FreeCatFights

Backstage, at the US Cellular Center in Asheville, NC

The hard part was taken care of before I left the hospital room where Gemma was gonna be staying a while longer.  My lawyers back in Portland (Mason and Whippleman, Attorneys at Law) had run through my contract and confirmed a clean break in my merch profits and licensing agreements from anything under the Countdown trademark.  Callista Quinn might eventually try to hit me for daring to cut my puppet strings, but first she'd try to take away my money if she could.  Fortunately, the courier had brought the new contracts bright and early to the Red Roof Inn here in beautiful Asheville.   We'd had to leave Gemma behind at Spring Memorial Hospital outside Greensboro, and I was up and doing pull-ups on Gemma's doorway bar in the room when the courier knocked.  FTW's legal reps had signed everything, and it had been stamped, filed, indexed, affirmed, folded, spindled and mutilated.  I was gonna keep getting a little dough off the Countdown trademark merch for the next few months

I didn't need the money, as such, but just that little bit of effort towards cheesing off Calli was more than enough motivation to pony up the legal fees.  Now I just had to clear out the stuff the FTW road crew had set up in the Countdown's locker room at the Asheville US Cellular Center.  I had my old Soviet duffel, and was foisting in my spare ring gear, my rolls of fist tape, my Tiger Balm, my yoga mat, my kettlebells - just making a clanky mess of all the junk we take for granted when we make enough money for someone else to haul our shit around. I contemplated taking a bunch of the booze - set up on a long table like this was the Who's dressing room - but then I'd not only have Calli coming after me with bloodshot eyes, but I'd be liable for any action she missed once the DTs set in.  Fuck that. I'd get my own booze.  Bitch always ordered too much fucking gin anyway.  I sigh, cramming in a copy of The Tao of Jeet Kun Do on top of my Capper series Doc Martens.

I make my way towards the Countdown locker room in the auditorium. Gemma was still on my mind. She seemed well, but I could tell being cooped up in a hospital bed was driving her crazy. I stop and slam the meat of my hand against the wall.  I should've fucking been there for her. Beyond any deal I made. Gemma didn't deserve being in the path of Aika's buzzsaw. I resume walking, ignoring some of the crew staring at me in fear.

I turn and enter the locker room without a sound and there's Punky.  I think she's unpacking at first, but then I realize she's not pulling things out, but packing them away. She is so focused she doesn't notice me. I move softly, quietly behind her in disbelief of what I'm seeing.

"Got someplace better to be, darlin'?"

I stop at the sound of that familiar drawl, and look over my shoulder.  It's a running joke on the internet that my ring gear is basically just my clothes, as if I walk from the street through the locker room and straight to the ring like Raven used to, but people who know me know the difference.  I never wear skirts except when I'm in the ring, and then it's only my little joshi skirts over my tights.  In my civvies, I mostly wear cargo shorts or home-made cut-offs, or jeans that date back to the last milennium, like the tattered True Religions I'm wearing now.  Outside the ring, I wear ENTIRE T-shirts - with sleeves and shit - like the Cthul-Aid shirt I've got on. I bite my lip a little, and it's not glossy black -I only wear my Japanese goth-Loli cosmetics in the ring.

"Fuck," I say with quiet irritation and genuine sorrow - that's a lot of weight for that one word to carry, but I've always been able to make fucks do a lot of work for me.

"Kinda hoped I'd be outta here by th' time anyone showed up."  I sigh and pad to the dressing room mirror, grabbing my cosmetic stuff - it's easy to spot since most of it's black - and tossing it all into a Ziploc to drop into my duffel. As I work, I shake my head, purple hair dancing loose around my shoulders. "Anyplace is gonna be better than here, Red, an' it ain't a problem with anyone in this room," I growl.

I watch you continuing to gather your things and it is hard for me to react. The fierce Enforcer looks rather ordinary and it's not all due to my civillian gear.  My sunglasses hide the shock in my eyes.  My shoulders slump a bit, making the TARDIS line drawing on my shirt distend a bit. My hands rub against the sides of my jeans to try and stop them from clenching into fists.  Punky is leaving. That sinks in like a punch to the gut.

I know exactly what you mean when you say it. We've all been played by the so-called savior of wrestling. The only one standing tall after that pay per view was Callista herself. First Gemma and now Punky. Leaving me alone with Callista. No...tell me that isn't happening. I move up behind you again, this time my right hand resting on your shoulder. "Come on. Don't do anything you're gonna regret, darlin'."

I'm bent back over my duffel bag, now nearly up to my chest as it stands on the floor, bulging with the things I need enough to have them hauled around from city to city.  Your hand catches my shoulder - and you immediately feel the livewire tension thrumming there, my muscles like steel cables and I hiss through my teeth as I stop myself from whipping around on you.  Because you're Reddy, and none of this bullshit is your fault. 

"The only thing I'm gonna regret is staying here another fucking second, Reddy," I growl, my dark eyes burning furiously. I yank the duffel bag's cinch tighter and tighter, like I'm strangling someone's skinny neck with a belt so I can watch their eyes bug out and their cheeks go purple.

"If I have to see that smug, poisonous limey bitch come swaggering in here with her fuckin' mealy mouth bullshit dripping off her thin lips an' pawing that fuckin' belt like Gollum rubbing one off on the Ring, I'm gonna fuckin' spread her skull all over the floor."  The Red Queen, you note, is not packed away, but is resting in arm's reach against the lockers.  The old hardwood roque mallet looks more brutal than ever.  I caress the end of the red heartwood handle as I speak, and the thought of pasting Calli's head with a central wicket shot and watching all those evil thoughts splatter the wall behind her dances behind my eyes like sugar plum fancies.

I sigh, and let my fingers fall from the hammer, reaching up to instead rest my hand on yours, and squeeze it tight.  "So I gotta fuckin' go.  She's not gonna help me stop Aika, and she doesn't give a flying fuck for you, or me, or Gemma, or fuckin' anything that's not getting a gold fucking belt to wear."

I can feel how tense you are the moment I touch you. I ignore all my reflexes that are telling me you are about to strike. You wouldn't do that to me. I don't notice letting the breath out that I was holding when you start talking.  I hear the pain in your voice.  I also hear the anger. We were just chess pieces for Callista, all designed to get her her precious title. And what did it cost us? Gemma is in the hospital. Punky is chasing ghosts. I'm sticking it out to keep her safe. All of us instead of standing proud are shells of ourselves.

I do tense up a bit as I see you move your hand over to the Red Queen. I'm not sure at first if you are trying to draw strength from it or preparing to use it. I relax again when you let it go.  Your hand covers mine and you squeeze and I flash back.  Where was it, Gibsonville? Florence? Alpharetta? I can't remember exactly.  You showed up on your "green as grass" tour looking to take any booking you could. And this piece of shit promoter said he didn't have a spot for you after you spent your last dime getting to the show. But you didn't let the disappointment show. You wouldn't. Even then your passion for wrestling. Your desire to be a wrestler was just so strong. I couldn't just let your dream die. I'd seen too much of that, felt too much of that heartache. So I took the promoter aside and let him know I would take you on along with George South in a special main event or I would walk out there to the fans and let them know I was leaving and have them ask for a refund. Oh - and then I'd come back and rip his arms off.

That night you were raw, you missed spots, you landed bumps badly. But my gawd you sang in the ring. You had a joy about you, a wildness that made me smile again. From that time on, anytime you were in the South, you rode with me. You didn't go often, but we had some fun. And you liked my stories. But hearing you now, seeing you like this, I realize Callista has damn near crushed that wild spirit of yours with her games. I feel a cold rage building, but I keep it down.

"Punk...Megan. please. Let's just talk about this after the matches. We...we can fix this."

Years later, and I can still remember how good those fucking grits were.  I'd always hated the damn things - they were all I could afford some days at Denny's and Waffle Houses all across the damn South and Midwest, and they were god-damn awful to someone who was raised on organic local berries and fresh Columbia salmon.  A thick tasteless buttery mush that was just enough calories to get back on the bus and got to the next town and get my tits stomped on by another local worker with a bullfrog neck and bulldog jowls.  But your grits, and those shrimp you came up with outta nowhere in that little German hostel ... fuck. So fucking good.  I curl my fingers on your big hand, and tilt my head, and for a moment I think that I can just stay, just to fucking keep an eye on you, to get your back the way you had mine so many damn times.

And I kiss your thick scarred knuckles, just a soft fleeting brush of butterfly lips, and I shake my head No,as much as I wish I didn't have to. 

"One of two things is gonna happen if I'm here when that cxnt gets here, Reddy - either I'm gonna fuckin' kill her, and be arrested and I'll have no one to wrestle but fuckin' Nailz and Ahmed Johnson, or she's gonna fuckin' talk me into staying, and I'm gonna go fucking nuts." The fury bubbles up in my voice for a moment, a seething toxic heat at what I've had to put up with - with my lover being hurt and my friends being used and my exes putting on demon masks and going insane and no one but me seeming willing to stop them.  I turn with a wry grin, and my hands come up, resting on your cheeks.

"And I know some bitch is gonna say that'd be a short fucking trip, but ... " I shake my head softly.  "She wouldn't LET us stop Aika.  And that bitch broke Gemma's shoulder like she was twisting a chicken wing off," I hiss, and my dark eyes flare as they look up into your shades and my shoulders tense - but my hands stay gentle on your cheeks. "I gotta stop her.  An' I'm not giving one more fucking drop of blood to the cause of Calli Quinn having a new gold belt to fuckin' grind on in whatever heap of headless corpses she calls a bed."  I half-grin, thumbs smoothing your cheekbones.  "I assume she fucks like a praying mantis."

I stand there and hope. Your tiny fingers curling around my hand like so many times in the past. Your head tilts. You're thinking about it. Please Megan. Please. Don't leave me alone like this. When your lips brush against my fingers, I don't feel happy. It feels like goodbye.  When your head shakes, my heart sinks. I know you are gone. And gone because of fucking Countdown.

I can hear that passion that's missing, but it shows up as pure unadulterated rage in your voice. I am so glad my shades are hiding how moist my eyes are.  And you turn and take my face in your hands. Yes, this is goodbye. Because no matter how much I care for you, I have to stay for her. To keep her safe.  I nod along as you speak truths about Quinn. So much rage and yet, so gentle to me. My voice breaks as I start to speak. "Don't disrespect the mantis like that.  I know you have your reasons to go. I..I have to stay. I could try to talk you out of it. But...I know it won't make a damn bit of difference. Megan. Do what you have to do. Break that damn ghost. Then come back. Come and save me."

I let out a long slow sigh and tug your head down so I can press my forehead against yours.  Big fucking lug.  You had to be the one to walk in.  If it was Calli I could have had some nice meaningless violence to start my day off instead of all these god-damn emotions.  "I'll come back, Reddy Kilowatt," I say softly.  "And I'll kick that lanky mantis' cxnt up around her ears for the shit she's put us through."  I tug you closer still, and my cheek is soft against yours as I murmur in your ear as if there was anyone else in this empty locker room for megalomaniacs to hear us. "And tell your little blonde that I'm ALWAYS watching - and if she hurts you I'm gonna pull her heart outta her mouth an' show it to her.  But give her my love, yeah?" I kiss your cheek, long and soft.

I let out another ragged sigh that people like you who've known me my whole career know is the sound of me holding back tears because they piss me off.  I snatch up my duffel and swing it over my shoulder, and take the Red Queen in my right fist, walking the lead-loaded hardwood mallet at my side like a hiking stick.  I glance around the locker room and snort, my voice thick and a bit heated, almost gruff.  "At least now there's enough room in here for most of your porn."  I look at you, my head tilted and big dark eyes bright, and grin.  "See if ya got time to water down her gin before she shows up ."  I lift the mallet in a half-assed salute, and go padding out the door, shouldering it aside like it pissed me off by being in my fucking way.

I let you move my head down and press forehead to forehead. One more ritual of ours from traveling the roads together. But never as sad as right now. Your voice softens and we get closer. Callista is in so much trouble when you are done with Aika.  And then you mention her and I chuckle. There's no way she would hurt me. And no way you two would cross paths in the ring.  I feel your kiss and my eye closest to your lips suddenly springs a leak. I barely get out "I'll tell her."

You let me go and grab your things, more quickly than I can move.  Stopping me from giving you one last hug. Like you know that would make you lose it. I hear your silly joke.

"No, just more room for alcohol."  I see you smile one last time and give me a salute with the Red Queen. And then, just like that, you are out the door. All the strength holding me up just evaporates and I collapse down onto the bench. I sit there as memories of you and me take over.  But for you, and to spite Callista, no tears come. I just need a moment to gather myself.

It's the night of FTW Fury, and I am all smiles. Which is to say there's an upward curl to the corners of my lips which is noticeable if you're close enough. Why shouldn't I smile? It was a beautiful day in...whatever dreary little American rust-bucket we were inhabiting today. And of course, I was coming to work as champion. Everything is better when you're champion!

My duffel bag, (and the FTW championship belt inside of it) is in my right hand, while my left thumbs my phone, scrolling through the note that Countdown's attorney (meaning mine) had sent me. My smile dimmed at what I read. Trust Megan to find some way to annoy me even when she was doing what I wanted.

The attorney advised me that while the clause in Countdown's contract about "forfeiting all future merchandising rights in the event of a departure from Countdown" was actionable, she felt that it was "unlikely to get a favourable response" from FTW management, and that it would cost more to litigate then I was likely to recover.

'Fine,' I think, tucking my phone into my pocket. 'Small price to be rid of her.'

I come tromping out of the Countdown's room, stopping only to accost a PA wearing his big cans around his temples like an air traffic controller to find out where the fuck the proletariat locker rooms are in this joint.  My directions confirmed, I go stomping that way, remembering the old rules for establishing yourself in an open locker room.  As either Dick Murdoch or G. Gordon Liddy said, just beat the first person to make eye contact with you into a coma with a mop handle.

Well, okay, maybe not a FULL coma.  These people had performance contracts, after all.

I stomp on, overstuffed duffel swaying behind me, and try to visualize how I'd be able to beat Monstro into a coma if he was taking up the locker I wanted - maybe get him in some sort of throat lock to get him on his knees first - when I round a corner and almost bump into you as you're shoving something into your pocket.  Presumably a vial of powdered Irish children, or fresh kitten blood.  My eyes narrow and I tighten my fist on my roque mallet, thinking of how much I enjoyed the passage about Jack Torrance breaking Wendy's back with one just like it in The Shining.

For a moment, I just shift my weight back and forth - and then I try to just walk past.  Because, you know? Fuck it.  As fun as the image of your skull being rocketed down the hall is to contemplate, I don't wanna deal with this.  Maybe you'll give me the silent treatment, I think with a fluttering spark of hope.  That'd teach me a lesson in something or other, probably.

'Oh lovely,' I think, as I see you stalking through the halls, rage palpably emanating from you, which is always a sign that it's a day ending in 'Y'. You seem intent on passing without comment. I'm sorely tempted to let you, but there's always another seed to plant, always another hook to bait. I set my duffel down on the ground, not out of any fatigue, but just because it's best to have my hands free when conversing with you while you're in this sort of mood. "I take it this is good-bye?" I say.

Fuck.  FUCK.  The one time I actually WANT you to be a stuck-up icy bitch, you decide to get fucking chatty.  I loudly grit my teeth, probably audibly adding another zero to my dentist's savings account, and shift the bag on my shoulder.  The temptation to drop it and drive the lead-loaded mallet through your skinny ribs is almost too delicious to resist. I bite back a number of serrated responses, since getting into an argument with you is just a poison-drinking contest, and roll my head side to side to crick my neck. 

"Nothin' good about it.  It's just 'bye'." I bite the words off at the bitter ends, and growl in my throat, wishing to whatever depraved gods spare a moment to listen to wrestlers that I had a cigarette.  Fuck my alveoli.  Bitter rage tastes better with an unfiltered cigarette - it's the one thing vapes can't do right.  You can't ANGRILY suck water vapor out of an electric doodad.

I take a long snaking step past your duffel, my eyes locked forward down the hall like Wyatt Earp at his brother's funeral looking past Curly Bill.

All a matter of perspective. I see quite nearly everything about your departure as good. "Very well," I say, not bothering to feign reluctance, as I don't trust myself to pull it off, (or you to believe it even if I did.) "I don't claim to understand your...thing...with Rowan," (I refuse to call her madness-infused persona by the name she has chosen for it, just as I would refuse to call the voice telling the lunatic that he has to murder a prostitute "God",)  but I can certainly understand that it's your priority right now. Kick her arse, Megan. Then come back."

I pick the duffel back up off of the floor, "Or don't. Your call. Just like joining me was in the first place."

I grunt just a little, and pad just a few steps down the hall before that last bit jabs at me too much to keep walking.  "I knew you weren't gonna save wrestling, Calli.  I knew this wasn't about anything but power, just like every fucking thing you've ever done." I draw a short, growling breath and flick my dark eyes up at yours, managing to hold my rage down to a sharp whitening of my knuckles around the handle of the Red Queen.  "My fucking mistake was thinking for one god-damn second that you might have given one single fuck about the people stupid enough to help you."

I haul my heavy bag further up my shoulder, shifting my weight to turn away.  "Big high-five on the win, champ," I toss back behind me like a crumpled can, knowing you'll just leave it there like one as I thump down the hall to a locker room where it smells like Right Guard and old sweat and the only booze is in bottles of Four Roses in brown paper bags behind the rolls of athletic tape and ice bags.

I have to bite my tongue to keep my retort to myself. Sometimes it's best to concede the last word, if for no other reason than the fact that the end of the conversation is rarely "the last word" in the proverbial sense. Even if I find your logic lacking, ('You thought I was lying to you about my purpose, intending instead to use you to further my own ends, but that I would care about you while I was fucking you over?') arguing it is pointless. If you behaved logically....there's really no need to complete that sentence. It's like 'If the sun were wet.'

In any event, correcting you aloud isn't the point. Being 'right' isn't the point. Winning is. I am going to save wrestling, doing so will take power, (because everything does, one way or another,) and whatever fucks I do or don't give about the people who help me are irrelevant. Speaking of which, I pull my phone back out of my pocket. You leaving simplifies some maths. Best take advantage of that now.

I press a few buttons, hearing a few rings before the call is answered. "*blurry* Hello?" "Hey Gems." "Oh, you again." "Yeah, me again. Listen, I know they've got you on the good drugs, but would you like me to arrange for someone to sneak you some booze?" "Oh fuck yes." "Thought that'd get your approval. Anything in particular?" "Nah. Can't be arsed to care." "Alright, you take care." "Later Calli."

Meanwhile, Sadie Davis skips into the Countdown locker room to find Red hunched over on a bench. 'Poor guy! Sadie thinks. 'He looks down. Well, he'll pep up soon enough when he hears my news!' "Hi-de-ho, Red!" Sadie says cheerfully.

Red is still slumped, head spinning thinking about Megan and how hurt and broken she must feel to walk out like she just did. On him. Then he hears an all-too-familiar voice. Looking up, he starts to say, "Sadie? What the f-- What are you doing here?"

"I've decided to apply for a spot in Countdown," she chirps. "I've been working on my resume all night!" Sadie holds up a sheet of coffee-stained paper, "Granted it's a little thin. Those six months on the Motel 6 apartment wrestling circuit were not my proudest moments, but, hey, the $10 winner purses were nothing to sneeze at!"

After a pause, Sadie decides she might need to accentuate a bit more of the positive from her past. "And let's see...there are those couple of wins against Emily Layne early in my career but big whoop, right? Who hasn't beat that poor girl up? But, lookee here! 'Trained at Red's Gym.' That ought to count for something!"

While Sadie goes on, Red can't believe what he's hearing. She wants to be in Countdown? 'That fucking Callista Quinn has done nothing but use me and pretty much strip almost everything away from me. And now.  Now she's...Sadie...Sadie wants...I can't...process...' Red's heart pounds in his ears as his Irish rage rises up within him. And he bites it down because standing before him is his heart, looking up at him with a questioning expression. Red is determined to remain calm, so he answers "Join Countdown?!? I'm trying to get the hell away from Countdown!!!" It's possible that wasn't quite as calm as he'd hoped.

"What?" Sadie says in disbelief, "Why would you want to leave the promised land? Come on, Red! Callista is the World Champion! I've heard she might even be in the new Expendables movie; which means if we play our cards right, cameo!  PLUS! When I go to the ring, I'll have two or three people watching my back at all times. Last but not least, I might FINALLY be able to sell some merch...my 'Sadie is the Club Sandwich of Wrestling' t-shirt – which, granted, in retrospect, doesn't make any sense - is flopping."

Behind his mask, Red frowns. This explanation doesn't sound right to him. He knows Sadie isn't a joiner.  Not for those frivolous reasons. 'She...she's holding something back. From me. How the fuck can this day get any worse?' "Sadie, we both know it took months of me hounding you here and there with those back and forth texts just to get you to meet with me and discuss having you join my gym. You are the farthest thing away from being a volunteer in this crazy army of Callista's. Now you wanna tell me what really has you here instead of trying to blow smoke up my ass?"

Sadie's still smiling, but that smile takes on an edge. She steps close to Red and jabs a finger into his chest. "I don't know, Red! Maybe it's because I'm tired of you slobbering like a pathetic dog when NOBODIES like Virginia Dare show up on TV. Maybe I'm sick of you waltzing into the Countdown locker room every week singing Kumbayah with these psycho-witches while I'm out in the ring fighting for my life. Maybe if it takes me jumping on this crazy train to get you to pay attention to me, then choo fucking choo!"

"First, forget about Jenny. That was a lifetime ago and before I met you. Second, I never ever sing Kumbayah. Third, crazy train, you don't know the half of it. I only fought Gemma to see if I could get her on my side against the coming threat of Callista. When I lost I thought no problem, same result. Punky and Gemma are gonna recruit Rowan and all four of us are gonna stop Callista. Then Punky decides her gripe with Rowan is more a threat than Callista fucking Quinn."

Sadie's eyes darted to the side, but Red was determine to get this all off of his chest. "And that led to that psycho Aika. Aika took out Gemma, hurt me and now is the reason Punky is leaving Countdown. Shit darlin', I'm trying to get away from this madhouse and you wanna waltz in?"

"Red," Sadie attempts to interject, but he continues undeterred.

"Callista fucking Quinn is the coldest woman I've ever seen. She moves us around the gameboard to suit her whims. Everyone else is playing checkers and she's playing chess. If you come into this, she will take every thing you know and twist it. She will take your desires and screw them up so you want what's best for her."

Recognizing she wasn't going to get a word in edgewise, Sadie has taken to pointing behind him.

"She will use you like toilet paper and...and she's right behind me isn't she?" Red says, finally noticing the pointing.

"Yes she is," Callista says, stepping around him and heading to her locker, setting the duffel bag down on the bench. "I was entertained right up until your last simile. A tad vile, that." Her nose wrinkles as she expresses her distaste. She starts pulling her gear out of the duffel. Quite casually, she takes out the FTW championship belt, setting it where Red and Sadie (especially the latter) can both get a good look. "But while I'd encourage you to use better analogies, please don't cease your conversation on my account, she says, seeming otherwise completely unperturbed by the content of Red's rant.

Sadie's eyes are fixated on the title belt. In her head, the room fades around her as a choir of angels bursts into Beethoven's Ode to Joy, the cheap fluorescent lights reflecting off of the gold buckle like a divine halo. 'This is it. The ultimate trophy. Everything.' The girl cannot take her eyes off of it. 'I wonder if Callista would let me lick it?' she thinks, when the corner of her eye catches Red, his knuckles going white.

'Red, you sweet, well-meaning Boy Scout. You are not ruining this for me,' Sadie thinks. She steps around the Red Enforcer and holds out her coffee-stained resume to Callista. "Hello, Ms. Quinn. I'm Sadie Davis. We met briefly in the ring a couple of weeks ago. I was the girl in the tank top trying to kill you. I was wondering if there might be a place for me in your Countdown organization. I'm a hard worker and have a 'can-do' attitude that can't be beat!"

Red finds his voice, knowing he needs to do something to stop this. "Fine, I will keep going. Calli will put out whatever carrot she thinks will work on you and use you so that she gets what she wants while keeping the prize just outside your reach. You don't want this, Sadie. Once you are in, you can't get out. You deserve better. You can be so much more."

Callista smirks at Red's comment, "So basically I'm every promoter any of us have ever worked for, before? Interesting." She accepts the resume from Sadie, giving it a quick once-over to see if she can find anything in there that wasn't in the research she'd conducted earlier today. "He's correct though," Callista says as she reads, still calm as a pond in summer, "I will use you to get what I want. As you are here to use us to get what you want. That's how mutually beneficial arrangements occur, after all." She turns to face the masked Countdowner, "And you realize you are saying this literally minutes after Megan did, in fact, get out? Honestly Red, I'm not sure how it's possible to be both overly cynical and stunningly naive in the same paragraph, but I do believe you've managed it," she says, shaking her head.

Red grits his teeth, not caring for the reminder of Megan's departure. He spits out, "You only let Megan go because you know she would kick your ass if you tried to stop her." And the instant that leaves his mouth, he winces. Callista's jaw sets just a bit in annoyance, but it's not Callista that Red is worried about just now. While Callista is irked by the implication that she fears Megan, she also recognizes that he just implied she wouldn't have any cause to fear Sadie.

