blind and battered and broken, Rowan Chance is as sly as a fucking serpent.  She kicks both legs lithely and rolls her hips, breaking my balance and dropping heavily to her boots, staggering on the mat!

LvK: YES!  SHE ESCAPES!

RP: SHOW SOME FUCKING PROFESSIONALISM!

I stagger myself, my equilibrium thrown off by her sudden roll, and she HAMMERS me with a European uppercut, sending me back to the ropes.  I pride myself on being able to outpunch the Black Widow and almost anyone else I go toe to toe with, but that chick can still hit. Her elbow catches my jaw with a sweet smack and I shake my head to clear it as Chance goes to her corner in a miraculous rush for salvation in the form of Emily Layne.

Of course, that's the funny thing about salvation.

We see through a glass darkly, yeah?

The problem with Pearl Harbouring as a strategy is that it tends to madden the recipients to the point where they go nuclear. Pushing myself up off of the ground, I take a deep breath, trying to recover my bearings. While I'm not sure that kicking I just got was Lisa going nuclear, she definitely worked me over good.

Pulling my head up to the level of the ring, I took a quick look at the situation, Megan and Rowan in the ring, Gemma and Emily in their corners, Lisa on the opposite side of the ring near the announce table. Slumping back down, selling being hurt worse than I was, (albeit not by a great deal,) I lie there for a moment before lifting the ring apron up and rolling under it. I roll over a few more times, scooting around the centre post, before reaching the opposite side.

This had to be done carefully. I lay the side of my head against the concrete, getting my face close to the apron, lifting it a few inches off of the ground, and spotting a pair of revolting American sneakers underneath. Deciding that this must be Lisa as both fans and homeless people would have security hauling them off, I scoot myself into position, knowing I'll only get the one shot at this.

After lifting the apron once more, I reach under it, grabbing hold of two slim ankles, I pulled hard on the both of them. "WHAT THE FUCK?" I heard from outside the ring, followed by a crashing sound.

LvK: OH MY GOD!
RP: JESUS! Lisa Starr just fell over her own feet and conked the back of her head on our announce table! How clumsy can you get?

I rolled out from under the ring, getting quickly in a crouch and reaching for Lisa when I saw that she was lying motionless on the ground, a tiny trickle of blood from the back of her head staining blue hair red. "It was that damned Callista," I heard Louis saying, exasperation evident in his voice.

"Well that worked," I said softly to myself, a Cheshire grin poking onto my face. A bit of good fortune is always welcome, after all. Climbing up to my feet, I turned to look back to the ring, seeing a bloodied Rowan lunging for her corner.

Damn Callista!

I finally had escape the brutal two on one beatdown when she showed up at my corner.
That still made me wonder.
"where the hell was Rowan?"
I tried to have some kind of hints from the commentary and realized that she ran to the curtain where Lord was dragged half out cold.

Still, why did she leave me alone?
Where are gone all the good assumptions we settled last week?
Where are gone all the sweet words for each our during the last few days?

We wanted to be a team, a real tag team, working together to kick the bad girls asses and make the REAL wrestling triumph!
It seems that it worked only in the beginning of the match.

At the first chance, Rowan left me alone in the ring, she had better priority it seems.

And now?

Now she stole the tag after that German suplex and shoved me and Punky toward the corner,our corner.

I slowly get on my knees, tryin to recover as much strength and energies I can after all that series of double moves that Gemma and Megan performed on me.
My back hurts, my neck hurts, my head hurts,my belly hurts.
Is there any part of my body that doesn't hurt?

I don't follow the action anymore, inside and outside the ring now as Lisa attacked Calli after her sweet interference to help me out and offering me the tag.

My mind is filled with many thoughts, this tag team failed before it started, and we must admit this.

Rowan wants to do her way, Rowan can't be a real tag team partner, not for me, we are too different.
Plain and simple.
We won't success, we won't move forward, we won't make progresses.

She is the Black Widow, I am Emily Layne, we have the same enemies but we won't work together, it will fail, we just need to deal with it.

As soon as she moves to me,with her hand extended, I step back.

"we are done Rowan, we failed, things can't go on this way" ,  I simply say and jump off the apron ring,leaving her in the ring alone, just like she did some moments ago.

LVK: WHY?..WHAT?..BUT..BUT..EMILY IS LEAVING THE RING! OH MY GOODNESS NO! THIS IS WRONG!

RP: Larry, chill, that was going to happen, they finally recognized where the strength of FTW is!
They're not The Countdown! No one can be like them!

The crowd is shocked too, they don't know if they have to boo me or what, they're just in silent, still not believing on what is happening there.
I just walk away toward the ramp.

Incredibly, I see Emily jump back off of the apron just like I did earlier. Only difference is that Emily actually IS Rowan's partner. Well, was, I suppose. After a moment's consideration, I realize that this doesn't change the plan. If anything, it makes it MORE necessary, to make sure the spotlight's where it needs to be. It does, however, make execution of that plan rather easier.

