FreeCatFights

I walk into the office of the promoter of FCF wearing a monkey suit. I think I clean up nicely, but to be honest I would rather be in wrestling gear than a suit and tie. I have my Championship Belt with me, carrying it folded, old school style and not over my shoulder. Some traditions need respecting. And I am wearing my mask. Not many get to see me without it. Not even my bosses. Again, some traditions need respecting.

I look over at the man in charge, a rather large man in a suit with graying hair. He is supposedly my age, but life has not been as kind. Being one of those who survived and actually thrived during he dot com bubble and then the real estate bubble has allowed him the money to indulge his lifelong fantasy of running a wrestling federation, but obviously getting there took as much out of him as a 60 minute iron man match.

Ahhh, Mr. Enforcer. May I call you Red? he says as he extends his hand. I politely nod and shake the proffered hand and move into a chair he points out after the shake.

Red, we have a situation. Your first title defense was to be against Rowan Chance at the Superdome in New Orleans as the main event of a major show for us. However, Ms. Chance has not been medically cleared following her recent bout in Paris.

Paris. Fuck. The memories of what happened there still get me. Just too much. I kinda get caught in my own head but the promoter waits till I come back. Patient man. But there seems to be an edge about him, or at least a smile on the corner of his mouth that reminds me of the lead actor of Jaws. Not Robert Shaw. The shark.

So we have had to scramble. And considering who was available and the location and your past matches, we reached out to a worthy opponent who has graciously accepted.

Shit. That smile. I knew it. Who the fuck did Mr. Moneybags here call up. Louisiana, who do I know would draw there. Gotta be someone big there or nearby. Like Texas.

Oh Shit. No.

Under my mask, my eyes must have betrayed something because that damn shark got a bigger grin. One my daddy used to call a shit eatin grin.

So in two weeks, you will be defending your FCF Unlimited Championship Title against Daredevil Jenny Dare. We do so hope you have a showstopper of a match.

Two weeks to get ready for Jenny? Fuck me. You might as well say, you have two weeks to prepare to get in a train wreck.  Daredevil Jenny Dare, the Yellow Rose of Texas. Tall, blonde and beautiful. Strong as a Texas Stampede and brave as a Texas Ranger. 

You have those wrestlers who you can never associate with being a heel. Ricky Steamboat, Dusty Rhodes(although he did start out that way) and Sting.  Jenny is in that mold. An honestly good person who loves to compete. But never mistake her quality of character as weakness or she will eat you alive.  She can wrestle like Dory Funk Jr in his heyday, brawl like his brother Terry and she hits like Stan Hansen.

Fuck.

We have a history. It has been way too long since I looked across a ring at her. And it may sound like a cliche, but for Jenny and I it is complicated.

Two weeks. As I get up out of the chair and make my polite goodbyes, I already start running through my head what I need to do to try and get ready.

Gawd dammit I need a training montage.

They only told me a week before that the venue for our match was changing from the Superdome to the Raising Canr Center citing security issues. Between you and me, I think they did it because they needed an excuse to not let me do my full on Rolling Thunder assisted motorcycle convoy to the tune of Iron Man by Black Sabbath entrance I had planned. One of the perks of being a vet is that you get to put clauses in contracts. The only one I care about is Full creative control of my entrances which are paid by the promoter. I dreamed this one up when it was gonna be me versus Rowan. I may use it later so watch this space.

So a week out I had to worry about a change of opponent, a change of venue and come up with a new entrance.

Great.

So I had two choices. As champion I got to go second so I decided to have both ready to go. I would just go and see how Jenny went out and decide then.  I got a knock on my door and slipped off to Gorilla.

And there she was.

Larger than life, the All American Heroine. All blonde and tall and drop dead gorgeous.  She had not changed a bit. I got a silly grin on my face looking at her and well...memories and such.

I choked those down when I focused past the side view of her face and saw her outfit.  She knows me still. Damn. Psychological warfare is nasty. Most will just see her outfit and nod and smile and say how pretty. Both she and I know she is going out for Full shock and awe.


It is gonna be a long night for the Enforcer folks.

And then her music. Immigrant Song. Most folks have no idea what the title is. They know the song.  I head back to my dressing room and tell the kid Track 2.

I change and get back in place. Man this feels...

Weird
Surreal
Insane
But most of all....
Right

The opening riff of Blue Oyster Cult performing their paean to the King of Monsters

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=T65rW_SIzg0

And I step out.

All black.
Black loose karate pants.
Black boots.
A black covering on my head.
Black tape on my wrists.
White tape on all my fingers.

A look that would make Gary Hart smile.

I stride down to the ring dressed as my Senpai, The Great Kabuki.

(https://s4ck.com/forums/proxy.php?request=http%3A%2F%2Fi.imgur.com%2FEAKyPKk.jpg&hash=8cce3bedc19949f9381238fdcac515b7db242420)

The Great Kabuki.  As a kid I gravitated to all things Asian. Bruce Lee, Godzilla, etc etc.  But when I saw the Great Kabuki on my screen as a kid, I was just astounded.  Later on I would become one of his students.

One thing Kabuki would stress is being tough. And the toughest gaijin, as he would call him, he faced was Bruiser Brody.  So when I heard Immigrant Song, I knew how you were psyching yourself up Jenny. I also knew what I had to do.

Kabuki was always about mystery. Sudden strikes. And the Unknown.

I am going to forget our history, block it out, become the Unknown.

I want you guessing. I want you off balance.

The only way I can win is for you to be off your game and for me to commit fully to mine.

I leave my gear on, belt around my waist as you come to me.

A handshake as always.

But this time it is a test.

If I shake, I am the nice Red. The one you tagged with and this is going to be a friendly competition of skill versus skill.

If I take your hand and strike, I am the evil Red. Your guard will be up and you will be ready to come at me hard.

Which will I choose?

I decide to take a third option.

I just stand there. Frozen to the spot. Betraying nothing.


Your move darlin.

I show up at the show, ready to watch.

In the back of course.

Nowhere near where you two are.

Don't want to influence the outcome...just watch.

I've been here all along, in the front fucking row unlike some creepy dark creepers in the back.

I don't care if you two see me. I WANT you to see me!

I have on my black Enforcer Muyoh shirt from Red's FTW merch line, and a red white and blue Jenny Dare "DARE TO DREAM" headband also from FTW, because I can get FTW merchandise on the fucking cheap since I bought the god-damn warehouse where it was all kept. I'm also six beers deep and I've already had to pay off the guards to stop from getting thrown out when I was getting angry at the undercard for going too long and threatened to jump the railing and speed up their fucking match for them. I wave at them with a skull-headed cane that I did NOT get from FTW's warehouse. Normally I don't carry a cane.

So maybe my knee is still fucked up from what the little bobbing blackbird cxnt tried to do to it. Whatever. I have enough leg left to kick anyone's ass.

And now you're both out and I'm fucking fired up from these entrances. Reddy looks like the fucking grand ninja of wrestling himself, the original Mister Mister, and Jenny looks like a hot-as-fuck battle angel sent to capture the fighting spirit of Captain America.

I dunno who to cheer for yet. So I go with my default setting and just roar in half-drunk delight.

"YYYEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH BAYBEH!"

Akanbou, to defeat anyone you must be stronger or smarter. If you cannot be one, be the other.

Yeah, it feels right to be standing in Mid-South/World Class country and be calling on the memory of my Senpai. I earned the right to call him Senpai when I graduated his training. And that is when I learned the whole time he was not calling me Red, but calling me child. Funny sense of humor you silly old man. 

But his words ring true to this day.

I won the first battle. I made Daredevil Jenny Dare back up. Points go to me. Unfortunately they are Whose Line Is It Anyway fake points.

Still though. You are wondering Jenny. You think I might be under their spell. Or more likely her spell.

I see you back up, but you are not gonna stay cowed for long. And sure enough here you come throwing an elbow.

From this position there about 15 different moves I can take to avoid, deflect or counter.

I choose none.

I shift just a bit so you get more of my sternum than my jaw. My head covering slides off and you see me not in a mask, but Red Kabuki face paint. Is it a scary sight for you Jenny? Does this bring up old fears you have?

And like I remember you hit me like a government mule.  As you grab for my hair, I just twist my hips and fire off a short, quick forearm to your sternum.

And I make my first sound.

A loud growl even as I hear Megan and her drunken yell. She is gonna love this. I want this match to be like Misawa/Kobashi. So I speak for the first time to you in years.

MORE

I walk in with Rowan, keeping a few steps behind her as we make our way to the back row.

A few steps behind...where I have been almost constantly since Paris.

I help her dutifully to her seat...and then take mine...at her right hand.

Ready to watch The Red Enforcer, who Rowan refers to as "Red" take on Jenny Dare, who Rowan refers to as...something else.

There are impacts that can wreck you. Your attention drifts while driving and the next thing you know, Metal slams into wood, rubber squeals and an air bag bashes you in the face. You have no idea how you went off the road but now your vehicle is trying to occupy the same space as a tree. Physics and Neil deGrasse Tyson will tell you how that does not work.

