[ThePurpleVixen]

The night is finally here and I'm standing in the back, waiting for the call to go to the ring.  For the first time in quite some time I'm going to the ring without my trademark mask.  Thinking about its loss has me stewing. Punky should have left well enough alone and not butted in on our match.  Rowan was finished. I could've taken my sweet time for victory. Instead, I ended up unconscious and unmasked for the fans and the IWC to see. For other people that may not mean much, but for me the mask is part of me much like an arm and a leg. It helps me turn on the switch and get mentally prepared for my fight.  However, it also helps restrain me, reminding me of my early days learning the ropes from my trainer as a generic masked wrestler.  I took the idea of the mask and made it something to be feared and not to be used as comic relief for the kids.  Now I'm without it and about to face two of the most dangerous opponents I've ever taken on. I decided to go a different way. I am standing in the back hearing other wrestlers and company men walk about talking about how big this event is and how our main event is just magic for all the feds involved. Our companies don't usually cross over and have the same fans so the exposure this one match is garnering is a record for an Indie wrestling event.  I ignore all that. The buzz, the excitement, the feeling of satisfaction that new stars are being made on this card just because of the three of us pulling eyes in from across the country.  I even ignored requests from r/SquaredCircle for a Reddit AMA. No, I'm focused on one thing and one thing only, regaining my honor. Showing to everyone I'm worthy of my mask.  Slowly I begin the process of applying my body pain. I'm going to have to show these two young women the monster inside me so I figured I should match on the outside.  When I'm finally done  ( http://www.kora.me/uploads/jpg/toot_c9d008788d.jpg ) , I close my eyes one last time and get myself ready for the ring.

I can taste it. The darkness behind my eyes, the cold fire of anger swelling in my heart. Instead of biting it down like I did in my previous matches, I embrace it. They let me know it's almost time and the beginning strains of new entrance music for me start echoing in the arena. I've eschewed my traditional "Cumbersome" track that had been my signature song since my debut as the Red Enforcer so many years ago.Tonight, I'm not the Enforcer, I'm something completely different. I give in to the anger, the frustration and the darkness and feel it channeling my focus tonight. I have two targets and they are going down tonight.  I let the first thirty seconds of the music - Imagine Dragons' "Monster" - play and step out from behind the curtain as the lyrics begin.  They represent my feelings now and the warning I tried to give Rowan and Punky.  This match will be the birth of a new phase in my career as I let the monster out.

—

I'm in my dressing room, facing the wall, my left leg against the wall, stretched high above my head. Then, I switch legs, stretching out.

I hear the roar of the crowd and I wonder how they'll react to me tonight. I check myself out it in the mirror. Yep. This is the way to go.

There's a knock on the door, letting me know it's time to hit the stage. I swing a heavy hooded cloak over my head and make my way out.

I wait for a moment at the gorilla position and think about the match tonight. Two enemies. Punky and Red. We've all traded our fair share of victories and defeats, but both of them defeated me in my specialty: the sexfight. Tonight, it's time for revenge.

For Punky, our last match was brutal. I won by a breath. Just a breath. It could have gone either way. At the end of it, I couldn't even stand. I collapsed and woke up in a hospital. I won the match, but I didn't beat her. I didn't humiliate her. Not the way she humiliated me. Tonight is the chance. And I have a plan.

And for Red... our hotel suite encounter didn't go as I planned. He caught me off guard. Didn't expect him to do what he did. But I smile. I have a plan for him, too.

My music hits: Joan Jett's "Fetish." I wait to hear the reaction of the crowd. It's overwhelming boos.

All right. Heel, it is.

I step out, my body and head covered in a black cloak with red silk lining. I wait for just a moment, then twirl my body, twisting the cloak away to reveal my outfit.

Black cat suit and dyed red hair. Full on Black Widow.

And I'm wearing Red's mask. I raise my hands and spread my fingers: the symbol for my finisher. The crowd's boos grow even louder, exploding the walls of the place.

I take off Red's mask and let the crimson curls fall down over my shoulders. Then, I unzip the front of the cat suit enough to show some cleavage, and I slide Red's mask down inside with my fingertips, throwing back my head and biting my lip as I do. Then, I zip the cat suit back up and walk down to the ring.

I make my entrance, raising one leg above the top rope, swinging around and into the ring. I look at Red and run my fingertips down the front zipper, smiling and winking at you, reminding you exactly where your mask is.

Now, it's time for Punky...

—

I'm not in the gorilla position, or the dressing rooms, or the booking office.

I'm in the dark.

...

LARRY VAN KEEL: And we are getting ready for our main event, ladies and gentlemen!  With both the Red Enforcer and Rowan Chance already stationed in the ring and being carefully kept apart by league official Lee Emery, we now await the arrival of the unpredictable Punky to get this Three Way Dance of Doom underway!

RICK "PRECIOUS" PERLE: She's a friggin' menace, and we NEVER should have agreed to let her or her cockamamie nutcase friends from Rose City Wrestling up here!

LVK: Now, Rick, this has been an AMAZING event: iPPV presents Three Worlds Collide has given fans across the world a chance to see conflicts between wrestlers who have never met before and given a chance for great teams to get together once more!  We saw the re-united Youth of America -

RP: - all of whom are pushing middle age -

LVK: ... ahem.  A re-united Youth of America taking on Team Langseth, re-sparking in a battle not seen in 13 years!

RP: And with good cause.

LVK: And now we are going to see some bad blood boil over.  Rowan Chance has been engaged in a HEATED feud with the Red Enforcer that spanned two federations, and -

RP: - AND he fucked her senseless.

LVK: RICK!

RP: What?!  He did!  And it's iPPV, I can curse all I want.  No one cares on the internet.

LVK: Yes, well ... there's still proprieties.

RP: ... hell, I found the video of him fucking her senseless on the internet.

LVK: *sound of spitting coffee*

The house lights snap out, and the arena is plunged into darkness.  Both the catsuited Widow and the painted monster Enforcer no doubt prepare for an ambush, but the lights come back on quickly.  The entrance stage is covered in black body bags, zippered shut, heaped all around like there was a flash mob that deposited a guerilla anti-tobacco display.  There is a murmuring in the crowd.  The bodies - or body bags - all just sit there in quiet rest on the stage before the lights snuff again - but this time the darkness is broken with spotlights on the stage, highlighting the gleaming body bags.  Suddenly, there is a grainy hiss of crackling film reel static, and a tinny announcer speaks over the loudspeaker.

# Who is this irresistible creature who has an INSATIABLE love for the DEAD?

One of the body bags suddenly sits up sharply, and rises sinuously to its feet, wrapped in glossy black plastic.

# LIVING DEAD GIRL

The searing, driving shaggy guitars of Rob Zombie's immortal classic sear into life in the arena as green strobes light the aisle.  The body bag unzips from the inside, and I take one slow snaking step out of it, letting the plastic crumple down my back.  My purple hair, lightly shaded with dark blue, hangs down my back and curls over my shoulders.  I wear my white contacts, giving my eyes a gleaming Japanese ghost look like I'm about to kill whoever watched my cursed videotape, and I have black lipstick lightly glazed with blue, giving me a colder look.  My ghost eyes are shadowed and dark.  I have my PUNK IS FUCKIN' DEAD shirt with my drawing of me as a zombie - but everything in the design is in offset gray-scale, the comic book colors gone, and the horror movie writing is Japanese kanji.  I wear my shiny Masato Tanaka elbowpads, black with white skulls on them, and white fingerless leather gloves. A ragged black microskirt over violet Lurex trunks completes the look with my tall white blue-soled knee boots and black kickpads, dressed to compete in Tajiri's HUSTLE promotion.

#Ow
#Rage in the cage
#And piss upon the stage
#There's only one sure way
#To bring the giant down

I move slowly, sinuously, with none of the bounce or reckless vigor that defines my usual Punky entrance.  Each long step is graceful and defined, and my ghost eyes are sly in the flashing strobes.   I walk along the railing, drawing my glossy blue fingernails over the faces and outstretched hands of my adoring nerds, before stepping smoothly to the center of the aisle, dropping low in a graceful move with a drop of the beat, balanced on the balls of my feet with my thighs spread wide, drawing my hands down my legs to caress my hips as I smirk slyly up at the ring, rising up with a slow snakedancing sway of my hips like I'm dancing for tips at the Union Jack in Portland (again).

#Crawl on me
#Sink into me
#Die for me
#Living dead girl
#Crawl on me

I take one long step up onto the apron, hanging my fingers on the bottom rope, balanced on the toes of my boot on the floor before I pull myself up with a smooth, rolling step.  I look over both of you - the painted madman and the Black Widow herself, my frozen dark lips curved in a graveyard smirk as I take three slow swaying steps along the apron and turn away from you both, extending my arms out along the top rope to either side, caressing it like a lover before I lean down, purple hair whipping forward and kick back hard off the apron, doing a smooth back-roll into the ring, landing clutching the rope in both gloved hands as I drop it low again, hips swaying and grinning an insatiable grin before I rise up once more, taking my place in a free corner, darting white eyes across both of you.  I DO have an insatiable lust for the dead ...

... and I see two of you who are about to help sate my lusts.

LVK: ... and we're ready to get underway!

RP: WHERE DID SHE GET ALL THOSE BODYBAGS?

—

I hate going first. I've always hated it ever since I got to the point in my career where seniority and titles made me be the last one introduced. I'd much rather go to the ring and just start the match right away.  Tonight, I'm not the star attraction, these two lovely young ladies are. I can understand that. These two have risen to the top of popularity in their own respective federations. I'm top heel in Coastal Championship Wrestling, but that doesn't mean much here in the Rose Garden, sorry the Moda Center.  I'm old school and prefer the old school names. But tonight that old school mentality won't be enough to get me past these two young lionesses who unquestionably are on top of their game. And this right here is why I hate going first, too much time to think.

Here in front of the odd mix of fans which are overwhelmingly in Punky's corner with a few Rowan supporters I find myself standing in my corner hearing a rain of boos.  Punky's crazed fans are almost as angry as her at me taking out Rowan in our I Quit rematch and denying Punky the chance to garner a measure of revenge. Rowan's fans are mad at me...well the male ones are just jealous.  I had no idea that hotel had cameras in their Presidential Suites but our tape has had more downloads than Windows updates.  I have no idea how Ro's female fans feel about me, but they're booing with just a little less convinction.  These poor fans, they don't realize I'm about to own this town like no redhead has since Bill Walton had healthy ankles.  Again, too much time to think, can we get this.....

Joan Jett's Fetish hits and I grin a bit. I haven't heard this since it first came out and I wonder if this is something new for Punky or...no, it's Ro. Even under that black cloak, I recognize how her body moves.  The grin hardens as I remember the reason I'm here in this match. Yes, there are nights I can still feel her warm, tender flesh yielding itself under me.  Those enticing lips left an echo on my own that resonates at times.  Mostly I can remember her face, the surprise etched on it as she realized I had broken her and her voice, the subtle surrender that rumbled like a bass line as she lost to me.  