I give Lisa a sharp kick in the temple, causing her head to snap to the side and her body to jerk a bit, as much because I've decided I really don't like the little bitch as to make sure she stays unconscious. That done, I start making my way up the ramp, taking a quick look back towards the ring.

The referee is busy trying to keep Gemma from entering the ring and double-teaming Rowan, so that means I'm free and clear. I run up the left side of the ramp before turning to my right, ducking my shoulder low to catch Emily right in the small of the back and sending us crashing off of the ramp down to the floor.

LVK: OH MY GOD! THEY FELL OFF OF THAT RAMP!
RP: THAT MUST BE AN 8 FOOT, NO, 10 FOOT DROP!

We fell the three or four feet, landing roughly on the floor, Emily getting the worst of it underneath me. Pushing forward to seat myself on her lower back, I grabbed hold of her hair with my right hand, pulling it backwards and arching her head upwards as she struggled to try to push herself up off of the floor, before swinging my left arm around, crashing my left forearm into her in a crossface blow.

On the floor where we were, a large bank of seats and fans all standing up out of them blocked the view between us and the ring, so I didn't have to worry about the ref. The pain in my right arm, tugging on Emily's hair, made me wince, but it also pissed me off. I swung my left arm again, again hitting the Italian girl across the face, then again, and again, and again.

My teeth clenched of their own accord, and a guttural growl began to emerge from my throat. My eyes went wide as I struck at her. Eventually, the aching muscles in my right arm gave out and I let go of her hair. But I didn't stop swinging, instead I just slammed my forearm into the back of her head instead, a feral noise somewhere between a snarl and a scream exiting my mouth as I did.

My rage hit a fever pitch and I stood up, shouted at the faces of the fans nearest, some with expressions of anger, some looking at me in fear and shock, others looking away from me towards the ring, and then reached down, grabbing hold of both of Emily's wrists and lifting upwards. I hauled her upper body as high up off of the ground as I could, arching her backwards, and jumped, bringing my knees up towards my chest before sending both of them back down, my boots pressing against Emily's shoulder-blades, driving her face down into the unpadded concrete of the floor.

I extend my hand and Emily jumps from the apron.

"We are done, Rowan," she says.

My whole body freezes, my eyes are wide. And I realize what she's done.

She's left me in the ring with Gemma and Punky. Alone.

Alone.

I feel a sharp pain in my back and I stumble forward, catching myself on the corner. Then, another. Another. My knees tremble. It's Gemma, throwing elbows into my spine over and over again. I buckle down to my knees. I see Gemma walking away. I try to say something, but then another blow to my spine shuts my mouth up.

On my knees now, my face in the corner, my chin on a turnbuckle. Again and again, strikes to my back. I try to grab a rope to hang on, but I can't even get a grip. I think I hear the referee trying to pull Gemma off me, but all I hear is the thunder of pain. It rings through my head so loud, even my teeth ache.

"Old wounds never heal," Tantalus once told me. "They just show up like unwanted relatives when you are least ready to put them up."

He's up on the stage now. Lying helpless and bloody. I can't...

Another blow. This one, I feel something snap inside of me. A rib, maybe. If I'm lucky. I collapse to the mat, sliding down the turnbuckles, flat on my belly, my arms lying limply off the apron corners.

I hear laughter above me. Then, I hear someone say, "She's finished." I don't know if its Gemma or the ref. If its the ref, all of this is over. If it's Gemma... then there's no stopping it.

I feel cruel hands lifting me from the corner, pulling me to my feet by my hair, and I get my answer.

Gemma smiles in my face. "Time to stomp the little spider," she says. "But first, we're going to pull your eight little legs off. One. By. One."

I try to throw a punch at her, but she pulls back my hair and I fall back, my lower back hitting the hard bone of her knee. I try not to scream. I don't want to give her the satisfaction. It echoes all around the ring anyway. I drop from her knee to my belly again. I try to push myself up, by my legs won't respond. My arms do their best, but all I can do is lift myself an inch off the apron before I collapse back down.

The crowd has gone from heavy boos to near silence. All I hear is Gemma's laughter.

"Pin her already!" the ref shouts at Gemma.

Gemma laughs again. "No," she says. "That isn't my privilege. That's been given to someone else."

I can't lift my face from the mat, but I hear the slap of two hands together.

Goddess, no. Not her. Not now.

I feel hands that have given me so much pleasure... they gently grab me by my black tank top and lift me to my knees. Then, they go under my chin and lift it, my eyes looking up through my sweaty hair.

I see Megan. Her Punky persona in full form. A purple punk rock purple Harley Quinn, just as beautiful and merciless. Mister Jay would dump Harley in a second for her.

"Time's up, Rowan," she says. The red she sprayed into my eyes is still on her lips. She pulls me up by the straps of my tank top. One of them breaks in her hand.

I'm barely able to stand, so Gemma helps me. She's laughing behind me.

I can't do anything. I can't protect myself. I can't see straight. I feel a broken rib moving inside me. I just look at Punky through damp hair.