My forearm into Jenny is not one of those impacts. No, it is more of a wake up call. Now the realization of what I have painted on my face, that strikes a bit harder.

But it wont last. You are too smart and too talented and too brave to stay thrown off for long. 

And like I figured here you come at me.

But you mix it up and slip around me. Faster than I remember. Shit. Maybe I am the one getting slower. You grab my wrist and here it comes.

Now this, this is the kinda impact I was talking about earlier. A lariat from Jenny is like being in a car wreck. Most folks confuse it with a clothesline. There is a difference. With a clothesline, your arm is stationary and usually the victim runs into it. With a lariat, the giver winds up and swings with their arm. I blame JBL for the confusion because his Clothesline from Hell was actually a lariat.

And Jenny, she puts everything she has into her lariat. I bet she added the Kerry spin for this one and she is torquing her hips and driving out with her arm, perfectly aimed to take my head right off.  I guess I should be glad for the two weeks I had to exercise my neck muscles. Even then though her blow hits like a Mack truck.

I struggle just to stay on my feet but I end up staggering back and dripping beg to the mat. I am hurting like I havent hurt in a long time.

But inside, I am smiling. I made Jenny change her approach and now she is gonna wrestle the way I want her to.

This small victory hurts like a bitch though. But it is so worth it.

I lie back and look up at Jenny as she follows through. And O smile at her.

Wonder what she thinks of that.

I lie there and for the briefest moment I see the shock you feel when my smile fills your vision. But like the pro you are, you move quickly to cover me. Your body lying atop mine, that strong arm of yours hooking my leg. I remember this. Even in the haze of pain I remember this.

I may have you mentally out of it, but I am glad it takes the referee a couple of heartbeats to get to the pinball. Maybe later I can tell you how much that hurt me and how close this came to being a short squash match.  But now, I give you nothing. I wait for that first slap of One.

Then I bring my free leg up, cross it over your arm and hooking my ankles, effectively scissoring that arm.

I grab for your other arm with the hand nearest it and try to keep it extended while my free hand jabs forward. If I can, I will dig my fingers hard and deep into that soft area in your armpit and squeeze away. Another gift from Senpai. A nerve claw.

Oh and while this happens, of course my shoulders will rise off the mat.

I hope you were not expecting this to be the same old dance Jenny.  I have learned a bit since we last tussled. Show me what you know.

As my fingers sink into your flesh, I crank up the pressure. I bet you think this is something Rowan taught me. When I see you glare at me, I know I am in your head. And then there is that scream.

Normally, I enjoy hearing an opponent screaming in pain. It is just affirmation of a job well done by me. But for some reason, hearing you scream....I pause a moment.

And you move. Boy do you move. One of the strongest competitors I know and have fought, male or female.

I feel myself rising and I know this is so very not good. If our roles were reversed, I would try and drive you through the mat. I know you are gonna wanna do the same to me.

Cant have that can we?

I start rolling my body back. Rocking. Twisting. Trying to get momentum.

Hopefully when you do toss me down, I can roll enough to turn you so you do a somersault and end up hitting the mat with your shoulders.

If not, this is gonna hurt.

Come on Jenny, move that body!!!

Just like in Greensboro when Red defended his title against the kid, I find myself seated in the front row, watching him defend that Unlimited Championship once again. I'm wearing a shimmering silver sequin tube dress under a black leather hooded jacket. There's a large, stylized insignia of a skull printed on the jacket's back. This jacket isn't something I normally wear, but tonight...and lately.. I've been feeling like changing things up a bit. A pair of black leather calf boots and a silver choker complete my outfit. I sit there in my seat, sipping at my cold beer while the fans holler and cheer loudly around me, supporting their hero as she really lays into Red. Then, moments later, I nearly spit my drink all over the guardrail, marvelling at this gal's impressive strength.


Gawd DAMN she's strong.


Daredevil Jenny Dare. Just under six feet, close to 'bout a hundred and eighty pounds of solid, lean muscle. An All-American gal with a heart of gold, spirited, tough, beautiful - and strong, crazy strong. It's only been a few minutes into the match and she's proving without a doubt she's a worthy challenger for Red's title. She damn near knocked Red's head clean off his shoulders with that Tornado Lariat just a couple of moments ago. But one pinfall attempt later and Jenny found herself trapped in Red's arm scissors nerve claw - clever way to break up a pin. Wonder where Red picked up that move.

That claw looked painful as all hell by the way Jenny's crying out. For a brief moment, she's just laying there, agonizing over Red as his fingers sadistically claw at the soft flesh under her arm. But then the gal powers through that searing agony that Red's forcing her to endure, showing her grit and toughness to all by LIFTING Red off the mat! Red's got that hold locked in tight, his fingers are really burrowing into her, but Daredevil just HOWLS in determination, fighting through the pain she manages to hoist him, all the way up, right over her shoulders! Why, she's gonna slam his Great Kabuki lookin' ass into the canvas -- no wait, she's gonna drill him with a Death Valley!

I shake my head in disbelief, my smiling lips taking another sip of my drink as I wait for Red's head to plummet into the canvas. 

Looks like this gal ain't playin' around..

.

I have a feeling no one has ever had to ask Jenny if she even lifts. She is showing off her power for sure. Which is perfect.

I know what you?re thinking. How can I say this positioning is perfect?  You have to understand the type of game this is. That person right there. The rather sexy looking blonde Valkyrie that has me held up like a rag doll in her arms is the type to go until you make her stop. And I took her best move and somehow I am still in this thing. That means to stop her I need to invoke Godzilla now. The limiters are off and she is full on focused on kicking my ass.

So why is that perfect?

Because now she isnt thinking. Or at least what she is thinking is not what she should be thinking. Ok ok, that sounds confusing. Let me demonstrate.

She gets me up past her chest and I know the nerve joldnis done and so are the scissors.  I release both.

Now she has me up and looking at the lights. She is super focused on getting me up in position for a devastating move. It feels like a Burning Hammer from where I sit and that is a big no from me.

So while her focus is on her arms and jerking me up in position, my now free hand is moving towards that lovely face of hers.

Those fingers that were digging into her flesh just a few seconds ago now go after her eyes. I have no shame in this fight. Back to my old heel ways. That answer all your questions Jenny?

If I can get a full on take on her, enough to have her let me go, I am going to roll off her back and get set up behind her. And that is where the fun is really gonna begin.

Come on Jenny show me and this crowd what you got.

"You're gotta be kidding me!!" The Athletic Blonde shrieked as she waved the laminated badge in the usher's face. Her golden frame clad in a skin tight white tank top tucked into a very short pair of Neiman Marcus denim shorts.

"No, joke kid. Can't let you in with this thing." the large, round usher who bore more than a passing resemblance to Wilford Brimley said as he adjusted his tiny nose glasses.

"This 'thing' is a box pass, you big walrus! We have a box here for some godforsaken reason!! I want to go sit down!!" the Blonde screamed, stomping a Tory Burch sandal to the floor and sending a slight ripple up her well toned and bare thigh. Her right fist jammed to her denim short clad hip.

"Noooope, nope, nope. Sorry kid. While this IS a box pass it's a pass for Richard Dahl. I know Mr. Dahl and you ain't him." the usher's mustache twitching like walrus whiskers.

'No shit! I'm his daughter, Katherine. You know, The Doll!!" she screamed raising a pair of large, black, sunglasses to give the usher a good look at her face.

"Geez, what the heck happened to you?" Wilford Brimly recoiled as he stared at the Blonde's severely bloodshot eyes, surrounded by large, dark circles.

"Him!!" she pointed to the ring where the Red Enforcer...at least it was supposed to be the Red Enforcer....was manhandling an amazonian proportioned blonde.

'Yeah, right. Good one kid", the usher laughed, "I never heard of you and even if I had, you wouldn't last five minutes with The Enforcer! Go get your 'daddy', Mr. Dahl, and I'll let ya in. Otherwise, buy a ticket like everyone else."

"It's like fucking Paris all over again..." the Blonde muttered as she wheeled around and stood by the ticket booth while the Amazon, "Dare" she thought her name was, hoisted Red (that was Red, right?) onto her shoulders...

"Fuck me..." was all the Blonde could manage to mutter.

I hate to tell you I told you so, buuuttt.

Now is the hard part of this. Which side. Was it left or right? Shit, I cant remember.

Left.

I roll off your back like the proverbial water does to the proverbial duck. And I get in a crouch behind you. I can hear the boos and the cries of warnings from your Little Daredevils as I line up your left leg and, dive forward.

Cut off one of the 5 points of balance. Take out a limb. Yadda Yadda.

I remember hurting you before. Your ankle. Just cannot for the life of me remember which one. Must be getting old right?

Well this old man is flying towards the back of your left knee with my forearm loaded and ready to slam into that leg, pop that joint and grab for that ankle.

And you, you are rubbing at your lovely eyes tromping about blindly.

Yeah I must have lost a step. I would have you screaming a submission by now if this were 3 years ago.