I shake my head trying to go past those primal emotions that are rising up around my heart with tendrils of lust threatening to extinguish the cold flame of my anger.  Just when I think I may be softening towards Ro, she twirls and drops her cloak. In a flash, the lust is gone. The flames of my rage are stoked and burning white hot. I see past the sultry nature of her Widow outfit and see her daring to wear my own mask on her face. I know she did not earn the right to wear it because she just got lucky.  But that doesn't change the fact that she's openly taunting me by wearing it.  She removes it and rewards her fans and warns her enemies again by showing that sensuality that she wields like shield and sword.  She has the unmitigated gall to put my mask inside her suit. I chew on my bottom lip angrily, internally thinking if she wanted me to strip her bare tonight, all she had to do was ask.  Her strut to the ring is a blur as I stand in my corner motionless, eyes locked on her but not really seeing her as anything but prey.  Her actual entrance to the ring gets a lot of crowd reaction, but again I'm drinking from my fountain of frustration and tamping down my carnal desires.  Even her tease with her fingers on the zipper serve only to fuel the feelings of disrespect that have me wanting desperately to go ahead and pounce. But there's one more player to contend with.

The lights go dark, and while many in the crowd gasp, I don't flinch. In my 15+ years wrestling, not much surprises me any more.  I'm tensed and ready for a sudden Sabu-like appearance in the ring by Punky, but when the lights go up, the ring is undisturbed. Instead I see body bags all over the entrance stage.  Rob Zombie's music hits and the Punk Rawk Queen rises up from one of the bags in an inhuman way.  I stifle a grin as I can't help but enjoy her theatrics.  I watch as she emerges from her bag like a dark butterfly free from her chrysalis, on full display for her devoted followers who are completely losing themselves over this dramatic entrance.  Even from the ring I can see the milky white emptiness in her eyes.  For all intents looking like a zombie version of her normal self and her supporters are eating it up.  In my head I think I'll just have to show Punky that she's as deluded as poor Francis in the Cabinet of Dr. Caligari if she thinks she's winning this day.  I do have to say that she's just beautiful as an odd mix of zombie Japanese joshi with a good helping of Cassie f'n Hack mixed in.  I just wonder if her fans would see her the same if they could look past her own mask and see the delicate rose hiding underneath the dome of thorns she's encased herself in.  She's even giving them a taste of that by moving less like a tasmanian devil on meth like usual and more like a succubus, drawing power from the affection of her fans who wish they could just touch their geek goddess.  She even entrances them on her way down to the ring, those dangerous hips of hers snapping their heads from side to side as they watch.

Her actual ring entrance is even more impressive in its sensual nature. If Ro is the Black Widow, enticing and drawing men and women alike in her web with the force of her sexuality, then Punky is the Anaconda, writhing about from side to side hypnotically enchanting her followers with each sultry sway.  

My brain refocuses as the ref comes over to do his standard check of me.  I'm in traditional ring gear, blue trunks, black boots and black kneepads.  He does his search, but that's fine, all my weapons I plan on using are all around and under the ring.  Plus I think he just hurriedly checked me so he can be a bit more thorough with my opponents. I don't blame him, in other circumstances, getting my hands on Ro or Punky would have a much different application.  But tonight, they are just obstacles in my path to redemption.  Maybe after I've won this match, I'll have a sit down with Punky to talk with her about the dangers of letting blind rage overtake good sense.  She reminds me a lot of myself when I first started, wanting to stand out and flaunt how different I was from the rest and taking it very personally when I felt disrespected especially by the typical "stars" of the ring.  Of course, she'd have to excuse my hypocrisy because tonight I'm taking Ro's actions very personally and going to explain to her with physical language how disrespected I feel. And once I have her lying, broken on the mat, I'll peel her exoskeleton off and reclaim what's mine in a wrestling ring, as it should be.

It takes everything I have to keep from striking now, but that would be foolish with two enemies to deal with. Instead I stand, tensed and coiled tightly, on my side of the center of the ring, cutting my eyes back and forth to the both of you, the sounds of the crowd disappear, my focus going completely onto you two, fingers clenching into fists and relaxing as I wait for the opening bell.

—

I watch Punky's entrance and I'm reminded of my time in New Japan. I can't help but be impressed. I remember reversing her precious
finisher into a move that knocked her unconscious and allowed me to put her away. But then, I also remember how she put me down... made me cry out and beg her to stop. My body aches with lust and revenge, and I can't control either of them.

Red's body paint makes him look like the monster I know he can be. The monster that I found in that hotel suite. Deep inside, I feel a sliver of fear pierce my heart. No man has done that to me since... since Lord Tantalus first taught me the art. His touch was just that: an artist working my body like a canvas. Each touch seduced me. But Red... he literally pummeled me into submission. Something I won't allow to happen again.

Punky gets into the ring and we're all here. Time to start this dance. The bell rings and I suddenly realize... Red and Punky haven't had a match. They really don't have a feud with each other. I'm the lynchpin here. And with that realization, I see Red and Punky looking at me.

I brace for the impact.

—

I tried. I really did try to keep restrained for the bell. But then the fans sent me over the edge. Streamers. Muthafucking Streamers. I hate the douchey things.  Portland is pretty near the other side of civilization, but it isn't Japan and the fans who think they're such hipsters and real fans that they litter the ring just to emulate folks over the pond.

I'm staring at Rowan and ignoring just how tightly her catsuit clings to her body in all the right ways, holding back, building up the hate to let it explode at the ring of the bell. But then Punky's fanbase decides to show off their snobbery by tossing in those gawd damn streamers. It pushes me over the edge and I charge Rowan while the ref is still busy checking all the nooks and crannies on Punky, maybe a little too closely.  I'm not sure what I'm going to try for here, so blinded by rage I am and the knowledge that my mask is being disrespected by her. As I close in, my arm goes out reflexively, looking to give her a lariat that would make Stan Hansen weep.  Teeth gritting, I let loose a feral howl as I close in on my prey.

—

I'm watching Punky and I'm watching Red, waiting for one of them to make a move. Turns out, it's Red.

He barrels at me like a runaway train, cocking his arm back for a brutal clothesline. I wait for my moment... wait... don't panic... wait for it...

... he gets within inches of hitting and I duck under, grabbing his arm with my left arm, swinging up behind him, grabbing his neck, going for my Widow's Kiss as the first move in this match.

Time to put Red out and deal with the real threat...

—

Probably a split second before I reach Rowan I realize this was a dumb move. I'm slipping a little on the streamers and my mind flashes back to our first fight when she spun around me like a top and went with that Widow's Kiss of hers.  That flashes into my mind right as she ducks and swings up on me. The feel of her catsuit on my skin is pretty hot I admit, but then she latches onto my head and neck and is trying to get me in that damn Kiss of hers. "SHIT" I scream at myself in my head. Such a damn rookie mistake.  This woman has me off kilter already with her mind games and I'm going to have to be better if I expect to just survive this match.

My hands clamp onto her as quickly as I can as I lean back to slow my forward momentum and pull up the brakes as best I can. I can feel one hand on her mid back, pinning some of her hair onto her suit as I grip there. My other hand is on softer flesh of hers, fingers near a curve of her body.  I wonder how surprised she'll be when she feels me groping her ass for dear life, but I'll take what I can get.  I know I can't stop myself completely, but I'm hoping I can hang on enough to not go to the mat, but to carry us both to the ropes.

—

LVK: Red Enforcer charges Rowan Chance, completely ignoring Punky!

RP: And looks like she's ready for him! We're gonna see the Widow's Kiss!

LVK: No! The Enforcer blocks and... OH MY GOD! Rowan Chance has been thrown over the top rope, slamming upside down into the crowd railing!

RP: That's a lucky break for both Red and Punky. That may have taken Rowan straight out of the match!

My momentum was my enemy.

I spun around Red so fast, but he was ready for me. He grabbed my body and swung it, sending me spiraling over the top rope like a top. I slam into the railing, upside down, back first. The pain from multiple back injuries screams all across my body as I fall hard and awkward to the ground.

My body arches and my hand reaches back. The fall was ugly as a bowling shoe. Nearly broke my neck... may have broken my back.

I'm on the floor, writhing in pain, trying to regain my senses. One move may have taken me out of this match. I have to get it together. The pain that usually pushes me on has crippled me.

One. Fucking. Move.

I won't be out of this. I won't. I focus my mind. Let the pain drive me. Let it be my ally. I think of Red and what I need to do to get my revenge. The pain sings to me. I need... I need...

I can see the ring. Crawl, you bitch! Crawl!

My hands grip the mats and I try to push myself up, but my body won't listen. I can lose this match out here. Like a jobber. Can't let that happen... can't...

Slowly, I begin crawling to the ring, the echoes of doctor's warnings ringing in my ears...

—

I do make it to the ropes and with a grunt launch Rowan over them, feeling her catsuited body slide right off of mine and into the air over the top rope.  I watch with great joy as she goes farther than I intended and slams hard into the railing, back nearly snapping in half over it.  I'm not sure exactly how hard I threw her or how badly she's hurt, but when I see you struggling on the ground trying to just pick your body up, I know you're in very bad shape very early. I start yelling at you, taunting and am about to go out after you, when I'm struck out of nowhere.

With muthafucking streamers.  I guess the hipster IWC crowd didn't like my sudden start to the match so they've decided to mummify me with streamers.  I turn my back on Punky and rage at the stupid pieces of crepe paper and start ripping into them like the Hulk tearing up some Glenn Talbott wielded military grade hardware.  I completely forget about where I am and the three way, ignoring Punky as I fight off those streamers.

—

The tension in the air is so thick that you can reach out and snatch a handful of it, hot and steaming.

My ghost eyes cut from the Widow to the Enforcer, from Rowan to Red, from here to there.  The noise of the crowd is enormous, too big to take in - and then everything explodes at once.

And for once, I'm not at the heart of the blast.

Red goes loping into Rowan at high, howling speed, and I raise my eyebrows as a lover's quarrel flares into a thermonuclear flash, so intense that I'm fairly sure my shadow is etched on the mat.  Streamers are raining through the sky - mostly in my colors of purple and black and red, I'm gratified to note - twirling gorgeously as Red prepares to behead the gorgeous Miss Chance, who snares him in that damn Widow's Kiss - or Widow's Bite, depending on when you first started following her work, sort of like how the FU became the AA.  I instinctively tense up in sympathetic anticipation of the sound of Red's skull being driven into the mat like a railroad spike - gods know I know what THAT'S fucking like.

But then the Enforcer shows both speed and a cruel streak that gives me tingles that curl my toes, catching Rowan out of the air and braking her spin, and then fucking HURLING her over the top to CRASH into the railing.  She hits hard enough that *I* fucking sell it, bouncing on my toes and shaking my head like someone driving past a car crash.  Bitch had it coming, of course, but still.

Of course, my beloved geeks don't love that - Rowan might be a bitch who hammered my bloodied skull into a steel stage and then ground her pussy on my face, but she's also dressed like fucking Natasha Romanov.  Red is PELTED with streamers, and for some reason the little paper Japanophile doodads seem to send the painted monster into a towering RAGE.