Sadie, however, has other things in mind. "Whoa, what? Megan's gone?" She's thinking that if Countdown is down one, that being accepted doesn't seem like such a long shot after all. "I'm willing to dye my hair a funny color if you're looking for a new clown to replace her!"

Callista has to bite her lip to keep from smiling at that. "Do I take this to mean you are voting no on allowing her to join? she asks Red. When the four of them formed Countdown, Callista herself suggested a set of rules that would ensure that her role as leader would have checks upon it, such as one that new members would need approval from a majority of existing members. Not that Callista has any intention of allowing such rules to hinder her, but in any event, she's quite curious to see just how far Red will go with this.

"Damn right I'm voting no," he says. "And there's no way in hell Gemma would vote yes. So this will be moot." He declines to mention that Gemma does not care for him 'hanging out' with Sadie. But he knows this will be over once Gemma chimes in. Although Sadie sends Red a look that would peel the paint off of the wall behind him, it's less than he was expecting. For his part, Red didn't intend to imply that Sadie wasn't as tough as Megan, just that she isn't experienced enough yet to jump in the deep end. Red thinks he dodged a bullet there.

Red is wrong. Callista was going to cushion the blow on this one in the name of team unity, but she feels Red's earned himself a little payback, tonight. Returning to an air of unruffled calm, Callista glances towards Sadie and says, "He may be right. Not sure, myself. Gemma makes Megan look predictable, sometimes."

Callista reaches into the pocket of her black Countdown hoodie, saying, "Only one way to find out," before swiping at the screen and tapping at it.

Sadie squirms and fidgets nervously, while Red stands there with his arms crossed, confident in the outcome of this call. After three double-beeps, Gemma's voice can be heard offering a bleary, "Hello?"

"Hey Gems," Calli says into the phone."

"Oh, you again."

"Yeah, me again. Listen, I know you're tired, but Sadie Davis is asking to join Countdown. Wanted to get your vote on that.

"Oh fuck yes.

A smile erupted on Sadie's face, while Red did a literal double-take. Callista tilted her head and noted, "Red's opposed. That a problem for you?"

"Nah, can't be arsed to care." Red's jaw drops.

"Very well. Take care, Gemma."

"Later Calli."

Callista pressed a single button on the side of her phone and tucked it back into her pocket. "One vote for. One against. It seems the decision is mine." Red is still standing there, arms crossed, jaw wide open. 'The nice part about a democracy is the illusion of control it provides', Callista thinks, 'In an autocracy, it's blatantly obvious who's fucking you over.' "Before I make my decision, there's one question I want to ask. Why did you lay down for me in the semi-final match?"

Sadie's mouth goes dry. This is it. Everything she wants stripped down to one question. For a split second, she thinks about playing dumb and telling Callista that she's got no idea what she's talking about, that the Countdown leader pinned her fair and square. But something tells Sadie that trick doesn't work with her. She wants to tell Callista that she wants to join Countdown to keep Red close. And that's a HUGE part of it. But not all of it. She steps up to Callista, tilting her head back to look the taller woman in the eyes, her heart pounding. "Because you're everything I want to be. Teach me how to be you and I will do anything you fucking want."

Red turns to Sadie and looks at her. Looks at her like he's seeing her for the first time. She wants to be Callista? The crazy, spunky girl that caught his eye and stole his heart is now saying she wants to be...Callista? That soulless monster? That unfeeling ice queen who loves nothing but herself? 'What...what does that mean about...us?' Red slumps down to the bench. Stunned. He can feel the strings tied to him. From Sadie. From Callista. In between them, all wrapping around his chest, tugging tighter until he can't breathe. The masked man stares blankly out into space.

None of which goes unnoticed by Callista. As soon as Sadie answered, Callista looked to Red. Because, mask or no, Callista had quickly determined that he was much much easier to read than Sadie. 'Teach me how to be you,' she had asked. It could be true. She was champion, merch money was pouring in, and she had a cadre of allies (or minions) around her to do her bidding. 'Why wouldn't an ambitious young woman want to be me?'

Of course, it could also be an exceedingly bold ploy. An audacious, bald-faced play on Callista's considerable ego. For what motive? Undetermined. All Callista knew was that she would find no answer in the girl's big brown eyes. So she looked to Red. Who seemed to be halfway to an aneurysm over there 'Shock,' Callista thought. 'The notion that I'm what she aspires to is one he finds absolutely shocking. Which means it's a lie.'

While Callista looks at Red, Sadie watches Callista. She wasn't entirely truthful. She doesn't want to be anything like Callista. What she wants is what Callista has. The belt, the money, the power. And she will do whatever it takes to get it.

Callista looks back to Sadie and smiles. It took some processing, but the FTW champion got what she needed from that question. "Very well, I will," she says, holding a hand out towards Sadie, smiling warmly and saying, "Welcome to Countdown." Callista was always going to say yes, for her own purposes, of course. She just wanted to take the measure of her new comrade first.

Sadie looks into Callista's eyes, reaching out and accepting the offered hand. Sadie notices that the smile on Callista's lips is completely absent from the woman's icy blue eyes. Sadie's smile is exactly the same.

However much truth was in Sadie's answer, Callista recognizes that she is a human being, one with her own hopes and dreams...and that means she can't be trusted. Only watched. That done, there's just one more piece of business to attend to. 'I could almost pity him, if his troubles weren't entirely of his own making.' "Speaking of which, Red. You and I had an arrangement regarding Miss Davis here. Given her status now as a member of Countdown, that's no longer necessary, so, while I don't quite know what your thing with Gemma is, as far as our agreement goes, you're entirely free to leave if that's what you want."

Sadie blinks at that, looking confusedly at Red. Red looks up, feeling that dagger stabbing deeply into his heart. The offer of freedom is no real offer at all. It's a reminder that with Sadie in Countdown, he can never leave. Callista just wounded him for daring to challenge her. With no words to answer, he laughs.

He laughs, and laughs, and laughs. Not a joyful laugh. Not a melodic laugh. A laugh that people who sounds as if his mind has retreated and a more callous, hardened side has emerged. One that looks in the face of a domme and slaps her. One that sees a ghost and dresses like an oni. One that sees a mastermind and replies... "No, my dear Callista. I believe I will stay and play. Yes. I will play. Fun times."

The screen displays the logos of the associated wrestling companies: All Phoenix Pro, Coastal Championship Wrestling, Slamabama Pro, Las Vegas Wrestling on the Strip, the Albion Wrestling Alliance, Lega Italia Wrestling, Steel Chicago, the Greater Ohio League and Rose City Wrestling.  The logos all come together in a flare and become the logo for tonight's show:

(https://s4ck.com/forums/proxy.php?request=http%3A%2F%2Fi.imgur.com%2FlNwMQln.png&hash=842f354bdb60bf3a9d559f40478d3529eaaa9f43)

The snarling roar of The Animal in Me's growling cover of "Tubthumping" from their Instincts (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J4XrmBY4ds0) album drives out through laptop speakers and TV sound systems around the world wherever wrestling fans are found, and the FTW Fury logo explodes out into high color footage of Punky landing a superkick on a flying Emily Layne, blazing straight into Gemma Rox hitting the Roxslide on someone unseen and obliterating the cameraman as she does so and Lisa Starr moonsaulting out of camera range, seemingly flying off-screen.

#I GET KNOCKED DOWN!
#BUT I GET UP AGAIN!
#YOU'RE NEVER GONNA KEEP ME DOWN!

The Red Enforcer hits a straitjacket powerbomb on the Staten Island Stomper, Emily locks the Pearly Gates dragon sleeper on a Mulkey, and Calli Quinn hits Time's Up on an official foolish enough to get in the Countdown's way, jolting his bowtie clean off his zebra stripes.

#I GET KNOCKED DOWN!
#BUT I GET UP AGAIN!
#YOU'RE NEVER GONNA KEEP ME DOWN!

Lindsay Campbell locks the Dragon Claw on the unfortunately screaming Shizuko Fukumitsu.  Tiffany hits a towering superplex on Iron Michelle Blount.  Jenny Dare hits the Go Home Lariat on the Mysterious Lady X. Sadie hooks the Smiley Face onto a screeching on a Mulkey.  Tina Lee drops the Breathtaker across Judy Greene's chest for the pin.

#I GET KNOCKED DOWN!
#BUT I GET UP AGAIN!
#YOU'RE NEVER GONNA KEEP ME DOWN!

Gemma and Punky hit the Stroke of Midnight on Haley Borowitz.  Aika locks the Widow's Web on the Red Enforcer in mid-powerbomb, pulling him down to the mat.  Tiffany takes out the Staten Island Stomper with the Flatliner.

#I GET KNOCKED DOWN!
#BUT I GET UP AGAIN!
#YOU'RE NEVER GONNA KEEP ME DOWN!

Lisa Starr locks the Restring on Calli Quinn.  Lindsay Campbell grabs Gemma by the throat.  Emily Layne puts Shizuko out with the Made in Heaven. Tina Lee poses with her iron chain in both fists above her head.  Sadie poses on stage in a flurry of falling leaves.  Lord Tantalus lays a hand on Rowan Chance's masked head in a dark room.  Calli throws back her hood in front of a roaring crowd.

#... NEVER GONNA KEEP ME DOWN!

The shot cuts to a view of the ringside announce table, hung with a white cloth and the FTW Fury logo.  Seated behind are Larry van Keel in his customary tweed suit with an orange bowtie, his brown hair neatly parted down the middle and his wire rimmed spectacles perched on the end of his nose.  Next to him is Rick "Precious" Perle, tanned and grinning with white capped teeth, wearing his old pink and white satin jacket with "Precious Perle" on the back in white piping, over a slim black suit, his thinning dark hair pulled back into a ponytail and looking Hong Kong in a pair of round black Chow Yun Fat sunglasses.

LVK: Welcome, fans around the world, to the third momentous episode of FTW Fury!  For those of you joining us for the first time on Hulu or by our new Roku channel, an especially WARM thanks, and a reminder that you'll get ten percent off all merchandise at FTWshop.com!

RP: I haven't seen that many shills packed into that small of a space since that time I was at a midget salesman convention in a Japanese hotel.

LVK: I ... what?

RP: It was just a little joke, Van Keel.

LVK: ... my doctor told me this migraine might become permanent if you keep doing these things, Rick.

RP: Always glad to help, Van Keel!  And while you're downing more questionably legal Canadian painkillers, let me tell you marks out there about the turn you're getting tonight!

LVK: Rick!  FTW fans do not enjoy being called marks!

RP: Sure they do! Buncha marks wanna mark out all the time, don't ya?  MARKS?

LVK: .... this is coming off a little hostile even for you, Rick.

RP: Yeah, yeah. Fine. I'm just a little pissed. Some chick wearing a vintage MCW shirt out front caught me coming in and asked me for a few "private photos", so I skipped the production meeting -

LVK: We noticed.

RP: - and went back to my hotel room with her, and then it turned out she just wanted a bunch of pictures with me in my friggin' jacket. SHE DIDN'T GET NAKED EVEN A LITTLE.  And when I got salty about it she started making snarky comments comparing me to Mark Madden.

LVK: Wow.  That is hurtful.

RP: It was.  Friggin' marks.

LVK: I really want to be there for you while you get through these difficult times, Rick. But do you think maybe we could investigate this trauma sometime when we're not LIVE WORLDWIDE, WITH A FANTASTIC CARD FOR ALL YOU FTW FANS TONIGHT!

RP: *rubbing at his ear and glowering* DON'T YELL LIKE THAT IN THAT EAR THAT'S THE ONE WITH THE BROKEN EARDRUM FROM WHEN VADER SLAPPED ME!

The shot cuts to the FTW violet background with a crackling lightning bolt splitting the screen in half.  On the left is the Platinum Queen herself, Tiffany, sharing the space with the dark form of the masked and mad-eyed Aika.  On the other side of the lightning is the glaring intensity of Punky smacking a taped fist into her palm and Sadie grinning like a yearbook photo.

LVK: We're in for what should be an intense AND highly unusual tag team match given what we've learned tonight about the fate of the Countdown, as Commissioner La Santa has just advised us that "Punky" Meg Dow, who just DEPARTED the Countdown in bitter circumstances, will be teaming with the NEWEST member of the Countdown, Sadie Davis!

RP: I'm just glad our desk is on the heel side of the ring so we can see their asses.  Not that Tiffany is hard on the eyes, but ...

LVK: But you don't want Aika to notice you looking at her rear and then hooking your eyes out of your head and eating them like cocktail olives?

RP: Nailed it.

LVK: With the increasing madness of Aika, the Commissioner has increased security in the arena tonight, and there have already been questions about the wisdom of putting such a volatile performer in the ring with the seeming target of her madness.

RP: Do you mean Punky or Aika is the volatile, madness-havin' one?

LVK: Yes.

RP: True story. And Tiffany and Sadie have been after each other since day one, so this oughtta be a heck of a fun ride.

LVK: Local authorities have been alerted.

The match-up background pops once more, this time with the lightning forming a circle around a still taken from FTW Second Coming, with Callista Quinn holding the inaugural FTW Championship above her head.

LVK: We've also been asked to advise you that our ... do I have to read this?

RP: Read every word.  That's an official championship pronouncement!

LVK: THAT'S NOT EVEN A REAL THING.

RP: OH, SURE.  Okay, Van Keel.  Stand here on your moral high ground and I'll tell Callista to come out so you can tell her to her face that you don't wanna read her pronouncement.

LVK: *sighs* "Our illustrious and worthy FTW Champion, Callista 'The Savior of Wrestling' Quinn, will be gracing us with a performance in the main event against whatever contender the company dares to set forth."  This is ridiculous. Will you STOP?

RP: *is delivering a standing ovation*

LVK: For the love of ... ALSO tonight, we're going to see the long-awaited debut of "The Spectacular" Tina Lee!

RP: Ooh, friggin' SWEET.

LVK: I ... really, Rick? I thought Tina Lee was a bit too kind-hearted and fair-minded for your tastes.

RP: Yeah, but they're REAL, Van Keel.

LVK: ... I need to get this prescription refilled.

RP: And I hear they're SPECTACULAR.  Let's see who she's facing!

CG: And her opponent, hailing from Anderson, SC standing at 5'10" for 146 lbs, accompanied by her cousin Bobbi, here we have Randiiiii Mulkeyyyyyy

Randi pops in the scene wearing her classic red onepiece with red laced wrestling boots while Bobbi is in her streets clothes with black tight jeans and a white tank top with a blue electric "Bobbi" written across her chest.

The two walk down the ramp waving to their fans and giving high fives to almost all the guys in the first rows.
Bobbi climbs to the apron first and she sits on the mid rope to open the ropes for her cousin.

Randi quickly smiles, her face is concentrated and focused on her opponent. It seems all ready to start in the ring.

-----------------------

*Moments before, in a backstage dressing room*

I'm watching the screen of my TV carefully, hearing Tina's words and seeing her in the ring gear.

I put a smile in my face and slide my right hand across my upper chest to touch my new pendant, hanging over my totally black shirt with no logos or writing on it.

I get up and wince a bit, my left hand goes down to caress my side. A white bandage is partially seen, it's almost totally covered by the shirt except the last inch.

"Yes, it's her.." I say as I move out of my room in my light blue jeans and black shirt, dark hair loose on my shoulders and plain black sneakers on my feet.

I step into the sound engineer's booth and tell him; "In thirty seconds, I want my music." batting my eyes at him "Please?"

"Ehi ciao tu sei Emily Layne giusto? Che me lo fai un autografo?"

I'm highly surprised by this guy's Sicilian accent.

"Ma sei italiano? Non ti avevo mai visto qui in giro?"  I ask him.

"Eccerto! Ho lavorato per anni nel ristorante di Joe Bastianich ... poi arrivò la crisi." he says blushing and with a 'I didn't do anything wrong I swear' face on.

"Beh vabbè, comunque, ora non posso stare qui a parlare, metti la mia musica tra...10 secondi, okay?"

"Ma non era programmata, non ce l'ho qui, mi spiace," he shrugs.

"Okay - allora metti una qualsiasi musica, sto entrando nella scena." I tell him.

"Okay okay, ci penso io allora!" He winks.

I wink back at him and hear him from far away as I'm already behind the curtain.

"Ehi aspetta l'autografo!" ... but it's too late.

As I step through the curtain a classic Italian "Tarantella" hits the arena and I shake my head, realizing why that guy was fired by his previous job.

LVK: wait a minute, what's going on here? Emily Layne?

RP: It seems so Van Keel! And plus with her new theme song! She wanted for sure make a surprise!

LVK: I thought that she was still recovering in the hospital after her not very friendly encounter with the creepy Aika!

RP: What? Aika and Emily Layne? Did I miss something?

LVK: Perle, are you serious? Did you really miss the Aftershock show?

RP: I had important things to do. I was at the movies for "Fifty Shades of Grey".

LVK: Are you really saying that you actually watched that movie?

RP: Not really ... I was just in the parking lot, hooking some girls there. I never seen that many desperate ladies together in the same place!

LVK: You're a perv!

RP: It looks like that the bad news isn't over. Emily Layne has a microphone in her hand and I just bet she has some words for us.  Hopefully in English.

LVK: Let's hear her out. I'm curious now!

The reaction of the crowd and the announcers is kinda cold, the two competitors in the ring are surprised and it looks like everyone in the arena is not very comfortable with what is happening. I pass next to the announcers table and grin at Rick and he smiles back. Van Keel looks to me, then looks at Perle and then back to me and once last time to his colleague.

LVK: What does it mean?

RP: What?

LVK: That smile!

RP: What smile?

LVK: I hate you.

I point the microphone to my mouth and start to talk.


"Okay okay, I'm sorry to interrupt the show like this, I surely didn't want to be rude. But...

I think that it's fair to make clear a couple of things.

First of all I'm totally recovered from what happened in Second Coming. This bandage is only a precaution. This means that I'm here and ready to kick some ass like I've been doing in this federation since the day one!"

I stop, just to hear the reaction of the crowd which now looks a bit more comfortable.


"Secondly, and most important; I guess that everyone of you saw what happened in the main event in the last PPV."

RP: We saw Callista beating your ass and getting the gold!

LVK: Shhhhhhh.

I ignore Perle's comment and I just go on.


"Everyone saw that I was completely robbed. Quinn tapped out in my Pearly Gates and only with Sadie's interference did she manage to escape with the win."  I stop again. My right fist close in a tight ball as I think of that match.



Someone between the crowd starts to chant my name but I interrupt the chant.


"But that's the past! Today is a new day and I'm here because I realized that I can't be a lone wolf in this crazy place. I'm looking for allies and I'm sure that in this ring I can find one."


I turn to Tina Lee and smile at her

LVK: Wait a minute, Emily Layne wants to ally with The Spectacular Tina Lee?


"I must say that I admired what I saw about your history, I enjoyed watching your promos but most of all I do like your best friend Lucy..she may be very helpful in this crazy world, especially these last weeks.
I think we have many things in common and we don't like the same persons around here.
I'd like to see all that firsthand, so if you will allow it, I'd like to be your tag team partner for this match and make this a tag team match against the Mulkeys!"

I smile again and look around me. It looks like the crowd likes the idea - wrestling fans seem to like more tag team matches than one on one matches.

RP: Who does she think she is? Another commissioner? We already have one!


"But yeah, we must first hear what someone thinks about this thing."

I turn and look outside the ring at Bobbi Mulkey who is looking around, knowing that she has now the attention of the whole arena.

She climbs the ropes and gets in the ring where I move to her with a smile.

The crowd starts to chant "Bobbi! Bobbi! Bobbi!" clearly pushing for the tag team match.

Randi looks not very happy about it as she was ready for the one on one match but Bobbi finally nods firstly to me and then to the referee, accepting the new deal.

The crowd erupts in a roar!

LVK: And we start with a surprise ladies and gentlemen! The opener of the show which was supposed to be the debut of the Spectacular Tina Lee against Randi Mulkey has become a tag team match between Tina Lee and Emily Layne versus the Mulkeys cousins!

I move to Tina's corner and wink at her before extending my hand to her for a handshake before get closer to the ropes as Tina will go first.

In the other corner the cousins argue a bit, Bobbi calms down her cousin saying that all will be fine and that Emily Layne isn't like Punky or Red.

The ref meanwhile reaches for me and points out to my pendant, offering to hold it for me as I can't have it out on display during the match, as it can be dangerous.

I look at him and carefully slide the pendant under my black shirt and smile brightly at him.


"Don't worry about it. I'm not going to use it now anyway."


The ring bells and the match is finally on.

I'm standing in our corner and my eyes are follow the action, carefully checking any moves from Tina and Randi.
My right hand tightly gripping the tag rope while my left casually caress my upperchest and side.

The crowd is really behind my partner and I enjoy that, as she is taunting the audience I can help but help her and clap my hands over my head screaming together with the arena

"TE-NAH TE-NAH" over and over.

I'm excited when Tina cuts a perfect spinebuster followed by her Breathtaking!
I raise a fist in the air, I open up my index finger and counting together with the referee.
Then the medium finger but Randi kicks out and the count stops.

I smile as I see Tina strutting after me and I lift up my left hand and slapping my teammate with it.
I make my way inside the ropes and move to Randi and noticing her crawling toward the corner to tag with her cousin as Bobbi has her left arm extended toward the ring.

Let's say the truth, I could stop her and easily drag the cousin by the ankles but I don't. Letting the two sexy blondes do the tag.

LVK: it looks like Emily wants to fight Bobbi as they both are still fresh.

RP: I was thinking that those crutches shots from Sadie Davis in the PPV could get her smarter.. *sighs* but I was wrong..nothing changed!

LVK: come on Perle, this is still a sport!

RP: and in sports the important thing is winning!

LVK: I guess you never heard about De Coubertin...

RP: I told you like thousand times, I don't like French food, I do prefer the Mexican one!

LVK: ..................

Me and Bobbi meet in the middle of the ring, both NOT in our wrestling gears.
Both in jeans and shirt.
We circle each other and it's clear from the first moment that one of the wrestlers in the ring is more comfortable than the other.
And it's not the tall blonde Mulkeys...

We clasp each other in a classic elbow and collar lock up in the middle of the ring and after some seconds, despite the size disadvantage, I push her backward toward the ropes behind her.
I can clearly hear Tina claps and encouragement from the opposite corner.

The ref moves closer and asks to separate and we both agree. I step back lifting my arms while Bobbi shakes her hands and wipe her forehead from some hair.

The blonde tall girl decides to change tactic and rushes toward me with her arm wide opened aiming for a clothesline but her movements are slow, or at least slow enough for me to duck under her arm and let her stumble forward without hitting anything but air.
I quickly turn and step to her side and grab her wrist with both hands

RP: okay Van Keel, I went to a party yesterday night and I see that now it's the perfect time to get a nap. Wake me up when someone interesting will climb in the ring!

LVk: Layne twists on Bobbi s wrist and..oh look at this! Emily planted her elbow on her rival arm and spinning her body she brings Bobbi Mulkey down in a armbar takedown!

The blonde cousin emits a groan and curses as I apply a nasty leverage on her arm.
The ref quickly steps in front of us asking if she wants to give up.
Bobbi refuses.

"Come on blondie, I know you can do more than this"

My words work on Bobbi nerves and I finally feel her strength as she starts to put her feet under her knees and she forces us up on our feet.
I don't release her arm though and I change the position of my hands on her arm and twist it behind her back in a hammerlock that cause another groan from her mouth.

This time though I'm not planning to hold her in the place and , holding her arm behind her back, I slip in front of her and apply a front face lock, positioning her free arm over my head.
My other hand goes on her jeans and I lift her up in a hammerlock suplex that make her roughly falls on her back!

LVK: impressive hammerlock suplex from Emily Layne!

RP: impressive what? This is only a bad copy of what The Queen of Suplexes can do!

LVK: Queen of Suplexes?

RP: of course! Punky!

LVK: I remind you that Emily Layne beat Punky on Fury 2!

RP: that was only a fluke. And plus it was caused by the interference of that crazy beast of Aika, that win doesn't count in the scores.

LVK: So, based on this argument, also Quinn win shouldn't count in the scores since Sadie interfered on that match

RP: you should show more respect for the first ever FTW world champion Van Keel!

I quickly roll over Bobbi chest and lift up her right leg up but only getting a ONE count.
We get up almost in the same moment and I can read the frustration in her eyes. She moves forward and goes for a forearm smash, this time I block her shot with my arm and send my knee to her tummy, once, twice and force her to bend forward.
Randi slaps the top rope like saying 'I knew that it could end like this' as I move behind her cousin and wrap my right hand on her body, my left hand goes down on her leg as I bend low on my knees and lift Bobbis body up like I'm about to belly to back suplex her but before dropping her backwards I stop and grab a hold of her legs and drop her face first in a wheelbarrow face buster!

LVK: Oh my God! Look at this!

I end in a sitting position and glare to Perle in a clear message for him to his previous comment about the suplexes.
I get up again and look backwards at Tina who is screaming and clapping loud in excitement, with all the crowd behind her it seems.
Bobbi shakes her head for a moment, trying to wipe away the cowebs from her head but she is crawling to the wrong corner, the neutral one and there she gets in a sitting position , the perfect position for my Heaven Sent.

I raise one closed fist high toward the ceiling before running toward the corner and drive my hip against Bobbi face and make her see the stars for some seconds behind the loud roar from the arena.

LVK: Heaven Sent! And the crowd is going wild!

RP: I'm still of the idea that this must be banned!'