This sound is gonna be loud. Brace for impact...oh wait, you cant because like John Cena, you cant see me.

"It was me, Jenny," I whisper, relishing the memory.

"It was me."

Now that felt good. The feeling of really cutting loose on somebody. I haveta admit there are times I dialed back on my power because I felt like my opponent didnt have the ability to handle what I can throw at them. There are only a few people I go full on against. Sadie is one because she is a wonderful kinda crazy and we just work better that way.  Jenny is another because she can give as good as she gets or better.

And damn if you flipped like a Mulkey Brother taking a Russian Sickle. I pop back to my feet in time to hear you howl and see you clutching at your ankle. Yeah that messed you up real good.

Or did it?

One of the first things drilled into you at school is not to show weakness of any kind. There have been times in the past when I went in the ring with no tape on injuries because I would rather hurt and gut it out than give an opponent a target.

But here you are, both hands on your ankle. Standard logic means I go after that ankle and bust it up more. But no. The Jenny I know would bite down on the pain and hide it. You aint a rookie.

So I do head over, but on the off chance you are overselling, I skip past your ankle and put two hands firm and full into those lovely blonde locks of yours, now back to your preferred length I see.

I wanna see how bad that ankle is, so let me help you up and see you stand on it.

If you can.

When they look left, you move right.

Kansas City Shuffle.

Fuck me.

I was so so smart not falling for the obvious trap, I missed the real one.

I pulled you up by your hair. You still use the same shampoo and perfume before matches. I dropped my guard.

Memories flooded back. Your lips...so close to mine..

Hands in my hair.

I...not thinking...reacting...

Your voice...

WHAM!!!!!!!!

My head drops quickly and you jam my jaw up into my head and I fly back and roll, dazed from the blow as a purple flash explodes before my eyes.

Good one Jenny, good one

And I lie back on the mat, sprawled out with one arm dangling off the apron. Once again looking up at the lights. But without the smile.

One of the toughest lessons to learn was feeling the mat and the pound of the three count and kicking out before three. It gets drilled into you so that it is pure muscle memory.

So here I am on my back and I feel a rumble on the mat. Not a count. No, footsteps. Quickly moving footsteps.

Getting closer.

Jenny is running? Well at least I was right about her ankle not being that hurt. Fat lotta good it did me.

But she is running away...no towards me now. 

Shit what is she...

Move

I gotta move.

come on old man...move!!

No rolling away here. Best I can do...try and pull my knees up...

And pray.

Standing in the back of the arena. "That's MY MOVE!!! BITCH!!!!"

Not that anyone can hear me back here, but it's the principle of the thing.

When you get your nose busted as often as I have you know when it happens.

I did get my knees up and from your reaction, I got your ankle too.

But damn you bashed my nose.

The pain helps wake me up, but I really am in no shape to follow up like I wanna. But I have to. I roll to the sound of you and see your back. I push up to my knees, breathing hard from my mouth. My nose. I might be bleeding. Awesome.

Kicking your ankle. Yet it hurts. Lemme help with that.

I force my aching body to move and get closer . Then I lunge out, my own elbow pointed on target. It isnt a big drop, but I figure my elbow is gonna fuck up your ankle something fierce.

I need it to.

There is nothing so satisfying in a fight as a good solid *SMACK* of bone on flesh and bone. Well as long as you are the giver of said impact and not the receiver. I'm not sure I made good contact, but that sound tells me I made solid contact.

The scream helps too.

That wasn't faked.

Now if I can just grab....and no, you do the smart thing and roll out of the ring.  Smart move! I'm just going to roll over on my back for a moment and reassess.

My bell is rung so the world feels like molasses that I'm moving through. My nose is...lemme see...yeah bashed and a slight trickle. So breathing has been limited a little. Jaw is sore and I just hurt all over. So, like the song says, everything is awesome.

The last thing I should do is chase you to the outside. You're hurt, upset and off kilter. As I get to my feet, I process all this. Yeah, if I snuck out you would have some surprise waiting and we can't have that. The smart play is to just wait here and let you struggle back in.

Fuck that noise.

I dash (well as quickly as I can get my sore body to move, trying to create my own rush of adrenaline) to the opposite ropes and spring off them and run headlong towards the ropes. Then I try something I haven't done since I put on the mask some very long time ago. I leap into the air over the top rope and turn. If I timed it right I should land back first on Jenny. If not, hopefully I can spin more to land on my feet.

Tope con Giro here we come.

I'm bouncing up and down at the railing on one leg, clutching it with my hand, my braced and taped knee lifted so I'm doing a fucking jig, waving my skull-headed cane like a baton.

EVERY fucking hit has been a god-damn truck crashing into a bigger truck.

EVERY move has been one that could have laid someone lesser out.

But you two are fucking GLADIATORS. You're whomping the everlovin' king hell out of each other and not even slowing down. Just coming back for more and more and more.

"LET'S SEE SOME FUCKIN' BLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD!" I howl because it's the fuckin' Deep South and I wanna see some COLOR.

And then I see Red trying to FLY and it's like watching a penguin take to the air, like something you just shouldn't see happen. It doesn't have the flapping screaming awkwardness of Callista Quinn's Tope Con Holy Shit but it's got a certain majesty. It's a Buick hitting a guardrail and doing six flips off the overpass.

"WHAT THE FUUUUUUUCK-?!"

I smirk a little at Rowan when she complains about Jenny using her move. So? Imitation is the greatest form of flattery, no? Of course I don?t tell her that. Of course I don?t tell her I am actually starting to pull for her old rival. I mean, tall, blonde, and tough? What?s not to like?

Oh...is that purple top I see down there Punky? A few things have changed since Paris and I need to speak with her. May have to wait for another time though.

(To myself I think, come on Jenny!)

C'mon Red pin this girl already and shut up all the little chicks

Well shit.

I love the broadcast team of Kevin Kelly and Steve Corino on commentary. Shame they aren't together as Kevin is working with New Japan more and Steve's at the WWE Performance Center. But one of their calls that I used to get a kick out of is when someone would dive to the outside and it was a sloppy mess. Steve would yell out

CRASH AND BURN!!!!

Probably the only commentator I like as much as Steve Corino was Mr. Wrestling III. And right now as I'm flying and do my flip, I see that Jenny has collapsed and there's nothing but steel rail coming at me. So I can hear Corino's mark out voice yelling at me as the railing approaches.

My driver's ed teacher (and defensive backs coach of our high school football team) taught me that in a car you have two ways of controlling the car's speed. The gas or the brake. If you can't use one, use the other. I can't stop myself so I go to overrotate and hope I can go over the railing and miss it and....

Fuck me, is that Megan???

Hanging onto the railing, mostly drunk and dead on target for my body to hit...Shit shit shit...

I miss the railing thanks to me having to aim at a tall target, but I kinda end up hitting Megan and tangling up with her in the front row...we hit the floor hard and..yeah it's not a pretty sight.

And...I hope I died, because Megan's gonna kill me for this.

-Red dashes (well as quickly as he can get his sore body to move, trying to create his own rush of adrenaline) to the opposite ropes and springs off them, running headlong towards the ropes-


There's no way he's gonna do it.

There's no way he's gonna do it.

There's no way--


-He leaps into the air over the top rope and turns. If timed right, Red should land back first on Jenny. 

Tope con Giro here we go-


--well SHIT he went and did it.


NOW I spit my beer all over the guardrail. Gawd damn, I have NEVER seen Red pull off an aerial before! That was, it was, well.. it sure wasn't pretty. Effective, absolutely, if he hits his mark. I watch with breathless awe as his body goes sailing through the air, ready to crush Jenny who's leaning on the guardrail -- except, he doesn't hit Jenny at all. In one of those moments where bullet time seemingly kicks into overdrive and all time seems to slow down, I watch Daredevil hauling her pretty ass outta dodge and all that Red collides into is--

"MEGAN?!"

I noticed her a moment ago, and from that moment my attention was split between her and the match. She was drunkenly cheering at the top of her lungs, hanging off the rail and calling for more bloodshed from these two gladiators. And now, she's crushed by a flying Kabuki.

I push through the small mob of fans crowded around the car wreck of a scene - sure as hell looks like one. Red's all splayed out on top and Megan's body is twisted up and half-buried beneath him. I bite my lower lip and kneel down by the two, giving Red a lil' nudge as I try and pull Megan out from under him.

"Oh sugah. She is gonna kill you."

It was surprising seeing Red try to fly, all Kabuki'd up and twisting through the air like particularly daring piece of pantomime.

It was even MORE surprising when he whiffs on Jenny completely who was close enough for me to almost grab a beery handful of her ass, and twists past the railing to crash INTO ME, GOD DAMN IT.

"WHAT THE FUUUUUUUCK-?! - AUUUUUUUGH!"

It's definitely a fucking Charlie Brown moment. Red's spiraling body crashes into me with all the grace of DANNY DEVITO YES THAT'S THE PENGUIN I MEANT YOU FUCKING KLUTZ and sends us both rocketing back into the front row. The seats are all folding chairs down here on the floor, and we take about a half dozen of them out clean, people staggering and stumbling in the wake of the impact, a fucking anime shock wave bursting out around us that I hope knocks down a bunch of homes and strips the skin off Linda Hamilton as she clings to a chain link fence.