And that concludes the portion of our match where Punky spectates.

I finally move, fluidly stepping across the canvas, and take a wide-legged bent-kneed stance just behind where Red is ripping into the colored paper ribbons.  My left hand extends in my fingerless white glove, beckoning slowly with my blue-black nails, my right fist tucked behind my back. I wait with a pierced tongue caressing my dark lips just to Red's left - not immediately behind him, where a suspicious man might whip around with a nasty back elbow.  I don't wait for him to turn around, as humorous as that would be - that's a dangerous game.

Instead I chamber my right leg and whip it up in a high, rounding arc, aiming to SNAP the front of my kickpadded boot against the back of Red's red-upholstered skull in a high roundhouse Chick Kick, trying to daze the big Enforcer and go right for the head trauma - if I can keep focused on head shots and concuss the Enforcer that will make the Mindfuck or the VPS a lot more effective if I can hammer them home.

—

Did these fucknuts blow their whole paycheck on damned streamers?  I thought their gal was the one they..oh wait, these are nerds and a hot chick in a catsuit trumps all logic and causes serious bloodflow issues.

I get a lot of the streamers off of me when my spider sense starts tingling. I know I'm missing something, but my rage against Ro and these damn streamers are messing with me.  The crowd suddenly stops their rain of streamers as they are too busy getting riled up and starting to slap the backs of the seats in front of them, as if waiting for something to happen to cause them to erupt.  "Shit I forgot about Punky" goes through my brain nano seconds before the pain from her roundhouse Chick Kick explodes my world into a bright white light.  

I stagger forward and my hands catch the top rope. It's the only thing that keeps me upright, but my head is facing the top turnbuckle which isn't a good position to be in.  I could figure a way to get out of this bad position, but that damn white light won't go away and someone is running the doorbell constantly.  My focus is entirely off and I stand there, trying to clear out the cobwebs.

—

I grin as my kick SNAPS home, the kickpad making that sweet CRACK sound like a fucking gunshot.  Gods, I love that tingle that races down my leg.  Red staggers forward and hits the ropes, barely catching himself, and I know I only have seconds.  Possibly not EVEN seconds.  I've seen how the monster moves.  Moving like lightning, I brace myself out wide and launch a pair of snapping kicks, aiming to CRACK CRACK at the back of Red's left knee and then his right, trying to drop the monstrous Enforcer down to his knees in the corner so I can twirl back on my the toe of my boot, my ragged microskirt fluttering around my hips.

I twist back a few paces and then RACE forward, bringing both knees up and going for a fucking FLYING DOUBLE KNEESMASH aimed for the back of Red's handsome ginger head and those fine broad shoulders, trying to hammer my big monster into the corner and inflict some more cerebral damage while keeping the pace at a flurry suitable for a Japanese ghost such as myself.

As the man said - the dead are hungry AND fast.

—

I'm on wobbly legs in the corner and things are starting to come back when WHAM WHAM my knees are attacked and I drop immediately to them, facing the corner in a kind of twisted supplicant's pose.  The new pain from another part of my body does me a favor tho and it chases out the pain in my head, giving me a little more clarity.

Damn that joshi wannabe bitch is on the attack and I'm not even able to see her coming.  I've got to do something. First thing I need to do is get up back on my....OH GAWD DAMN!!!!!

I feel two stiff cannonballs slam into my shoulders, sending me flying towards the middle turnbuckle where my head hits the not well enough padded buckle and I end up falling back to the mat, bending in an unnatural W sit position with my lower legs bent under me.  I blink my eyes, looking up at the lights and seeing a purple haze and not the fun kind.  I need...gotta...too....vulner....

—

I DRIVE the Ghost Train into the back of Red's broad shoulders and the back of his head, tumbling backwards over my shoulders and coming up smoothly, whipping my purple hair back to reveal a wicked black grin.  The monster is bent over backwards, just like I like my men to be when they're around me - well, bent over backwards or bloodied in a heap, whichever suits the moment better.  Like, if it's Christmas?  Bloodied heap every time.

(The internet lights up as I bust out the Ghost Train for the first time since 2008, and fans argue vehemently over whether or not I've ever actually played Final Fantasy VI. Of course I fucking have.  I've got every single Rage for Gau, even the ultra-rare ones like Over-Mind.)

I quickly drop to my knees above Red's head and then slither to my left hip, lounging above him.  I lace my right hand in that ginger mane and look to lift his head to tuck it against my flat tight belly as I nestle close.  My legs wind about his right arm, trying to pull it out straight.  My left arm slithers under his left, securing the elbow and trying to lock it out tight as well, trying to get the monster into a crucifix with his legs folded under him.  With my right arm, I smooth my fingers through that fiery mane and then slide my arm back, across his throat, curling my fingers and cinching a grip on my own skirt, holding it tight as I arch my back TIGHT, trying to pull Red arm's out wide and LOCK my tricep across his throat in a JIGOKU-JIME, a HELL CHOKE!

It's a devious, brutal judo choke that I'm very proud of - but one that leaves both me and the Enforcer tangled up completely near the corner.

—

I'm barely hanging on here. I escaped one serious mistake only to make a bigger one that may end up costing me more than the match.

I'm lying on the mat, knees not screaming at me yet because my head is still scrambled. I then feel a soft hand in my hair, an almost pleasant feeling that makes me relax a bit. And then I feel myself resting in a nice warm lap. If I weren't in the middle of a match, this would feel very enjoyable.  I can feel some soft flesh bookending my right arm which still feels pretty nice.  Another arm parallels my own and stretches it out. I'm not sure what's going on, but nothing so far is sending alarm bells. Not even the ever growing louder crowd chanting something in Japanese.  

Again, a soft massage through my hair, the type that makes me feel caressed and drops my shields....until I feel that arm lock across my throat and a grip cinch in and HOLY FUCK IT HURTS!!!!

I can't move. No leverage. Arms are immobile, legs trapped under me.  Not enough clarity to think of a way out.  I start gurgling as my vision clears enough to look up and see Punky's got me trapped. I'm completely wide open and vulnerable and there's no way out.  There's also no way to tap so I'm completely screwed. I can barely do more than just force air past my teeth as Punky has me completely at her mercy.  I try to make eye contact with her to see what she's thinking, but the effort...just....getting...hard...to....thi...

—

I pull myself up to the corner apron, each inch an eternity of agony. Sisyphus don't know what real pain is.

As I get my eyeline up above the apron, I see Punky twisting Red into an angry pretzel of pain. But she's also close to the corner. Too damn close.

I ignore the demons clawing at my back and reach through the ropes, one arm on either side of the ring post. I grab Punky's hair and pull her head back. Then, I wrap my long legs around her throat, the inside of my knees clenching around her.

As soon as she reaches back with an arm, I've got that, too. And then, just for effect, I bend ALL THE WAY BACK, letting my own body be the fulcrum that moves the fucking world, pulling Punky with me, the front of her neck tied up in my legs and the back of her head pulled against the turnbuckle.

I only wish I could watch that face turn as purple as her cheap dye job.

—

I purr as I lock on the Jigoku-Jime.  I love the grounded judo chokes - they're so ... sensual.  My long legs vine around Red's strong arm, hips rocking as I grind against his tight bicep, my tall boots crossing.  I secure his arm tight, gloved hand splayed on his shoulder to force his powerful left arm out wide. With his head cradled on my belly, I can arch my back to force his head down against my arm, my tattooed right arm locked like a steel bar across his throat, clutching my own skirt for leverage to lock it down.  There's almost no way out of the Hell Choke - and with his legs folded under him, there's NO sane way out.

"I can see why she wants to keep you," I purr, my white ghost eyes lighting up deviously as purple-blue hair curls across my face, shading my dark smirk.  I CURL my back out tight, locking the choke in deep, seeing those bright evil eyes in that monstrously painted face start to gloss over a little, start to see the darkness behind the stars --

-- and then there's a HAND in my fucking HAIR yanking on me like a god-damn DEMON and I know what hell THIS bitch was conjured from --

"ROWAN, YOU FUCKING B-AGGGGKK!"

I scream, cut off as her legs wind around my throat, reaching back desperately to claw at her with my left hand only for that to be captured as well, flailing at the air.  My right arm is still barred across Red's throat, sinking the choke in and my legs are still wound deliciously around that strong arm, dragging him with me as Rowan bitchhandles me across the mat to the buckle, but my left hand is flailing at the air, those long legs sunk in deep.  I gasp and buck, but a deep choke is a deep choke, and no matter how strong you are, you need AIR.

I can see the shadows shifting behind the bright lights far above, my eyes blinking quickly.

Then a shadow falls across me and a rough Tennessee twang grates out "That's enuff'a THAT happy horseshit!"

LVK: And Rowan has a BRUTAL leg choke locked in on Punky, who in turn REFUSES to release the Jigoku-Jime on the Red Enforcer!  My God, fans, Rowan Chance might have taken this whole match with one well-executed and HIGHLY illegal move!

RP: There ain't no DQs, Van Keel!  Cry me a friggin' river and swim home!

LVK: There are no disqualifications because it's IMPRACTICAL, but this is NOT a hardcore match, NOT a no-holds barred match! Oh, this is unconscionable!  They're both fading out!  They're -

RP: HEY!  GET THAT HOSS OFFA HER!

LVK: Great Caesar's ghost!  Referee Lee Emery has left the ring and is physically untangling both Punky and the Red Enforcer, dropping Rowan Chance to the concrete!  And oh, she is HOT!  She is RIGHT in the big man's face!

RP: Emery was a jerk back when he was wrestling in that stupid Cowpuncher outfit and he's a jerk now!  He had NO RIGHT to touch a competitor!|

LVK: She was violating the rules, Rick!

RP: She's about to violate HIM if he's not careful!  That looney Pac-coaster and that big ginger bastard better count their lucky stars that Emery decided to stick his nose in and steal Rowan's rightful victory!

LVK: RICK!  They prefer to be called "redheads"!

RP: WHEN THEY GET *SOULS* THEY CAN TELL ME WHAT THEY WANT TO BE CALLED!

—

I can't see it, but I can feel Punky's throat crushing under my knees. I can feel her body bucking helplessly. I can feel the life squeezing from her body.

And Goddess, I love it.

I've knocked her out so many times, but this... THIS... is beauty. This is bliss. This is Heaven with Byron and the Lizard King waiting for me at the gate.

I tighten my legs and I see her body twitch again. Her arm is going limp under my grasp. My body tingles -- in some places more than others. Choking her out... she'll either tap or black out. Either way.

Helpless between my legs. Victory over my beloved enemy is so close now. I raise up and throw my body back again, the torque almost breaking her neck, I'm sure. Her limbs are almost motionless now. She'll tap. I know she will. I know --

NOW WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!?!?

The ref gets into it, pulling my legs apart. Scolding me with his dumb redneck accent. Telling me about RULES?!?!

"Fuck you!" I shout at him. "Disqualify me!"

He knows he can't. But he's still... MOTHER FUCKER!