Bobbi stays there for some seconds as I look around and shower in the cheers.
Then my eyes aim at Tina and instead of going for the pin I move to her and lift my right hand to slap hers for another hot tag, though this time I decide to stay in the ring and taunt my tag team partner.

"Let's show the FTW how to do a double elbow drop!"

Without any hesitations, we move toward Bobbi who is trying to crawl to her corner. Me on her right side and Tina on her left.
We grab each other hands and drop down in a double elbow drop right into Bobbi small of the back.

LVK: oh wow! There is alchemy between these two already!

RP: come on ref! This is illegal!

Randi pushes herself up on the bottom rope and lean in, loudly protesting with the referee.
He steps to us and says "okay girls enough for now, Emily, to your corner please"

"Just one second please?" I battle my eyes to him and nod at Tina before lifting Bobbi body up on her feet and whipping her toward the far corner.
Then I do the same with Tina and whipping her towards the same corner!

can I get the audio version on FTW fury wow great writing and detail congrats to all. and Paula you ae m not just welcomed back we WANT you back..

I will get bak into being active soon. Been sick and will need surgery on my left wrist for sever Carpal Tunnel Syndrome.

Glad the group is going strong and still the best clique around

When Tina suggested her idea on my ear I wasn't very sure about her plan could work good but I accepted it without any hesitation. I couldn't refuse it after what happened before the missed whipping that got a chance to the cousins to get back in the match.
I couldn't admit that I was afraid to do that after what I said in the promo that introduced my interfere in the match.

I am here to kick ass and that's what I'm supposed to do.

So when Tina runs toward me I bend forward and my arms and hands are extended forward, ready to grab a hold of Tina's body and send her into the two cousins that are stumbling to get on their feet.
I put as much effort I can to drop Tina outside. The problem is that I put too much effort.
I tried to calculate Tina's weight, the complete length, the gravity and so on but I probably did some mistake and I wasn't thinking that my back could hurt like that.

After the backbody drop that sent Tina flying over the Mulkey's and against the metal railing, I get on one knee before falling down on my side.
My right hand goes on my back and I clutch it, rolling down on my chest and kicking the mat with both feet.

RP: I give you credit here Van Keel! That was totally spectacular! Almost like Laurel & Hardy! I guess that this new tag team is already at the end of games!

LVK: look at Emily Perle, I think that she got injured in the maneuver! She is down and holding her back!

My faces is showing the big pain that I am feeling . The ref is a bit debated on what to do and he misses to count the other three girls outside the ring and he moves to me, kneeling on my side and asking me what happened.

The camera panes to my back as I'm lifting some my shirt, showing that the bandage isn't really tiny as it cover big part of my back.

"Emily, you okay? You want to continue this? I don't think you should..."

"I'm fine, it's only..." I mutter while I try to get on my feet but only to fall down again on my knees with a groan, one hand down on the mat the other on my back again.

RP: so what happens now? I guess we should call the winners of the match

LVK: I don't think so Perle, Tina is on her feet now but OHHHHH

While I'm writhing in pain in the ring, the Mulkey recovered back and only with a quick nod they were agree on what to do.
As Tina got on her feet they rushed against her and jumping together with perfect timing they hit a double dropkick on Lee making her stumble back against the railing again!

RP: that was....spectacular?

LVK *shakes his head*

RP: almost like Emily current position!

LVK: STOP IT!!!

The ref finally turns his attention outside the ring and he starts the countout while Randi takes advantage on Tina's daze state and grab on her outfit and force her body to roll under the bottom rope while in the same moment I roll outside the ropes and slowly trying to put effort and make my way on my feet.

Randi climbs inside the ropes but only to reach toward her corner and slaps her hand with Bobbi's hand for the tag.

Bobbi smiles and she starts to climb the buckles at her corner , she isn't very quick but she reaches the top rope and stands there with her hands gripping on the ropes too to have more balance.
Tina meanwhile got up on her feet and when she realizes that Bobbi is about to jump on her, it's too late!

LVK: flying bodysplash from Bobbi Mulkey that sends Lee down on her back again!

RP: I heard that someone put 100$ on the Mulkeys to win! She's about to get reach!

The ref gets on his knees next to Bobbi who is now covering Tina's body, hooking her leg with one arm. The crowd is now silent, not even breathing.

"ONE"

"TWO"

I stay down, laying over the apron ring and still holding and rubbing on my back as I try to ease the pain as much I can.

I lifted my head only to see Tina not finding me. I can say that she had a frustrated and angry look in her face and when I tried to catch her attention with my eyes , Bobbi got her and spin her away from me.

I tried to get on my feet, helped by the ropes but everything was useless as the pain is too much and it's hard even to stay on my feet.

The match is going on, although now Tina is alone against the blonde cousins.
The crowd is no more looking at me as now all the attention is to see if Tina will be able to fight back against the two Mulkeys.

At one point I find Bobbi falling down, toppling from the top buckle with a hard impact on her crotch that causes a gasp mixed with a laugh from behind me before rolling next to me and close to my feet.

I hear Van Keel calling for the Weakest Link and I raise my head to see Tina getting the upperhand over Randi. The view is suddenly covered by Bobbi ass and legs covered with the tight denim material.

Not that bad view if you ask me but still not like what Tina has planned.
I take a breathe and my instinct says to try it. I extend my right arm inside of the ring and grab for Bobbi right ankle.
I catch her surprised and she falls face first on the mat inside the ring.

RP: Bobbi Mulkey trips into the ropes and falls down! Oh come on! This match is getting really hilarious now!

LVK: No Perle, it's Emily Layne that hooked on her ankle and made her trip! Look at her, she's slowly making her way inside the ring too!

RP: what? This clearly means that she was faking!

I climb through the ropes and Bobbi gets up to face me with a angry look painted over her face.
"You better back outside the ring Layne!"

I do not reply and lift my left foot to kick her side.
I'm slow in my movements and she easily grabs my left ankle but she can't do anything when I jump up and drive my right high to her face in a enzuigiri kick!

LVK: Oh my look at this! Emily sent a vicious kick to Bobbi face and the Mulkey lays eagle spread in the ring!

RP: I told you! She was faking!

LVK: you're talking too fast Perle, Layne lays in the ring too and her hands are again on her back and side!

Meanwhile Tina is still punishing Randi in her reverse cloverleaf.
The big and tall blonde is opening her hands, in her face it's shown the pain she is feeling as Tina is bending her in a C position.
The referee gets in front of her

"What do you say Randi? Talk to me"

"Noooooo"

Randi shakes her head, refusing to submit but also not able to go anywhere as after the match she's not having anymore energies to break the hold and either to reach the ropes.
After some more seconds of agony, Randi finally nods desperately

She repeatedly screams "YES YES YES YES YES YES" followed by the explosion of joy from the crowd.

The ref waves his hands to the table signaling the submission and the end of the match.

LVK: Tina made it! Randi Mulkey just submitted in her Weakest Link submission hold! And she shower her debut with a impressive win as she was for the longer part of the match alone without a partner!

RP: *beep* * beep* I lost 100 $

CG: and the winner by submission, The Spectacular Tina Lee and Emily Layneeeee

Tina releases the hold and say something to her victim. Randi rolls on her side and holds her back while Bobbi is still down, arms and legs spread apart with her face turned to the side and some of her hair covering her forehead and cheek.
Tina slumps down on her knees, exhausted after the intense match.
Her right arm up in the hair, the ref raises her left one up as I crawl to them.
I look into her eyes, for a moment the referee steps between us like he wants to separate us, though the only reason that he is doing that it's because he wants to raise my arm and hers together.
While he holds my arm up I keep looking at Tina and finally saying

"I'm...I'm sorry..." I hiss with another grimace through my face, my other hand goes down on my back again.
She hesitate for a moment, probably remembering my mistake of whipping her into a empty corner and then the second one when I backbody dropped her too high.

But after a second of hesitation we hug each other in the middle of the ring, welcomed by a warm roar coming from the crowd.

RP: how romantic! Someone should forbid this! Diabetics couldn't stand this!

LVK: you should appreciate the good sport between these two Perle!

I raise Tina's right arm in the air with my left again and with my right hand I point to her like saying that she made it before we start to move towards the ropes, I stumble feeling again the pain on my back with Tina holding me up

The image of the gorgeous Tina Lee carrying the battered Italian warrior, Emily Layne, in her arms at the top of the ramp while their adoring fans roar in approval fills the screen. Emily's beautiful face is all smiles despite the punishment she endured throughout their match, she even musters up enough strength to wave to all their applauding fans. The camera stays on the lovely pair for a moment more before the scene switches to display a regal looking crown insignia flanked by a pair of angel wings. The stylish silver logo is etched onto the back of a gold-colored spandex top wrapped about the upper torso of a curvaceous woman moving down a backstage corridor. Her thick mass of flowing platinum blonde hair sweeps elegantly over the symbol as she tosses the mane over her bare shoulder while sauntering down the hall. The camera hangs back a step as she continues her smooth stride, picking up on her bare toned lower back and the tiny, gold-shaded spandex shorts with thick black stripes running along the sides that hug her shapely hips and rear like a second skin. As she walks, she waves and smiles at the various stage hands and workers dotting the brightly lit corridor, and the camera manages to pick up on the doe-eyed expressions and blank grins they shoot back at her as she passes them by. The gal can certainly turn some heads.

"Tiffany? Hey, hey, Tiffany!"

The cameraman's voice frantically calls out to her and he hurriedly quickens his pace to catch up with the alluring Platinum Queen. A roar from the fans watching the big screens from the arena can be hear as the cameraman catches up with her and swoops in from the side. Focusing in on Tiffany's front gets the crowds to cheer even louder. Her radiant green eyes and those full, glossy lips curved into a grinning smile give off a certain look of cool, collected confidence and fiery determination. It's abundantly clear that the Queen's ready for a fight tonight!

"Ya know sugar, it's awfully rude of ya to holler after a gal like that," I reply breezily to the anxious cameraman, tossing him a smirk before shifting my eyes back ahead of me. He stumbles over his words, attempting to form an apology, and I simply wave him off. "Can I help ya?"

"Well, uhm, I just--well, first off, Tiffany. You look fantastic!"

"Aw, well thanks, sweetie! Got me a new outfit.." I glance down at my ring attire, spreading my arms out as the camera sizes me up quickly, before turning my eyes back up to his lens. "Ya like?"

"Oh, yeah, definitely! You're looking great!"

"Mm, well, I'm gonna be lookin' even better when I'm out there whippin' ass." From the arena, the fans erupt over that. I wink at Mr. Cameraman and flash him a knowing smile as I continue sauntering down the hall.

"Just like how you whipped Sadie?"

As if on cue, my 'bad' knee buckles a bit and the camera just barely catches the slight limp in my step. I continue looking forward, smiling thinly. "Damn right."

"She seemed to have you in trouble several times throughout your match.."

"She sure did. Afterall, she's 104lbs of pure terror, heartache, and groovy dance moves." Smirking slyly, I add, "with a voice like a combination of Fergie and Jesus."

I pause, boots sliding to a halt on the hard floor, hands sliding down to rest on my hips. I face the camera openly, staring into the lens as I stand there in the middle of the darken corridor.

"Gotta hand it to her, she really handed it to me.. She beat me down, tied me up.. like ya said, she had me in trouble, more than once in that brawl. But, I'm used to trouble, and her kinda trouble just wasn't enough. Maybe for a lesser gal, maybe against an inexperienced gal it would be. But Ms.Davis, on that night, she was dealin' with the Platinum Queen. And all that viciousness, all that craziness, all that violence -- just wasn't enough to beat me. Still, gotta give the kid credit for trying."

"Sounds like she gained some respect from you, at least."

"Look, I'm not a fan of her jumping me in the parking lot with that crowbar..or her joinin' up with Countdown.. but..I have to admit, the kid's got talent.. A whole lot of potential's wrapped up in that tiny frame of hers..it's just a real shame that instead of realizing that potential, she'd rather be a brat, play dirty..and help a manipulative lil' bitch steal the FTW World Championship.."

I cut Mr. Cameraman a stern look, the first time since this lil' TMZ-style interview began that my smile falters. "Yeah. A real shame."

"..I'm guessing Callista Quinn HASN'T earned your respect."

"Not that the gal needs my respect, and I certainly don't have to give it to her. All I'm plannin' on giving our illustrious World Champ is a long overdue and well-deserved ass-whippin'." I cut my glance away from the camera, staring off into space as thoughts formulate behind my fiery green eyes. "Every single minute she's holding onto that title, she's desecrating it. Disgracing it. Championships should be won through hard-work, not manipulation and mind games. Ya train in that gym, ya bust your ass in that ring, ya prove you're worthy of callin' yourself a champion. That's how it should be done, that's how titles oughta be won." Turning back to the camera, I take a step forward and glare into the lens. "Oh, it'll be a genuine pleasure to beat that gal in the centre of that ring, one day soon, and restore honor and respect to the FTW World Title."

"So, you are planning on going after the World Title??"

Mr. Camera Guy's abrupt question cuts my line of thinking and I shake my head as if to clear it, looking back into the lens with a furrowed brow. "If you're an active member of the FTW roster and those ten pounds of gold is NOT on the top of your bucket list, then what the hell are y'all doin' here? Of COURSE I'm gunnin' for that championship --  ya oughta be crazy to NOT have that title at the very top of your goals..but, one step at a time, I'll take Cali and the title soon. For now, for tonight..heh.. speaking of bats*BEEP* crazy.."

My hands slide from my hips and cross over my chest as I fold my arms, the color in my cheeks fading just a tiny bit. That look of steely determination actually falters somewhat, replaced by something that looks close to..apprehension?

"My match coming up? This match gift-wrapped in madness. The always lethal "Punky" Meg Dow and the lil' bundle of violence, Sadie Davis, on one side of that ring, and on the other, ya got me, the Platinum Queen, and..Aika..Aika..gawd, I've seen some crazy stuff over the years. I'm talkin' some real, serious *BEEP*. But NONE of that even COMPARES to this woman..and what she's capable of, and what she's ALREADY done.. She's fit for a straitjacket and a padded cell.. But, in a match where you've got two dangerous gals fixin' to tear ya apart, you're gonna need someone who's even MORE dangerous than the two of em' put together..which is why I'm glad Aika fightin' by my side tonight. Sugar, I don't know what to expect. All I know is, it's gonna be wild. It's gonna be intense. It's gonna be violent. I'm gonna be ready for it all. And, plain and simple, if Aika gets her hands on somebody, then somebody's gonna get hurt. Hopefully.." I take a step forward while rubbing my shoulder anxiously. "..that somebody, ain't me.."

Continuing my trek down the shadowy hall, I glance back over to the camera and flash that familiar smile.

"Now, if y'all don't mind, I'd like to prepare for this batshi..crazy..hmm?"

The buxom Platinum Queen pauses again and looks around, noticing how dark the hall's become. The camera hangs back and watches her step deeper into the dark as she arches a brow and looks about. No stagehands, no ring crew workers. Nobody's around. Only the sound of her footsteps echoing into the dimly lit hall, and a sense of someone watching her lingering in the air. And no, it's not just the cameraman watching after her..

RP: What's going on, van Keel?
LvK: What do you... OH FOR CHRISSAKES, ARE YOU HIDING UNDER THE DESK?
RP: No! No! I uh... I just dropped a contact lens.


The camera man's screen is covered in darkness. But then, a figure steps out of it. A svelte, masked figure. A man in a red velvet jacket and the rest all in black. The camera shakes for a moment, the hands of the camera man trembling.

"I assume you wanted my opinion on the subject?" I say from behind my mask.

The camera man's voice breaks as he says, "Uh... sure."

I put my hands behind my back, my voice as cold as Norwegian snow. "The lovely Tiffany mentioned 'madness.'" I almost chuckle. "She also mentioned something about everyone in this company going for Ms. Quinn's Championship belt." My grin stretches across my face just below where the mask stops. "Unfortunately, you are incorrect, my lovely Platinum Queen. Some in this company are concerned with something else entirely. Something..." I pause, my eyes focusing for the right words.

"... something far more... intimate."

My lips enjoy that word. Savor it. Like tasting honey.

I step a little closer to the camera and my gloved hand reaches out, gently pointing at it.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about... don't you... Punky?"

The crowd outside in the main hall roars. Just at the sound of her name.

"You are the prize. The only prize tonight. The only prize forever."

I step a little closer, my thin frame almost taking up the entire range of the camera lens.

"Now don't get me wrong. The Championship belt... that's quite a trophy. Quite a trophy. But you, Punky. So full of hate. So full of power. So full of..." I pause, sucking air between my teeth. "So full of passion. You are the only trophy she wants, Punky. The last prize to be won."

Closer now, just my head and shoulders and mask in the screen.

"And it's a prize you can only win... by breaking it."

The camera man takes a step back and hits something behind him. He swings around...

... and Aika stands there, her black, oily hair covering her face. Only her eyes peeking through. Those black, soulless eyes.

The camera man screams. The camera falls to the ground. We hear him running for his life.

Black boots come into view in the tilted camera. Then, hands. They lift the camera up. Up.

Up to Aika's face.

She glares into the camera. Then, a long, wicked smile stretches across her face.

She whispers a name like a witch in the darkest woods, summoning a demon to dance with.

"Maaaay-gaaaaan..."

The crowd roars...

... and red mist bellows from her lips as the camera dies.

BACKSTAGE AT THE UNITED CELLULAR CENTER

I'm walking with Sadie over to where backstage said that Punky was warming up. I'm still a bit on edge with everything that has happened so far. But hell, that's the biz. I'm in my gear even though I'm not scheduled for action, but I plan on being there for this match, if nothing else to keep Punky and Sadie focused on their opponents.

"Ok look. When we get there, don't mention anything about you being in Countdown. Let me explain that to her. Also, you gotta follow her lead. She is the veteran of this team so she should start, especially if Aika gets in first. Aika is her demon to deal with, so let her do it. But most of all, please just let me do most of the talking."

Red is NOT happy with me right now.

I'm walking down the hall wearing one of his white, button-up shirts over my wrestling outfit and shoot a quick glance over at him. He doesn't even begin to return my look, just stares straight ahead, his jaw clenched tight.

I playfully nudge him with my shoulder but no response. I may as well be trying to flirt with a telephone pole.

Finally, he opens his mouth, "OK, look..."

Uh oh! I DO NOT want to hear a lecture from him right now. I quickly pop in my ear buds and hit "PLAY" on my phone. I watch Red's mouth move as "The Blue Route" by The Walkmen blares into my ears.

After a few moments we arrive at our makeshift dressing room. Red leans forward to open the door for me and my heart flutters. Still a southern gentleman, even when he's pissed off.

I step inside to find Megan warming up.

"Guess what?" I say, loudly, over the music in my ears. "I'm the newest member of Countdown. Also, I'm thinking, if we're serious about winning this match tonight, I ought to start us out."

I'm at a bare spot on the painted cinder block wall between the walls of big lockers, my hands pressed to the floor, my Docs up above my head with my heels just barely touching the wall.  My inked arms flex as I lower myself until my purple hair coils on the locker room floor under me, and then my biceps tighten as I growl and push myself back up again, extending my arms and pointing my toes.  Handstand push-ups.  Charlie Bronson swears by them, and he's strong enough to break a cinder block in his bare hands. Funny bastard, too, for someone who once fed a jailor his own nightstick.

Sweat runs down my cheeks and beads at the end of my nose, falling to the floor.  The big communal locker room is quiet - the Mulkey cousins aren't back from their outing yet, and a couple of the girls who aren't booked are just maintaining their gear. I ended up not having to beat anyone's ass senseless - as soon as I stomped my way into the locker room with my lead-loaded mallet in my fist and my bag of plunder on my back, everyone suddenly got real polite, real quiet, and real good at avoiding eye contact.

But I know they were watching when La Santa came in.

"Miss Dow," she said from just behind me.  If she had been stupid enough to sneak up on me, she'd have gotten an elbow in the throat, but I'd seen her come in with her coterie of PAs and Sweet Richie Love, road agent and professional bastard who still had a nasty limp after not getting the fuck out of my way fast enough at Second Coming.  I'd been getting my gear on, pulling my Lycra knee socks on and snapping them taut.  I glanced back at the ex-luchadora, and yanked my blood-red Doc Marten on, starting to lace it brutally tight.  "Missus Claus," I half-smirked back, mostly focused on my boot.  We'd only crossed paths a few times in the ring, but we'd been in a lot of the same locker rooms and I have a talent for remembering nicknames people hate.

To her credit, her temper didn't flare at all.  She simply continued in that sweet lyrical Barcelona accent. "While you have left the Countdown, demonstrating more wisdom than I would have guessed you possessed," and there I smirked again, twisting my foot in my boot to make sure the fit was good.  You needed a strongly tied boot to stay on through the number of kicks I was throwing these days.  She continued - "There is already a contracted match on the schedule, and we have already had to fit a substitution in for Miss Rox."  That narrowed my eyes a little, but she plowed on.  "Another substitution, we feel, would be against the spirit of -" I'd cut her off, holding up my hand without turning around, then started to yank my other boot on. "Spare me the fuckin' lecture, Sants.  So I'm fuckin' booked.  Who do you wanna watch get th' shit kicked outta them?" There was an audible shuffle as some of the other girls in the locker room tried to back away, or get to the showers.

"Always so colorful, Miss Dow," and I snorted.  Bitch had been calling me that since my first Mexican show. Even my own MOM called me Punky by now, but not La Santa Gabriela.  "You will be teaming with Sadie Davis, who will be standing in for Gemma."  My snort was louder then, and much richer and much nastier and much more amused. "That blonde tart couldn't fill Gemma's boots if she was wearin' fourteen pairs of socks. Ya might as well send me out with a golden labradoodle.  If she can play fetch then I'd at least be stuck with a little blonde bitch who can do SOMETHIN' useful." I shook my head, tightening my boot one last time before snugging the laces and lashing a kick out into the lockers with a clattering crunch of metal that made everyone but Gabriela jump.

I stood up and turned around, lacing my fingers and pushing my hands out to lazily crack my knuckles. "So who we got?" I'd drawled.

She had straightened her coat, glanced swiftly down to make sure we were far enough apart that she could get clear if I made any sudden moves, and spoke coolly.  "You will be facing Tiffany and Aika," she drops as casually as a nickel in a wishing well.

My fists tightened, my short glossy black nails digging bloody crescents into my palms that I wasn't even aware of, and my eyes dilated like a junkie getting a hit of smack.  "You're gonna give me Aika?"

La Santa had held her hands up, and there had been a lot of talk then, a lot of warnings about the rules of athletic competition and the terms of my contract and property damage and police on hand to back up security and being forced into this because Rowan and I were disrupting her show, and all of it had been wa-wa-wa-wa-wa noises like Charlie Brown's teacher.

Aika.

She was gonna let me get my fucking hands on Aika.

And now I was finishing my warm-ups, and unable to stop smiling, even when Sadie's head pops around the door and she chirps at me. My smile stays on, warm and bright as I kick off the wall and swing my feet down to the floor, popping myself upright. I swing my sweat-glossed arms back and forth across my chest, and grin, my dark hazel eyes sparkling as I run my hands through my purple hair and push it back.

"New blood," I grin.  I don't think the little blonde can hear me, not with her tween-buds in.  I look at Red, over her shoulder, and with a half-grin, I nod.  "Yeah. I bet you're EXACTLY what Calli was lookin' for."  Someone new and untried with no friends in the locker room and no allies in the business except the one Callista already had her hooks in.  "Dream come fuckin' true for Miss Quinn."

I take a long breath or two and my heart races, warm and sweet.  Sadie wants to START the match. I get a mental image of Aika snapping her arm like a wet green twig, and I chuckle, full of good humor.  My hands snap out and pop those little earbuds free of Sadie's ears, and I see Red tense because when I move that fast it's usually because I'm about to cripple someone, but I just keep on that sweet half-grin.

"Startin' us off, huh?  Ya gonna give 'em hell, new blood? Gonna hit AutoZone for a pair of tire irons and jump 'em both in the parking lot?" I shove off suddenly, making Red jump a little as Sadie just stares at me.  Little bitch has eyes not that different than Calli's.  Calculating. Sharky. I head for the locker where I grab my little bag of Shinjuku ring cosmetics.

"Sure, kid.  Y'know what?  You're just a nasty enough piece of work to do it. Take the lead.  Take the whole match.  Sing us some Swedish pop and bash Tiffy's brains all over the canvas.  Do whatever the fuck you want, kiddo," and I turn and grin at both of you, and there's a distinct manic edge to it, bright and intense and sharp as the edge of a knife.

"It's gonna be fuckin' spectacular no matter what."

I snatch the Red Queen from the locker room, the roque mallet tight in my white-knuckled fist as I stalk suddenly forward, my eyes twinkling as I see Red subtly shift himself between me and Sadie, and I rest the hammer on my right shoulder with my little bag of black stuff dangling from my curled right fingers.  My left hand comes up - and aims a soft pat at Reddy's cheek.

"Just make sure to warm her up proper, yeah?" I purr, my voice dropping silkily and a teasing grin on my lips.  "Do the Rowboat like we used to do on the floor in Atlanta.  That ALWAYS warmed me up good," Despite the fury of my bloodthirsty desire for Aika, my eyes sparkle because even if I AM in a good mood, getting Reddy in trouble with his little blonde chippy is still irresistible.  I skip around Reddy and swat at Sadie's firm butt with my free left hand.

"It's gonna be a show they won't forget, koinu."