My back crashes through the chairs and I fall with not too much grace at all since I'm 8 beers deep - and the Raisin' Cane has BIG fuckin' beers, in cups that I think would be used for a medium popcorn anywhere else - and because I'm on ONE FUCKING LEG, GOD DAMN YOU, RED. Technically that's not Red's fault but whatever, everything is his fault at the moment. I hit the concrete with a WHULF with Red's big doofus body on me, flattening my lungs out as my legs kick up in the air like Bugs Bunny pretending to be dead before they thud back to the floor as the dust settles.

"... well FUUUUUUUUCK."

It's a sound somewhere between an aching breathless groan and a drunken roarl. I immediately and instinctively reach for a weapon, but my cane's not at hand, it's down by my feet somewhere. I drag my left boot around, feeling it clatter. And then as I reach for a handful of red hair to encourage Red to GET THE FUCK OFF ME there's a hand on mine before I can get a grip, tugging me, getting me out from under the Kabuki-themed wreckage.

"Tiffy," I grumble, coughing a little as my flattened tits gradually recover, sitting up and rolling Red off me and managing a drunken half grin in the clatter of toppled folding chairs and heaped Enforcer. "Nice jacket."

Quote from: Virginia Dare on January 03, 2018, 05:50:45 AM
Whoah. That was too close.

I felt Red's body nearly hit mine as he soared over my head and clobbered Punky--and half the front row.

I pull myself back up to my feet using the railing. Looking over it, I see Megan under Red cursing up a storm.

"Sorry," I say, giving a weak smile and shrugging. "Front row is part of the show."

This is going to buy me time. That's good because my ankle is throbbing with every beat of my heart and my heart would get pulled over for speeding down the freeway right about now.

I put some weight on it--and my eyes bug out, my mouth opening wide as I try not to curse. Okay. Okay. I'm going to need every second I can get. Red is tangled up in the crowd. And the referee is--

--oh crap--I mean--

--nevermind all that. The count is up to five!

I limp gingerly on my ankle over to the apron and fling myself in. She counts "SIX!"

I look out at Red, still tangled up in the Punky mess. She isn't helping out.

"SEVEN!"

Damm--darnit, Red. I can't win the title on a count out!

I could stay in here and just win. Fight for another day.

"EIGHT!"

I don't know if you can even hear the referee over Punky's cursing.

"NINE!"

Safety or the title. There's really no choice.

So before she can count ten, I roll back out to the floor. Still careful with my ankle. Putting a little weight on it--a little more every second.

It hurts. It hurts a lot. But the more time I can buy, the better. And you're just getting to your feet. By the railing.

By the railing--

--yeah. That just might work.

I step forward--OUCH--and get ready to grab you the moment you get free of Punky. Hoping you're too distracted by her--she is pretty much very distracting right now with her tight jeans and her torn t-shirt slipping this way and that--to notice little ol' me.

I am so fucking dead. I splashed an already hobbled Megan and scattered the front row worse than flying referee Rick Knox out in Reseda.  I am trying to get free while making sure my hands dont instigate World War Punky.  That is like trying to negotiate driving in Arkansas just across the bridge in Memphis. Seriously dangerous curves.

And then Tiffany arrives to help and I hear Megan go from angry to flirty in 3.5 seconds. Thank you oh sexy blonde. I will repay you later.

I dont really hear the count but as I put my hands on the floor and push up when I hear the murmur from the crowd.  You are closing in even as my fingers close around something rather solid.  Gawd every joint is screaming. That was a stupid stupid move. Now I gotta worry about you while I try and regroup.

I slow my rise and look up to see you coming at me. My turn to be patient and draw you in. When you get close enough. I tighten my grip and jab my right hand forward towards you while the referee behind you picks back up his count.

Oh that thing my fingers were gripping? No, not her ass or..no you pervs.

It was that skull headed cane of hers. I sure do hope the handle is as solid as it looks. I really am not aiming it too well I just want it to hit you. Slow you down.

So I can make the riniging in my ears stop.

I drop the cane beside Megan, thanks darlin...and watch the hit strike hard. And I just cannot resist in my dazed state.

TIMBER!!!!

I clamber over the railing and stand as you lie there sprawled our on the mars outside the ring. Gawd, even hurt, sweaty and down like that you look beautiful.

Errr..so I need to get you back to the ring as the count is getting up there. So I move to your head and...

Stop.

No, not her head.

I reach out to your left ankle and grab that boot with one hand.

I am sore, possibly concussed and my joints are still yelling profusely. So this is going to be slow. If I get counted out so what. I keep the title. But if I make it to the ring, you wont be doin much walkin.

With a heavy grunt, I start dragging you, turning you to the apron and pulling. All by your left ankle.

I bet you are second guessing signing now.

I haveta admit, dragging Jenny like this makes me feel like I live up to my Angel?s nickname for me. I dont see her here but I feel like she is out there watching. I can just hear her voice softly echoing in my head....

Oh come on now, stop playing with the blonde bimbo and hurt her!

Yeah, sounds like her. I do need to do more to put Jenny away. She has come back from so much worse than this. Tear her down bit by bit. As I get her to the apron, I stare lingeringly at that hard edge.  I could take this boot of hers and jam it into that edge and do some serious damage. I jerk her leg back and...and...and she makes a hurt sound...  One that makes me pause.

Fuck. Grinch heart growing now?

You dressed like Kabuki to pull your emotions out of this fight. You knew if you thought too long about your history with her, it would make you soft.

And here you are, a chance to help salt away this win. Keep the title you fought hard to win. All you have to do is just treat Jenny like any other opponent.

Except...you cant.

She just is not any other opponent.

She...
You...

Fuck you, you softie. Just put her back in the ring.

I drop your leg and then turn, looking to go for the waistband of your shorts and your hair to pull you up and dump you into the ring.

You told Megan once that sometimes it isnt that you win but how you win. Some matches just are like that. Time to live up to your own words.

It's a dark place after hours. I slide in with an old key that was loaned to me and never asked to be returned. Wearing a trusty London Fog jacket. Last time I wore this... no. Best not to remember.

He's there, training on the bag. Working without a mask because...

Well, because me.

I walk up behind him, throwing my arms over his wide shoulders, whispering in his ear. "Training for Jenny?"

He doesn't say anything, but he does stop. His chest breathing. Sweat on his skin.

"You know what happens if you win...? I press my body against him. "You get your... Chance.

I feel him shiver. Good. But that isn't enough motivation.

"You know what happens if you lose?" I bite his ear. "She gets me."

Now that is more than a shiver.

"That's right, Red. And I won't be influenced my any silly emotions." A kiss on his cheek. "I'll *destroy* her."

He doesn't say anything. He doesn't have to.

"So... when you face her... will you be her Red... or my Red?"

For a long moment, he's silent.

So I drop my hands off his shoulders and undo the belt on my London Fog jacket and let him feel what's under it.

Nothing.

I wrap my arms around his waist and hug him, kissing his back.

"Be my Red."

Then, I pick up the jacket and let him watch me walk toward the door, my heels clicking on the floor.

I thought I could do this. I thought I could be the monster, intimidate Jenny and beat her quickly. Remove emotion. Win the fight.

Keep her safe.

I know. What kinda fucked up world do we live in where I haveta beat the holy hell outta someone for their own good. Just ask Rowan.

When she is in her full on heel mode she does things like this. She finds out Jenny is her replacement and she sees me as the lesser of two evils. The More controllable one. The one she can have more fun with. When Rowan was done training, she went to find her own identity. She found she loved being the heel. The sexy enchantress that bespelled men and women alike. And then she met Jenny. One tough woman who went toe to toe with her. And Jenny beat her as much as Rowan beat Jenny. But the biggest thing is that Jenny was the one who fucked up Rowans back.  Jenny got pushed too far.

I met Jenny after. A real pure hearted soul.  During my run in the southwest, she even managed to make me turn. Get cheers. Be the hero. Till Rowan came around. Used me as a pawn, and bait and just..made me so ashamed I couldnt face Jenny. We drifted. FTW came and Jenny was scheduled for a program with me and Sadie. But that fell apart. Tonight is the first time I have been in a ring with her since..since we fell apart.

And Rowan knows...she knows I would rather do physical harm to Jenny than let her work her mind games on Jenny. Rowan loves being on the side and moving the chessboard. She wants me to be the destroyer of Jenny because she knows that will leave me weak.

Well fuck that. My heart got ripped apart in Paris not too long ago. And then to see Jenny again. I thought Rowan had learned something from Paris. But when she came to my gym, smelling of sex and pleasure and promises...Rowan wanted destruction.

And Rowan gets what she wants.

Jenny goes down tonight, but my way. My rules.

And then Rowan gets the destruction she is hell bent on seeing. But pointed right at her.