He breaks the fucking hold. Both of them. Something about "In the ropes."

I see Red's body fall limp and helpless. Punky's not too far behind. Clutching her throat, gasping for air. Curled up in a ball.Oh, that's sweet to watch. So sweet to watch...

BUT NOT AS FUCKING SWEET AS CHOKING THE BITCH OUT!

I climb back in the ring and get in the ref's face. He "admonishes" me about the rules. I tell him his limp dick couldn't satisfy a nymphomaniac with a noodle fetish.

He threatens me. Tells me bullshit like "I'm the ref!"

Fuck him. I turn back to my enemy. My beloved enemy. Squirming on the mat, clutching her throat. My red lips curl into a wicked smile. She's finished.

I stand over her, one leg on either side of her head. Then, I drop into a full splits, my taint on her nose. I reach forward and pull one leg up and look at the ref.

"Count, asshole," I tell him.

He drops down and spends an extra three seconds looking at Punky's shoulders.

"ONE!" he counts. She doesn't move.

I smile and raise one hand high above my head while the crowd's disapproval echoes off the walls.

The ref's hand raises up for the two count...

—

Fucking FUCKERY, this bitch has legs like a steel cable.

Caught off-guard and hauled back into place, I was already half-choked before I realized what was happening.  And in my twisting struggles all I do is sink my choke in deeper on Red.  If I were to unwind my legs from their hot crushing squeeze on his bicep or free my right arm from the bar choke, I could probably fight free ...

... but these rational thoughts so rarely occur when you're being strangled.  Oxygen deprivation sometimes leads to what doctors call paradoxical behavior - drowning victims thrash down INTO the water, going deeper; people smothered in an avalanche shed their coats and jackets in the killing snow; people being strangled by opportunistic bitches take the time to choke painted men a little harder instead of unhooking the bitch's skinny legs.

Rowan refuses to relinquish the hold, and I can feel my struggles slowing, my eyes getting heavy, my pierced nipples making agonizingly stiff points under the clinging black sports bra under my zombie shirt.  I shudder, pierced tongue caressing black lips as I feel myself starting to fade ... this fucking cxnt is actually going to put me out ...

And then a rush of air.  Rough hands that remind me of the good old boys in Eugene who came in from the farmland out east to drink at the club unhook my hand from my skirt and pull my arm off Red's throat, unlocking my ankles and pushing my legs back, freeing my throat and my left arm from the crushing grip.  The lights overhead seem dazzling as I tumble to the mat to my back, rubbing blissfully at my throat.  Red seems to be sprawled somewhere nearby, possibly even worse for the wear than I am since he was in a choke for longer - and obviously, since I'm a REAL judoka and Rowan just knows how to put people between her legs.

I don't get too long to enjoy the pretty lights, hearing harsh strident words clashing against furious deep twangy ones, a sound like a police whistle arguing with a steel guitar, and then a shadow falls across me.

"MMMffff ..." I grunt as Rowan drops into a fucking split on my face, my legs kicking up and then flopping limp to the mat.  My nose tucks firmly into her cheeks through the skimpy catsuit, my soft black lips mashed against the heat of her cxnt.  Fuck.  I can not only breathe only her ... I can TASTE her.  Only her.  That haunting mocking sweetness that clung to my lips for a whole night after she pinned me in Philadelphia.  That dominating, humiliating brain-rape of a pin she has.

The hot wicked silky weight of her body making you feel like being pinned is all you deserve.

I twist under her softly as my leg is hooked in the air, my clinging shining purple tights on display as my skirt falls back, the glossy Lurex thankfully hiding my arousal. I barely even move as the ref's slow steady one count shakes the mat.

As his hand goes up for two, I do move, slowly dragging my pierced tongue over the catsuit covering Rowan's warm, sweet sex.  It's not leather, no.  She can feel it when I do this - and I can taste her.

He counts two -

- and I show Rowan what happens when you desecrate the sacred dead.

We BITE.

—

I watch the ref's hand go down for "ONE!" and my smile broadens. Red is out of it. And Punky is under me, down for the count. My right arm
has her leg hooked, so I raise my right one, spreading my fingers. The crowd hates me. HATES ME. And I love it. I arch back, putting more pressure on Punky's face, pulling her leg even further.

The ref counts, "TWO!"

One second away from ending this bitch. She's haunted me. I wake thinking of her. I fuck thinking of her. The last moment of our last match is still imprinted on my skin. It's everything I can do not to say her name when I cum, even when I'm with someone else. But this will end it. Once and for fucking all, this will burn her from my mind and body.

The ref raises his hand for the third count and that's when the pain hits.

Like daggers thrust between my legs and I scream. I let go of Punky's leg, reaching down with both hands between my legs to stop the pain.
The ref's hand stops and he shows the time keeper "TWO!"

And the bitch won't let go. Like a rabid fucking dog. I can't get up, I can't get my hands down there. She bites again and I scream again.
The crowd has finally figured out what's going on and they start cheering. I hear laughs peppered through the crowd. And that drives me into a rage.

I grab Punky's leg and pull it up, pulling her cxnt higher. Then, I rear back with a fist and throw it hard between her legs. I feel her
jolt, but her grip won't break. I can hear her laughing between her teeth as I scream. I raise another fist and throw it down as hard as I can. I feel her body twist and for a moment, her teeth let go. I try to move, but not quick enough.

I raise another fist, trembling in the air above me, my whole body shivering with the pain that Punky's giving me. Not the pain Red gave me, but the kind of pain only Punky knows how to deliver. He's a monster. This bitch... she's a fiend.

My hand shivers above my head as I drive it down again, hard against her cxnt, hoping this will break the pain... but part of me doesn't want it to break. Part of me wants it to last forever...

FUCK THAT! I summon the hate that I have for this woman, focus it into a tiny spot on my fist and drive it down, hearing some of the fans chant "Haaaroooken!" as I do.

—

My teeth sink into her like I'm biting into the fruits of sin for the first time, hot and dripping sweet from the Tree of Forbidden Knowledge.  And just like biting into a ripe peach, I can feel the skin give, and I can feel a rush of nectar on my tongue.  I sit up a little, rolling my shoulders forward off the mat, hands cradling Rowan's thighs as I bite into her and feel her scream run through me like the music of the spheres.

I shift my head just so and bite in AGAIN, the tips of my canines plunging deep, working my jaw to chew into her ripe delicious cxnt as she screams out again, pealing over the cheering crowd like Christmas bells in hell. I can hear their laughter, and I grin around my mouthful of catsuited sex.

And then, of course, she punches me in the pussy.

"Mnnnmmh!" I growl, my teeth still locked, shaking my head as exquisite pain courses through me.

"MMMNNHHAUHHHH ..." I moan again as she slams her knuckles into my barely-covered folds once more, mashing my glimmering Lurex into my battered cxnt.  My teeth unhook as I moan against her, and she almost wriggles free, but I snap my head up and BITE down again, feeling her shudder.

The referee frantically paces, trying to figure out what to do about THIS tangle of alley cat rage.

Her fist slams me again, and this time there's a lot of heat in my bucking hips, my arousal misting like sweat off my thighs, hot and sweet.

I twist my head, mauling her womanhood, feeling her taste run down my throat like fine wine.

She lifts her hand and if she drives another punch home I'm going to fucking BURST.  I'm gonna be punched into a fucking orgasm by my biggest rival while she half-straddles my face and that'll be the end of my professional career since every bitch I fight will just get DQ'd for the chance to punch me in the pussy 'til I pop like a water balloon and soak my tights, and while that might be the kind of retirement fantasy I've entertained on long slow afternoons working a round head vibe between my thighs like a cruel bitch's teasing fist, that won't do TONIGHT.

I hear the fans building up that kind of dramatic intake of breath they do when someone is winding up a huge chop or setting up a big Euro, and I know her fist must be in the air - so I use her hook on my left leg to my advantage and SNAP my hips up, PLOWING my right knee up and back, DRIVING it at her face and interrupting the punch.  

I gasp for air as I feel the bitch knocked off me into a sprawl. My head is ringing, my cheeks glistening and red, my lips glossy and black and my cxnt throbbing like my half-crushed throat.  Fuck THIS.  I'm gonna take a second.

I slither under the bottom rope and roll to the outside, slithering back to sit at the railing and recover.  Hands lunge over, dozens of them, touching me, patting me, and voices speak reassurance and admiration and ask how my cxnt feels.

"Someone gimme a fuckin' beer," I rasp, and a cold one in a waxed paper cup is put into my white-gloved hand. I toss it back like water, white ghost eyes watching the ring where two destructive lovers are about to become aware they're alone again for a moment.

—

I finally come back to consciousness after that nasty choke of Punky's and find myself still on my back, in the opposite corner of where the action is now taking place. I pull myself up into the corner in time to hear the ref count Two and I sigh thinking I've blown this whole match. My chance at redemption. My shot at taking back what's mine. Gone because I let my anger cloud my focus. I have to control the monster not just point him at a target.

I have a reprieve! For some reason, Rowan has moved off of Punky. Oh gawd. That crazy bitch is biting Rowan. I can't believe...Hold on, is Rowan. Is she actually enjoying it some? I look on her face and yes there's pain and fear, but there's also some part excitement. Gawd, how much pain does this bitch enjoy?  I get myself up to my feet as the crowd and the ref are all enraptured at the sight of one woman locking her jaws around another woman's honeypot.  I bide my time, wanting to see who gets the upperhand here.

Oh shit! She's punching her pussy! These women are insane! And this crowd is just eating it up.  I don't know what I've stepped into, but I can feel a cold fire swirling around my heart. I see the lengths these two are willing to go to to defeat and humiliate each other. I know what I have to do to beat them both.  I take note that while she was getting punched, Punky had that same look of excitement on her face that Rowan did. Good to know.  

I see Punky kick free of Rowan and roll out to the floor and know it's my moment. I hustle over to my enemy, gripping her hair tightly with one hand and hauling her ope. My other hand goes between her legs, noticing the slickness there with a sick smile before getting her to her feet and dragging my forearm against her injured lower lips and gripping her ass. With a grunt, I haul her into the air and turn to the center of the ring. "Payback, 'Widow'. Hope your back holds up" I lift her up over my head in a press and move to hammer her catsuited body down into the canvas.

—

The kick to my head knocks me free of Punky and knocks her free from me. I barely see her rolling out of the ring, but I'm there, clutching between my legs, squirming in pain. I can hear some of the audience laughing. I pull myself up on the ropes, the pain between my legs and in my back just begging me to stop.

"Fuck all of you!" I shout. Their cat calls and boos ring in my ears. "On second thought," I yell, "I wouldn't fuck ANY of you!"

Then, strong, rough hands grab me from behind. At first, I'm confused. Is that the ref?

Then, I hear a growling voice. "Payback, Widow," it says, and I know exactly who it is.

His strength -- his overwhelming strength -- that pummeled me into sexual surrender is on my body again. His hands. His dangerous hands. I feel them grip my skin and my body shudders under his grip. As he lifts me above his head, part of me wants what's coming. I've wanted this since the first time he slammed me against the wall and broke my will.