There's a bounce in my step and murder in my heart as I head down to the mirrors to put my game face on.

My entire body tenses up as Megan crosses the room and yanks my ear buds out.  From everything I've heard, I fully expect her to, at the very least, try to rip my head off and sell it on eBay as a limited edition bowling ball.

But to my utter amazement, she does something even MORE bizarre – she launches into some lunatic rant, artfully straddling the line between insulting and praising me, before agreeing, in the end, that, yes, I should start the match.

Is this for real? Did I really just get everything I wanted? I glance over at Red, then back at Megan waiting for the other shoe to drop. And – KER-PLUNK! – I don't have to wait long. Megan brushes past me, reaching up to pat Red on the cheek as she delivers a not-so-subtle reference to a fling the two of them had in Atlanta.

F*ck. That.

I ball my right hand into a fist, but before I can launch it towards Megan's nose, she treats me to a condescending slap on my bottom and skips out of the room.

I take a deep cleansing breath before turning to Red with a forced smile on my face. "Look, I know it's been a rough night for you so far, sweetie, and this probably won't make it any better. But, after I finish crippling Tiffany's leg and exposing Aika as just another mediocre wrestler in a dumb costume, I'm going to shove that stupid hammer down your old girlfriend's throat. Kay?"

And of course, Sadie wasn't listening to me at all and did everything I was trying to warn her not to. But since today is bizarro day, Megan doesn't wade into her, mallet first.

She even agrees that Sadie should start?

What color is the sky in this world?

Then she turns into Megan again and caresses my cheek and makes innuendos about our past. She really does like f*cking with me. I grit my teeth and look over at Sadie who understandably has gone right into the red zone of anger. I hear her threat and I just hang my head.

I let out the breath I'd been holding for a while and mumble, "I'm gettin' too old for this shit."

I'm feeling a little bad after leaving Lisa alone. But I had something to take care of. Something important! At least, it felt important to me! I didn't even tell her about this. I just know that all she would've done is tell me how stupid it is.

And here I arrive. It's just a door, right? Well, it's THE door! The most feared door in FTW! It may not look too special, but...there's this writing on it..."COUNTDOWN".

I don't think anyone who's not a part of Countdown entered this room and came out of it in one piece. Am I scared? Sure! A bit. More like...tensed, maybe?! Ah, who am I kidding?!

I slowly lift my right hand. I take a deep breath as I hesitate, and then...*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*

My heart races. I hear nothing from the other side of the door. All I hear is my heavy heartbeat and a little voice in my head as I keep telling myself "Not her! Not her! Not her! Please not her!"

And then the door opens...

It's her!

My heart leaps into my throat. It feels like the temperature just took a really really REALLY big dive!

Callista stands in the door, holding it open with one hand as she looks me over with that icy stare of hers. Then her eyes meet mine, and I feel like I'm freezing!! At 5'11'' neither of us is really used to looking straight into someone's eyes. Personally, I don't mind that! But for some reason I think the FTW Champion has a problem with it. She seems to really like looking down at everybody. But oh well...

There's silence between us as I don't really know what to say. Super nervous! I would've been okay with everyone else! But...Callista?? I don't know if my mind's ready for this. But it HAS to be done!! After a few seconds of looking into each others' eyes, she looks further up, over my head and...wait!! Something changed about her face! Is that...is that confusion? I just can't ready this woman! Can anyone?? (I mean, seriously???) But why would she be con...oh right!

I'm standing there with both hands behind my back...and 3 big helium balloons floating just above my head. Holding them in my left hand. A Hello Kitty balloon, one is red and heart-shaped and the other looks like a little blimp. All three of them have "GET WELL SOON" written across them. And in my right hand, held against my lower back is a heart-shaped box of chocolates with the same writing.

It's been a few seconds, and still not a single word has been spoken here. I'm just too nervous, my mind got lost somewhere in the arctic depths of Callista Quinn's eyes, while she's just standing there, staring at me, until she decides to break the silence.

"I have literally no idea what you're doing here, so either explain or sod off."

Her words wake me up from my little hypnosis and I shake my head. "Oh ehm...I...I'm sorry!" Stumbling over my words a bit. I take another deep breath and then bring my hands around, holding them out in front of me so that the balloons float around between us. Taking another deep breath

"Hello there, Ma'am. Miss...Miss Quinn, Ma'am. I just...ehm. I...I..." I catch a glimpse of the FTW Championship that's resting on a table in the locker room. Looks like...maybe she just polished that thing? "Oh...congratulations on your title win, too! Ehm, but I'm here to...well, I've seen what happened to Gemma and...and I wanted to bring her these little "Get Well Soon"-presents but nobody really wanted to tell me what hospital she's in!! So, so I thought. I....I thought maybe...you as...Ms. Countdown Boss and all. Know where she is? And...and maybe you could...like...bring her those things for me?"

It's kinda possible that my voice became more and more silent at the end of my little speech, my head lowered a bit, so I look upwards and I see...no reaction!! Had I brought those things to Gemma myself, I would've at least gotten something!! Joy, hate, rage...whatever!! Any emotion is better than the heartless, cold silence coming from the Champion. Wait?? Did the corner of her lips curl up? Wait...no, she's just talking

"How...strange. I would have thought you and your silly little friend would have a good deal of antipathy towards us, Gemma included." I stood there for a second, scrunching up my face in confusion. "Loathing," Callista added, which didn't change my expression at all. "Hatred?" Callista said.

"Oh no! Don't be silly!" I said, only that produced a fierce glare from her. "Well, I, ehmm" Stumbling over my words, looking left to right a little, before I shake my head and look into Callista's eyes...smiling at her. "I don't hate anybody." I say, matter-of-factly. "Sure, me and Lisa haven't really seen eye-to-eye with the Countdown. But it's not like we hate you!" pausing for a moment to think, I add with a giggle "Well, maybe Lisa! But not me. I know every person has a reason for what they're doing. You do what you think is right, and...that's okay, I guess. You do your thing, we do our thing, and when we disagree, we step in the ring, right?"

"That's certainly ONE option..."

"And anyways, we're all colleagues here, right? I mean...we travel together and all! FTW is just like one BIIIIIIG family!! And as a colleague, I am really really sorry for what happened to poor Gemma. I mean...that was...that was just brutal and...and scary and...I..." my eyes drift off a bit as those images come back into my mind. That scream, seeing her arm like that...and of course this Monster Aika!! Shaking my head to clear that from my mind "...I'm really sorry! And I want her to get well soon! And...this place isn't the same without Gemma! I mean...it's so quiet. Nobody seems to be cursing around here anymore!"

She looked like she about to offer a solution other than bringing the gifts to Gemma, so I extended my arms a little further, pushing the balloons and the chocolates into Callista. Looking into her eyes, making big puppy eyes and pouting my lips a bit. "Pretty please? I...I feel like I NEED to do this! And...you want Gemma healthy, I want her to be healthy. So....please?"

She looks at me as I almost beg her to take my presents for Gemma. Batting my eyelashes at her as I hold them out towards her. It takes a few seconds before she reaches out and snatches the things out of my hands. Making me put a big smile on. I nod and almost...ALMOST launch myself at her to hug her!! But luckily I was JUST able to remember who this is I'm talking to, and she'd probably knock me out in "self defense". Or just cuz.

"Anything else? I have a match to get ready for!"

"Oh...no. No, nothing else. I just wanted to get these things to Gemma. Thank you so so SO much!! And...and...."

My eyes grow wide as I remember something. Something I wanted to talk about with another Countdown member. I push up on my tip toes to peek up over Callista's head. Looking around the locker room, which seems to be empty, though. "Hmm..." dropping back flat on my soles, looking Callista in the eyes.

"I wanted to talk with Megan, too. It's kinda important! Do you...know where she" *SMACK*

I gasp and stagger back a few steps as, without any warning, she slammed the door shut! Almost hitting me right in the face with it. "Did I say something wrong?" Then I shrug my shoulders, adding "Ah...whatever!!" to my thoughts as I start grinning and with a happy skip to my step, hop away to find Lisa at the buffet.

The lights snap off, and the fans are treated to some restful darkness after Sadie's latest assault on good taste. The crowd, an animal as easily spooked as a cage of rhesus monkeys, gets a good howl going, and cellphone LEDs turn the darkness into a thousand stars.

The FTW PanoramaVision™ (patent pending) lights up again, with the stark night-time view of a tall brick building with a columned porch and fine gable windows, seemingly shot from a camera resting at ground level and angled up.  The image is eerily sharp, but jittery, like a GoPro video - which it probably is, since those things are cheap as hell these days and it's a hassle filling out the paperwork for hauling an FTW cameraman out on these things. Especially since the Commissioner keeps freaking out whenever the camera crews come back banged up.

The history nerds, literature geeks, and local hipsters in the crowd pop as they recognize local landmark Highland Hospital. Then they feel kind of bad about the pop since Highland Hospital is mostly famous for being the mental institution where Zelda Fitzgerald died in a fire. But hey, it's still a local landmark!

Suddenly, a silver horned skull pops into view, upside-down from above.

RP: EEK!

LVK: ... did you just squeak like a tiny cartoon mouse?

RP: No. NO. That was just my ... mantra.

LVK: Your mantra is "Eek".

RP: It keeps me centered.

LVK: Namaste.

RP: Gesundheit.

The skull is quickly recognizable as the original PunkySkull silver horned skull respirator mask (available at ftwshop.com!) last seen at Fury 2, and the Asheville crowd seems torn between joyous fury and nerdy delight.

"Aloha, bitches."

That gets them a bit riled, and at the same time delighted. My voice is all hollow and booming from the mask, the lenses making bright white flares out of my eyes.  I pace around the camera, dropping to my haunches with my hands dangling over my bent knees, my chromed and spiked leather jacket glinting like pirate treasure. I gesture at the hospital behind me and quote Zelda in a ghost's voice.

"I remember every single spot of light that ever gouged a shadow beside your bones."

I snatch the camera and give a little motion sickness to the sensitive souls in the crowd as I get to my boots and stalk back towards the door, kicking aside a few clinking cans of spray paint. I swing the GoPro away from my skull and swing it towards the front door of Highland Hospital, now a registered National Historic Place maintained by the Parks Department - and more immediately, now tagged with a snarling purple and black tag that reads PUNKY, with the Y made into a snarling mouth with a lolling tongue.

"Time to *BEEP*ing gouge away, Asheville. Punky's here."

I drop the camera, and the image on the screen cuts into static that cuts to black, and the crowd roars against the darkness once more.

And then the guitar hits.

Rob Zombie's Sick Bubblegum (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AeUwikDrA9I) kicks over the sound system in the US Cellular Center, assuring us that we're ALL going to crash and burn, and the darkness is ripped with strobes of purple and red and green. As the lights flare back up, the crowd finds me at the head of the stage, crouched down like a gargoyle on my heels, my taped fists dangling over my hands. I've got my silver horned skull respirator mask on, purple punkytails secured with grinning silver skulls hanging down my shoulders, and my glossy black leather jacket studded with spikes and loops of chain and clinking chrome bits.

As the beats drive along I rise up and stomp down the aisle to the tune, my head bobbing to the tune.  Rob always gets me, ever since I was in Osaka and using "Living Dead Girl" as my theme. At the head of the aisle I snatch my mask off, letting it dangle, and whip my head to the side, smirking at the cameraman, all shadowed black eyes and glossy dark lips. My jacket peels off my shoulders, baring my ripped up FREE THE MAD HATTER tee and my red joshi skirt over my black boyshorts.  Thigh-high black leggings run down to my blood red Doc Martens, and I drop the mask and jacket for some production rat to scoop up, smacking my black-and-purple taped fists together.

As the chorus slams through a second time, I stomp up the steps in time, and in one fluid motion I wrap my fists around the top rope and pull myself up, left boot on the middle rope and right boot balanced on the top, and at the last repeat of SICK BUBBLEGUM! I spit a cloud of bright green mist, catching a spotlight that lances me just in time.

The house lights come back up as I smoothly drop into the ring, swinging my arms across my chest and shadowboxing. Sadie's here, and from the doofy confident look on her little-girl face, odds are she still wants to start the match.

Fucking perfect.

Chuckie Guiteau steps up to his mic on the outside.

"HAILING FROM THE CITY OF ROSES, WEIGHING IN TONIGHT AT MORE THAN ENOUGH TO KICK YOUR ASS AND STANDING TALLER THAN YOUR JUKEBOX HEROES - THIS! IS! PUNKY!"

... and now all I gotta do is wait to get my hands on Aika. Just a few more seconds.

A fucking eternity.

But I can make it.

LvK: And now, a tentative hush falls over the crowd, uncertain what to expect next. Will they see Aika or Tiffany?

RP: If I was on their team, van Keel, I'd bring Tiffany out first, then Chance.

LvK: As Lord Tantalus has told us, Rip: Aika is not Rowan.

RP: I don't fall for all that psychological bull $%^&, van Keel! You can't scare me with a mask and creepy music.

LvK: Is that a rosary you're wearing?

RP: My mother gave it to me.

LvK: Did she now?

RP: If you say one word about her, we're going 'round and 'round, van Keel.

LvK: I wouldn't dream of it, Rip. Moms are sacrosanct.

RP: Yours was pretty sacrosanct last night at the Motel 6.

LvK: YOU SONOFA—


The lights go out and a red spot flashes to the entranceway. Stepping through the curtain is me. A man in a red velvet jacket and a red mask. My hair is blond today, falling over my blue eyes.


RP: Sweet Jesus, I thought I was gonna...

LvK: Piss your pants?

RP: NO!


I pause at the top of the entranceway. No music. Just the red spot.

Then, I walk down the ramp, up to the stairs leading to the ring apron. I step up slowly, climbing through the ring ropes. It's been a while.

I step up to Punky. Not close enough for her to strike. I'm smarter than that. I look down at her. I smile and take the microphone from inside my jacket and put it to my lips.

"Pure chaos," I  say with a cocktail mixture of admiration and... pity. "Untamed and untamable."

I pause.

"But not indestructible."

The crowd's reaction is palpable. An equal number of boos and cheers. I don't care. They don't matter. The only thing that matters to me waits in the shadows. Waiting for this...


You can never tell with whom you dance
   at the Vengeance Masquerade.
Is it only lust or true romance
   when the betrayer becomes the betrayed?


I drop the microphone.

Then, the lights go out.

The video screen above the ramp entrance flickers and crackles. Warped and damaged video does its awkward dance.

The opening strings of Within Temptation's "Angels" aches through the speakers as the screen tries to focus on a coherent image. As Sharon den Adel's voice floats through the air, the images finally coalesce into an image... a faded photograph. Two women, standing in front of a fading sunset, their arms over each other's shoulders. Their foreheads touching. Both obviously drunk. Both smiling. Fingers in each other's hair.

Punky and Rowan. 


Sparkling angel
I believe
You are my saviour
In my time of need

Blinded by faith
I couldn't hear
All the whispers
The warning's so clear


The screen flickers again. This time, it focuses on two women in the ring. The same women. Punky lifts Rowan up—her fingers in Rowan's hair. Rowan can barely stand, her eyes wet and her mouth open with surprise and dread.


I see the angels
I'll lead them to your door
There is no escape now
Now mercy no more


Back to the photograph. The edge of it begins to smolder, fire tasting the edges and finding them sweet. The music is building. Guitars now and drums.

On the screen, quick flashes between the photograph and Rowan and Punky in the ring.

Their faces close together.
Their foreheads touching.


No remorse 'cause I still remember...


The photo bursts into flames and a hand reaches down, grasping the flames between her fingers, crushing it and lifting it up to a masked face, staring out from the screen. A stare so dark, the camera lens shatters.


The smile when you tore me apart


The stage erupts in light. A light so blinding, it's almost impossible to tell a woman stands there, wrapped in a cloak of white feathers.


You took my heart
Deceived me right from the start


She spreads her arms out and the cloak turns into wings.


You showed me dreams
I wished they'd turn to real


She tosses the cloak behind her and it's Aika.
Wearing a skin tight black cat suit. Boots up to her knees. Her wet, almost oily hair falling down over a face covered in a black mask.


You broke the promise
And made me realise
It was all just a lie


She stops there. No movement. Almost as if she isn't even breathing.

The music suddenly stops.

And she stands perfectly still.




LvK: Ladies and gentlemen, these two women have a long and dark history.

RP: You forgot to include "@#$%ing twisted" in there, van Keel. Those two are about as sick as a colostomy bag.

LvK: That's disgusting!

RP: Hey, you want @#$%ed up? Call 1-800-ROWAN.

LVK: Is everything you're going to say have at least one word that needs to be bleeped out?

RP: What the @#$% are you talking about?

LvK: You look scared, Rip.

RP: You look like—


On the stage, Aika screams. A banshee wail. The lost soul of a betrayed woman. And it isn't just a single sound. Her scream invades the speakers, echoing all over the US Cellular Center.

Up above the ring, there's a sudden explosion of sparks.

Aika's scream.

Another explosion.

The lights suddenly drop. All at once.


RP: VAN KEEL! WHERE ARE THE LIGHTS!?!?

LvK: Keep yourself together!

RP: I HATE THAT SCARY @#$%ING BITCH!

LvK: Can anyone hear us? Are we still on?


The lights come back on... and Aika is standing on the announce table. Staring down at Rip Perle.


RP: OH#$%^! OH@#$%! OH@#$%!


Perle clutches at his chest and falls out of his chair.

Van Keel stands up and out of his chair, slowly stepping between her and his fallen broadcast colleague.


LvK: Now listen... he didn't... don't do anything foolish, Ro—Aika.


Looking down at van Keel, Aika's head tilts, as if she's confused.


LvK: He's not a competitor anymore. He's just a foolish old man who..." van Keel pauses. "Aika. He's nothing to you. Remember. Remember Punky."


Aika's head snaps to the side with the speed of a cobra, switching that glare from the announcer to someone else.

Under her oily hair, Aika smiles. And says the name.


"Maaaay-gaaaan...."

"...seriously?"


On a monitor backstage, footage of Ms. Davis' entrance plays, and I could not look more impressed as I stand by and sip on a bottle of cold water. Flash cuts of a video clearly constructed by the newest member of Countdown (using iMovie, no less) plays on screen, displaying a heartwarming sequence of friendship at its most purest to the charming beat of Queen's "You're My Best Friend". It's that moment in the video when Callista and Sadie are staring up at the evening sky one starry night that I find myself wondering how exactly did she ever get the clearance to air this.

She's certainly walking about with an air of confidence that lesser mortals couldn't dream of attaining. The look on her face, the extra spring in her strut, the way she shakes off insults and taunts from the crowd while winking and blowing kisses to whomever, the gal's certainly full of invincibility. I guess that boost in arrogance comes easily when ya join up with the ranks of Countdown..


"..SADIE DAAAAAAAAAVIS!!"


"..well now.."

I take another sip of my water and continue watching as darkness falls across the arena, and a sea of cellphone screens light up instantly, creating a real, hauntingly beautiful scene. The FTW PanoramaVision (I think that's what they're calling it) blasts to life with a video shot from a GoPro camera, and I perk up a bit as I notice this tall brick building with its fine gable windows materializing into view. From the sound of the crowd, it seems this rundown mental hospital seems to be a recognizable local landmark. Then, a silver horned skull turned upside-down appears. My eyes widen somewhat as a hollow voice booms from the confines of the PunkySkull horned skull mask, announcing the appearance of a purple-haired vixen who's every bit as.. pretty, as she is violent..

The monitor displays a purple and black tag that prominently displays a single name: PUNKY. I lick my lips anxiously and continue watching the gal's entrance.

A moment later, Rob Zombie's voice can be heard across the darken Cellular Center, and the purple-haired gal from the City of Roses emerges at the top of the stage in a shower of red, purple and green strobe lights. She stomps and bobs her way down the aisle to the hard beat of Sick Bubblegum and even I have to admit I'm getting a lil anxious. I've seen the video tapes of her previous matches, heard the stories about her. Untamed, chaotic. Sadie's a handful, unpredictable, dangerous. But Punky? Absolutely lethal. I lick my lips as I stare intently at this purple-haired beauty as she shadowboxes in her corner of the ring.


"..THAN ENOUGH TO KICK YOUR ASS AND STANDING TALLER THAN YOUR JUKEBOX HEROES -

THIS!

IS!

PUNKY!"


I take another sip of my water and begin to prep myself for the match, moving past the monitor to wait for my cue to head out there. But then--


"...hmm?"


The lights go out in the arena once more, followed by a red spot that flashes along the entranceway. I stare closely at the darken stage until a man in a red mask and a red velvet jacket appears and almost instantly I feel goosebumps forming along my arms. There is something incredibly unnerving about the arrival of this blond, masked man walking out to no music and a red spotlight. I narrow my eyes as I recognize him almost immediately, the mysterious and damn creepy associate of Aika. The unsettling scene only amplifies once Lord Tantalus enters the ring, moving intently to Punky. His voice is striking, overwhelming. It fills the ears of all who listens. And then, just like that, he drops his mic. Darkness falls again.


"....."


Sparkling angel
I believe
You are my saviour
In my time of need..


I stare at the monitor as a video plays. A video that shows two women against the rays of a fading sun, smiling, enjoying each others company, fingers sinking into each others' hair...it flickers into another scene within the ring, one with glossed eyes and a gaping mouth, a face torn between shock and dread, while the other grips her by her hair...fire emerges and burns the scene while the music builds with guitars and drums, before the burning photograph is crushed into a tight fist, brought up to a masked face that glares into the lens. Then, light, light that's so blinding even I have to squint a lil' to continue to watch the monitor. I can see a woman standing amid all that blinding light, draped in a cloak of white feathers. As she tosses that cloak off her, I take a deep breath and gulp down my water. There's my partner for the match tonight.

No remorse 'cause I still remember...


Aika.


The smile when you tore me apart


So much pain, so much hatred, all that darkness at her disposable to wield. She begins screaming, screaming, like a damn banshee she wails. I shiver intensely as that deafening sound reverberates across the Cellular Center. This gal sure makes my skin crawl. Glad she's on my side for this match.. Then, suddenly, she appears on the announce table. The creepiness just doesn't stop with this one. She scares the crap outta LvK and RP, just flat out mortifies 'em. I find myself just honing in on her, focusing on her intently, it's as if she's the only thing on screen right now as the camera closes up on her tilted head.

Abruptly, she snaps her head to the side, like a fuckin' cobra.

In shock I spit my water out, misting the monitor as the image of my sinisterly smiling partner is imposed across the screen.

"Maaaaayyyy-gaaaaan..."


Well, that's unsettlin'..


A stage hand suddenly moves in to my side, but I pay lil' attention to him. He has to tap me on my shoulder and him doing so causes me to twitch, and I cut him a breathless glance. He holds up two fingers, then points off to the tunnel that leads out to the arena.


"Er, Tiffany? You're up next!"


I sigh warily, and wave my hand and nod. Glancing back at the monitor, I take a deep breath and toss the stage hand my empty bottle, clearing my throat as i move forward.


"..Gawd damn..what a bunch of characters.. I really have to follow all that?"






The camera continues to focus on Aika's malicious grin, a smile that promises worlds of hatred and violence as she cut a sideways glare toward the ring. Then, darkness blankets the arena once more, throwing the crowds into another roaring cheer.


A moment later, the PA unleashes a volley of pumping, familiar guitar riffs. Soon, the intro to Thunderstruck starts to blare, sending the fans into a frenzy as the legendary AC/DC track signals the entrance of the Platinum Queen.


THUNDER!


Cutting away from ringside, a camera from atop the US Cellular Center presents a wide angled view of the darken arena, with the FTW PanoramaVision drawing in all the attention as it lights up brightly. At the moment, the enormous video screen acts as the only source of light within the arena, glowing white as an emblem of a platinum-hued regal crown set between a pair of stylized silver angel wings materializes right in the middle of the PanoramaVision. The scene dissolves into a flash of white that overwhelms the platinum insignia.



THUNDER!


Cut to another camera, this one positioned right in front of the entrance tunnel which is bathed in white light. Soon, a tall, shapely figure emerges in the center of the tunnel as mist begins to rise from the stage. The dark shapely silhouette saunters forward through the white light, right hand resting comfortably on her right hip, her left hand swaying nonchalantly with each confident step. The buxom figure struts to a halt at the front of the entrance way, standing amid rising mist and spotlights that shine down onto her. The fans roar loudly in excitement.


THUNDER!


Spotlights beam down over the Platinum Queen as Tiffany steps into the arena. The fans take note of the gold spandex ring attire that hugs her toned, buxom figure, along with the usual gear that accompanies her outfit of black boots, knee pads, an elbow pad on her right arm, tape wrapped around both wrists, fishnet stockings and a simple black choker. Her platinum mane, as always, flows freely around her grinning face and bare shoulders. Glancing from side to side, basking in the chorus of cheers from the crowds that meld with the pulsing AC/DC track, Tiffany nods to her fans, tilts her head back and thrusts her arms out.


THUNDER!


Like missiles soaring off into the sky, lines of pyro set off from the stage on either side of Tiffany as she poses for the cheering masses. Another set of loud pyrotechnic blasts erupt from sides of the PanoramaVision, but by this time Tiff is already moving forward, sauntering calmly down the aisle while Thunderstruck continues to blare over the PA. Slapping hands with anxious fans leaning over the guardrails, Tiffany makes her way toward the ring and hops effortlessly up onto the apron. Moving to the middle of the apron, Tiff turns around swiftly and leans back onto the ring ropes. Extending her arms outward, she delivers her signature pose to the audiences with a bright smile spread across her glossy lips.