Now, I climb my Happy ass into the ring. Damn shoulder is aching. 

Jenny is on the mat, pulling herself together. And you know what, I will give her that time. I would love a do over, but we are past that now. So I take a calming horse stance near her, deep breaths, and wait. When she looks up, I show her my hand, palm up, fingers waving her to me.

Come on Jenny. Lets give these folks a real wrestling show.

I arrive in the arena a bit late as I waste time with the taxi driver as he wanted to make me buy some cheap poor merchandise of Sadie Davis.

I get between the crowd and stand next to one of the pillars as Red tries that high flying move.
oh my, really?
Someone must have hit him in the head too hard lately, probably Megan or Rowan.

I watch from far away as he gets pulled away from under Punky by Tiffany and I finally step forward toward the first rows, noticing that the seat next to Tiffany is empty.
She looks weird tonight, that leather jacket is not Tiffanys so I'm curious now.

Tonight I look very Tiffany with a tight dress, in black. The outfit follows the curves of my body and it ends just under my ass.
Shiny pantyhose thighs over my strong meaty thighs and calves, pump stilettos at my feet, black sunglasses and hair tied up in a high pony tail.
I take a seat just in time when Tiffany is back on her place and Red and Jenny are back in the ring.

"So long we didn't meet honey..isn't it?" I giggle at her and uncrossing and crossing my legs, just like she would have done herself.
I smile at her and pat the seat next to me while with the corner of my eyes I check what's happening in the ring

Just before Megan can scalp Red with her bare hand, I reach out and grab it firmly, wrapping my fingers around hers. I pull her out from the wreckage that is the fallen Enforcer, dragging her out as gingerly as possible as to not upset that braced and bandaged knee. When she's finally out from under Red, seated on the concrete with a bit of a glazed look in her pretty eyes, she glances up at me and the cutest lil' grin surfaces on her lips. I glance down briefly at the leather jacket that I'm wearing, tilting my gaze back up to her glossed eyes and mirror her grin with one of my own.

"Thanks, sugah." I purr at her, my voice taking a more sensuous tone, contrasting wildly to the chaos that's blazing all around us.  I reach out with my left hand and gently stroke her soft, smooth cheek. "I thought so myself.. It reminds me of you.." My eyes narrow in on hers and my grin deepens. Gawd, she's so gorgeous. And reeks of alcohol. 

"Gawd damn, exactly how much have ya had to drink tonight, kiddo? Umm, nevermind don't answer that," I laugh softly, wrapping an arm around her slim waist, ducking my head beneath her arm so it rests around my neck and shoulders, letting her luscious, lithe body lean against mine as we both stand to our feet. "I guess that explains why ya didn't Ninja Flip outta Red's way.."

I give Megan a teasing look, which I'm sure I'll pay for with a nudge of her elbow or a snap tiger suplex outta nowhere. Once we're back on our feet, I look around for that cane that she brought with her - and as if on cue, it drops by Megan's feet, after Red SMASHES it right up under Jenny's chin. The Valkyrie goes staggering back in a heap and Red stalks after her. I turn my eyes away from that action as it returns to the ring, just for the moment to reach down for the dropped cane, holding it in my right hand with my other arm still wrapped around the purple vixen's waist. I arch a brow at it, smirking at Megan, "this thing sure packs a punch.."

Just then, I notice a vision, in black, sitting in the seat beside my empty chair. It's a woman in a scandalous black dress, shiny hose encasing her alluring, crossed legs, dark black sunglasses sitting atop her head, and a pair of fuck-me stilettos completing her enticing outfit. I smirk at Ms.Layne, waving Megan's cane at her. "Well hi there, darlin'. It sure has been awhile.."

"GODDAMMIT RED!"

I stand up suddenly...and then fall right back down, a look of severe pain on my face. My arm reaching behind me.

I take out a medicine bottle and a flask, washing the pills down with whiskey. Bent over and moaning.

Goddammit Red. This is why I have to do everything myself. Except I can't because I'm not even supposed to be standing except for highly illegal drugs and Jameson's Reserve.

It's going to be agony just to sit up. It's okay. Breathe. Breathe.

Goddammit Red. Goddammit. Why don't you DESTROY HER???

I see Rowan stand up, only to fall back to her seat in pain and take out her pills and flask. I told her we should not be here tonight. SHE should not be here tonight, but who am I to tell her what to do?

So instead I stay quiet and watch the match, seeing that Jenny seems to have some sort of pull over Rowan's Red. Enough that he is not going full out on her. Seeing it is making Rowan upset. I smile...thinking about how upset she will be when Jenny beats her Red. Does she have enough pills and Jameson for that?

I've always been a "Daredevil" Jenny Dare fan.

Ok, that's a lie. Up until I heard about this match being booked, I had never heard of her, but I am a fan of anyone who will get in the ring and take it to that Masked Meathead.

Except he's not in his mask (that is Red, right?) and dressed like some guy Daddy used to watch on Saturday mornings....The Great Gadzooki or something from some wrestling show outta Georgia or somewhere, I dunno.

One thing I do know is that I need to get a seat and fast. Red (that is Red, right?) just did some swan dive outta the ring and landed on.....you gotta be kidding me.....fucking Punky Brewster. These people travel in packs or something? And, was that Misty? What the hell is she doing here? Anyway, I stuff the forged box pass into my denim clutch and pull out a wad of bills. Marching back up to the ticket window, Wilfred Brimley's walrus mustache twitches as he sees me.

"Back again, kid? Let me guess....you know the owner and want to go backstage. Right?"

I glance over my large, dark, sunglasses and plunk down my cash. "Funny, smart ass. Look...here I am, wanting to buy a ticket like you said. Now, how much for a front row seat?"

"Sorry kid, show's sold out." he grins and I can see his yellow teeth even under that shag carpet of a mustache.

I crumple the cash in my slowly closing fist.......I may need it for bail.

She is on her feet and if she trusts me, if she thinks I may be that guy she knew she is gonna lean forward, arms out and...

There she goes.

And here I go.

I have to make this fast. I know Jenny. She has about 5 moves mapped out in her head. You know that Sherlock Holmes movie? The one with Iron Man as a Brit? Jenny tends to see fights like he did in that brawl. She is the best I have seen at planning out strategy. And the more she knows her opponent, the better she is. And she knows me really well. So once we lock up, I have maybe a second to try and let her know what is going on. If she believes me.

We connect. Classic collar and elbow tie up. Gawd I forgot how strong she is. I need, let me speak Jenny...I can already feel her trying to twist around..

I just try to speak as fast as I can

JennyIgottatakeyououtorRowanwilltryandfuckwithuourmindandIwouldratherdiethanlethertrytohurtyou



FUCK!!!

She remember my shoulder and now she has my arm...did she even hear me...

Shit!

So strong...

I hit my knees...in both hope and some serious pain..if she didnt hear me, I haveta go to Plan B.

She didnt hear me. Dammit. Fucking Rowan has me where I haveta do what she wants.

Fine.

Now She has me in a hammerlock and damn that is stressing out my shoulder. Shit this is bad. And then your arm comes around my head.

Thank you! Once you grab my chin, my free hand reaches up for your hair and I shove up from my knees as far as I can. Your chin on the top of my head. Me holding you securely.

And I drop. I?m hoping that earlier cane shot hasnt fully stopped hurting. Jawbreakers are no fun.

And if I can do this, I need to hurry and finish you off.

Damn that hurts my skull. But hopefully not as much as it hurt your jaw. I haveta keep moving. You arent near worn down enough. Not near hurt enough. You will keep coming and coming and coming at me till one of us is done. I cant mess with your head like Rowan. I realize now it was stupid to try. Now I just need to get on my feet and beat you. That?s not a hard task. Fuck me.

So I get to my feet and turn to see you staggered in the ropes. I cant afford to be cautious. I stomp on over as my left shoulder and arm tingle back to life. And as I get close, your legs come up.

Shit.

This has to be hurting your ankle, why in the hell would you headscissor me? I go to bash my fist against said ankle but you flex those strong thighs of yours and drag me to the side and I smash into the second rope.

There?s a flash and some gagging and as I am dazed, I feel those legs of yours wrapping around my waist. What?? You dont move like this. So fluid. So quick. It feels like.  Rowan?... no you wouldnt. Not for a title. Not just to beat me. You said earlier you learned new moves.

No way No way No way

And while I am confused, stunned and gasping for breath I feel you rolling me up.

Was I so worried about protecting you from Rowan when I didnt have to worry at all?

As dazed and confused as I am, you have reflexes you cant ignore. Shoulders on the mat, a slap and the word ONE echoing out.  That snaps me out of my internal thought process. Time to move you old bastard.

Dammit you have my legs. No leverage for a kickout. And your legs are so strong, I cant haul my shoulders up. Your ankles are just...

your ankles

I am such a bad heel. I dont mind playing the part. And against new or unknown people, I can just go apeshit. But people I know, people I care about...

That old saw about this hurting me as much as it hurts you? #Truth

I move my hand up to your left foot, grabbing the toe of your boot. And I turn my torso towards that boot while using my hand to turn your foot outwards.