A man who can break my will. Hard to find. And part of me wants this more than anything.

It's that part of me that makes me too slow to dodge or block the move. I'm lifted, like a doll, high above his head. Then, I'm slammed down so hard, all the wind is blown from my body. That pain in my back resounds like a battle cry. An enemy who has breached my gates and has full run of the fort.

My body arches in pain, my slightly sweaty skin shining in the light. My nipples are erect under my zippered catsuit and the sound I make is an agonizing groan of utter joy. There's a smile on my face and a dark laughter in my throat.

For a moment, that's all I do. Grin and laugh as my body writhes on the mat. Then, I open my eyes and look up at you, Red.

"Oh," I hiss between my teeth. "There you are. I was wondering when you'd show up."

Then, I laugh and say, "Come give the spider a kiss."

—

I look down at your aching body, writhing on the mat and grin. I move my hand to my mouth and slip the wetness against my tongue and get a taste of your sweet nectar.  But instead of the normal pulsing arousal, I'm calm. I have a mission. Regain my honor and humiliate you doing it.  

I can see every curve of your body and see that you're still very stimulated from Punky's assault and my slam.  And you have that wild look in your eyes, that shade that makes you demand more and more punishment so that you can bask in every single bit of pain.  I know I can't beat you right now, but I can work you over.

"Come give the spider a kiss" you say. I shake my head and one hand grabs your suit right at the zipper, getting a handful of it as I pull. My other hand deliciously goes back between your legs, gripping you tightly as my thumb presses against your suit right at the same spot I found in our earlier collision.  My muscles tense and my hands clamp down on both places like vises.  Without paying attention to the boos of the crowd or the concern of the referee or pretty much anything else I growl loudly and lift, pulling your body up and making your suit suck tightly against your body.

With a few quick swings, I toss you hard, looking to drive your body back first into the unforgiving stiffness of the corner turnbuckles.  I want you to enjoy the pain I'm going to deliver on you so that every moment you will feel each blow more and more intimately.

—

I feel my body fly through the air again, this time landing hard in the corner of the ring. The pain in my back arcs up and down, but it only feeds my laughter. This is my drug. This is my adrenaline pushing my body harder than it knows it can go.

And you, Red, are fuel on the fire.

After that intense slam, I suck air between my teeth. Hair falls over my eyes. Blood red curls falling over my chin. I look at you from under those red tresses and I smile. "Is that it?" I ask, my dark grin shining. "Is that all the Monster's got?"

With both arms over the top ropes, I call you closer with my fingers. I'm gasping for breath. "Come on, Red," I taunt you. "Come and show me the Monster who broke me. He's lurking in there. And I want him again. I want him... so I can break him in half."

I lay back in the corner, waiting for the charge... half wanting to feel the pain your body promises and half wanting to give you some of my own.

—

I watch as you slam into the corner and your body spasms like you've been struck by lightning. But you just stand there, like woman possessed glaring at me.  I hear you daring me, taunting me. All my anger and frustration cascades to the top of my mind like water hitting the boiling point, but not yet allowed to change form, the energy just building.

I watch you as a dark haze goes over my eyes, hanging there in the corner, still defiant. Wanting me to unleash everything.  Fingers needling me on. I stand there, grinding my teeth remembering what you've done to me. I throw my head back and howl in response to you, then staring back, seeing you again the Banshee, harbinger of death calling out to me. I don't fear you. All I see before me is prey. Without any more hesitation or any more thought, I charge you as fast as I can, picking up speed as I close the distance.

The crowd quiets as they see me charge, wondering if I'll do a leap or a dropkick or some other move. I do nothing of that. I just ram straight forward. i will snap you in half and reclaim what's mine, no matter the cost to myself. We make eye contact and you see my deep brown eyes turning black as I come closer to you, full fury and intent to just ram my body into yours and splatter you all over the corner.

—

You rush forward. So easy to tease. So easy to taunt. My laughter a siren song you can't resist.

And I wait for it. Wait for the impact. Part of me wants it. Wants to feel the pain you've saved just for me. Just to see if I can survive it. Like Odysseus and those same sirens, I want to know. I want to feel the horns of the Monster.

But at the last moment, my need to punish you for your victory in that hotel suite takes over and as you are about to plow into me, I lift my legs up and put my knees where your face is. I feel the impact of the blow, still more powerful than I anticipated, but your face mashed against my knees is what I wanted.

I feel the bones against my knees, feel your lip splatter. And then, moving like a spider on her web, I curl my right leg around, grab your arm and pull you in. My shin on your neck. My other leg pulling your head down against it. One arm trapped.

"I've got you, little Monster," I whisper, our faces so close together in my gogaplata. My Widow's Web. "I've got you. And nothing is going to save you."

And then... I SQUEEZE.

I squeeze your throat against my shin, bone against your throat. And with our faces so close together, I put delicate little kisses on your broken lip. You hear me start to sing. "Go to sleep..." (kiss) "Go to sleep..." (kiss) "Go to sleep little Monster..."

—

I think nothing of the danger or the obvious trap this is, I just want to punish you. I want to throw all my strength at you and watch you shatter like a a piece of iron on the blacksmith's anvil with me as the hammer.  You've taunted me, teased me and even after manhandling you in your specialty, you still stand and task me.  I hurtle onwards to whatever fate there may be.  I can see it on your face, a momentary desire to feel my strength against your body, much like what I saw in that hotel suite. But just as soon as it's there, it's gone. and up come your knees.

I laugh.

I'm past caring now. What you and Punky don't understand about my monster is that he cares about nothing. Nothing. Not even my own body. A switch has been flipped and no amount of pain will keep me from my mission.  With eyes as wild as Alucard unleashing his true form on an unsuspecting opponent, I continue on and blast into your knees.

I taste it. My own blood. It does not deter me. It invigorates me. I can feel you being confident that you have hurt me and can do whatever you want. But I am curious, so I'll let you have your brief moment.  Such a child, thinking your shadow can match my monster. I feel you wrapping those sinewy strong legs around, pulling me into your so-called web. Your whispering taunts mean nothing to me.I feel you squeezing and hear the confidence in your voice. Feeling you kiss me.

One last time I let your lips press against mine and then my eyes fly open, my teeth go and meet your lip, capturing it and pulling back. My free arm gripping your suit as well as my trapped one as I let you see the madness that's taken me over. With barely a flinch I pull back on you, stepping back and then driving my legs forward, ramming your back into the turnbuckle.

I reset my grip.

I lift you up and turn.  One, two steps and a hard upward lift.   Holding you up.  Then sending you down onto the mat with a violent suddenness.

You did it. You woke me up.

—

[ThePurpleVixen]

Red tears into Rowan like Robinson Crusoe ripping into a roasted seagull, hammering her to the mat with an earth-shattering crash and punishing her back, and then driving her into the corner with a brutal crash that shakes the ring ropes.  I feel a little shimmy up my back hearing Rowan's moan of pain, curling my fingers into the beer cup and crumpling it.  Gods, that girl's suffering sounds like an angel discovering orgasms and turning her back on Heaven.

I sinuously rise to my boots, cricking my neck to ease the lingering tension from that hanging leg choke, violet hair tumbling loose and wild around my shoulders. I narrow my eyes as Red foolishly charges in, wincing slightly on his behalf when he crunches into Rowan's knees and hissing through my teeth as she locks the Widow's Web on.  I know from experience that the bitch can cinch that move on from almost anywhere - but Red seems to be in no mood to be taken.  The big painted Enforcer drives the Widow back into the buckles with a brutal crash, and I lithely leap up onto the apron behind him, both hands in my fingerless white leather gloves clutching the top rope. The big man hoists Rowan up for a brutal powerbomb, and I lithely leap to the top rope, balancing there on my blue soles, clutching the rope in both hands, poised in a moment of perfect balance like Batman ... or even better, like Rob Van Dam.

Red SNAPS Rowan down with a brutal powerbomb, breaking the Web like a vengeful fly, and just as he comes back up I SPRING off the top rope, leaping gracefully through the air - I land on the painted man's shoulders, legs swinging over his broad chest and vining as my hair whips forward with the momentum of the landing.  I lace my legs together around his neck and then HURL myself back, trying to take Red backwards far enough to plant my hands on the canvas so I can SNAP my legs back to try to flip the big man over backwards and hammer the top of his fiery head into the canvas with a reverse - or, as I prefer it, POISON - HURACANRANA!


—

I feel Ro slipping from her grip on me after the last powerbomb and the adrenaline chooses that moment to start to subside. I start to feel just how bad my busted lip is and my head starts to feel a bit cloudy. I fight past it though. There she is, down and hurting, just like last time. All I need to do is take what's rightfully mine. My mask, the mask she disrespected by wearing and then tucking away in her cleavage like some trophy from a lover instead of a prize stolen from me at my moment of triumph.

All I need to do is lean down and grab that zipper, pull it down and reclaim my identity, my pride.

First though, I need to stand and stretch, open up my lungs and get some air as this match already has gotten close to tapping my reserves.

At that moment, I feel a weight on my shoulders. It makes me stagger a bit forward. Dammit! Punky again! I was so fucking close! I need to get this crazy bitch off of me. I can feel her legs twining round my neck, man they're stronger than I thought they'd be and as I stagger back a bit, I feel her whipping her body back as well, pulling me with her as I bend back. My world gets spun upside down and everything is spinning. As I orient myself, I know I'm crashing down hard. I try to shift just enough to keep my head and neck from taking the brunt of the impact, but I still get planted hard into the canvas. 

My earlier injuries all catch up with me and my body tells me there won't be a Hulk up moment this time as I smash into the canvas.  I'm still conscious, but overloaded with pain. All I can do is look up and see Ro's body still prone. My hand stretches out to her, my mask...so close still.

—

... whuhappun...

That's the only thought in my mind. My eyes are open, but all I see are stars. There's a nuclear bomb alarm going off in my head. I feel the canvas beneath me, the back of my hands flat on the mat. I taste blood on my lips. My blood. Memories... start... to return...

I had him. Red was in my Web. And I saw his eyes glazing over. But then, something happened. Something I didn't count on. His glare filled with rage and he grabbed me, lifting me up above his head while I still held him in the Web. I looked down at him, sensing the fear in my own eyes. All that I saw was pure rage. Then, the fall.

Like being flung from a perfectly good airplane, I fell to the mat. I couldn't let go of Red. Maybe I could maintain the --

-- then, the mat hit me. Like a thousand tons of TNT. I tried to protect the back of my head, but it hit the canvas and sprang back up. My back and shoulders felt the SMACK of the canvas and the impact rushed through me, shuddering my body, shaking it to the core. My limbs immediately lost all strength and the back of my hands fell to the canvas.

For a moment, I held on to consciousness with fingertips. I was looking up at Red, glaring down at me. I was on my back, and there he was, on top of me, glaring down like a predator. A dark smile on his face. I was falling back, tasting blood in my mouth, back into the darkness. There was no way to stop him. His teeth... could tear my throat out... I'd never felt any... fadi... ho  ldo n... do n' t le...