"And the final participant! She stands 5'8'' tall and weighed in at 136 pounds. She is THE PLATINUM QUEEN -- TIFFANY!!"


The ring announcers' voice echoes across the arena as the fans holler and cheer. Winking at the audience, Tiffany turns again and slowly bends over the middle rope to enter the ring in a tantalizingly smooth manner. As the AC/DC track fades in the background, the lights in the arena return to normal and Tiffany stands back in her corner of the ring. Leaning back with her arms propped atop the third rope, Tiff's deep green eyes cross the ring to glare at Sadie and Punky. The grin on her face fades, dissolving into a look of determination. It's somewhat surprising how quickly she can go from all fun and smiles to pure 'Ass-Whippin' mode, but that look on her face proves she's definitely in that state of mind.


Then, slowly, Tiff turns her eyes away from her younger opponents, to look over at her own partner. In that brief moment, Tiff visibly pales, and a look of apprehension crosses the Platinum Queen's face..


LvK: --oh, oh thank GOD! She's focusing on Punky again. Well, fans, we apologize for that, uhm, disturbance, I guess you could call it that..but Tiffany, the Platinum Queen has arrived and she's in the ring! She's looking fantastic, and ready for a fight! Though, you have to admit, even she looks a little hesitant about having to team with Aika. Wouldn't you say so, Rip? Rip? Rip! Will you get UP already?! Fans, we're in for one helluva match coming up! The team of Sadie Davis and Punky square off against the unlikely duo of Tiffany and Aika! It is sure to be one wild fight! And it is coming up, NEXT!

The temptation to just knock that smug little fuck's teeth down his god-damn throat is so intense that it makes my knees shake, just a little.

But I keep my game face on, my wolf face. Big watchful eyes, just a hint of sharp teeth in a grin. Tantalus goes through his little god-damn song and dance and oh fuck how I just want to clutch his throat in both hands and cross my thumbs over his larynx and squeeze until I hear a soft wet crunch like an apple under a car tire.

But then I wouldn't get my hands on Aika.

He gives me his little poem and then the mask wearing Rowan makes a slideshow out of my fucking life as her entrance and everything goes a sort of hazy red.  The referee sets a hand on my shoulder and draws back with a hiss like he touched a hot stove when he feels the tension thrumming in me, and I turn on him like a fucking rattlesnake.

I hear the crowd reacting to whatever's happening on the stage when the mask makes its entrance, and I advance on the referee, my eyes burning, and for a moment I just wanna take his big stupid wobbly head and twist it around with a series of spring ice cracks so he's looking at his own zebra ass.

But then I wouldn't get my hands on Aika.

He meets my dark eyes for a moment, and when I bring my fists up, a life of locker room payoffs and carefully ignoring the clatter of steel chairs against skulls behind his back flashes before his eyes. "Check 'em," I growl, and open my taped fists, offering my hands. There's a moment of hesitation, in case I'm just luring him in close so I can grab him by the lower incisors and unhinge his god-damn jaw like I did that one time in Tallahassee, but I don't.

I let him check me out, punkytails to Docs, and I don't even threaten grievous bodily harm. I mean, don't get me wrong. It'd be fun. It's ALWAYS fun to beat up a zebra, self righteous selectively deaf bastards that they are.

But then I wouldn't get my hands on Aika.

The ref seems a little surprised - and maybe even a hint disappointed - not to find any brass knuckles, rolls of quarters, handfuls of poison mist caplets, or golden spikes on me. I go and stand in the corner, still facing away from the aisle, looking out at the darkness of the far side of the US Cellular Center, lit with the flares and strobes of Aika's entrance. I don't need to see it. I hear the fucking song and I saw the photo she decided to put up front. I know what the fuck she wants. And she's gonna fucking get it. And so am I. I stretch myself out on the top rope, ignoring Sadie behind me, ignoring Reddy at ringside - poor cockteased sap that he is. Ignoring everything but the sound of the music Aika picked for me.

When the lights come up, the noise of the crowd - and of Rick Perle at ringside at the announce table DOES manage to turn my head, my dark eyes narrowing. Aika's standing on the table, menacing Rick who's toppled over backwards like the silly old bastard he is. Perle might have made himself into a running joke - but he's one of the only true heel commentators working today, and he's the one who came to Portland convince me to join FTW. A coalition and a national television deal wasn't my thing - I was happy with my rep as a badass indy darling, and I was happy with the bar I owned over near Voodoo Donuts. Rick Perle came out, stupid-ass pink satin jacket and all, and set me straight on the facts of life: I'd make more money, travel to bigger arenas, get more respect, and have more faces to punch than I ever had in my career. And he was right. FTW was a fucking godsend. And the doofy old man who'd shown me the Chicken Peck eye gouge and had taught me how to use a simple fast food paper salt packet to ruin someone's career and hopes of 20/20 vision was being menaced by the mask that was wearing Rowan. My fists tighten on the rope and I'm a half-second away from just coming over the top at her right then like a bullet with her fucking name on it - but the match isn't underway yet. We might wipe out non-combatants, and get pulled apart. Diving over the top and falling onto her like Lucifer from the clear blue heavens would be sweet.

But then I wouldn't get my hands on Aika.

Not for long enough, anyway. Instead, she turns to look at me with those mad eyes - and I just grin and step ostentatiously out onto the apron in my corner, neatly cleaning my boots with fastidious little scrapes of my waffled Doc Marten Airwalk™ soles. I lean on the top rope, my eyes never leaving Aika's mad gaze as she singsongs my name like she's fucking addicted to it, and I wind my left fist in the tag rope, holding it in a regulation grip.

Tiffany comes out, all flash and glamour, flare and pride. She's got a lot to deal with - I think she might be the most veteran in the company except for Judy Greene and that cast-iron bitch Blount, and she's seen a lot around the world, but the ring she's heading towards is a swirl of chaos like nothing outside of HUSTLE or CZW. I actually like Tiff all right - she's fearless, which I respect, and strong as a god-damn horse. Cute in a hairsprayed 1980s pin-up kinda way, too. But Tiffany doesn't hold my interest now. Not even for a second. I just stay on the apron, my fist quiveringly tight around the tag rope, holding it taut as garrote, watching Aika as she takes instruction from Tantalus and stands stock-still. All this fucking rage roils inside me. I'm used to being angry all the fucking time, but what I've got seething now is some kind of flaming demonic fury - maybe if I just grabbed Sadie by her little blonde head head and thrust my thumbs into her eyes and then superkicked Tiffany in the throat as she stepped into the ring. That might make me feel better, letting that djinn free.

But then I wouldn't get my hands on Aika.

Sadie talks to me. I don't really hear it. She sounds a little like a Pomeranian, pompous and yappy and thinking she's bigger than she is.

I stand on the apron, watching.

The referee gives final instructions, and looks like he wishes he was somewhere else, somewhere with strong booze.

I stand on the apron, watching.

Tiffany steps to the outside as Aika just is IN the ring suddenly, and Sadie tries to get me to face the monster under her bed for her. I just smile my sweetest smile and gesture to the ring. All of this can be yours, my girl.  She turns, reluctantly, to square off with Aika, momentarily impressing the fuck out of me.

I stand on the apron, watching.

The bell rings.

The match is officially underway.

The bell rings, and I know for whom it fucking tolls.

AND NOW I GET MY FUCKING HANDS ON AIKA.

I vault the top rope, leaping over it in one fluid move, and bolt right past Sadie without even really seeing her, and I barrel into Aika like a god-damn freight train, like a bat outta hell, like a really fucking fast simile.  My right arm hooks out, catching across her collarbone and snatching a handful of that catsuit at her shoulder as I rush forward, my boots driving into the canvas and stockinged legs churning, until I slam her back into the steel cables of the ropes, and with a last thrust from both feet I carry her forward, up and over, so we hang in the air in beautiful reversed serenity for a moment before gravity blinks and realizes what we're doing, and snatches us both down to earth.

I tumble all the way forward, hips slamming the apron and bouncing me forward to a staggeringly graceful landing on my Docs. It took a lot of falling on my god-damn head to learn how to do a Cactus Clothesline properly, but the way Aika hits her head and shoulders on the apron and then tumbles like a ragdoll to the thin black mats over the concrete. She looks beautifully crumpled for a moment, like a hooded angel with a broken neck, but I know she's going to get up because that mask has made her into a fucking horror movie.

Good. I don't fucking close my eyes for the scary parts.

She pops up, a fucking jack-in-the-box, but before she can so much as snarl my name I'm on her. I drive into her, slamming my shoulder into that slender belly and lifting her up as I drive her forward up the ramp. My right arm slides out to hook across her lovely breasts snatching a grip under her left arm, my left hand snaking out to grab a handful of that clinging catsuit at the hip - and then I twist around, driving my heels into the ramp to brake us and using my own momentum to bullwhip the masked bitch around, dropping down to my knees to drive her shoulders and back into the steel of the walkway with a SAMBO SUPLEX.

"*BEEP*ing FINALLY," I snarl, getting a half-mount on her on the ramp and pistoning my right fist into the center of that fucking mask, feeling the sublime joy of knuckles bruising on skull -

- and she comes right back at me, rolling me over against the rough steel grating as we lock together in earnest, two stormfronts piling into each other to make a towering thunderhead, spitting savage forked lightning that destroys everything on the ground.

I grin in manic delight as Aika's fist crashes into the side of my face. Sadie better send me a fucking fruit basket for the win I just handed her.

Backstage, in the Countdown locker room, I'm working, of course, putting the finishing touches on the upcoming video commemorating my capture of the FTW championship. FTW's staff hadn't done bad, but naturally I could do better. I was keeping the song, which simplified the royalty situation immensely, and it was good, even if I detected a certain snarky irony in the lyrics. That was fine. If FTW's smarter fans (both of them) twigged to it being a dig at me, that still worked. But the video footage told a story of overcoming obstacles and final triumph. The pat triteness alone would irk me, but it certainly didn't suit my plans, and that I would not allow.

A window popped up in the corner of my screen as the introductions to the tag team match began. Sadie's entrance was first. I alt-tabbed back to Final Cut Pro...and then did a literal double-take before alt-tabbing back to the Fury stream. Did I just see...I looked to the tv monitor that was showing Fury and sent the video back 30 seconds, then another 30. Yes, that was a cartoon me drinking out of the same glass as...

My lips curl upward at the corners and I chuckle. Not so much at the video or my portrayal in it as the fact that it exists in the first place. The pay-per-view ended barely eleventy-plot hours ago. The animation wasn't the best, but I still knew how long it took to produce a video like that. Someone had planned ahead.

I turned the tv volume down went back to my work, letting the slight sound of the announcers provide white noise as I kept editing. A rising noise caught my ear again, and I saw Megan and Rowan tumbling onto the floor, brawling like madwomen... "Most unnecessary simile ever," I said to myself, switching the monitor off and putting the last bit of work into the video. "Still, that's sorted, then."

A dark room, lit only by candles. It's Tantalus' office in the Club Taboo. I can barely stand after the beating Countdown put on me, my spine begging me to go back to the hospital. I tell it to shut the fuck up.

I hold the mask in my hands, feeling the ancient leather. I can smell the old blood and sweat.

"I will warn you this time as I've always warned you," Tantalus says, standing behind me, his hand on my shoulder. "It will not be you," he says. "It will turn you into something else."

I do not turn. I simply say, "I know."

"Aika is a spirit of pure vengeance." The simple truth in his voice and the darkness in his eyes make me shudder. "That will be the only emotion you feel. No compassion. No mercy."

"No love?" I ask, the words trembling on my lips.

His hand squeezes my shoulder. We both know the answer to that question.

My hands shake. I try to steady them. I can't tell if my fingers are quaking from the fear... or a dark anticipation.

"Are you certain?" he asks me.

I nod. "They are many," I whisper. "And I am alone."

He says to me, "You are never alone." But I did not listen.

My hands raise the mask up to my face...


Aika rolls up on top of Punky, her legs straddling Punky's hips. Those powerful legs squeeze tight, ankles hooking under her thighs.

Her left hand holds Punky down by the throat—squeezing tight—while her right fist raises up and slams down hard just under Punky's right eye, aiming for the orbital bone. The shot lands hard, knocking Punky's head back against the metal of the ramp. Then again. Like a piston in a Machine of Pain. The fist rises up, then slams back down, hitting the same spot over and over again. Punky's face slowly turns a color that clashes with her hair.

Aika's eyes shine pure black. Her lips curled back, her teeth clenched.

"You betrayed her!" she screams down at Punky, delivering every punch with dangerous precision. "You betrayed her!"

Punky tries to grab at Aika, grabbing her hair, even pulling out strands of it with her taped hands, but Aika's deliberate strikes do not stop. Same two inches every time: the bone around Punky's right eye.

Punky's arms sway around Aika like the mast of a ship caught in a storm. Her grip on the masked woman fails as her hands fall away. But Aika does not stop. Her right fist rises up and falls. Rises up and falls. Rises up and falls. Again and again and again.

But a scream from the darkest parts of Punky's soul fills the room. Her hands reach up and grab Aika's skin-tight suit and pull, tossing Aika over. The two of them tumble again, this time Punky throwing the fists down on Aika. Not straight blows, but hooked punches, smashing Aika's jaw left and right, sending blood and spit into both their faces. Punky's right eye is swollen and already starting to bruise. She shouts words so blurred with emotion, Punky sounds like she's standing at the altar in a Southern Baptist Church, crying out in tongues.

Under Punky, Aika's hips shift. Her legs twist up like a spider's legs: one under Punky's jaw and the other reaching to hook the ankle. The crowd knows exactly what that is and their already significant roar intensifies. Fans start chanting, "WIDOW'S KISS! WIDOW'S KISS!"

But Punky blocks the move, shifting her arms almost instinctively. Almost as if she knew what Aika was going for the moment Aika tried it. She moves her arms through Aika's legs, keeping the masked woman's shin from getting under her chin.

And that is when Aika smiles.

Under Punky, Aika shifts her weight, tossing the Purple Vixen down, throwing her over to her back, her legs wrapping around Punky's left arm.

Punky on her belly.

Aika sitting on Punky's back, her legs straddling Punky's arm.

And Aika's hands on Punky's wrist, holding out the extended limb. Holding it at the exact wrong angle. Aika's gloved hands twist around Punky's taped wrist...



... Emily Layne has been here. She's heard the sound of her shoulder snapping...

... Helpless in her hospital bed, Gemma watches, her arm still in a cast...

... Without even knowing it, the Enforcer standing at ringside instinctively reaches for his shoulder, touching a pain that has never healed...

... Backstage, Tantalus watches the monitor. He takes a deep breath... and turns his gaze away...



Aika screams: "ALL MY PAIN FOR YOU!"

Then, her head snaps, throwing her shoulders back, her hips holding Punky's body in place, her grip pulling Punky's arm back along with her...

LvK: FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! SOMEONE STOP AIKA!
RP: Get that Tantalus @55hole. He seems to...
LVK: Wait! Punky's...

I hear the announcers' voices and I force myself to look up at the monitor. I see Aika and I see purple punkytails, arms and legs flailing under her.

Yes, Punky is fighting back.

I watch her twist and turn, slipping out from under Aika's grip. And I watch her throw a stunning left jab straight between Aika's eyes.

Aika falls back, landing flat on the ramp. But then, she twists her hips and is back on her feet with that malicious marionette dance she does.

But Punky doesn't stop. She lands another powerful fist to Aika's jaw, backing the masked woman up toward the entrance, toward the curtain.

And then another one. And another.

Aika's body twists with every blow like her bones are made of rubber. And each time Punky scores a shot at Aika's jaw, the masked woman takes another step back. Further up the ramp. Until they finally reach the top.  

Aika's been fought back. I've never seen that before. Never seen Aika take a step back. Let alone fought back.

And I see the look in Punky's eyes.

No fear.

I want to rush out, but it's too late to stop them.


It was too late to stop them the very moment they met.

OMFG!!! This is soooo cool! *Finds an empty seat in the audience with a large tub of popcorn and Coke.*

I take a seat next to the new comer, guarding my own box of plain pop corn and a Vitamin water...looking at this action, keeping my eye on Sadie, knowing she has it out for the Goddess Tiffany...

(Welcome all!)

Quote from: Virginia Dare on April 24, 2015, 03:43:09 AM

Quote from: Wrestlerjunkee on April 23, 2015, 06:14:32 PM
I take a seat next to the new comer, guarding my own box of plain pop corn and a Vitamin water...looking at this action, keeping my eye on Sadie, knowing she has it out for the Goddess Tiffany...

Sitting in the stands with my hoodie over my head, I offer Junkee some red hots in exchange for some popcorn and try to decide which is worse: Rowan's deliberate and precise jabs or Punky's overpowering and decimating right hooks.

Eh, it's no good being on the business end of either of them.

I gladly make the exchange with Virginia, wonder why is she wearing a hoodie indoors..."Wow, quite the action!"

That dreadful apprehension swelling up in my stomach as I glance over at Aika is replaced by irritation as Sadie's voice pipes up and calls to me from across the ring. I slowly guide my eyes to her, my expression turning to stone as I stare at the lil' gal.

Ohh, that lil' brat..

I'm glaring a gaping hole thru Sadie as she taunts me, her voice filled to the brim with candy-coated arrogance. She goes on about some silly endorsement deal with Rice Krispies, how she'll make my knee 'snap crackle and pop', and while my blood starts to boil over that, a distinct throbbing begins to beat in the leg that she ravaged in our last encounter. Memories of that match flash across my mind, and suddenly my knee feels sore, as if it's about to lock-up. I curse myself quietly beneath my breath, hating that my knee isn't 100% recovered, but at the same time the aching serves as a clear reminder of just how dangerous Ms. Sadie Davis truly is. If I let my anger overwhelm me and just go after the brat, I'll leave myself open, and she'll definitely take advantage of me again. I shut my eyes and take a deep breath, calming myself and relinquishing my rising anger. I'll get my hands on her in due time. Tying her up and spanking her silly after our match didn't seem to have much of an affect on her 'behaviour'. I slowly open my glaring green eyes, focusing em' tightly on Sadie.

Guess I'll just have to spank her harder this time 'round--hey, is it me, or did it just get really cold in here all of a sudden?

I gasp, as before I can even ponder the drop in temperature, I'm startled by my 'partner' Aika now having materialized right beside me in the ring! I blink and arch a brow, gazing at her quizzically. How'd she do that..? When did she even get into the ring?? I stare at her for a good couple of seconds, and as I stare at this gal I suddenly realize I'm holding my breath the longer I look at her. She's not moving, just staring, emotionless eyes glaring through that dark, oily hair. After a few agonizingly long moments, I perk up, and offer to start. But my voice falls onto defeated silence as she doesn't even acknowledge my presence. I let my mouth gape open, unsure of what to say or do, and finally realize that she might want to start us off. Not gonna argue with her on that, I slowly slip outta the ring and take my place on the apron behind her. I'm still looking at her with a funny look on my face when my eyes drift off to our opponents. I cut Sadie another nasty look as she's still yappin' away to Punky. I give 'Maaaaaay-gaaaaaan' a closer look, studying her intently. She looks..impatient. Angry. Damn near fearless as she stares back into the eyes of this tortured soul. She wants to get her hands on Aika, she wants to hurt her. Above all else, she looks ready. I lick my lips as I stare at the Purple Vixen, my own hand wrapping tightly about the tag rope beside me. I can see it in her face, in the way she's clutching her own tag rope, the lil' smile on her lips-- she's ready for war, ready and willing to dive into Hell, headfirst, to cause Aika as much pain as she's capable of dealing. That willingness, that fearlessness. To have that in ya, even when you're facing a dangerous, unpredictable force like Aika..it's kinda admirable. And batshit crazy. I take a breath and glance at Aika, then back to Megan and Sadie. This is gonna be one hell of a ride..

Then, she gives Sadie the OK to start the match. Against Aika.

My eyes widen as I look dumbfounded at Countdown's newest member, turning openly to Rowan with that same confident gleam in her pretty eyes. Sadie's pretty fearless herself. That's actually kinda admirable..then again, I almost feel sorry for the kid that's she's gonna start the match for her team. Almost. My knee's still throbbing, afterall. I take a deep breath again, staring disapprovingly at Sadie as she reluctantly moves forward, taunting Aika, and I sigh heavily. This is gonna be one hell of a massacre..

The bell rings loudly. Punky suddenly vaults over the top rope in one beautifully graceful leap, charges past Sadie, bounding right for Aika, and blasts into her like a runaway freight train! They tumble chaotically outta the ring, through the steel cables, toppling onto the arena floor! I let out a startled gasp as Punky managed to land on her Doc Martins in a Cactus Jack-kinda way, while Aika just crumbles onto the black mats in a ragged heap. Instinctively, I move to help her up, not caring for the creepiness or demonic theatrics. The gal took a real bad, nasty spill, I gotta see if she's okay--

Aika snaps back up, unflinchingly, unbothered by that hooking closeline and that horrid fall. My eyes just widen in disbelief as I see her rising to her feet, ready to engage Punky. No one should be up that quickly after takin' a spill like that.. Punky doesn't give her a second to breathe, however. She wanted to get her hands on Aika, and she's taking that opportunity now. She's just a whirlwind of purple violence, whipping Aika about wildly into steel barricades. Tossing her onto the unforgiving steel ramp with a Sambo Suplex. Mounting her now over that rough steel grating, ready to pummel her. I jolt to life at this moment, catching myself staring at the pair as if it were a bad car accident. It's like a twisted mess of flesh, a horribly violent site--and ya just can't take your eyes away from it. Ya just stand there, and stare, mind blank as ya take in the charged fury of it all. I'm starting to wonder if I should go over and help Aika again, but she answers that with an emphatic fist slamming abruptly into the side of Megan's head. No, she doesn't need my help. She's got Megan covered..

Mounted, actually. Pounding on her. Fist to face, smashing her knuckles into Punky's head, repeated shots landing into her orbital bone! I'm cringing with every shot, a hand covering my mouth as I stare in horror as Punky is getting demolished by Aika. The shrieking of Aika rings loudly throughout the arena, screams of "YOU BETRAYED HER!!" ringing out from their spot on the ramp. So much pain and anguish and rage swelters in that screaming voice while she buries her fist repeatedly into Megan's face. Then, just like that, Punky turns the tides, and is atop Aika, pounding as viciously and angrily into the woman's mask. I'm flinching just watching the kind of shots that the Purple Vixen drives home, those are like sledgehammers dropping into concrete. All that rage, all that anger..

"ALL MY PAIN FOR YOU!"

I blurt out a curse, gasping loudly as after another furious tumble, Aika regains control, and grabs hold of Punky's wrist. My skin visibly pales, my mouth gapes wide and my eyes go as wide as saucers. She's gonna break her fuckin' arm!! That instinctive urge to help Aika a few moments ago when she spilled outta the ring returns in full force as I suddenly feel the need to help.. Megan. I know, that sounds, ridiculous. Aika, she's my partner, and the two have history written in blood, and they oughta settle it on their own, and i shouldn't get involved in that, but still.. no I just, that just ain't right! I can't just stand by and let her snap her arm! However, just as I'm about to hop off the apron and race up there to, well, I don't even know what I'm gonna do once I'm up there, Punky..fights back. She fights back, like a trapped wolf, she twists and turns and snarls viciously until she's OUT of Aika's cold, dead grip. And she continues fighting once she's freed, punching Aika so damn hard it topples her backward! And she continues, in that horrifying moment, to pound away furiously. Fists smashing into mask. Backing her up the ramp with every shattering blow. Determined to hurt her, to tear her apart. I'm still in utter shock that Punky managed to escape. Standing there on the apron, back to the ring, watching breathlessly, I don't know what to think.

The ref starts a Ten Count.

I snap my eyes to him and furrow my brow. Wait--

UGHHH!!!

A pair of boots.

They suddenly hit the back of my bad knee with enough crushing force my legs are swept up into the air and I go sideways! I come crashing down HARD onto my side on the apron, bouncing a lil' as I roughly land, moaning as I lay there in a heap clutching my bad knee. Teeth grinding and eyes shut as I try to suppress the pain, my knee just FLARES up and the pain reverberates throughout my body. The fans are now torn between excitedly watching the brawl between Punky and Aika on the ramp and booing SADIE as loudly as they can, as she gets up from dropkicking my knee from behind! She leans over my body, head poking out between the ropes, smirking wickedly down at me as I lay on the apron, blowing me a taunting kiss while I reel from her cheap shot..

Ohh, that lil' gawd damn brat..

Holy crap this is amazing!

Bitch punched my eye shut, but I only need one to see her.

Bitch tried to break my arm, but I gnawed my way out of her trap like a fucking fox.

Bitch thinks she’s immortal …

… but I got arms long enough to box with God.

I’m driving Aika back up onto the stage with a flurry of fucking crosses, each one slamming into her like a god-damn firebomb hitting a Dresden doll factory. My eye has that hot pulsing sweet pain you get from a really quality bruise - it’s puffed and black, shiny like a nickel and greasy with sweat.

I almost drive her back to the curtains, but as I drive a straight overhand left into the bridge of her nose and see the black mask crumple around the blow, I get a glimpse back into the shadows at the gorilla position while Aika sways on her boots, and I see a bunch of FTW security goons back there under the watchful beady eyes of Flower Power Phil, half of the infamous hippie goon squad Peace and Love, Incorporated that used to run wild all over the Minnesota circuit.  A grin plays across my face and then finds somewhere safer to play.