All the while, I never stop looking at her. Never stop the link between our eyes. And, for a moment, I see something change.

Just for a moment.

"I have to," she says. "To break the spell you have on me. I can't let anyone get to me the way you do."

My lips shudder a moment before they move. "I want you to do it," I tell her.

She looks at me, confused.

I tell her, "Because it will do the same for me."

I see Punky's brow furl. Her eyes fill with anger. She looks at Gemma. "Lift her up," she says.

Gemma does. I feel my body lift up. My legs go over her shoulders, my body hanging limply in the air.

Punky shouts, "STROKE OF MIDNIGHT!"



And I feel her jump into the air as she arcs me down... down... down...


... I feel Gemma grab my neck. I feel her knees fit neatly into my back....


... then, I feel the impact shatter everything inside me.



My body arches so hard and so far, the backs of my hands hit the mat. My breasts push against my black tank top, one strap torn away.

My neck snaps back, then forward, throwing my hair up and down.

My legs tighten around Megan's neck for just a moment, then fall limp around her.

My body snaps like a rubber band and I fall forward into Megan's arms, the side of my face falling against her breast, my left arm thrown over the other, the right arm falling at my side.

Then, my limp, lifeless body slides off Megan, sliding down to the mat, falling into a motionless pile of sweat and pain and defeat.

At Punky and Gemma's feet, my once strong, proud body lies still. Nothing remains. No strength. No pride. No will to carry on. All shattered with the bones in my back.



Beaten...



Defeated...



Broken.

For a long few moments after we hit the Stroke of Midnight, I'm just standing over Rowan, looking down at her.  Something in the way she's laying, twisted and broken and lost in her own hurt ... it reminds me of a painting I've seen somewhere.

Ah, of course.  "Despair", by Maren Jeskanen.  Beautiful piece.

But Rowan is even more lovely than that.

The noise of the crowd, of the referee almost pleading hoarsely for me to end it, of the announcers shouting loud enough to be heard over the fury of the crowd ... it all tunes slowly back in to become a cacophony.

Gemma finally brings me back, caressing my cheek.

"Pin her, love.  She's done."  The Chelsea girl nudges the broken Rowan with one heavy boot.  "We broke her."

I nod slowly, my dark eyes back on my sweet portrait of despair, and lift my own heavy Doc Marten, firmly planting it on Rowan's exquisite breasts. I draw the other pocketwatch from my pocket - the one without the poison capsules, and check it, letting it dangle open-faced from one hand.

"It's time."

The referee bites his tongue, knowing that anything he says now will only lead to more pain, and drops, delivering the swiftest 3-count he can legally get away with.

LvK: I ... can't even muster any more outrage at this point.  This is insane.

RP: Rowan Chance and Emily Layne wanted to show the Countdown what they stood for, van Keel.  They asked for this.

LvK: DID they, Rick? Did Rowan Chance ASK to have her mentor beaten, to have her damn BONES broken?  Did Emily Layne ASK to be left alone and MUGGED?  Did Lisa Starr ask to ... oh, my sweet Lord, what are they doing.

RP: *uncorking sound followed by the sound of contemplative sip* Showing us what time it is.  Have some of this, van Keel.

LvK: *flatly* The label is just three X's.

RP: Got it from the Briscoes.

LvK: *sound of drinking*

I stand there with my foot on Rowan's chest, my fist on my hip and the pocketwatch dangling from my gloved hand.  Gemma rolls out and retrieves the bloodied Lisa Starr, sliding her limp body into the ring and dropping a knee across her head for good measure that leaves the Rockie twitching.  Callista Quinn comes out of the shadows of the crowd, dragging Emily Layne behind her by one hand, blood running fresh and hot down Layne's face.  Quinn rolls her into the ring as well, and stands facing the hard camera, a boot planted on either side of the fallen Italian.  I stand on her left, boot propped on Rowan, and Gemma on her right, the heel of her tall boot pressed to Lisa Starr's forehead.

Calli signals imperiously and Red Enforcer comes down to the ring, rolling in to stand behind us.  I turn my head to watch him come, and narrow my eyes at the little flash of blonde and red behind the curtain.  The big gorilla has secrets, does he?

Well.  I guess we all do.

I look down at the broken wreckage of Rowan Chance, and realize there was no other way for this to go.  She couldn't be allowed to get in my head like that.  It's the forbidden zone in there.

There's no final rallying speech from Calli, no threats from me or Gemma.  The lights go down except for the blue and gray lights playing over the bodies that we've claimed in our ring.

The screens light up with the antique pocketwatch.

And the only sound is tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick.

Tempus fugit.

*static*

Thank you for ordering this special iPPV presentation of FTW: First Strike, brought to you by Highspots.com!  Be sure to join us soon for FTW: Victory or Death!

(Wow..that's an amazing read! Well done everyone!)

Beautiful read, thanks for all the amazing minds who took their time to do this. You're all so amazingly talented <3