—

There is a direct proportional value between the risk in a move, the impact it hits with, and how fucking hot it gets me.  Hitting a clean springboard poison 'rana on Big Red gets me steamier than a dim sum joint.  I topple back smoothly,snapping my long legs over and pulling the artful Enforcer back and over, driving him into the canvas.  I rise up on my knees, throwing out double rock hands - and looking back and forth with white ghost eyes, I grin a darksome grin as I realize I seem to be the only one standing.  Rowan lays in a moaning splay after Red's powerbomb, and Red is struggling to keep the lights on but not really showing a lot of vim and vigor.  I giggle - a soft toxic sweet sound - and step to the left, planting my right foot and LASHING out with a sharp kick with my left boot, heavy blue heel aimed at the back of Red's ginger head to try to pacify him a moment.

I quickly move to take Rowan's wrists, looking to drag the Widow to lay face-down near Red's feet on the mat, and then I pace to stand at Red's head, planning to roll him over to his belly. I take a deep breath and then bend down to wrap my right arm around Red's head, trying to lock my right fist in my left hand and secure the front chancery in good and brutally deep ...

And then I bounce on my heels, flexing my knees deep and KICK up, ragged black skirt fluttering, baring my glossy purple tights as I try to pull a full flip over Red, landing on my toes in a neat bridge, hopefully taking him into the Austin Aries-trademarked LAST CHANCERY!  If I can get over cleanly, I spider on the tips of my toes over to my left and plant my ass on the mat between Red's thighs, and reach out with my legs, trying to wrap around Rowan's head in a front headscissors, trying to crush her lovely red head between my milky thighs as I try for a pure joshi-style DOUBLE SUBMISSION!

I grind my hips up against Rowan's lovely face, crossing my left boot under my right knee and purring as I lock my tattooed arms tight around Red's head and neck, letting my body weight bend his spine back, hanging like a vengeful ghost between my two rivals as I try to punish them both equally.

Equality is IMPORTANT, after all.

—

I keep trying to stay alert. Even to the point of trying to drag my sorry ass over to Rowan and get my mask. That all ends with a flash as I feel a sledgehammer driving into the back of my head followed by a flash of white and then darkness.


......

......

......

I start to stir, well not so much stir as wake up and shudder when I feel an arm around my head. Not a headlock. I know that much. Wha....



AUUUUUGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

There's a sudden explosion of pain. My neck. It feels like it's being wrenched free of my body as easily as a lego toy.  My back is starting to burn as I realize I'm being bent in an awkward C.  This time the victim is me and Punky has me in a very devastating hold. If I weren't so worn out now, I could try something.  As it is, my arms are heavy anchors dragging down my resistance as you keep my bent.  If only...need to move....My back muscles stretch and flex as they try and keep up with the evil bend you've put me in. My shoulders and chest rises up as you torque my upper body using my head as the point of focus.  I struggle as the crowd starts cheering madly, sensing their dreamgirl has things firmly in control.

I can hear my trainer's voice asking me if that's it ans saying how pathetic.  I make my arms move..getting them bent at the elbows and reaching up, trying to grab your arms which are trapping me.  The only thing keeping me awake is the constant pain I find myself in. I don't know...can't think...gotta...get....fr.....

I can't move and I reward your cunning with a deep groan of pain.  But there's no surrender. Not yet.

—

I hear echoes of Godspeed You Black Emperor! in my head. "The Dead Flag Blues." The slow, prodding opening chords. I'm falling into a dark warm water. Like one of those isolation chambers. Floating in nothing, comfortable and numb.

But then, I open my mouth to take a breath... and something stops me. I open my lungs, but I've got no air. Nothing. I kick in the warm water, raising my hands to my throat. Something... something is around my neck. A serpent. Strangling me. The music turns into the final crashing chords of "East Hastings" and I'm panicking. I open my eyes and...

... I'm in the ring. Legs around my neck. I know the touch of skin all too well. My legs kicking, my hands scrambling to escape. The ref asking me if I want to quit. I can't breathe. Bitch won't let me...

... get my mind together. Get your fucking mind together, Rowan!

I slip one hand between Punky's thigh and my throat, giving me a moment of air. I gulp it down like a man walking out of the desert and a glass of water. I know what to do. With that single piece of leverage, I snake my arm through, all the way, putting it up as far as my elbow, then my shoulder. I'm screaming as I do.

"PUNKY!" I shout. "PUNKY!" My voice is rough, like a thousand shots of whiskey poured down it. I manage to turn, just a bit and see you there. Smiling at me. You've got Red in twisted head lock and I have to admit, I smile, too.

"Bitch," I whisper at you. Then, I raise my arm and drive an elbow straight down on your belly, bringing it back up and down again and again. I feel your legs twist as you try to crush my abdomen and for a moment, I gasp again, my eyes shut, my mouth moaning a deep sound. Suffocating again. But I sneak both arms up, raise them above my head and drop both elbows down on you one more time. I open my eyes to watch... because watching you suffer makes me smile. Almost as much as watching you surrender...

—

I keep my legs locked, my ass swaying on the mat as I HAUL back in the Last Chancery and THRUST my hips against the delicious soft heat of Rowan's half-sleeping face in the figure-four facefuck.  Lee Emery paces back and forth stolidly from Red to Rowan, checking to see if either submits.  No one's near the ropes, and I have a delightful dead girl's grin glittering behind my curved black lips.  My ghost eyes flicker from Red's tormented shoulders to Rowan's slumped face against my grinding sex, increasingly warm as I rock my hips and tighten my thighs around that lovely head.

The fans are stomping, screaming, starting a "TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP!" chant that mutates to a "DUB-BLE-TAP!  DUB-BLE-TAP!  DUB-BLE-TAP!"  Fuck me, I love those mutants.  Their creativity, their fickle desires, their rampaging weird fandom.  Wrestling fans are the only fans in the world I'd ever want to perform for.  They make themselves more a part of the show than any audience in the world.

But all good things must come to an end, and like most other good things ending, this one is Rowan's fault.

The bitch snakes to life suddenly, bucking in my grip, twisting and fighting my legs.  I STRAIN, my tattooed thighs like steel to clamp down on her, but with my arms hanging from Red's head in the Last Chancery and him pulling me in the other direction with HIS struggles, I don't have the leverage I need.  "FUCK," I snarl as Rowan shoves a hand up through my legs and then snakes her way through my foured thighs like I'm birthing a particularly naughty Aphrodite.  I clamp down again on her waist, meeting her eyes with mine flaring as I tighten my Last Chancery defiantly on Red.

"PUNKY!" she roars throatily.

"Rowan,"  I snarl viciously.

"UNNNNNH!" I groan as she HAMMERS my tight abs, then AGAIN and AGAIN.  "UNHHHHNH! GUNNHHH!" I groan as my tight abs start to give way, softening under the repeated blows.  I desperately THRUST my hips up, CLAMPING down on that waist, grinding my shiny purple tights into that firm body under the black catsuit, half-grinning at Rowan's low sweet moan before she DRIVES both elbows into me. "FUUGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" I cry out, spit flying from my black lips as I lose my grip, doing a forced sit-up and then flopping back onto Red's painted back, a hand loosely clutching my battered belly, tits rising and fallling, glossed with sweat as my legs hang on Rowan's hips, panting for breath.

"You ... "I gasp, suffering and aching, my bruised belly pulsing, "... STRUMPET."

 I snarl and thrust both hands up, lacing them into Rowan's hair and TWISTING, tumbling off of Red's back, trying to take us over the canvas, rolling over until I can pin the bitch to the mat under me and hold her down with my left hand snatching a handful of the zippered catsuit between her tits, my right hand hooking to piston blows into that gorgeous body as I snarl in wordless feline rage!

—

I've pulled Punky off Red. That's good. No submissions for you. One year.

But then, this purple whirlwind of fists throws itself on me and it's all I can do to call on my BJJ training to keep her from getting an effective mount. The crowd is chanting, "PUR-PLE DEATH! PUR-PLE DEATH!" Fucking sheep.

I counter with elbows flying up toward her face, but her blows hit me in the belly and the chest, knocking the wind out of me. Then, gloved fists to the face. One knocks my jaw so hard, blood and spit go flying to the mat and everything goes blurry. I hear the sound of distant thunder and my head snaps to the other side. Everything sounds like its underwater.

Out of instinct, I reach up and grab the purple blur in front of me. Then, I pull it down fast, lifting my own forehead up with equal force and velocity...

—

I roll Rowan over and she fights furiously, blocking me from mounting her with her powerful legs and even smacking an elbow into my cheek.  "NNHH!" Snarling, I pump a few solid hooks into that luscious body, driving into her with little growls of pure hot desire, smugly grinning as the bitch goes breathless.

I tighten my grip between her gorgeous tits and haul her off the mat, into a pair of brutal right crosses, my fingerless white leather glove SMACKING those exquisite features, knocking a bloody mist free from her fuckable lips.  I purrrrrr, grinding my hips into hers unknowingly, ragged skirt fluttering around my hips as my loose violet hair flies wild around my shoulders, clinging to my sweaty skin.

Lee Emery curls big cowhand fists, clearly considering breaking us up but forcing himself to hold back as Red tries to push back from his long brutal choke on the heels of the snapover he took.

I pull Widow up, chambering my fist and intending to just hammer her teeth all over the mat with a devastating straight right when she suddenly snatches my hair, YANKING me down into a CRACKING headbutt!|

"GUHHHHhhhhh ..." I moan, my head snapping back and my eyes crossing as I go ragdolled in her grip, my head pounding like kettledrums swaying back on my knees and held up only by her grip on my hair as she rises with me.  The bitch takes me over to the mat with a rough thud and she's on me.

—

Rolling over onto Punky, my head still spinning, I throw fists straight down, as if I'm trying to punch through her skull into the mat. I feel my blows meeting with her skin and bones and I try to tear through the first and break the second. With every blow, I'm shouting down at her.

"I've been..." (SLAM!) ..."working on the" (SLAM!) "RAILROAD!" (SLAM!)

I pause for only one second to shout down at her, "And I'm Muthafuggin JOHN HENRY'S HAMMER!" Then, a double axe handle straight between the eyes. It lands perfectly and I can feel Punky's body shake with the impact. She's stunned... but only for a moment. Maybe even enough for three moments...

I look at her below me. And then I turn, sweaty red strands falling across my eyes. Red is stumbling, trying to get up.

Red or Punky? Dammit!

I make my choice. I get up from Punky, stumbling as I do, and rush over to Red, still staggering against the ropes. I duck behind him, grab his waist and lift and twist him into my newest and most dangerous move... the Stone-Splitter Piledriver. And as I'm trying to lift all that damn muscle, I can feel him resisting.... and see Punky pushing herself off the mat, looking at both of us...