I’m not ready for security to end the fun JUST fucking yet.

Instead of punching Aika back through the curtain, I seize her by the catsuit and yank her close, twisting her around so her back is to the audience as she snarls at me, her face twisted in a silent scream of endless fury.

“HERE’S SOME *BEEP*ING PAIN IF YOU WANT IT SO *BEEP*ING BAD! I snarl at her, and lash off my Docs, thrusting my whole body weight up and into her to crash a headbutt between her twisted jigsaw eyes, sending her reeling back towards the edge of the stage that over looks the production area, about six feet below.

I learned how to punch from Roddy Piper and how to fuck with someone’s head from Raven, but I learned how to throw a proper headbutt the first time I toured the camps in Britain.  Those motherfuckers drink their beer wrong, drive on the wrong side, and eat the wrong parts of every animal - but they know how to crack someone’s god-damn skull open.

LvK: Well, folks, Sadie Davis and Punky are technically our winners - if that wasn’t clear from Sadie’s victory celebration and the way she’s jawing with the fans at ringside -

RP: - is that Jenny Dare or just some homeless chick in a hoodie?

LvK: But even as Tiffany pulls herself back up after that vicious and needless cheap shot from Sadie, Punky and Aika are still - still just tearing each other apart up on the stage. This is … this is lunacy.  Someone’s got to stop this.

RP: Yeah, someone's gotta - actually, no.  No. Y’know what?

LvK: … Rick?  Are you-

Rick Perle stands up to get a better view as Punky hammers her skull between Aika’s eyes and sends the demoness staggering. “Precious” Perle, pink satin jacket and all, turns to look into Lord Tantalus’ eyes, and for once Rick’s beady little eyes are lit with some of the fire he had back when he stole the top title in Maryland out from under the thumb of the local golden boy.

RP: I hope Punky tears your *BEEP*ing pet monster apart.

Tantalus only smiles.

For a fleeting half second up on the stage, everything slows down.  My heart is pounding and I’m fiery, my Mad Hatter shirt clinging to me, but I’m grinning like the silver skulls holding my punkytails even with my eye battered shut and my body wrenched at the joints from slamming into the steel -

- but I feel fucking fantastic, because in those dead mad eyes I can see the faintest flicker of something other than boundless fury and screaming madness.

I don’t know what it is. I don’t think it’s fear. I know what fear looks like well enough when I’m fucking looking at it.

But I don’t think it’s Aika, either.

But it’s just a flicker, a heartbeat - and then I see beads of blood running under the mask, and my grin widens, feral and bright. Because if it bleeds, I can kill it.

That look - whatever it was - is gone like a shadow passing over the lunatic moon, and Aika is there again, snarling, demanding more. MORE.

MORE!

I give her what she asks for.

My Docs dig into the stage and I hear Philodendron Jones behind me at the gorilla position, using words that would make Standards and Practices frown and thumb through their slang dictionaries. My legs tense like steel springs and launch me forward.

I can see everything in the endless space of a single breath.

The people of Asheville, up on their fucking feet across the US Cellular center, and the thousand flaring eyes of flashing LEDs capturing a moment of immortality. The flare of pink and the sober tweed of the announce team, their heads craned towards us. The enigmatic smile of Tantalus. Sadie on Red’s back as he carries her away from danger, her face lit up with a satisfied joy in herself that makes her look almost angelic. The sober fury on Tiffany’s face, the confidence in her own strength as she watches Sadie flee slowly turning to a look of wide-eyed shock as she turns to see what Aika and I are doing.

And then I crash into Aika and wrap my arms around her waist as I spear her like a Spartan, and there’s not even time to breathe as we crash through empty space to land in a brutal clatter of production cases, toppling all around us with a sound like the end of the world.

LvK: BLESSED SAINTS PRESERVE THEM!

RP: Oh, *BEEP*, they’re dead.  They’re both dead. *BEEP*.

Wow that Vixen knows how to fight!

I watch Aika teetering on the edge of the stage. I see Punky poised for the spear.

Next to me, Rick has his moment of bravado. I give him a smile.

But my heart pounds like its trying to escape my ribcage.

Punky charges, slamming into Aika's body, and the two of them fly off the edge of the stage. For a long moment, they seem to hang there like a mobile hangs from the ceiling of a child's bedroom. Their bodies intertwined, locked together. Aika's legs wrapping around Punky's hips... Punky's arms around Aika's waist... Aika's arms flailing behind purple flowing punkytails... they fall for an eternity, twisting together...

... and then they slam into the hard equipment below. Ten feet down. Aika on her back and Punky on her head.

LvK: BLESSED SAINTS PRESERVE THEM!

RP: Oh, *BEEP*, they're dead.  They're both dead. *BEEP*.

I'm standing. I don't remember doing it, but here I am.

And now I'm running. From behind the announce desk, around the ring, toward the ramp and to the wreckage.

I saw the impact on the monitors and it's in my head as I run.

Punky's head bouncing off the floor, her body twisting into a sitting position, her head cocked just to the side. She stayed there for a moment, then collapsed down. Aika's back smashing into the boxes, her body arched like a taut bow, her lips making a sound that I will carry with me to the grave. Then, like Punky, falling into a twisted heap, her limbs contorted like a dying spider.

I don't remember getting up and I don't remember running, but there I am, at the scene of the impact.

These two women lying in front of me. Broken into pieces.

I'm not alone. Medical and security are out here, telling me to stand back. I tell them to fuck off.

I kneel down beside Aika. I see the blood under the mask. See her eyes shut. Two security men push me away as the EMTs start putting her on a stretcher.

I turn to Punky.

I kneel down. Her eyes are shut, her lips quivering. Her pale skin, so perfect. It's not hard to see why Rowan fell so hard for you.

I check for a pulse while the EMTs deal with Aika. Yes. And strong, too. But you've always been strong, haven't you?

I take her hand in mine. "You're going to be all right," I tell her. "Just hold on."

And with that, Punky's eyes flicker open.

I almost jump. She looks up at me. Looks at me holding her hand.

And she doesn't look happy. No, that glare is about the furthest fucking thing in the world from happy.

She starts to move. I tell her to stay down. She replies in curt, abrupt four-lettered words. She's getting back up. I can't belie—



Then, I hear a hissing sound. Like a coiled serpent.

I turn to look. But I already know what's there.

Aika is standing behind me, the EMTs backing away like they'd back away from a rabid dog.

She's glaring down at me.

I'm kneeling over Punky, holding her hand.



That's the last thing I remember.

Austin, Texas. I feel my body lifted up high over Jenny Dare's head then slammed down on the apron of the mat. A powerbomb. I feel my spine bend and the muscles in my back split apart. I scream so loud, the cheap seats could swear they were ringside. My arms at my sides, my hands clenching, my eyes shut tight. My body trembles, and I feel my toes go numb.

The referee asks me if I want to quit. I shout something at him that the TV audience never gets to hear. I've never lost an "I Quit" match. No woman has ever made me submit. And this blonde bimbo isn't going to be the first.

She raises me up a second time, sending me back down at the edge of the apron. The crowd doesn't make that "Ohhh!" sound, they don't cheer, they don't boo. They are dead silent. When I hit, there's an electrical flash through my limbs. I can't scream. I can't make a sound. The referee asks me again, but I can't answer.

And before he can ask a third time, Jenny raises me up and slams me down again. To be honest, I don't remember it. I had to watch a video to even know what happened. I see myself—as I do now—my body slamming into the apron, bouncing up, then falling back down. Broken over the apron of the ring, my eyes shut tight, my lips trembling, my arms limp on the apron. I mumble something. The referee bends down to hear it. I see my lips moving again and he calls for the bell.

Jenny keeps the Austin Championship and I spend a few months in traction.

The mists of memory start to part. New gear can't hide old injuries...


LvK: Ladies and gentlemen, we've FINALLY got EMTs and security out here, taking care of Punky and Aika... I have to say, we've seen some insane things here in FTW, but never anything like that. The commissioner is going to have to do something about this.

RP: They're professionals, van Keel. You let the women work.

LvK: This is too far, Rick. A spear off the stage, ten feet to the cement floor? Did you see how Megan's head bounced off the...

RP: Look, these two are crazy. You put them in a steel cage and one of them is going to be making the other one eat it.

LvK: (turning to the camera) I want to apologize to our audience right now.

RP: Don't waste your time on the smarks. Right now there's some @#$hole telling his girlfriend, "Don't worry, sweetie. They know how to fall."

LvK: Goddammit, Rick! This business isn't about...

RP: HOLY #$%^! AIKA IS STANDING UP!


The crowd erupts into discordance as Aika draws herself up as if pulled by marionette strings. And at the same time, Punky pushes Tantalus away and he tumbles out of the camera's eye. Security guards and EMTs grab both women, keeping them apart.


Aika charges...

... but stumbles...

... falling to her knees...

... screaming...

... and clutching her back.


And it isn't Aika's voice that screams.

It's Rowan's.


Punky's body swerves like a drunk driver, screaming at Aika: "HOW'S THAT FOR @#$%ING PAIN, CHANCE? I CAN HURT YOU, ROWAN! I CAN @#$%ING HURT YOU!"

From her knees, Aika howls. She leaps up, but the mass of security and EMTs hold both women apart, their limbs reaching over heads and shoulders, clawing and kicking. Then, slowly, the two groups move to the backstage...

The audience erupts into a unified chant of boos.


LvK: My God...

RP: I knew it was all an act! I knew it!

LvK: (glaring at Rick, then back to the camera) Ladies and—ahem—ladies and gentlemen... this has been a most unusual episode of Full Throttle Wrestling. I... I'm... (slowly shaking his head)

RP: van Keel's lost it. I have no idea what's next, but hey, producer, let's go to it!

LVK: No no Rick! I haven't lost anything!

RP: So...what do we have next, van Keel?

LVK: These are the sorts of things you should be aware of as a professional wrestling announcer, Rick.

RP: Uh, yeah. I think I lost the format sheet.

LVK: *sighs*

Suddenly, the whole screen turns white and only a long *beeeeeeeeeeep* can be heard, like a test of the Emergency Broadcast System.

An image appears in the screen.

(https://s4ck.com/forums/proxy.php?request=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.polyvore.com%2Fcgi%2Fimg-thing%3F.out%3Djpg%26amp%3Bsize%3Dl%26amp%3Btid%3D61020869&hash=e793267a49b89f170b6a7e9ec13ee869d4bc95ac)

It stays on screen for several seconds before we suddenly cut back to the announcers, looking a bit surprised.

RP: what was that?

LVK: I ... don't know! It almost looks like ...

*Larry suddenly listens to his headset and then speaks much more confidently*

LVK: Looks like we just had some interference with our signal, but it's all been cleared up now.

RP: But what was that nutty picture?

LVK: You got me there, Rick. It didn't look like any sort of logo I've ever seen.

RP: Well, it damn sure wasn't Diet Pepsi. My guess? That was some mystic BS from that Aika and Tantalus! Again!

LVK: Whatever it was, it's all fixed now, and we can go on with the show!

After this very interesting ,,match" - and that interfering signal - the scene changes and we're in the backstage area again. The part with the FTW-caterers' buffet set up, to be exact. Wrestlers  and staff members, sitting, eating, chatting, and after a while Lisa Starr is in the picture. Rocking back and forth on her steel chair, Converse sneakers clad feet put up on the table, and a huge plateful of Chicken Nuggets and French Fries resting on her lap. Shaking her head while looking at the TV screen.

,,Now that was f*BEEP*ing cheap!"

She mutters after the bell has rung and Sadie gets carried out of the arena by Red. Her eyes remain fixed on the TV as Megan and Aika keep going at it. Meanwhile, in the back of the screen, you can see a bunch of security guys running by on their way to get those two away from each other before they beat this entire city to ashes. Lisa's eyes grow as Megan spears Aika off the stage. "And THAT was AWESOME!" Lisa raises her cup, and as the security and EMTs flood in to hold them apart, her eyes drift to the side.

"Finally!! And where have you been all this time? You missed the 'match'. Megan and Aika were beating the crap out of each other! You shoulda seen this!! Speared her ALL the way from the stage, down to the concrete floor! Stuff flying EVERYWHERE!"

Lindsay steps into the picture, standing next to Lisa. "Oh I've been...nowhere! And...oh no! I missed that? That is...such a shame!" You can see on her face that she's lying. She's horrible at lying!! And it's obvious that she's actually pretty happy she didn't have to see Aika. And from the looks of it, Lisa's not sad either. She has the motel room next to Lindsay's after all! And it's hard to catch sleep when the girl next door is screaming all night.

Lindsay quickly changes the topic to "Hey, thanks for saving some food for me!" looking at the 17 pieces of fried chicken on Lisa's plate, who looks up at Lindsay a little confused and answers. "Eh...no?" "But...isn't that a bit much for you?!"

"That's what they said." Lisa points across the room and the cameraman follows the direction, showing the Mulkey cousins. Both of them rubbing their foreheads. "And they got a tray to the face." Lisa says with a satisfied grin across her lips before putting a couple of fries into her mouth. "Oh....oh, okay..." Lindsay mutters, then lets out a big sigh and looks down at Lisa with puppy eyes. It doesn't take long until "Fiiiiiine! One!"

Just as the hungry Dragon reaches for it, their attention is taken away from the food as an irritating voice echoes through the room.

"Look, Red, I know you're probably not talking to me right now," Sadie says.

"You're right, I'm not."

"I get it, heat of the moment and all. I just want to say..."

Red EXPLODES.

"What, Sadie? What is it that you 'just want to say?' That I should be happy for you that you tied the Countdown noose around your neck tonight? That I should pat you on the back for announcing to the entire world that you're Callista's new puppet? That I should smother you with kisses, because you publicly humiliated Jenny Dare, just because she's a girl from my past?"

"Actually, I just wanted to ask if you'd buy me a milkshake."

And there they stand. In the middle of the room, everyone glaring at them. The Red Enforcer with his little Sadie Davis on his back. Everyone's just looking for a few seconds, until...

"AHEM!" Lisa loudly clears her throat, sets down her plate and gets to her feet. Arms folded across her chest, Lindsay standing slightly behind her. "What do we have here? The newest little figurine in Callista Quinn's game of Chess! And her...mule?"

Lindsay pinches Lisa's arm and whispers "Ehm...what do you mean, Chess?" "She joined Countdown." "Oh, ok! ... ... WHAT?!"

Sadie hops off Red's back and walks to the table, facing Lisa and looking her square in the eyes. Red's right behind her.

"Very impressive win out there! I mean, the way you did absolutely NOTHING was great! Actually was the BEST I've ever seen from you."

"And who are you again? I have trouble remembering the names of nobodies."

"I'm the girl who's going to do the world a favor and shut your annoying little mouth for good."

"Take your best shot, sugar-plum, but..." Sadie nods toward Lindsay "...shouldn't you give your baby a bottle and put her down for a nap first?"

Lisa's eyes narrow as Sadie smirks right into her face. The tension's rising, and Lindsay starts tugging on Lisa's arm. "Ehm. Lisa? Calm down, maybe? Ah...no trouble here, okay? Like...everyone's watching! And...and Sadie, that wasn't very nice!"

Lisa pulls her arm from the Dragon's grip "Feeling pretty good about yourself, huh? Think ya can take me? Then why don't you ask your big guy over there what it's like to be pinned by me, 1-2-3, in the middle of the ring! He should remember. Wasn't too long ago, was it? And you, little girl, should be careful what you're saying. The only thing that changed since you joined Countdown, is that now I have even more of a reason to beat the living hell out of you!"

"Liiiisaaaaaaaa! Calm down..."

"Looks like you should tighten the leash on your barking little dog, Lindsay. She's getting out of control!"

"And maybe YOU should get your brains out of your dick, start growing balls and finally, for ONCE do what YOU think is right, you masqueraded prick!"

Lisa hasn't even finished her sentence before Sadie EXPLODES, screaming as she flies over the table at Lisa. "NOBODY DISRESPECTS RED!!" Food flies in all directions, as the Dragon Starrs stumble back a few steps. Pressing forward, Sadie rocks Lisa with a forearm to the jaw.

Lisa's head jerks back, but she replies with a fist to Sadie's face. And gets one right back at her. The two are brawling back and forth. Lindsay steps in from the side, looking to separate the two, but before she can get there, Red is quickly behind her, hooking her arms in a Chickenwing-Hold to keep her from getting in the middle of this.

"HEY!! Let...me go!" Lindsay gasps as she struggles in the hold. Arms tensing as she shakes them side to side, but Red simply overpowers her, pulling her back and away from the two girls that are brawling all over the place now. He tells her to "Let them go. Get it out of their system." As he keeps dragging her away. Linds keeps struggling for a while...until she realizes that there's not really a point to it. And Lisa would just make the rest of this night miserable if she pulled her away from this fight.

Linds starts to relax, stops her struggling, and Red loosens the hold. He even releases it with one arm as he steps closer to a table, takes a Doughnut and starts munching on it while watching Sadie and Lisa go at it.

The staff members back WAY up, while the wrestlers just take a few steps back to clear some space, looking at each other and wondering what to do here. The punches keep flying, and eventually Lisa gets the upper hand. Firing away with forearms at Sadie's jaw. Then a quick kick to the belly sends Sadie stumbling backwards until she rests against the edge of a table.

"Lemme show ya what I think of Countdown!" Lisa steps in towards Sadie, looking to follow up. And as she does, Sadie reaches back, grabs a bowl filled with Guacamole and flings it right at Lisa's face. Spilling the green dip all over her face and the Chicago Blackhawks Jersey she's wearing. Blinding her for a moment. The bowl drops to the floor with a loud crash as Sadie follows up, charging in and hitting Lisa with a Dropkick to her knees, sending her flipping over and landing on the floor.

Sadie gets up and glances back at Lindsay, locked up by Red. "I used to think YOU were the weak link of this Dragon Starrs fiasco, but now I'm beginning to have second thoughts." Turning back to Lisa, Sadie grabs her hair and the belt around her jeans before flinging her over a table into some bystanders. Food flies helter-skelter as Lisa tumbles over the table. Luckily, she's caught by Monstro who, unsurprisingly, is the first in the buffet line.

He looks at Lisa for a few seconds before deciding to set her down, standing on the floor. (Apparently he knows that you don't throw away food. Guacamole in the face and all.) Sadie doesn't like it though, grabs a plate and THROWS is across the room towards Lisa. She sees it coming though and ducks, everyone behind takes a step to the side to let it fly by, right towards the door...which opens. In it stands the returning FTW interviewer Anna Ruethli (you might remember her from Fury 1, where she made the mistake of going into the Countdown's locker room for an interview, never to be seen again...until now). And...her return doesn't last very long. Before she can even say hello, the plate EXPLODES in her face and she goes down in a motionless heap.

"That was unpleasant!" Red says before taking another bite from his doughnut.

Lindsay takes a deep breath before yelling "NOW I GOT YOU, SADIE!"

Sadie flinches and turns around, ready to see Lindsay running right at her, but...she's still standing there, held by Red. She's just standing there, smiling at Sadie and giggling a little "Hi!"

This distractoni gives Lisa a chance to close in, and she quickly does. Leaping up on a table, using it as a springboard to launch herself into Sadie just as she turns back around. Lisa hits her with her left arm around the neck, takes her down, keeps her down and throws wild punches down at her forehead. Sadie squirms wildly underneath this barrage, and eventually slips out and rolls away.

She rolls under a table, toppling it over to keep Lisa from crawling after her. More food and drinks get spilled, blocking Lisa's way as Sadie gets to her feet on the other side, brushing cheese grits off her tank top. "Whose stupid idea was it to put food in a cafeteria?!" Lisa growls as she takes off to the left. Jumping onto a table, then down towards Sadie. Trying to hit her with a kick to the chest on the way down, which Sadie evades.

Once Lisa lands, Sadie swings wildly with her right fist. Lisa ducks under it, making Sadie hit the Blue Fairy square in the mouth. Both look at her as she goes down, and a few moments later Sadie comes charging in for a Clothesline. Lisa ducks, keeps her legs bent, sets herself up. And once Sadie turns around, Lisa explodes right at her. Flinging her right foot up as hard and fast as she can. Looking to kick Sadie's head right off her shoulders with a Superkick.

WHACK!!!

The impact echoes through the room. And a body drops like a bag of rocks. Unfortunately that bag of rocks is one of the Mulkeys who Sadie pulled in front of her at the last second. (These Mulkeys look so alike, I have no idea which one it is).

Lisa hisses in frustration as Sadie just glares back, fists clenched, her sweat damp hair stuck to the side of her face. But before the two can hurl themselves into each other again, Security spills into the scene, pulling the two girls apart.

Red finally releases Lindsay before grabbing Sadie's shoulder "Let's get the hell out of here. Now."

Sadie throws one last look back at Lisa before turning to follow Red out of the café, while Lindsay and pretty much everybody else tries to calm Lisa down, which is easier said than done...

The screen fades from the chaos backstage to a shot of rain-swept cityscape in black and white.  The sound of the storm is all there is at first, the wind rushing and the rain lashing the pavement in great curtains of silver.  The camera's perspective races along the shining wet sidewalks and then up the Gothic face of a skyscraper, adorned with gargoyles and baroque cornices as it overlooks the windy city - and standing with her Converse sneaker planted on the head of a gargoyle on one corner of the building is FTW's own Lisa Starr, in Technicolor against the grayscale city, her blue-streaked blonde hair blowing in the storm wind. The camera pans behind her Yasuharu Takanashi's "Battle of Magic (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A1Bda-_atAk#)" begins its orchestral electric snarl, showing the shirt Lisa is wearing, highlighted with a flare of intense color, featuring a manga version of Starr in the same pose atop the Willis Tower in Chicago, and the camera whirls around to reveal the front of Lisa's shirt, with her SECOND CITY STARR logo above Chicago's skyline.  A legend underneath reads Lisa Starr: Second City Starr Edition.

The shot seems to leap from the building, plunging down into the black-and-white streets and racing along until it comes to a junkyard, lit with flaming barrels, where in the center of a ring of junked cars stands Tina Lee, her boot propped on a prone figure, holding an iron chain in both fists above her head in the pouring rain as lightning crashes to illuminate her shirt, reading GOT IRON? on the front and showing a silhouette of her standing just as she is now on the back, surrounded by the highlighted words THE SPECTACULAR TINA LEE.  A legend appears underneath her as the camera pans back around front, reading Tina Lee: Got Iron Edition.

The music keeps blazing in a race of drumbeats as the camera races past her, through the city to find two shady figures in police uniforms entering an alley, guns drawn.  One suddenly has red stars burst from behind his head and drops, and his partners turns, shining a flashlight whihc illuminates a figure in a blare of colors crowned with purple.  Punky is holding a steel chair in her hand, blood bright red on the head of it, and she spreads arms wide in her black leather jacket, revealing her white shirt which shows a purple-punkytailed stick figure similarly armed with the words STAND BACK - I'M GOING TO TRY VIOLENCE written around it, and the legend appears underneath - Punky: Try Violence Edition before she lunges at the remaining cop with a grinning snarl as the camera pulls back and dives through a door in the alleyway.

The scene is suddenly one of lush beauty, exotic figures in black and white doing clearly illicit things, negotiating affections and drowsing in decadence, and standing in a lit mirror in a flare of gold hair and red lips is Sadie Davis, wearing a white tank top with a blood red kiss across the chest and underneath the dreamy red script "Who's The Deadliest Of Them All?" She seems to see the camera behind her and blows a taunting kiss into the mirror as the legend below reads Sadie Davis: The Deadliest Edition, and Sadie seems to backhand the camera, which rockets into the next room.

Here is the familiar muscled and masked figure of the Red Enforcer seated in a comfy upholstered chair, and surrounded by black-and-white ladies of the Establishment who are, it seems, costumed to look like various FTW superstars.  The camera catches Red turning towards it and holding up his hands like a politico caught selling state secrets, and across his broad chest is a black shirt with a manga version of the Red Enforcer surrounded by cartoon versions of some of the ladies of FTW who have crossed his path, with the katakana-style title ENFORCER MUYO.  The legend underneath reads Red Enforcer: Wishful Thinking Edition.

Red seems to lunge for the camera as it darts away, through the window and back into the rain, and up the side of another building where it stops at the top of a clock tower, and balanced atop the clock is a tall blonde with her arms spread out like eagle's wings, Jenny Dare in a white tee showing her in the same posture with her eyes closed and her head thrown back, and the camera turns around to catch her leaping into the stormy night and shows the word DARE across her back as underneath the legend appears, reading Jenny Dare: Snake River Edition.

She seems to vanish into the storm, and from the shadows behind her the camera catches the hooded form of Callista Quinn, with a black shirt that shows a flying pocket watch above the fancy olde fashioned words TIME FLIES. The camera pans behind her and lightning flares as looks back over her shoulder and casually shrugs her hoodie down her long arms, showing the back of the shirt, first revealing the words WHEN YOU'RE HAVING and then a bloody Mag-Lite locked in a fist with the word FUN in the shaft of light.  Underneath appears the legend Callista Quinn: Time Flies Edition before Calli turns and brings the Mag-Lite crashing down on the camera, sending the image to static.

Across the static flickers the red, buzzing, fluttering words "NOW AT FTWSHOP.COM" before the screen turns to a single white line and then fades to a blip, like TVs never do anymore.