That should inspire you to ease up enough for my shoulder to rise, and if I can I am gonna hang onto that boot and keep turning.

Yeah Jenny, exploiting your ankle like this does hurt me. But not as badly as you would be hurt if I lost.

Works like a charm. But that scream is like a dagger to my chest. Ignore it. Get the job done.

We both roll. I keep my grip and turn while you cry out and try to punch my hands away.  No that isnt gonna work. I am not letting you go but your punches are making it impossible for me to do any more to you. But your back is right there. I pull my upper leg back and fire off a kick towards your exposed back and then I get slammed right in the face with something large and solid.  I dont know if my kick hit. I dont feel your boot anymore. I lie on my back, arms out. Looking up through half lidded eyes at the ringlights.

No...no going....out

I feel you snag my leg and then OOFFF you flop over on me. Is that your head on my abs? Near my scar? Your back on my torso and face. If you were someone else your yoga short covered bottom would be in my face, but you dont fight like that. And once again in this match I find myself pinned.

The ref  dives and when he slaps ONE, my arms wrap around your waist. I clamp down as hard as I can and squeeze, to hurt you but also hold you in place. And then I bring my free leg up to my chest.
Hard.
Often.
Slamming my thigh into the top of your head over and over and over again.

Can you hold me down past Two? I know you will try.

Or maybe I can stun you like this long enough for me to pin you.

I know that is wishful thinking. But I dont really want to hurt you.

Finally. Gawd I damn near gave you a concussion. And there you are lying down, sprawled out, looking out of it.

Go For The Pin. Hurt Her More

Two choices. I dont think you are out enough to pin. So...I pop up as quick as I can on my knees and move to your nearby head. Grabbing and pulling you up to a seated position.

Hurt Her More

Rowans voice in my head.  Jennys face in my hands.  What choice do I have?

Fight hard but fight clean. Like you told me to do you doof!

I really am going to haveta make it up to Megan.  Your head against my chest. I wrap my right arm around your neck. My bicep against the side. Your chin in the crook of my elbow. And I grab my other bicep with my right hand, clamping hard.

Cinching in my version of the Caudle Lock. The sleeper that made Johnny Caudle a legend in the Carolinas.

Now go to sleep, dear Jenny. I will slay the dragon for you later.

Thats it Jenny. Just relax. Let Red sing you a lullaby.

I keep the hold gripped tightly as I feel your body slumping.  I shift forward a little to make sure this doesnt turn into a choke. I just want you to drift off to sleep. As painlessly as possible.

Fuck you Rowan. Trying to point me at Jenny like a missle. I wonder where the FCF brass got the idea to bring her back.

The ref lifts your arm once and it drops down. That slight jerk makes me realize my anger was making me squeeze too hard. I ease back just a bit. I fight the urge to rock with you. I am not cuddling you. But I am hoping you just...go to sleep...

Just a few more seconds. I cast my eyes out in the crowd. I know Rowan is here and watching. She wouldnt miss this. Come on Jenny, just stay down a little bit longer.

The ref raises her hand a second time and yells out TWO as it drops.

And

FuckFuckFuckFuckFuckFuckFuck

Jenny stirs...kicks..

STOP FIGHTING ME!!!

She pushes...gawd she is on autopilot...she is on her feet...her ankle...shit shit shit shit

She has to be out..I flex my bicep, grind my arms down into her

And she is pushing me...no bulling me back

Nonononononononononono

I dont respond quickly enough.
I dont push back with my legs quickly enough.
I...I....

WHAM!!!!!!

My back jams into the corner hard..my arms release Jenny and her body collapses against mine and her weight is pinning big me against the turnbuckles...

Why Jenny Why!?!?

Why do you haveta be the gawddamn heroine?

Sam Houston. No, not that Sam Houston, hero of Texas and such. No the other one. Mid Atlantic Champion, feuded with Ron Bass and Black Bart.  That sucker popped in my head the second you wrapped your arm around my head.

When I was green. I mean super green, I spent summers in Charlotte working for JCP, doing whatever just so I could hang out near the wrestling and the wrestlers. I lied about my age of course, and they didnt push it.  I was tall enough to be a good sometimes practice dummy. And this one day, Sam wanted to practice a move Dusty suggested he use. The bulldog.

Guess who got to take that move. For fucks sake Sam did we need to practice it 200 times?  Well one thing I decided on my career was that I was never taking that damn move again. I have of course. You cant always reverse it. And now?

Well while I was trapping Jenny in my sleeper I got my bearings and my strength back some. Sure she rammed me into the corner, but not so bad I couldnt feel this move coming. So I run with her.

She leaps bravely into the air.

And when she hits the apex of her ascent...

I push her body forward with both hands as hard as I can to shove her off my head. I may have shoved too hard.

I dont know how she is gonna land.

Fuck

Sorry Jenny.

I hate bulldogs.

I watch as Jenny flies and looks like she's prepping herself to catch the ropes and jump back at me. I move in closer and brace, ready to catch her and slam her to the...yeowch...

Bad bad landing. I think she hit her head...yeah...

Now she's hanging upside down and with a cut that's bleeding into her blonde hair.  She's wide open. All I have to do is...

My hand is shaking. Focus. You have to do this or Rowan sinks her claws into her and there's no telling what damage will be done there.  I hate she put me in this position. End it quickly.

I back up a step and then charge at Jenny. I set a target for her right at her belly and I launch forward, right shoulder ready and prepped to slam right into her. This will probably dislodge her but it should do some serious damage to her.

I crash hard into your stretched out body and there's a SMACK of flesh that normally makes me grin. I just move on to work. To get this done.

You crumple in a heap on the mat and hold yourself. I don't remember seeing you look so badly beaten. No. I can't believe you're this rusty.  Trying to sucker me again. Even hit like this, hurt, you wouldn't be that hurt. I mean you rose up out of that sleeper like the Jenny of old. I can't take what I see as what's real. So I move to strike.

I slide in behind you, leaning over your..my arms doing their best to wrap around your arms and waist. 

I plant my feet, a little more than shoulder width apart. Strongest stance I can get.

My calves flex. 

Then my thighs.

My arms latch hard onto your body, hands clasped together, squeezing your arms into your belly.

My toes curl in my boots as I go for something really tough to do.

I grunt and pull your body to me. All nearly 6' of your frame...

Slowly lifting...

Pulling...

Hauling you up..

Fighting to get you off the mat..

Straining as I shove my weight down on my legs to push down and brace myself while I get you in the air.

A Deadlift German attempt. 

All I have to do now is get you up over my head.

Gawd, your body feels as solid as it has in the past. You've kept yourself in great shape.

Now lemme see if I can distort it.

I hear the impact without seeing it. It was tough getting you over, since you seemed to be dazed and unconscious. And I hear another thump as you roll.

I pop up to my feet and turn. To see you lying face down. Unmoving.

Are you...is this for real?

You haven't fought me like before. I'm worried you may have hit your head way too hard on the post. But I need to finish this. I couldn't knock you out, so maybe...

I move quickly over to where you lay and pass by you.  I grab the top rope and hop to the second turnbuckle. I jump up and off the second rope and extend my legs...boots down...aiming for the small of your back.

I hate this. But I need to soften you up.

Before finishing you.

But still, part of me...

And the thought fades as I rush towards your body.

I look down at you and you look beaten. I smashed into your back and you didn't cry out or scream or anything.

If I try and pin you, you might reflexively kick out.

No.

I have to be sure.

I reach down and grab your arms and pull you up to a seated position.

No...

Not good enough.

I wrap my arms around your waist and haul you up to your feet. You're still dead weight. Blood coloring your hair. I...focus!

I get my arms set around your waist, hands clasped at your lower back, right where I just stomped.

My feet set again...

Legs ready and flexing.

Lifting you up in the air..

And pulling your fit body hard into mine. 

Biceps digging into your ribs as I lock on a harsh bearhug.

Now Jenny, just stay out...so the ref can call this match....

I feel your body against mine as I squeeze. So trim and in such good shape. And here I am trying to break you.

The ref lifts your arm....

ONE

I hang on, just a little more and you're done...

The ref lifts your arm again...

TWO

That's it.....just a little bit...

The ref lifts once more...

And your arm...


Stops

Fuck no...no...no...no....

I'm screaming inside as I process this.

I knew it...Jenny fucking Dare never gives up until you put her down for good..

And I go about doing just that...

And I squeeze..wrenching as hard as I can on my arms..

and you scream...

YES...YES

Too late I see you grab your wrist...

Too late I see the elbow pointed at me...

It drives down hard...

KERR-ACCCCKKKK

Blood, my blood flies out from the impact...

My arms release...

I stagger back into the corner...

Vision hazy...

but with a slight grin...

There she is...That's Jenny

and I slump back..arms over the top rope...held up by them...

"NO! SHE WAS DONE! SHE WAS FINISHED! GODDAMMIT RED! GODDAMMIT! CAN'T YOU DO ANY..."

I wince as the pain in my back cuts my voice off.