—

The cxnt hammers me in the face, driving me into the mat, my purple mane whiplashing back and forth as I keep coming back up from her punches like a boxer that doesn't know better.  The Masked Man once referred to me in a Grantland commentary as "George Foreman reborn as a 130 pound tattooed white girl with purple hair", and I keep coming back up for more, rising against the Widow as she sings her manic song and punches my black lips bloody. 

But the sledgehammer blow between my eyes drops me to the mat, spasming softly, splayed out around her.  There's more shots on the Internet of me laying spread-eagled under Rowan then there are of Paris Hilton's ass.  My head roars with blood as my zombie eyes roll and flutter, spitting blood on the mat blearily as I feel her weight ... leave me?

I was sure that whore was going to try to pin me, but she's up and off me, and I take the opportunity to roll over to all fours, pushing up with my gorgeous undead ass in the air, blood running down my chin and purple locks hanging in my face, breasts swaying under me in my Tokyo-POP edition of my zombie shirt.  I glare up and see Rowan struggling to get Red up, fighting him as he dizzily tries to muscle free.  She's trying to haul him up, into that Stone-Splitter that she put me away with in the death match in Philly.  I should stop her.  I should break her grip and let Red powerbomb her into a little fucking ragdoll princess again. 

I force myself to my boots, staggering over to them, and the audience draws breath ...

... and gasps as I meet Rowan's eyes, and slowly grin. I press my body close to Red's back and my arms snake around his waist, YANKING him upright between us. My left arm slithers between his legs, my bicep firmly mashing into his tights, hooking on my cradle as my right arm steals around his waist, lacing into Rowan's dyed red hair.  I press closer still, and I feel her hand leave his waist to clutch my ass firmly, pulling me against his hard body and grinding him between our curvy deadly forms.

And with his legs locked apart and forced high in the tombstone cradle position, I lean forward, eyes drifting to half-lidded sultry delight and press black lips to Rowan's red ones, pierced tongue delicately dancing with hers as our arms tighten Red between us.

—

A long, deadly kiss. Red's body between us. Our kiss between his legs, hanging high above us.

And I feel those long nights of us taking each other apart in a different kind of fight. Punky falling under my kisses. Me falling under hers. I feel Red's body under my grip and I squeeze my fingers, ranking across his skin. I know where his face is... where it is so close to. And I moan with Punky's lips on mine, her pierced tongue dancing in my mouth. I want to run my fingers through her hair. I want... oh, Goddess I want...



When our lips part, we look at each other. A silent message.

We both smile...

... and then...

... in one simultaneous movement, both of us drop.

My legs split wide. Punky's drop as well.

Her jumping cradle piledriver.

My split-legged tombstone piledriver.

And Red caught in the middle.

Both of us staring into each other's eyes, smiling as we fall.

—

Well the good news is I finally am awake and aware. The bad news is that I'm aware that my back and neck are still very close to being consciously uncoupled.  I can hear Rowan screaming at Punky and I can't believe I'm hoping my rival comes to my rescue. Three way dances are strange fights where allegiances shift more quickly than the ones in Game of Thrones.

Unnnnn!...Auugghhhhhh!  Arrrrrrrgggggg!

Gawd dammit. I don't know what that bitch is doing, but she's making Punky pull harder, in odd rhythms...gaawwwwdd...myyyy neck....shhhhiiitttttt..

And then, just like that, the pain ends.

I collapse to the mat, feeling Punky collapsing onto me. Her body is so warm. If only we'd met in other circumstances, maybe i wouldn't have to punish her so badly.  Soon she's off of me and I can hear her and Rowan going at it. 

I try and push myself up, but yeah, that back is pretty trashed.  I can't even lift my head because my neck protests.  I keep my head down and start pulling myself towards the ropes using only my arms. In my mind, I'm screaming at my body to move faster. I'm pretty vulnerable right now and when Rowan and Punky finish going at it, the winner can take me out pretty easily.  Shit. this fucking hurts.

I grab the bottom rope and pull.  My back knots up badly and squeals in protest as I bend to reach the middle rope. Ignoring the pain as best I can I get up to my knees, using the ropes to guide me. I slump over the middle rope, feeling it bite into my armpits as I try and get my legs to work under me and plant my feet so I can stand.  My back protests the slightest move, but I finally get one foot planted.  I look up to reach for the top rope and my eyes lose focus for a moment as a sharp pain reminds me that I need to rest and recover without wearing myself out.  I catch the top rope blindly as I face downward to alleviate the pressure on my head and neck.  I make it to my feet, both feet. Nice.  Now if I can have a moment or two to gather myself.  Well fuck.

Rowan comes up behind me. I can feel her body through her catsuit pressing into me as she is trying to flip me on my head or something. I instinctively fight her, trying not to wrench my back or neck.  As she struggles against me, my mind goes back to the last time our bodies were so close. A much more enjoyable moment if no less competitive.  I can feel her zipper, no, dammit that's her nipples scratching into me as I try to keep from leaving my feet. My breathing quickens, but I'm not sure if that's from the exertion or proximity of her sultry body against me.  I think I can get free. Just a little bit. What?

I can feel another arm and another going around my waist. PUNKY! I scream in my head as my voice isn't working just yet. I'm so fucked. And not in the fun way.  I can't fight both of them and I find myself hauled up and upside down between them. We three make some kind of violent sandwich and I'm not happy to be the meat in the middle. I hang there and look up at them and sonuvabitch, they're kissing. Man that's hot. If they don't stop soon, I may unintentionally interrupt them. I'm in a bad way and I know whatever they do next is going to hurt.  I try and brace myself for anything as I feel one of them pressing her hips against me and digging her fingers in and raking. In another setting, this would be overwhelmingly erotic. As it is, I'm about to get hurt.

I drop. It's not a far drop, but it feels like forever. I hit the mat hard and my lights are out. I spasm and then flop onto the mat, face down and unconscious. My last fading thought is how could these two women do what no one else could, make me so vulnerable, so wide open.

—

My lips still tingle with the poison sweetness of Rowan on them, intoxicating me as we leap together.  My arms tighten, snapping my shoulders down as I kick my legs out in a wide forward vee.  We land with a brutal spiking jolt, my tall white boots with the black kickpads draped over Rowan's wide-split thighs, Red's face grinding into her sex as I rock my hips against the back of his head before we let him topple spasming to the mat. 

Rowan and I each draw our legs back, looking at each other with wide wicked eyes as we come up to our knees, the fans' pop for the BRUTAL double piledriver still roaring through the arena.  There's a long eternal moment between the two of us, bloody deadly rivals who came together for a moment of perfection. We both look at Red's spasming unconscious form, and back at each other.  The two of us look like we're about to kiss again as we slowly lean forward ...

... and then each of us hooks a hand behind the other's head and uses our free hand to hook brutal punches into each other's heads and bodies as we rise up like boxers in a dead end clinch!  "NNHH RRRAH AHH NNHH YAHH!

—

I've got to get free of Punky fast. Her wild, manic punches are too unpredictable. Dammit, I hate admitting it, but she's just a better brawler. My punches are precise. Hers could land anywhere. I try focusing on her already broken nose, trying to break her grip and get free so I can do real work, but that's not gonna happen. She's got me held tight as the Gordian Knot. Only one way to get through that little puzzle.

Cut it right in half.

She delivers a right that catches me right on the jaw, sending sweat and spit and blood spraying. I stagger back, trying to return each blow, but this damn manic pixie goth girl is too quick. Another one catches me above the right eye and my knees buckle. I send a knee into her belly, trying to get free, but that only makes her pause for a moment. The punches keep coming, driving me further and further back.

She pushes me right back to the ropes. I lose her hair and my arms fall down helpless beside me. She's relentless, pushing me even further 'till I'm hanging through the ropes, my body thrown between the middle and top. I'm falling through, but she just keeps punching. I've got to do something. I fall over, right onto the apron, my face a bloody mess.

Punky laughs as the audience cheers. Fucking sheep, rooting for anything that will show them some T&A. Punky reaches through the ropes to get me and I see my chance. I reach up, my arms wobbling, grabbing her head and pulling down while I lift my legs, locking them in place.

The Widow's Web, here with me on the apron and Punky reaching through the ropes. I lock her neck just above the second rope, using it for additional leverage. Then, I LEAN BACK, my body draped over the apron, trying to lock in Punky before she can stop me...

—

I cut loose the chains, and unleash the hounds of hell all over Rowan.  I've always been a bit rough in the bedroom when I get really excited, but this might be the first time I've ever tried to give someone a cerebral edema right after a lingering kiss.  We batter each other until I begin to lace unanswered punches into her lovely frame and gorgeous face, swinging with reckless abandon, blood running from my split lip and down my forehead from her headbutt, my white eyes burning with manic glee as I drive my fists into her with wild fucking haymakers.

One of my most revered trainers told me about punching.

"It's not about how you hit them or where you hit them, sunshine - it's IF you hit them as hard as you bloody well can.  The power of the sodding punch is POWER.  Hit someone hard enough, and you'll get the chance to do it again."

I drive haymakers into Rowan, criss-crossing her jaw, busting her cheek and her eyebrow open, punching her into a Dusty Rhodes crimson mask (or 0.8 Flairs) and actually driving her through the ropes to the apron. I throw up my fists, my knuckles bruised and bloodied sprung, Rowan's blood spattering my white leather fingerless gloves, ghost eyes gleaming as I grin behind black bloodied lips.  The crowd ROARS, their bloodlust mounting like the plebians at the Colosseum, and I move to give them what they want, leaning through the ropes to gather Rowan's bloody carcass before the birds come for her eyes.

SON OF A FUCKING BITCH SHE'S GOT ME IN THAT GOD DAMN GOGOPLATA A-FUCKING-GAIN GOD DAMN IT

Her leg folds under my throat, starting to crush me against her shin as her arms move to lace behind my head.  I almost sag down immediately, writhing and kicking, gurgling with blood flowing from my busted lip down my cheek.  The crowd ROARS - Rowan can set the Web on from fucking ANYWHERE, her internet marks proudly point out, saving this footage to make a GIF for their user avatar - and I see her setting up through foggy ghost eyes.

Not again.  NOT FUCKING AGAIN.

I've been bloodied and choked in this hold too much - and choked out once too often in this match already.  If she gets me in this, with Red still spasming from the double driver, she'll have her pick of us.  No.  This cannot stand.

I draw my legs up under me, snarling, drooling blood onto that elegant catsuit with my ghost eyes blazing, furious as a zombie caught coming through the door, hungry for flesh.

I flex my long legs, bringing my knees up - and KICK out hard, aiming to SMASH my boots into the center of Rowan's injured back as I hold the middle rope tight in both hands, trying to BOOT her off me and send her crashing to the fucking concrete like Icarus - the mythological one, not the Chikara wrestler. Although I did once German suplex him off the apron in a King of Trios when I was on the Rose City team, so that metaphor works too.

—

"Your face is almost as purple as your dye job," I laugh. Her eyes bulging, rolling back into her head.

The ref tries to pull us apart, but that's not happening. I look at him. "ASK HER!" I shout. "DO IT!"

The ref shakes his head. I'm almost tempted to break the hold and put it on him. He's telling me, "Break the hold! Break the hold!"