"Megan," some vague fuzzy figure was telling me, "you need to get an MRI. You might have a concussion. There could be serious brain burbleburbleblahblahblah ..."

I either tuned them out or started to lose consciousness, but either way it was a relief.

I was being held in a locker room backstage with a few polo-wearing security guys, a handful of refs and a pair of well-meaning EMTs. The official FTW doc, that handsy sawbones, was apparently trying to get at Rowan's vertebrae over in the US Cellular Center's nurse station.

Some ruckus backstage drew off the refs and the Security crew, and the EMTs satisfied themselves by shining a light into my eyes and making sure that my pupils contracted before putting an ice pack on the side of my head and telling me to see a doctor. "No fuckin' problem. I got my own personal physician ready to help me out at the drop of a fuckin' hat," I told them. "Everything's cool."

So now I'm swaggering along backstage having a conversation with my doctor, and he's telling me that I'm doing pretty great and I should probably punch someone in the face soon. "You've got a damn fine point there, Dr. Daniel," I tell the bottle of whiskey in my fist before knocking back another dose of medication, the ice pack held nicely against the side of my ringing skull with my other hand. Luckily for my medical needs, Gabby the Saint decides to pick right that fucking moment to come clacking along on her fancy shoes and get in my face.  Well, in my tits.  She's kinda short.  But she's LOOKING up at my face, and she looks angry.

"Miss Dow, I was under the impression that we had an UNDERSTANDING. I was willing to give you an opportunity to resolve your differences with Miss Chance in the ring." She's practically snapping, biting off the end of each word, and you can almost hear the furious Spanish curses bubbling and boiling under the veneer of clipped professional language.

I don't say anything, just looking down at her with my eye swelled shut and an ice pack on the side of my head, and I slowly lift the bottle and give Jack another kiss, whisky glugging between my black lips. Her eyes narrow.

"If you ever disrupt my program like that again, I will-"

And that's about enough.

I drop the ice pack and come forward with a snarl, pushing right into her.  I don't attack her. I don't even grab her by the throat, like my fingers are itching to do. I just bull into her until she's back against the wall, her eyes flaring with the sudden realization that she doesn't have her security staff with her and there's no cameras to see what I could do to her back here.

"You won't do a FUCKING THING." I snarl at her, low and close, and I slam my fist with the bottle in it to the wall beside her head. She doesn't jump. She might be injured and retired and old, but she's still La Santa. She is intensely aware of my knuckles bleeding on the concrete beside her head, though, and the whiskey sloshing behind the black label. I lean in closer, my battered face right against hers.

"This is a fucking wildfire, and you are not gonna stop it. You aren't even gonna slow it down. And if you try to fucking control it ... it will burn down everything it touches." I tilt my head, staring into her furious eyes, her lips a thin line of rage, pressed right against her as I push her back against the painted concrete wall.

"Try whatever you fucking want to stop us, Gabs. But that bitch and me have spilled blood, and there's gonna be more. There's gonna be blood for blood, and by the fucking gallon."  I take a long, gurgling pull off the Jack Daniel's, draining the last of the bottle and feeling the sweet burn of my medication before I wrap my hand around the bottle and smash it beside her head, and this time she DOES jump, lucha legend or not.

I peel my hand off the wall and hold it before her face, and glass glitters in the palm as blood runs down my wrist as I look at her through my spread fingers, and for a fleeting moment I'm almost sorry that I have to drop all this crazy on a worker like Gabs - but she can't get in my fucking way.

"No matter what you do, no matter what you say, no matter how hard you try to stop it - "

I slap my hand on the painted concrete, and there's slight gritty crunch of glass and blood runs down the white wall, leaving a murderer's handprint as I growl softly against her lips, as close as a lover.

" - there will be blood."

I turn and stalk off down the hall, and I've turned the corner and made it almost outside before she recovers herself enough to start berating me, her legal threats and disciplinary promises interspersed with the occasional fiery promise to rompa my cara (you can take the girl out of Arena Mexico,but ...) ringing off the walls as I boot the doors open and walk out into the dark.

... to find a fucking 24 hour walk-in clinic in Asheville, because god-damn, now my hand hurts almost as much as my fucking head.

The email from Fury's producer acknowledged receipt of my edited version of the video, and promised that it would be the version aired. That bit of business finished with, I closed the laptop down, wrapped the FTW championship belt around my waist, and pulled the gold-trimmed black robe I'd added to my ensemble over my shoulders. I left the robe open at the front, of course, so as not to obscure the belt from view.

Heading out of Countdown's locker room, all I had to do now was track down Red and Sadie before the video aired and ended. Knowing them, they were probably in a supply closet somewhere. I didn't strictly NEED them, as all we were going out for was my coronation, but-

"Miss Quinn!" My thought process was interrupted by a familiar and unwelcome voice behind me. I turned and there was FTW's Commissioner Gabriela Dos Santos, headed towards me. La Santa had a good poker face, but by the way she was walking, she looked perturbed. Odd, I'd have thought if this was going to come up, she'd have been by sooner.

"If this is about Ms. Davis last night," I began, but was prevented from continuing.

"Yes, yes," she said impatiently, "She wasn't in Countdown last night, therefore not in violation of my restriction, and you no doubt have some means to prove this, or at least prevent me from proving that she was. I'm familiar with your M.O."

My jaw tightened, but I forced myself to maintain a calm exterior.  Gabriela had made it plain she intended to portray herself as the reasonable one, only responding to overt provocations. I just had to ensure there weren't any. "If it's not that, then what is it?" I asked. 'Probably something Megan did,' I thought.

"I see you've got your gear on," she said, which seemed a complete non sequitur. Of course I did. I know what reactions I garner. There's every chance me talking would provoke someone. In any event, Gabriela continued, "That's good. I've decided I don't want to end the show on a long talking segment. You're going to have a match."

There was a pause, after which my response was, "I beg your pardon?"

"A match. Wrestling. You've done that, right? Anyway, get ready. You're entering as soon as your video starts," she said before turning and walking off.

After a moment, I found my voice and called out, "Against who?!"

"You'll see!" the damnable woman said cheerily as I heard the opening riffs of my video echoed over the arena's PA. After a moment of grinding my teeth, I stalked angrily off, knowing I had less than four minutes to find those two idiots and get to gorilla.

LvK: Welcome back everyone.
RP: Big news! If you're listening from the bathroom, get up now! You can wipe later!
LvK: ...that's vile.
RP: Coming up next...
LvK: Seriously, that's the worst thing you've ever sa-
RP: COMING UP NEXT, a tribute to our champion...
LvK: ...you were walking funny when you came back from break.
RP: I've got no idea what you're...STOP INTERRUPTING ME, VAN KEEL!
LvK: I'm gonna be sick.
RP: A TRIBUTE TO OUR BELOVED CHAMPION, CALLISTA QUINN!

https://youtu.be/TL_WYb-cEdc (https://youtu.be/TL_WYb-cEdc)

(https://s4ck.com/forums/proxy.php?request=http%3A%2F%2Fi.imgur.com%2Fa9VkVbq.jpg&hash=c2bff1d5ab2ebd3ec1768a5500b257b0423e1739)

RP: That was awesome! *clap clap clapclapclap*
LvK: You know what I think is awesome? I've just been informed that we're going to close out the show...WITH A TITLE MATCH!
RP: Ok, for once I agree with you van Keel! That IS awesome! Callista must have demanded it.
LvK: Yeah, I'm sure that happened...

CHARLES GITEAU: THE FOLLOWING CONTEST IS SCHEDULED FOR ONE FALL, AND IT IS FOR THE FTW WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP!

-----------

The two horny idiots had apparently found a better spot than usual, (meaning they weren't in the supply closet,) and I was out of time. The crowd was going nuts as the championship match had just been announced. I got back to gorilla just as the ticking from my music started.

And bloody right it was MY music. I'd tried for team unity, no making the office pay out royalties to Hendrix or Queen for a better song for me, and of course as soon as things went poorly for them, (entirely due to their own mistakes,) they'd decided I was selling them up the river anyway, and then bitched about the music anyway.

This line of thought irked me enough that I walked over to the PA and slapped him in the back of the head. He gave a start, but I immediately said, "Give me a mic, and make sure it goes live when I bring it out on stage." He wisely obeyed.

When it was time, I pulled the robe's hood up, backing through the curtain with my arms out to my sides. No longer was I wearing the simple cotton hoodie. You could still buy it at shop.ftw.com and at countdown.com, (I wasn't going to throw money away,) but I'd be f***ed if I was going to hawk anything that would make that miserable purple-headed slut a single penny.

I would however happily cannibalise old merch sales for new, though, as across the back of my black robe was gold trim of a letter C and the Countdown's gold pocket watch logo, the watch turned nearly upside down so the pendant was in the lower right, mimicking a Q. I'd had a trademark application filed with myself as the holder, and had my lawyer, in his role as Countdown's lawyer, file a brief pre-emptively agreeing that this new logo does not impinge on Countdown's trademark.

T-shirt and hoodie replicas of the robe were already available on websites, and weren't they a deal, especially since all of Countdown's old merch had mysteriously doubled in price since a few hours ago. Forget steel chairs and bent referees. If you wanted to engage in PROPER villainy these days, you needed a legal team and an IT guy.

I turned to face the crowd, robe still open at the front to show of the title belt around my waist. I soaked in the boos, and lifted my right arm up, the robe's sleeve falling away to reveal the microphone in my hand. I lifted the mic to my lips, and my music faded. I stood there, with my head bowed forward, my face hidden by the robe's hood. In a firm voice, I said, "All hail your champion."

The boos intensified, but I lifted my head, showing my face. "All hail your queen!" I lifted my head further, tilting it back and letting the hood slide away, my arm lifted to hold the microphone up in front of my face. "ALL HAIL!" I said loudly, pausing, letting the noise crescendo before finishing "your saviour" and letting my chin tilt forward again, looking out at the crowd as the yells and boos and catcalls and occasional cheer wash over me.

"Hate me if you want," I said in a more casual voice, stepping forward in a slow stroll down the ramp, sauntering as arrogantly and gracefully as a cat. "Because love me or hate me, you can't deny that you need me," I said, eliciting several such denials, along with assorted profanities and lewd propositions.

"You need me, and I don't need you, and that will forever place yourselves in my power. Get used to it." I stepped carefully onto the first step at the corner of the ring, making sure the bottom of my robe didn't get caught under my boot. "Take heart though. You need me, and I...I am not going anywhere." I lifted my right leg, sliding it over the middle rope before setting it down and leaning forward, climbing through the ropes and into the ring.

"Wotshername, Italian bird, is still nattering on about how she hates the Countdown, but she's not anywhere near me, is she?" That was a slight risk, as it was possible that the Commissioner planned on giving her a rematch, but as she'd already wrestled today, it was a low one. No way was she going to put someone who wasn't fresh up against me.

"Then there was Sadie Davis. I beat HER so bad that she up and joined Countdown just to make sure it would never happen again!" I said, unable to conceal a smirk as I said that. It was rather taking liberties with what actually occurred, but she'd done the same with HER little video, so...

"I sent the silly blue-haired bitch back to the indies," I said, letting the boos and arguments against that wash over for a second, before concluding, "the simple fact is that everyone who opposes me will fail, everyone who seeks to place themselves as an obstacle in my path will fall, and whoever it is your bloody Commissioner is sending out now will be no different," and then tossing the mic in the general direction of Giteau, the loud noise over the PA indicating that it was not caught, before stepping out of my robe.

RP: Strong words from a strong champion.
LvK: Some of them were even true.
RP: Everything she says is true, van Keel. She is our saviour.
LvK: Ugh.

I'd let my pique show in that last line, which suggested it was for the best that I not continue. I was undeniably irritated that I had no idea who my opponent was. As I went through some quick warm-ups, I tried to think who La Santa might have in store for me.

Presumably no one who had fought tonight, which ruled out Layne, as well as that new girl, Tina something...Tiffany...Megan and Rowan...oh and Sadie. Hrm. Could she be trying an intra-Countdown ploy, here? Red was a possibility, but Sadie was another. She didn't exactly have to DO anything in her match. Maybe one of the Dragon Starrs, (contrary to my prior pronouncement, I was aware Lisa hadn't gone anywhere.)

There were possibilities there, but none of them felt quite right. I didn't think La Santa was aware enough of Countdown's internal idiosyncrasies to spot the fracture points. As for the others...this all was designed to put me off-balance. Whoever it was going to be would be someone I would have difficulty anticipating. Any of the better talents on our roster would be someone I'd scouted heavily.

What if she brought someone in? She had contacts all over the industry. One of her Japanese contemporaries? Mayumi, Manami, or even Aja? Or maybe someone more my generation, like Kana or Ayako. AJ was technically a free agent now, but was probably still under Vince's no-compete...

Suddenly, music started up and bright lights flashed at both the ring and the stage area.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=19d2yTDKAGM

It started with a 90s trance beat, repetitive and pulsating, until about thirty seconds in, the synthed keyboard sounds that had long been a staple of J-Pop came in. 15 seconds later, the So the old bitch had done it, had she? Gotten someone from abroad to come in and try and knock me off my perch. Whoever it was would have known specifically what she was about, and would be prepared. My lips thinned as I looked grimly towards the stage.

The lyrics, fast and sung, went by too quickly for my relatively modest ability with the language to translate. Something about pain and tears, I thought that last bit was. I had bigger issues than linguistics, however. Whoever my opponent was had walked out onto the stage, but the lights pulled away from her. I was pretty sure it was a her, though, as she didn't seem very tall.

I squinted, unconsciously stepping forward, pressing my chest up against the top rope as I tried to see. When the spotlight realigned onto the woman on stage, I could see that it was...it was...what the fu-

RP: What the fu-
LvK: Careful, Rick! You know our producer threatened to take workman's comp if we strained his thumb with the bleeping button.
RP: C'mon, this can't possibly be Callista's opponent.
LvK: I don't see anyone else coming down that aisle.
RP: I do. That guy with the camera.
LvK: That's our cameraman.
RP: Still probably a better choice than-

Shizuko Fukumitsu. My opponent was Shizuko bloody Fukumitsu. I hadn't personally known a lot of the people in FTW beforehand when I first came here, but I certainly made sure to check them out afterwards. (That mistake with Rowan proved Gemma and Megan's "intelligence" was as reliable as an estate agent.)

I'd checked with a few American contacts about Shizuko, but none had heard of her. I checked my Japanese sources as well. Most there hadn't heard of her either, but the few that had all seemed to share some combination of the same words: "incompetent", and "idiotic". The Japanese, such a reserved people with their opinions, rarely spoke so bluntly. Their assessments had suggested to me that she was not worth my time. In her only match I'd seen her in, she'd been badly outclassed by Emily Layne.

And now I was to defend my title against her. My title. Of course. My jaw tightened as I realised how I'd been played. Of course. My first title defence, my first match with the gold for anyone too cheap to spring for the pay-per-view (and too dumb to find an illegal stream) would be against a blatantly unworthy competitor. And if I looked the slightest bit weak against her, I would look an undeserving champion. More so than the previous night with Sadie's interference.

That last wouldn't be totally unacceptable, but still. The plan was one thing. Pride was another. The crowd was booing as Shizuko slid under the ropes. They knew she wasn't a worthy challenger either, and didn't care for being toyed with, like that. That COULD be a problem. Hm. What to do?

Shizuko's music ended. She was wearing a lime green halter top, matching boots laced up to just below her knees, and a matching short skirt over white briefs, held in place by a slim black leather belt. She faced me, bowed formally...and struck a pose that was from no school of either wrestling or martial arts that I recognised. She shouted in Japanese "<YOU WILL FALL BEFORE ME!>"

The bell rang, but my brow raised at this confidence from Shizuko. Confidence that would seem unwarranted, really. Something wasn't right here. I needed more data. I moved to the middle of the ring and snapped to attention, hands at my sides, bowing in Shizuko's direction, not taking my eyes off of her as I did, before replying with one of the phrases I had memorised for my own journeys in Japan. "<I respect you and your traditions, but I will battle you with all my strength this night.>"

Shizuko's eyes widened in surprise. Clearly she didn't expect Japanese from me. She shouted back, "HAI!"

My brow arched at that. That phrase had garnered varied reactions in Japan, most commonly grudging acknowledgement of the respect shown, or occasionally offence that I'd dared to sully their language with my foreign tongue, but I'd never had "yes" shouted back at me. I took a chance, delving into the more touristy phrases I'd learned. Stepping casually towards Shizuko,  "<Do you think the volcano will erupt today?>"

"Hai!" Shizuko replied confidently, if oddly, given the dearth of volcanic activity in the Carolinas.

"<Are you the hotel maid?>"

Shizuko paused at this. "Hai?" she answered tentatively.

I stepped forward and leaned towards the girl, saying quietly, in English, "You don't know a bit of Japanese, do you girl?" Shizuko squirmed uncomfortably. "Where are you really from?"

"Los Ang-" she started to say before she was cut off by my forearm slamming up into her chin, sending her reeling back to the corner.

RP: Ha! Callista really suckered her in, there!
LvK: It would be too much to expect a fair beginning.
RP: Fair is for losers, van Keel. Callista is always thinking.

My thoughts were more base than Rick Perle might have imagined just then as I pounded wildly on Shizuko. 'Miserable' *punch* 'little' *punch* 'Spanish' *chop* 'bitch!' *uppercut* Shizuko slumped backward into the corner under my assault. I simply grabbed hold of the top rope with both hands and began stomping at the petite, as it turned out, American.

A voice permeated my rage as I stomped away, "Three! Four!" I stepped back, lifting my hands as I did, the referee admonishing me to get the fight out of the corner. I promptly obliged her, grabbing hold of Shizuko's legs and pulling her back away from the corner. She tried to hold onto the middle rope, but all this led to was her getting dumped back onto the mat when her grip failed.

I pulled her back into the centre of the ring before dropping down to my knees and wailing away at her with my fists once again. I'd started the match against Layne like this, all blood and thunder, but that had been part of a strategy. There was no strategy in this. All I wanted was for La Santa to feel just a tiny bit of my wrath in the form of the devastation I was going to unleash upon her ill-prepared surrogate.

And at that, I smiled. There was a better way to do that. I stood up. Shizuko was still reeling from my early assault, so I was able to reach down and pick up her left foot with no resistance. Lifting the leg up, I jumped a bit, bringing my leg forward and giving a kick-slash-stomp to Shizuko's left hamstring with my right boot. Shizuko wriggled on the mat, trying to free her leg, but I tucked the toes of her boot under my right arm, pressing that arm tightly to my side and letting myself drop down onto my back, wrapping my legs around Shizuko's.

LvK: She's got the heel hook locked in!
RP: That's the Callista I know and worship!
LvK: Yeah, I've seen the shrine. It's, uh...
RP: That hold torques the ankle AND potentially hyper-extends the knee as well.

The ref leaned over and asked Shizuko if she wanted to give. Thankfully the answer was no, because I wasn't done by a long stretch. Shizuko thrashed a bit, which wasn't doing anything useful for her, but it allowed me to chain into my next move, as I rolled to my right, turning both myself and Shizuko over so we were facing downward.

I still had her leg pinned under me, so I pressed down hard onto her ankle, using that point as a fulcrum to lever my feet up under me. Standing again, still with a grip on Shizuko's ankle, I lifted her leg up off of the mat, pulling a good part of her lower body up with it, before pushing down hard, sending her kneecap hard into the canvas. Shizuko rolled to her right, clutching at her knee. I took a couple steps back, sized her up and took a quick step forward, driving the instep of my boot into her back.

RP: GOOOOOOOO-
LvK: Stop.
RP: You never let me have any fun.
LvK: Shizuko Fukumitsu not having any fun either as Callista shoves her with her feet, rolling her under the ropes and off of the apron.

With Shizuko having been unceremoniously dumped onto the floor, I took a moment to remind everyone in attendance of something important. I held my arms out to the side and shouted, "BOW TO YOUR QUEEN!" lifting my head and basking in the booing that followed like it was pure adulation.

That done with, I climbed through the ropes, dropping down to the floor and reaching for Shizuko. She was trying to push herself up off of the ground, which made it more convenient for me to reach around her waist and lift her up off of the floor.

RP: This could be the gutwrench power bomb that she used to defeat Sadie Davis!
LvK: It might be, but I'm not sure there's room outside the ring to...oh no, she wouldn't.
RP: Yes she would.
LvK: Yes she would.

Yes I would. I lifted Shizuko up and hurled her over, sending her legs crashing into the edges of the steel ring steps. Shizuko sat up, eyes and mouth both wide open, though no sound came out of the latter. "Here," I said, striking up a dialogue I expected would be largely mine to continue. "Let me help you up."

I reached down, reaching around her waist from behind with my right hand and getting my left under her left leg. I straightened her up, getting her up to the level of my head, before dropping the back of her thighs across the guardrail, sending her tumbling back onto the floor at my feet. On the plus side, she'd managed to find her voice, though it was mostly just moaning and crying in pain or something.

The ref had reached the count of eight, so I rolled myself under the bottom rope and into the ring before rolling myself right back out again, breaking the count. The ref admonished me to bring the match into the ring, which I intended on doing anyway (ish). I picked Shizuko up off of the ground and set her on the apron next to the corner.

Pulling her left leg around the ring post, (and giving a tug on her legs, bringing her into undoubtedly unpleasantly firm contact with said post, I turned her right ankle in, slipping one leg through hers before kicking up with my other leg and letting my weight drop back.

RP: Ring post Figure Four! We might see a tap right here!
LvK: We might if it weren't an illegal move!
RP: What a stupid rule!

The ref stopped the 10 count to start a five count. At four, I let go of her, dropping onto my back on the floor while Shizuko hugged the ring post, anguish on her face. I assume that if I were capable of pity, I'd be feeling it right now, but since not, I gave Shizuko's leg a kick against the post before rolling back into the ring.

Was my point made? One can never be sure. I stood up, and grabbed a fistful of Shizuko's hair, yanking the sweaty black mane to pull her out of the corner. "Iie! Iie!" Shizuko yelled, possibly attempting to say "No! No!" in Japanese. It wasn't quite correct Japanese, (and it was entirely possible she was just screaming random vowel sounds at this point,) but in any event, I reached down to slap her in the side of the face before rolling her over onto her stomach.

I reached for her left boot, pulling it up back behind her and over my shoulder. I had barely gotten my arm over her ankle to lock the hold in before Shizuko began furiously slapping at the mat. The referee waved to the timekeeper, who proceeded to hit the bell three times, and my music started playing. Charlie Guiteau got off his arse and helpfully intoned "THE WINNER OF THIS MATCH AS A RESULT OF A SUBMISSION...AND STILL FTW CHAMPION...CALLISTAAAAA QUIIIIIIINNNNN!!!"

The ref turned back to raise my hand, only to run into a glare from me, and a snarled "Keep your bloody hand off of me!" The woman flinched, stepping backwards, and I got on with my business. I wasn't going to celebrate. I was going to send a message to someone who badly needed to hear it.

Steadying myself, I pushed up against the mat with my feet, straightening, pulling the screaming Shizuko up with me. Locating the cameraman on the apron, I took a few steps towards him, focusing right into that lens as I set my feet and began to bounce the dangling Shizuko up and down, wrenching at that leg I'd worked since shortly after the match began.

LvK: Enough already! You won the damn match!
RP: And as the winner, she's entitled to do what she likes.
LvK: Where does it say THAT?
RP: You've gotta read your contract closer, van Keel.

The crowd was booing and yelling their heads off and I ignored them. The announcers were tut-tutting about what an awful person I was, (well, one of them,) and I ignored them. The referee was trying to get in my face (not that she was tall enough to) and threatening to disqualify me, and I ignored her. I looked straight into that camera, eyes blazing with hatred and contempt for someone I knew was watching backstage, casually destroying someone's leg because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The referee tugged at Shizuko's leg, trying to free her, but I shook her off. After that, she went back over towards the announce table, explaining. Guiteau looked like he ate some bad sushi, but forced himself to say, "THE REFEREE HAS REVERSED HER DECISION. THE WINNER OF THIS MATCH, SHIZUKO FUKUMITSU!" There were some scattered cheers for that, but most of them were still booing. Me, I just kept staring into that camera, holding onto that leg of Shizuko's, bouncing her up and down...

"Here you go, babe. Thought you could use a drink.. Uhm, Tiff?"


A dripping cold water bottle came into view from the corner of my eye, hovering just a few inches from my face. But I paid lil' attention to it, or the pretty raven-haired gal who brought me the drink. Instead, all my attention remained glued to the monitor in my dressing room. On it, the champ was straight torturing her opponent. Besides the noise that emitted from this brutal match, there was another sound that filled the room: My teeth, grinding into each other. My young 'frienemy' sighed softly to herself, retracting the water bottle as she realized I wasn't gonna respond to her. She knew well enough, by the look on my face, and that bright gleaming shade of death in my glare, that I was in my, as she liked to call it, work mode and not a lot was gonna get thru to me.


"Alright, alright, I can read the big F OFF sign stamped on your forehead. I get it.."