I sit as erect as I can, hoping that stifling, crippling stiffness fades. Looking down at Red and Dare.

Goddammit, Red. Finish her.

The bad thing about broken noses isnt the blood, but the fact your breathing is hampered. No oxygen to the brain, no thinking.

So here I am trying to hang on and hold myself up. I arch back because you get more air in your lungs when you lean back instead of hunching over. That is why you see runners trying to stand straight up after a race.  If I can have a second or to to get some air and get my wits.

Then the first sledgehammer hits my jaw. And another. And another.

Too fast.

I am just being peppered over and over. I forgot how much strength Jenny has. Hits like a corked bat. Hurry up and count ref. That is the one thing about Jenny. She follows the rules.

And sure enough, at 4, she backs off.

Ok now I can...fuck me, she is climbing the ropes...

Wham..Wham...WHAMMMM

And then a hip shake.

Wish I didnt Hurt so bad so I could enjoy that.

And then the elbow and a flash before my eyes.

Sometime later she grabs my hair and it doesnt take much for me to take a step, another, and then fall flat on my face.

When I hit the mat, my body spasms..

This is getting outta hand.

I cough as blood from my nose starts making its way to my mouth. Shit that tangy taste is still awful. Jenny

Where is Jenny?

So fucking...

Hurts

Unfffff

I get my right palm on the mat..

Shit

Moving too slow

Come on old man

Move

Left palm on the mat...

And I slowly

Slowly push up...

My knees pull in and

I am on all fours..

Blood drips down from my nose to the mat joint the puddle I made there.

I pick my head up and look left...
And right...


Where is Jenny?

I feel your hands just briefly before you yannnk on my neck and slam my head to the mat...


Fuuuuuck

Slow you down

Gotta slow you down..

Arms at my sides...

My hands at my waist and as the slowly move up..

Passing my chest...
I check my nose with my right hand..still bleeding

My left palm on the mat again..

I am trying to speak...

My jaw is sore still..

All I can manage is weak sounds..

I push back up to all fours...head hanging low

?J..Jenny?. I whisper through clenched teeth...

I look up...gawd that hurts my neck..

On my knees again...sitting back on my heels...

Dazed...hurt...head swimming...

?J....j....enny ?

And my mouth shuts...jaw working.

Unable to say another word.

It is very hard for me to see. Breathing is an issue.  I keep my mouth shut to stop my own blood from leaking in. 

I cannot lose.

If I do, Rowan gets her hooks in you....

I move my right hand up, wanting to clean off some blood from my face. 

There?s a blur.

I feel two hard boots slam into my forearm and then my chest.

I get driven back...hard into the corner..

Almost hard enough to make me scream..

But I bite it off. 

My arm is throbbing.

I ache all over.

But I have to keep going.

Have


To

I'm draped on Tiffy's strong shoulder, hop-a-longing on my left leg with my leg held wavering just above the concrete to avoid putting pressure on the wrapped and taped knee that some mad cxnt did her level best to pull off. I'm enjoying the Platinum Queen's perfume, and the press of her strong curvy form with my arm slung around her shoulders, and my hand dragging over the glossy oiled leather of her sweet-ass jacket with the bad-ass skull on the back.

Unfortunately, my beery whispered flirts and teases in her ear get interrupted by Emily Layne in a sexy dress, so I take my cane from Tiffy to help me get to the railing again, watching the brawl. As much as I love eyeballing Emi's legs when she's doing her Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct thing, and as tempting as it is to drag Tiff off to the backstage area to tie her up and take that cool jacket ... I can't stop watching this fucking BRAWL.

Because that's what these two are doing. Red's in his best fucking Kabuki drag with his facepaint running like Sting's during Bash at the Beach, Jenny's all dressed to impress - but these two are just going AT each other, over and over and over again. Neither of them seems to be able to stop, just crashing in again and again. I mean, yeah, I've got no grounds to talk about that given that Paris wasn't that long ago, but I had a good REASON to fight until I couldn't stand, to fight as close to the fucking death as possible. Because I hated my opponent more than death. More than fire, cancer, cobras or telemarketers. Red and Jenny DON'T hate each other.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TWO DOING?!" I shout drunkenly, smashing my cane against the railing as Jenny doesn't just hit Red, she fucking POURS IT ON. Maybe I'm angry because I'm drunk. Maybe I'm angry because I had to find out how little love meant to some people back in Paris. Maybe I'm angry because I like both these people and I want them to fight and to brawl and bleed but not to fucking KILL each other - I want them to get pounded but not HURT. Maybe I'm angry because I can feel Sadie Davis glaring at me and I PSYCHICALLY just know she's gonna try to weasel another "royalty check" out of me from FTW so she can put in a down payment on a Snickers bar.

They keep
fucking
GOING.

And now Jenny is just POUNDING Red in the corner and I heard the voice of that softheaded little cxnt screeching about Dare kicking out earlier, and I don't wanna be on her side more than I don't want anything in the fucking world. And I like Jenny Dare. Even with all we went through in Texas, I like her. She's fearless and sweet and actually a pretty good kisser.

But Red's my dude. My main dude.

"REDDY! STOP FUCKING AROUND AND JUST FUCKING HIT HER SO SHE CAN FUCKING FEEL IT!" I roar, beer on my breath like a fucking drunk Godzilla as I hang on the railing, my Dare headband snatched off in fury as I smash my cane on the metal, again and again and again to try to rouse that big stupid lug. "GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF THE FUCKING CLOUDS, GET OFF GOD-DAMN ROCINANTE AND HIT THAT BIG TALL DRINK OF BITCH!"

I love Jenny, don't get me wrong.

But Red's like my main dude.

It is a struggle just to stay against this corner and I end up slumped down on my ass. Even like this I am having a hard time sitting up.

Have you ever been in a car accident?
Ever been hit by the airbag?
Tossed about and jerked hard by the seatbelt?

Now imagine that impact, and imagine you hit a tank.

That is what it is like to be hit by Jenny Dare. Make no mistake here. I hit damn hard myself. I nearly had her sleepered out. And now? After a trademark Daredevil flurry, I am on my ass, beat down like a government mule, whipped like a red headed stepchild. She stomped a mud hole in me and walked it dry.

That is what you sign up for when you step in the ring with Jenny. You go strong, go smart or go to the hospital.

So I made a mistake or two. Right now, yes I am reevaluating my life choices.

There she is, the blonde Amazon. A fearsome Valkyrie. And I hope I have her right where I want her.

She grips the top rope and kicks up and back. Her knees raised, ready to strike my head. Swinging like a pendulum. Like the Poe story, ready to slice my last defense.

There is no fancy counter to this. In fact I just do what my body has been screaming for me to do for some time now.

I relax and slide down to the mat.

One way to survive a huge impact is to go limp. The harder you fight, the more damage you do.

I relax.

And my hands go up to that left boot. Desperately trying to grab it and hang on.

Hang on so I can wrench it, stop this adrenaline fueled come back. And survive.

Sorry Jenny. If you thought I would just take another couple of moves and lay down for you. You were wrong.

Tooth and nail. And with my last breath.

You and me. Lets give these folks the final battle they have been waiting for.

I really am gettin too old for this shit.

How do you know when that battle with time is being lost? When you start waking up in the morning and instead of listening to the weather report on the radio or television, your joints give you a pretty accurate gauge of the humidity and barometric pressure for the day as well as a rough guess on the temperature.

My surgery a few years back and the complications and such probably accelerated the process but here I am. Lying in the corner of the ring, hurting like a sunuvabitch and squeezing the ankle of a tough competitor.

She deserves better than what I have done to her in this match. Unfortunately that fucking snake got her fangs in me and here we are.  I have been completely off my game from the start, trying mind games, trying flippy moves, trying to be everything not me. Maybe subconsciously trying to warn Jenny?

Maybe or just too much of a coward to do what I need to do to get this done.

So, old school me. I am so sorry Jenny.

And that is the last time I let that thought enter my head.

We all wear masks. My favorite poem (yes redneck wrasslers can in fact have favorite poems) is by Paul Laurence Dunbar. We Wear The Mask. His frame of reference was being a black man at the turn of the 19th to the 20th Century, but the sentiment applies in other contexts as well. We all have our masks. We wear them in our daily lives to get through work. With the advent of the internet we are able to either drop our masks and show how we really are or adopt different ones to allow us to play in fantasy realms where we can be who we want to be.

Astute viewers will see that I am not wearing my mask for this fight. That was due to Rowan as well. I dont know what went on in her head during Paris, but she is much colder. I was unprepared. And now she has my mask. And I know she would use that against Jenny. 

But now, it is time for me to get off my ass and put that metaphorical mask back on. Become the Enforcer again. Finish this fight and move on to the next one.

So despite the creaky joints and rebelling muscles, I move.

I slide out of the ring, pulling Jenny and her ankle with me. I dont pull her far. Just enough for me to lift her leg under the bottom rope and jam her ankle down against that hard edge of the apron.

The mask is back on. The Enforcer is back. Time to dismantle the Daredevil.