Anxiously, she adjusted her baseball hat that's never worn properly atop her pretty head and took a mighty long swig of my drink, turning away from me while I continued to watch the monitor. I felt a bit of regret, I mean I didn't mean to ignore her. I was grateful that the kid could make it down here tonight, it meant the world to have her around and support me. It's just this..this, match..no, ya couldn't even call it a match. They should have just tied a blindfold on Shizuko cause this was more like a public execution and Quinn was a one-woman firin' squad. I mean, this was ugly. It was a straight beating, an unfair, undeserved, utterly uncalled for whippin'. And while the brutality unnerved me, there was something else that was really irking me..something that really caught my eye and kept me watching as closely as I am doin' now. Quinn's a real calculating woman, ice-cold, methodical. She plans everything out, she knows exactly what she's doing. There's, something else to this than just senseless violence. Something more. This beating has a meaning behind it. This beating, well, it isn't even a beating at all. It's a message.


"All hail your queen!"


--Callista looked straight into that camera, eyes blazing with hatred and contempt for someone... watching backstage, casually destroying someone's leg because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time...


..kept staring into that camera..


"All hail your queen!"


..holding onto that leg of Shizuko's..


"All hail your queen!"


My eyes narrowed.


Message received.


"Oh, by the way. How's that leg of yours holding up? I seriously can't believe that little bitch suckered ya like that--"


She turned back to me, or rather, turned back to an empty chair and an empty dressing room. The door was wide open. Her widen eyes rolled and she sighed heavily, the startled expression on her face quickly changing to a look of annoyance, and a bit of amusement. Shaking her head, she dropped down into the seat I occupied barely a moment ago and watched the monitor, taking another swig of my drink, expecting to see me there on the screen at any given moment.


Time to respond.

The boos were deafening. They rained down onto the ring from all corners of the arena as the fans were whipped into an angered frenzy. They all collectively were shouting and screaming their disapproval at the champ, as she continued to mercilessly destroy that poor gal's leg. Shizuko's pleas and cries could barely be heard, she was starting to lose her voice from all the tormented screaming and agonized wailing. But no matter how much she begged, she would received no mercy from Callista. No amount of begging was going to make Callista stop. So then I'll just have to persuade her to.

It was loud and sudden, booming from the PA like a high-powered explosive. A noise that at first startled the fans, probably because they were so swept up in booing the champ and her callous actions that they didn't have time to recognize these new sounds. But they quickly did, that sound, that music, pumping into the arena, they recognized it, they knew what it was. For the second time in the evening Thunderstruck blared noisily through the arena and instantly those boos turned to loud cheers!

The moment I sped out thru the curtains, racing down the ramp as fast as my banged up leg would allow me to, those cheers became earsplitting!

I was a platinum blur, racing down the ramp, sliding into the ring beneath the bottom rope, and just as my boots planted into the canvas I blitzed Callista. While my theme song blaring loudly throughout the arena easily tipped her off to my arrival, she still had barely enough time to react to my entrance, and just now as turning to face me. Or rather, my boot! Just as the champ let go of her victim and turned away from the camera man, I was there to plant my black boot into her face! The cheers from the fans seemingly became louder as my running boot caught Callista right in the face, causing her to clumsily stagger backward into the corner. I glared at her, that lean body slumped back heavily against the turnbuckles, a dazed look on her flustered face. But while she pretty was out of it, Callista wasn't down. Far from it. Stunned as she may be, she was still up, and looked rather pissed.

I was a bit startled by this. A kick like that would send a lesser gal into next week. But, this was the champ afterall, and ya don't become the champ unless ya can take a punch. Or, rather, a stiff charging boot to the face. I narrowed my eyes at her and licked my lips, my hands tightening up into stone hard fists. I watched her push herself upright, slowly shoving off the corner. She did not looked real pissed, in fact, that look on her face suggested she wanted to hurt me worse than she hurt Shizuko. She blasted outta the corner and charged right at me.

I ducked under her lunging right hand, crouched down and waited for her to turn around. She spun around quickly, practically tripped over her footing and fell into me, and I hoisted her up onto my shoulders, another round of cheers erupting all around us from the rabid fans.

For what this bitch had done to that poor gal, the excruciating pain she caused her, just to draw my attention, to call me out, to insult me? She needed to pay, she needed to be punished. Callista's actions called for swift, unrelenting justice.

I spun the champ around my body, flipped her around me until her back floated above the canvas, arm snaking across her chest as I dipped forward. Then, I drove her, straight down into the mat, dropping her as hard as I possibly could! The sound of her impacting the canvas now filled my ears, but the waves of exuberant cheers from the crowds quickly drowned out the echo of Callista's crashing descent. I glared down at Quinn as she lay on the canvas, gasping for air as her world most likely spun around her. I got up slowly and stood over her, planting both my boots on either side of her waist. For a few moments, I simply glared down at the stunned Callista, watching the pain rush across her face and body, reveling in this moment. Then, slowly, I spread my arms out, thrusting my fists out to either side of me, tilting my head back and posing over the fallen champ while the crowds broke into chants of "TIFF-A-NEE! TIFF-A-NEE! TIFF-A-NEEE!!"

With her Doc Martins propped up on the edge of a table, the raven-haired gal in my dressing room idly inspected the Sadie Sings Abba CD in her hands.


"They still make CDs?" She questioned aloud, tilting her head curiously as she stared at the jewel case. Arching a brow, she bemusedly smirked at the cover art, which depicted the singing group posing in white hats against a black backdrop. Only, Sadie Davis' face was photoshopped over each group members' face..


"Hmm..I know this was free and all but I'm sure Tiffy would want a refund."


Nonchalantly she tossed the CD onto the table and glanced back at the monitor, seeing her frienemy standing tall and posing beautifully for the roaring fans after demolishing Callista Quinn.


"I don't even know why the old girl even has that CD..HEY! WHAT THE?!"




Ooh..did anyone catch the license plate of that truck? Ooww..


One minute, the fans were cheering excitedly and chanting my name, causing the arena to shudder as I posed over the fallen champ. Next minute, I'm on the mat, moaning in pain after something HARD smacked right into my back! I never saw it coming, but i sure as hell felt it--cold, unforgiving steel smashing into my lower back, sending me hurtling face-first into the canvas! And that first shot didn't end there, it kept coming, again and again, striking me in the back, crushing me, stunning and stinging me, knocking the damn wind outta me! My world just burst into pain as the chairshots continued to clobber my back, my body wincing and jolting with every hit. I lay prone and vulnerable against the repeated shots until finally they subsided, leaving me in a wrecked, breathless heap. Then, I felt that very same chair slide beneath my face, and for a brief moment I manage to lift my head to see who attacked me.


S-Sadie??! Where'd she..even come from..uhnn..


That damn brat, really walloped me butt-good..quiet as a mouse, and just bout' the same size, too..I'm really unnerved at the kinda strength the kid possesses. For a gal no bigger than Minnie she can sure hit hard when she wants to.. My face dips forward and slumps against the cool metal seat of the chair as the throbbing pain from those shots overwhelms me. I catch the lil' brat scurrying up to the top rope from the corner of my eye, and this tense feeling grips my stomach. I may be out of it, stunned and laying prone on this chair, but it certainly doesn't take long for me to figure exactly what she's got in store for me..


Gotta..move..


The lil' terror in a wet white tee goes sailing into the air, flying off to a chorus of boos from the ravenous fans. Knees tucked in tight to her chest, lookin' like a cannon ball, ready to drop those knees right into the back of my skull! Camera flashes go off round' the arena, the fans gasp collectively, and the sound of a body slamming into the canvas reverberates loudly throughout the arena!


Sadie flew and crash landed into nothing -- no Platinum Queen, not even the steel chair was there for her to drive her knees into!


At the very last millisecond I gathered my wits, snapped back into focus, and rolled outta the way, dragging the steel chair with me as I rolled to safety! A split-second later Sadie's body punched itself into the mat, and she flopped about in wild agony like a fish outta water! The fans erupted in cheers as they saw their Platinum Queen relatively safe, kneeling several feet away, clutching the steel chair now and breathing hard. Still looking a lil' disheveled, I got up to my feet, flinching as my back ached horrendously. Shaking my head and biting my lower lip, I glared down at the writhing Sadie Davis, narrowing my glaring eyes down on her. I glanced at the chair in my hand, considering to use it..she deserves it..just needs a good once-over with this chair..but, then again, I pulled the chair outta the way so she wouldn't have to crash land into the steel in the first place. No, she deserves to be punished..but I don't need this..I toss the chair away, and reach down with a snap of my hand, grasping a handful of Sadie's hair, clutching it tightly, yanking her up to another rousing cheer from the fans!


I'm supporting most of her weight as I grip her hair, her legs all wobbly and probably flaring with pain from that brilliant crash landing. For a brief instance I just hold her and.. glare at her. Though I may look pissed off beyond all hell, lookin' a bit deeper ya could almost see a hint of something in my eyes as I cast them on this pretty lil' troublemaker. Pity? Disappointment? Regret? Whatever it may be, it's gone in a flash, and a second later I have Sadie up on my shoulders! I grit my teeth and even stumble a bit as I'm still reeling from the chairshots, but I ignore the pain, and manage to posture up, regaining my balance, lifting Sadie high into the air, the fans going nuts as I stand in the center of the ring with Ms. Davis laid across my shoulders--


Sorry, kiddo!


Ready to drop her with The FLATINER!

LvK: This is hideous! Sadie Davis and the Red Enforcer are mugging Tiffany! This isn't right!

RP: I couldn't agree more, Larry. They're having all the fun, while Queen Callista is still trying to recover after that weaselly, backstabbing attack from that Platinum Granny!

Just as those words leave Perle's lips, the Champion gets back up to her feet. And that icy glare she usually carries around has turned even colder (something I never even thought was possible). So she gets up and steps between Red and Sadie, who are still stomping away on the downed Tiffany. They pause for a moment and look at Callista who's just standing there and glaring down at the woman who might have saved Shizuko from having her leg ripped off.

The standstill doesn't last long as Callista now starts stomping away on Tiffany. The other two quickly join her, and the stomping is on again.

RP: Aaah, yes! MUCH better!

LvK: Are you kidding me?? Somebody stop this! Somebody has to come out and st....wait a moment!

RP: Oh what now?!

LvK: Here comes the cavalry!

The noise of the crowd turns from gasps and boos to cheers as I make my way down towards the ring. Sprinting as fast as my long legs carry me.

LvK: It's the Dragon Starrs...wait...no...it's only Lindsay! She's on her own...where's Lisa??

RP: Probably still washing the Guacamole out of her hair. I wonder why, that green worked great with the blue.

Luckily for me, the three in the ring are too busy stomping away on poor Tiffany to actually realize what's going on. As I slide into the ring under the bottom rope, I see Red turn around. Target number one I think to myself as I push up to my feet and run towards him. He tries to catch me with a Clothesline, which I duck under, running into the ropes behind him as he stumbles a bit, and just as he turns around, I run into him. My shoulder lowered a bit, arms tensed, as is my entire body.

UGHHH!

YAAAAAAAY!

I slam my shoulder, with all my momentum and body weight behind it, into the side of his chest. Sending the big guy flying and dropping on his back. I wince a bit and rub my shoulder, not used to running into THIS much weight. The girls are much lighter...and softer.

LvK: Buckeye Bodycheck on the Red Enforcer!!

RP: I don't like where this is going...

I turn to face the remaining two standing in the ring with me. Sadie turns quickly, narrows her eyes and yells at me. "WHAT THE *BEEP* DID YOU DO THAT FOR?!" before she charges in at me. Apparently she's very hungry for revenge after I leveled Red. From the corner of my eye I see Callista turn as well, but I can't focus on her right now as I have a little spitfire running right at me. Luckily, Sadie's movements are very wild. And once she's close enough, I throw my right leg up and slam the sole of my sneakered right foot into her face. Catching her with a Big Boot that takes down head over heels.

LvK: And down goes Sadie!!

And now to Callista! I think and turn my attention back to where she...was standing. "Uh oh..." I gasp as all I see there now is the downed Tiffany. This is not good....NOT good!

LvK: Watch out, behind....oh no...

"AAAHHH!" I let out a loud cry as, from out of nowhere, something slams into the back of my right calf. That something was Callista's right boot. With me being occupied with Sadie, she rushed behind me, off the ropes and kicked at the back of my leg like it was a soccer ball!

RP: Awww and she came SO close! Let's hope she learned her lesson. One does not simply beat the Countdown.

My leg flies up and I go down hard on my back. Clutching my hurting leg and looking up through pained, narrowed eyes just to see Callista stand over me. "Oh...shoot!"

Very nice action yet again!

*Five minutes ago*

“No, Linds! NO! We're going back to our motel and we're going there NOW!”

“But...but Lisa!”

Angrily stuffing my ruined Blackhawks sweater into my duffel bag, my back turned towards Lindsay who's still trying to calm me down after what went down with Sadie in the catering area.

“No buts!” I take a deep breath and turn around, now wearing my Second City Starr t-shirt “This day has been HORRIBLE! We're here even though it's our day off. We missed the big Countdown breakup 'cause you were hiding from a cat! And then that little bitch Sadie threw Guacamole at me! Oh and of course, I had to BUY my own f***ing shirt at some merch stand!  I've had enough for today. And I swear by the almighty gods, the next person who even looks at me funny is gonna eat my fist!!”

Lindsay takes a deep breath and sighs a little, looking at the floor “Let's just watch the Main Event, ok? Like...it's just one more match?” she points at the TV screen.

Looking up at it, I see Callista ruining Fukushima's knee in that Stretch Muffler and I shake my head “It's over. Let's go!” I finish packing my stuff and throw my bag over my shoulder “Can we?”

“But...she's not...I think that girl needs some help! Can't we-”

“There's your help!” as Tiffany runs in to clobber Calli “Can we go now??”

Then Sadie runs in “Oh no! I think we really should...”

Tiffany turns things around “See? She's got everything under control. Come on, now!”

Red comes in and they all start stomping away on Tiffany after Red and Sadie corrupted our Tag Finisher, which actually makes me narrow my eyes and growl at the TV.

“Lisa!! Look, she...she really needs help! Come on, let's go! We have to! It's the Countdown! You don't like Countdown! Come on! Tiffany doesn't stand a chance against those three! And...and you also get to take out Callista and Sadie, isn't that something?? Come oooooooon, Lisa!!”

I sigh and roll my eyes as she starts tugging at my arm like some needy child who saw an ice cream truck. “Alright, alright, LET ME GO!!” Pulling my arm free before around to put my bag back into the locker. “But we can't just run down there and swing at everything that moves! We need a plan. The best thing probably is for you to take out Red, I kick Sadie's head off, and then we can focus on Quinn. She wants to act like a Queen? So we're gonna give her a Royal Beatdown! How's that sound, Linds?”

I turn around to see...nothing!! “Linds?? Awe come on!!! WAIT UP!!”

Running towards the door, wanting to stay right behind her...or at least catch up. But just as I reach it, there they are again. The Mulkey Cousins! The slightly taller Billie supports Randi, one of her arms across her shoulders as that girl still looks a little shaken up after Sadie pulled her into my Superkick and I put her lights out. Billie stares down at me, not looking too happy, and then starts babbling in that South Carolina hillbilly accent.

“I think you owe Randi an apology!”

“Seriously? I got no time for this, Linds is out there and..."

“I think you owe Randi an apology!” she repeats in a much sterner voice

I look at Randi, then back up at Billie.

“I think YOU owe ME an apology!”

“What for?”

“For hurting my hand!” And with that my right fist flies up and, just like I promised Lindsay a few minutes ago, the next girl who even looks at me funny, in this case it's Billie Mulkey, eats my fist. Slamming her right in that pretty mouth of hers, which takes her down, and her cousin falls right along with her. The cousins lay in a heap as I shake my hand out and look down at them. Muttering a quiet little “Idiots...” before taking off to follow Lindsay. Hoping I can get out there in time to keep her from being bullied in a 3 on 1.

LvK: Lindsay has got to get out of that ring or she's going to end up just like Tiffany.

RP: That's what happens when you mess with Queen Callista and Countdown. You get conquered. She should have just stayed in the back. Now she's learning her lesson the hard way.

LvK: There's no need for this! They've proven their point. Just get out of that ring already and leave Tiffany and Lindsay alone!

RP: Nope! The message needs to be sent. And the only way these girls seem to understand it, is through violence. And we all know that Queen Callista is great at violence!

LvK: Would you please stop calling her that?

RP: NEVER!

Callista still stands above Lindsay, staring down at her as she slowly inches closer. Red crawls towards Sadie on his hands and knees, checking if she's okay after running right into Lindsay's Big Boot. It's obvious that Callista's mind is working right now. Thinking about how to dish out a maximum of pain with minimal effort.

Yeah...that's not gonna happen!

A pop bursts through the crowd as I come running down towards the ring to see the scene. Calli's back turned towards the ramp and therefore, me. But of course, being the super smart ring General that she is, she hears the sign and turns around. Problem for her is, that I'm pretty fast and already on the apron. And in one quick move, I leap up, landing on the top rope and pushing off towards her.

Her eyes grow as I'm airborne as soon as she turns and I come flying in towards her. My left foot extended, I press it against her shoulder for a little 'stand' and then swing my right foot around. Looking to repeat what she just did with Lindsay. Only that I'm not kicking at her leg, but aim for the side of her face.

And...

WHACK!!

LvK: Starr! From outta nowhere!

RP: Isn't that phrase copyright reserved?

LvK: And just in time! She leveled the Champion with the Stage Dive!

RP: Are you ignoring me?

LvK: Lindsay was about to be mugged! Thank god Lisa showed up in time!

RP: He's ignoring me!!

Calli goes down as I twist in the air and land on my hands and knees with a thud. The crowd's on their feet for a third time in just a few minutes now, after the third save in a row. It's going back and forth like on a Basketball Court right now! But now I'm here, and I'm here to beat the buzzer, get the Save, and all the other sports metaphors you can think of.

The Champ rolls out of the ring to recover as I get back to my feet. Looking around for a moment, seeing Sadie push Red away and jump to her feet. She doesn't look too happy, and neither do I. Round One in the backstage area ended in a draw. And neither of us likes that. Waving her in with my right hand, and here she comes!

Charging at me just like she did at Lindsay a few minutes ago. And it ends the same way...with a miss. I duck underneath her wild approach, maybe she's still a little woozy after being kicked in the head by Linds. She misses me, I set myself up, drop into stance. She turns around, and just as she does, I explode towards her.

LvK: SUPERKICK!

BAM! Right on the Money!! I see head fly, a bit of spittle as well, and slapping at my thigh causes this beautiful little SLAPping sound everyone loves to hear when these big kicks get thrown. Sadie falls, lands spread-eagled and I grin from ear to ear. Walking over to her, hands on my hips as I step over her body, standing tall above her. I bend over, staring into those glassy, unfocused eyes.

"Felt pretty good after avoiding this in the back, huh? Newsflash: When Lisa Starr wants to kick your head off...she DOES!" I grin and add "Oh and fyi...when you're coming off the top on an opponent in a Backbreaker, you aim for the FACE, stupid!"

That. Felt. Great. Dropping this mouthy little girl like this? Priceless! Sadly, it feels so good that for a few moments I forget everything that's happened around me. Including the fact that Red is standing in the ring with me. And I doubt that he's too happy about me kicking his little lover into oblivion.

Now it's time to return to reality. The harsh reality! Red quickly moves behind me and locks my arms up in a Full Nelson. And from there on, everything's going extremely fast! I'm pulled up and turned to the side so I'm not standing over Sadie's fallen body anymore. And then I'm going for a ride!

The back of my head and neck lands hard on the canvas as I'm taken down by Red's Shen Long Slam. Just drilling me into the boards with this powerful, quick, brutal Dragon Suplex. The momentum of the impact carries me over so I'm on my knees, staring straight ahead through glassy eyes before going down flat on my chest with my arms wrapped around the back of my head.

RP: And another one bites the dust! When will they learn? When will they ever learn?

LvK: And again, the strength in numbers pays off for the Countdown.

RP: What are you talking about?? I see one, two, THREE girls in the ring with Red, Sadie and Callista. It's a 3 on 3! Perfectly fair. It's not their fault that those blonde bombers were stupid enough to attack them one by one.

Red hisses at me before turning to Sadie again. With everybody down (or out of sight, like Callista who's recovering outside the ring), he takes care of his girl who's coming back to her senses, asking him to "Help me up!" And once she's on her feet again, she points at me "Get HER up! So I can put her down again."

He obliges and pulls me up to my feet by my blonde and blue hair. Swaying on my feet, arms dangling underneath me as I'm bent over.

RP: Retribution time! Starr asked for it! Kicking that poor, helpless girl right in her pretty face for absolutely no reason at all! She deserves to be punished.

LvK: She had plenty of reason to do that!

And here she goes. Sadie runs into the ropes and comes charging in towards me at full speed. While I'm still held up by Red, she closes in and takes me down HARD with her running Angel's Kiss Swinging Neckbreaker, leaving me down on my back in the middle of the ring.

I do not like chaos.

To clarify, I do not like chaos which is not of my own making. This mess in the ring with bodies strewn everywhere and agendas thrown out in the heat of battle is not of my own making.

So I need to fix that.

Sadie and Red had just dropped Lisa, while Tiffany and Lindsay were both struggling to get back into the fight. The latter was right in front of me, and was (once again) not paying attention to me, so I reached under the bottom rope, taking solid hold of her right ankle, yanking the Yank twice, once to pull her off balance and send her crashing to the mat, and a second to pull her out of the ring, sending her crashing to the floor.

"Look me in the eye now," I said tartly, giving the blonde a quick kick to the side of the head before rolling under the bottom ropes. Sadie and Red were checking on each other's well-being, (which is not a euphemism, thank whatever Gods you believe in,) but my attention was focused on Tiffany, the one who started all this in the first place.

"Her!" I said, pointing to the platinum blonde still not steady on her feet, adding, "In the corner!" before I rushed towards her. Tiffany tried to get her hands up, but I was able to seize her right wrist in my left hand, turning the arm behind her. She took a swing at me with her left, but I was able to get my right arm up to catch most of the blow. She didn't get a second chance, as Red came in and grabbed hold of that left arm. Before she had a chance to do more than struggle against our grasp, Sadie's boots came flying in between us, catching Tiffany right in her D cups and sending her staggering backwards.

"Put her in the corner, Red!" I said. He nodded and ducked his head, charging forward and driving his shoulder into Tiffany's abdomen, driving her back into the corner pads. He grabbed the middle ropes, pulling himself into her to keep her in place. Tiffany, still fighting, tried to drive a double axe handle blow in between Red's shoulder blades, but there wasn't a lot of force behind the blow, and the big fella held steady.

I climbed through the ropes, moving along the apron towards the corner where Tiffany was held. She was going for an axe-handle again, but got distracted by me smacking her in the side of her head, saying, "Enough of that, now!" Reaching around her head with my left arm, I took hold of her right wrist, pulling it across her neck and sliding my left arm under the crook of her elbow, tightening that hold in place.

I looked to Red right in front of me, and Sadie in the middle of the ring, taking a moment to decide what order to give next. I'm not knocking these two by saying if it were Megan and Gemma, I wouldn't need to. Those two have enough of a history with me, (to say nothing of an almost mystical connection to the mere concept of violence,) to just run with it, but it seemed clear to me that Red and Sadie, like most of humanity, needed to be led.

Unfortunately, also like most of humanity, they were vulnerable to an uppercut to the junk, which was what Lisa had just given Sadie in the middle of the ring. "Red!" I said, trying to alert him to the peril his erstwhile charge was in, when I felt two hands clasp my ankles. "Ah sh-" I started to say, not needing to look down to know who this was, when Lindsay pulled hard, sending me crashing down to the floor.

Looking up, I saw Tiffany drive a knee up into Red's solar plexus before my view was occupied by the tall blonde attempting the punch the living daylights out of me. I got my hands up, ostensibly trying to ward off blows, but eventually getting forward enough to grab for Lindsay's face, curling my fingers into claws and raking them across her, one finger getting enough of a poke in her eye to get her off of me. Pushing myself up off of the ground, I looked in the ring, and despite my best efforts, it was chaos once more.

Before I could do more than face off with a singularly angry-looking Lindsay, (had I ever seen that emotion on her before?) I was slammed into from the right side, driving my left into the ring apron. "NOW BLOODY WHAT?" I shouted, preparing to fight back when I saw Lindsay in the same predicament, as the rest of FTW's referees, security force, and what looked like assorted wrestlers who hadn't worked tonight all rushed down the aisle and into the ring.

A positive truckload of humanity (or whatever passed for it in Asheville interceded, separating blondetard and Countdowner alike.

LvK: About time Security took this mess in hand!
RP: Oh yeah, this is much better than the boring 3 on 3 fight we were watching before. Where did all these people come from anyway?

Sadie rolled out of the right side of the ring of her own accord, while I was able to pull Red out on my side. The impromptu riot squad seemed content to let us move about as long as it wasn't towards the others. Lindsay climbed into the ring, and she and Tiffany and Lisa all stepped up to the ropes, while Red and Sadie and I gathered on the ramp up towards the stage.

I pondered what to make of this. Tiffany coming down I could work with, but the Dragon Starrs complicated things. Some helpful fellow had retrieved my belt, and handed it to me. I held it aloft over my head.

RP: They might've forced a stalemate for now, but the Sadistic Saviour is still the champ!
LvK: For now, Rick. Meanwhile, Tiffany, Lindsay and Lisa are standing tall in the ring while the Countdown is retreating up the steps! Folks we're all out of time for now. For myself and Rick Perle and everyone here at FTW, thanks for watching!
RP: You realize that between the food fight and all of these people working for us there'll be nothing left at catering.
LvK: Oh godda-

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