I thought she was playing possum. But dammit I couldnt  stop her.

She did this to me before. Came back from the precipice of defeat. Ended up beating me. Those tough pro fights eventually led to respect and maybe on some level friendship. But the more I stayed around her, the more I realized I wasnt worthy of being near her. Not every booker liked the idea of a face Enforcer, much less one tagging with Jenny. (This was before Candice and Joey made a splash with an intergender tag team) So I drifted away, went back to my gym and found some new challenges. And an angel. FTW came about and she popped back into my life. Part of the reality style booking was to be Jenny confronting me about ditching her. We never played that out. And here we are.

She is still in fine form and so when I pull her leg up, her other foot comes crashing into my jaw.

Fuck that hurts. And I drop down to the mat.

Good idea Jenny, but I have your ankle.

No way I am letting go of you this time.

As I fall, I yank your leg and mostly that ankle with me.

Gawd these mats arent near soft enough.

I push myself up from the mats. I'm a little dazed and discombobulated. I can hearly clear the ref say FIVE. I mean clearly hear. Wow, that was a kick. But why isn't Jenny coming after me?

I pull myself up to the apron and see her there, not wanting to put weight on her ankle. I either banged it up on the way down hard, or this is another possum game. Safest thing to assume is she's playing possum. 

At around seven I make up up onto the apron and motion at the ref to keep you back when you're nowhere near me. But like a drone, he goes to talk to you and I slide back into the ring.

Ok Jenny, lets see just how bad you are banged up. I circle you and get my arms up.

Collar and Elbow. Old School.

How strong is that ankle?

Jeeze Virginia dont be pickin on the huge shirt.... hairy backed guys

I need to get this done fast. The more this drags out, the better it goes for Rowan no matter which one of us loses.

I see you still hopping. Weird stance, but you seem to be going for that tie up. Good old reliable Jenny.

So when I lean in with my right arm leading...

You promptly leap up which catches me off guard because you don't do that sort of thing and you grab my right arm and shoulder.

FUCK

It's the shoulder you popped out of joint during our Texas Death Match. You fucking remember. But worse than that, you're doing a move that Rowan would do.

She had to have gotten to you. She talked you into coming back and pointed you at me.  She saw you in Paris after so long and knew she needed me hurt or you hurt so she could take this title. And she trained you? Why? Why are you doing her moves? What did she say to you to get you to fight me.

The shock of it all has me falling forward. Which sucks. See kids, with a move like ADR's cross arm breaker, what you do is grab the trapped wrist and keep your opponent from extending it. Then, if you're strong enough, you yank that sucker up off the mat and powerbomb them to hell.

Now if you end up face first on the mat like I am, forget all that.

But your legs are scissoring my arm and you know how hard to pull. You've pulled that hard before..before we really knew each other...You popped my shoulder out.

One good thing about this is I have a little extra time to think about a counter. And as fast as I can, my free hand snakes up towards your boots. Pick a foot Red. 

I grab the toe of your boot....and my eyes are wet because of the pain I'm feeling right now as you're straining my arm...not because of what I'm going to do next..

Not because I'm going to twist that boot...

And not because I think Rowan has her claws in you...

Fuck.

Your ankle is out of reach.
I can feel your strong legs tightening on my, clamping my arm and securing a hold more.

And you tug. Muscles and tendons strain. Bones slide. Shit you are still strong as ever.

As I shake my head no, I hear you ask me to not make you do it.

I feel your hands tighter on my wrist, turning my arm.

I pull my knees up under me and I hear you say louder, almost pleading. But I shake my head no.

You scream at me. I reach out at the referee. Hand on his face, dragging fingers at his eyes as I shake my head no.

Damn. The ref is rolling away in pain as I feel you gripping my tighter and snarling now.

I say nothing and turn my head to look at you, wordlessly staring. Eyes meeting. I wish I could tell you what Rowan threatened me with, but you wont believe me.

I struggle up, trying to lift you as well. Shaking my head no the whole time.

And here is the moment. That one time in every match where the end is decided.  I have been fighting a different kind of fight for me and still here we are. I am sore, hurting and in trouble.

And there you are, the Yellow Rose of Texas in all her glory, fighting through the pain to deliver her finisher and end the bad guy once and for all. Good triumphs at last.

End scene.

Except...

I have not been talking. I have kept my mouth shut for some time.

When I sensed the end coming, I had a little accident with the referee leaving him a little distracted.

And I have bet everything I have on you. On the fact that no matter what happened. If you learned from Rowan or not. That you would be you.

That you would sense me at the end of my rope and offer me a Go Home Lariat.

And when you drop down and I feel you moving at me, I watch you, and my eyes smile.

You always look so lovely  when you are delivering this move.  It is as part of you as your honest nature. You are in your element and it is a beautiful sight.

But to keep you safe from Rowan, to keep you that Jenny still...

I have to do this.

And with a deep explosion from my diaphragm, I spit.

My last homage to my master, the Great Kabuki.

Asian mist.

A bright red spray shoots from my mouth towards that face...your face...

And here we see who hits what. You with your lariat or me with my mist.

It all gets decided here.

I see you on the canvas and my shoulder breathes a sigh of relief.

It looks almost comical as the ref is still trying to get his sight back and you're rolling on the mat, wordlessly screaming.

I know what kinda pain you're in. It took me a while before I could get used to this..whatever the hell it is..in my mouth. My teacher's recipe.  I tried the green stuff but that paralyzed my tongue. The red, just fits. You're down and helpless and easy prey.  I can just hear Rowan telling me

Now is your chance, Red. Finish her, once and for all.

And I could...it'd be sooooo easy.

And I see you and the pain you're in now, which will go away with water, and....

I grab the ref and toss him over near your shoulders. Then I drop down across your torso. Classic pinning position. I reach out for your left leg...and stop...grabbing your right instead and wrapping my right arm under your thigh and pulling up.  Hooking the leg. Which people tend to overstate, but it is important.

I also pull hard enough to have my body lean so my weight presses on your shoulders as well. This is the most important, it keeps people from just rolling their shoulder out of a pin.

The ref rubs his eyes and sees shoulders down and slaps the mat hard..


"ONE"

Not much longer now.

"TWO"

And one more slap and this is all over. The bell will ring, Jenny will be safe and I get to beat the hell out of Row--

DING DING DING

Hunh? Did I miss the slap? I look up at the ref who yells at me after seeing Jenny covered in mist.

"DQ! DQ!"

FUCK! Wait..a DQ...I keep the title. I lose, but I'm still champ.  I still have to face Rowan.  I'll take it.

I let go of your leg and shift over on your chest and immediately start to wipe the red gunk off your eyes.

"Shhhh..be still...keep your eyes closed...calm down...match is over...lemme help"

I try my best to get the red stuff off your eyes first...then as the ref brings in a bottle of water, I start gently pouring it on your face...

"Here, you'll need to drink something too."

People are kinda stunned. Booing the DQ call, booing me, booing everything about this...

2 days later

I am back in the office of the bigwigs of the FCF Wrestling federation.  You would never expect an internet media site to run a wrestling promotion, but stranger things have happened. I really do not wanna be here so I show up dressed accordingly.  My old and faded high school ball cap (Class of 91), the t-shirt promoting my gym (that idea came from Sadie, I just want to run a gym and school but she always is on me about Marketing plans and such, so much so I wonder if Megan and her trademark all the things ways has rubbed off on my angel) and jeans that used to be blue, probably last millennium, but are my favorite hanging out pair to wear especially when I have the belt my dad used to wear, double thick leather with a America designed belt buckle as big as most folks fist holding it together and my worn, black canvas Chuck Taylors (size 13).

But no mask this time. Rowan still has it. She got it from me in a moment of weakness for me. I know what you may be thinking. I could just wear another. No, this one was taken off by me for a reason. And some traditions have to be upheld. Till then, I have the reflective aviator shades that were my dads on. Near enough of hiding to suit me.

There is some conversation going on and I really dont hear much of it. My mind is still back in Louisiana, in that ring.

She kissed me

Yeah and then she slapped the taste out of your mouth.

Explaining that situation to Sadie when I didnt understand it myself?

Yeah, I have no fucking idea what is going on in her head. Jenny I mean.

So we have a preliminary agreement?

Those words snap me back to the present.

What now?

The promoter looks over at me with a wolfish  smile. You know, not the Kevin Costner spirit of the earth type wolves or even the overly CGI Twilight wolves. No the one that was looking to take on Liam Nelson in the snow. That look.

He pushes me a contract over. I look at it. One month give or take, Jenny gets her rematch.

In Texas.

Stipulations to be determined later.

Rowan still will not be medically cleared in time, so Jenny Dare gets another shot at you. This time, could you wear your mask? We need to move some merchandise. As soon as we determine the location in Texas and the host promoter, we will hammer out the stipulations. Just rest assured, next time there will be a winner.

Great. One month to get ready for another ass whipping.

And he wants me to get my mask back.

The hits just keep coming.

(SADIE WINS THE INTERNET TODAY!!!)