"NEVER!" I shout back in his face.

I should have never taken my eye off Punky. Not even for a second. Because a second is all the little bitch needs.

I feel her shifting her weight under me. By that time, it's already too late. Big, stompy boots thrust at my chest and belly, slamming into me, nearly unlocking the hold. I try to catch my breath, but before I can, she's done it again and my arms loose a little grip.

"No, no!" I tell her. "Not this time!" I clench harder. She's almost out. I can feel it. Her arms drop to her sides. Her neck lets loose of her head and it droops. I laugh.

"I have you now," I say in my best Vader.

The crowd is chanting her name. "PUN-KEE! PUN-KEE! PUN-KEE!"

The ref does what he's supposed to. He lifts her left arm and it drops down. "ONE!" he shouts.

"PUN-KEE! PUN-KEE! PUN-KEE!"

The ref lifts her left arm a second time. It falls to her side, as helpless as she is. "TWO!" he shouts.

"It's all over, sweet one," I say to her face. "And when all this is done, I'll let Red have the left-overs."

The ref lifts her arm a third time and lets it drop. It falls... and then stops.

"What?" I hear myself say.

The crowd explodes. I swear it looks like they're ready to jump over the railings. Both her hands lift up and grab the top rope. Her eyes open and she stares at me. Those glaring eyes. Like something from the bottom of Hell or the highest cliffs of Heaven leapt into her body and gave her life again. She grips that top rope and...

LVK: Punky's come back to life!

RP: That's impossible!

LVK: It's not impossible! Look!

RP: What's...

LVK: She's rearing back with both feet and...

RP: Incoming!

LARRY: OH MY GOD, LOOK OUT!

(a moment of confusion as Rowan's body flies directly at the cameraman. We see the impact and the camera staring at the ceiling. Then, we hear a CRUNCH of a body against wood.)

RP: Rowan Chance just crashed into our announce table! Larry got crushed in the impact! I think we need a doctor out here!

(pause as the cameraman who just got knocked off his feet struggles to get back up)

RP: In fact, get a bunch of 'em! We need a whole hospital wing!

(pause as long-shot camera looks at the mess: a broken table, Larry on the ground with Rowan on top of him.)

RP: That's the closest Larry’s gotten to a woman since his nurse quit when he was a baby. We've got to see that again! Show that again!

(camera breaks to a replay. Punky's kick sends Rowan flying into the announce table.)

RP: You see here, Rowan lands with her back on the edge of the table. That's what broke it. It flew back at us and van Keel got caught in the impact. Lucky for me I was in the Rangers and got out of the way in time ... but it looks like nobody's moving! Rowan is still out of it and Punky is on the edge of the ring holding her throat and coughing. Is she coughing up blood? I can't tell. But it looks like... yes, the Red Enforcer is starting to move! The ref's just standing there without a clue -- AS USUAL. Hey, I know it sounds like I think Larry's a piece of crap, but seriously, can we get someone down here? Do I have to throw The Dreaded X or what?

—

At first it sounds like I'm underwater. I can hear noise, but it's muffled, unclear and distant. Those two really knocked me for a loop. I don't know how I'm not out of this match or how long I've been incapacitated. It just seems people are distracted elsewhere. As I get my eyes open, the sound starts fading back into some semblance of recognizable murmuring.

The crowd is going nuts. Something major must have happened, but happened away from me. I don't know if I've lost the match or if those two are still going at it like banshees or what. I know I need to get in a place I can defend so I slowly push up to my hands and knees. Oh yeah, body is telling me there's still some major pain going on.  I pause for a moment on my hands and knees, head down, sweat really pouring off of my body and work on getting my bearings. Something about the announce table and getting help. Sounds like a couple of people are in pretty bad shape. I chuckle knowing I'm in bad shape myself but someone is in worse. I'm in a fight with a couple of crazy women looking to go all out to prove their place.  I slowly crawl my way towards the corner, getting my hands on the middle rope and slowly pulling myself up. 

From what I can make out in the noise, Ro or Punky one has hit the announce table. I can tell since no one has come after me that the other must be in bad shape herself.  I pull on the top rope to help me get to my feet and turn around, seeing the carnage for the first time.  I can tell medical officials and other refs are checking out a couple of people near the announce table. Punky's still hunched over and coughing. Not sure what happened but I need to take advantage.

I go to push myself off the corner and charge Punky and.....

I kinda get dizzy as my body and head tell me that's a dumb idea at the moment and I collapse back against the corner. I think I'll just wait here a smidge longer until I get all the cobwebs out.

—

My throat feels like I shotgunned a broken glass whiskey sour.

I slouch on the middle rope, my arms dangling over and my legs hanging over the apron, ragged skirt fluttering and heavy kickboots swaying. My violet hair flutters loose and sweaty around my shoulders, and blood runs down my face, sweet and sticky. Whenever I cough, I feel like a fist is clutching inside my crushed throat, squeezing me like a fucking blood orange. I hack again, spitting a gob of blood onto the apron, and then I look at the wreckage of Rowan laying on the announce table, and everything feels better.

I didn't just break the Widow's Web - I kicked the spider clean out of it to crash to the barnyard floor and get eaten by Templeton the rat.

Red must still be unconscious, so all I have to do is pin him -

- or I could hurt Rowan some more. I snarl silently, blood on my teeth behind my blue-black lips as I spit another spatter of blood to the floor. I slide my tall boots forward, kicking to the floor and slithering under the bottom rope to drop to the outside, crouching on the concrete with my bloodied white leather gloves pressed to the mats. I tilt my head, my ghost white eyes blazing with fury as purple hair hangs in my bloodied face. Rick "Precious" Perle, the sole survivor of the announce table crash, backs up a couple of steps, clutching the broadcast mic and fiddling with his ascot with its pearl stickpins.

RP: Ohhhh, forget this. They don't pay me enough to hang out with friggin' zombies.

Perle plays cautious as I snake forward. I shove past the medics who are attending to both Larry Van Keel - loosening his bow tie with the aid of the Jaws of Life - and to Rowan. I snap my hands around the Widow's wrist and hip, bending down and snarling as I get her across my shoulders like I'm taking her on a medical evac. That's ironic, of course, because I have to kick an actual paramedic in the face to get him out of my way so I can try to fireman's carry Rowan back to the ring.

Growling, I throw her between the ropes and into the ring, letting her flop to the canvas. I slither back in, not even seeing Red where he's probably lying somewhere on the canvas. I mean, I have to assume. My breathing is rough and ragged as I press myself up, snapping a bloody glove around Rowan's wrist and trying to drag her to the center of the ring.

With a deep breath, I look to haul the Widow up to her boots, throwing her right arm around my shoulders as my left arm curls across her back. I bend forward, right hand slapping down to hook Rowan's right knee and lift her leg up. With a bloody snarl, I bend forward and KICK back, trying to haul Chance up and back over my left shoulder and then lash both boots out from under me, hauling up on that hooked leg to try to DRIVE her full body-weight down onto her head and neck with my leg hook backdrop driver.

RP: MINDFUCK! PUNKY WITH THE MINDFUCK!

I used to call it the Skullfuck, but my agent wanted me to get a new name on it so I could trademark it without MASADA taking me to court. I can't argue with that logic.

If the move drives Rowan home, I immediately try to roll back into a bloody cover with that hoooked leg hooked good and deep.

—

I hear voices. Whispers. Shifting shadows of light and darkness. They flutter around me like butterflies. A soft music plays in the background... something I remember hearing when I was a child. A harpsichord and a violin. Mozart? I lie still, hoping to get a better...

... wait. No. Stop. I can't...

"...otten to a woman sin-sin-sin..."

That last sound echoes until it's gone.

I try to move, but something holds me down. Hands. Voices. They hold me down.

"Don't try to move now," says one of them.

I try to say something, but there's only blood. I can taste it. It clogs my voice.

Someone says my name. Rowan... then, they say another name.

punky

And the world rushes back like a thousand car alarms. The crowd, the EMTs, the announcers. And the pain.

ohgoddessthepain

I try to move, but everything is broken. The men tell me to stop. They tell me I should stay still. But I have to get up. I have to finish...

punkyiscomingdownfromthering

I turn my head and my neck begs me to stop. I see where I am, in the middle of a tornado. The wreckage of it, at least. Broken wood, a fallen chair. One of the announcers lies next to--no, under me. He has only one shoe on. They cut his tie, his hand helplessly reaching up to pull it off.

I can't remember what happened. I was choking out...

idon'tgetpaidenoughforthis

I blink away the blood and see Punky's face. Not grinning. No delight in those eyes of hers. No happiness. Just blood and pain and blood. She grabs me and every part of me screams. I scream. It's a sound I've heard so many others make at the end of my matches. It's a sound I heard Punky make as I reversed her finisher into mine. That sound of pure hopelessness.

She rolls me into the ring and I can't stop her. I can't do anything. I can't stand, I can't move. She pulls me up to my feet. And I know, this is it.

This is the end. And there's nothing I can do to stop her.

"MIND-FUCK! MIND-FUCK! MIND-FUCK!" the crowd chants.

She throws my body and her body into position. My limbs won't respond to my pleading. I know what's coming. And when she lifts me up on her shoulder, all I can do is wait for it.

"MINDFUCK! PUNKY WITH THE MINDFUCK!"

Then, I'm lifted up for just a moment... and a whirlwind of motion and my head and shoulders plummet to the mat.

The impact is louder than the crowd. Punky's too weak to keep hold of my leg and it slips from her grasp.

My body snaps up, my eyes in the back of my head. My chin against my chest. My neck at the wrong angle. Red hair in my face like a Japanese ghost. Against the crimson mask, it looks like there's no skin at all on my face. Just red.

My arms at my sides, motionless.

Then, I fall forward, flat onto the mat. The back of my hands against the canvas, I lay there, motionless. My body twitches once... then nothing. My mouth spits up blood. Too much blood...

Everything is dark...

RP: THAT WAS THE MOST BRUTAL THING I'VE EVER SEEN! AND PUNKY IS JUST LYING THERE, LAUGHING! ROWAN ISN'T MOVING AT ALL! THERE'S TRAINERS RUSHING INTO THE RING NOW! THEY ARE AFRAID TO EVEN MOVE CHANCE!

RP: AND NOW, PUNKY IS SITTING UP! SHE'S LOOKING AT ROWAN'S BODY AND SHE... OHMYGOD! I'VE NEVER SEEN ANYTHING LIKE THAT SMILE ON HER FACE! IT'S LIKE SOMETHING OUT OF A HORROR MOVIE! SHE'S PUSHING THE TRAINERS AND EMTS OUT OF THE WAY! SHE ROLLS CHANCE ONTO HER BACK AND THE WIDOW FLOPS OVER LIKE A CORPSE! SHE MIGHT BE A CORPSE FOR ALL I KNOW! PUNKY HOOKS THE LEG... LIKE THAT EVEN MATTERS! THE REF LOOKS STUNNED! HE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT TO DO! HE BENDS DOWN. HE LOOKS TERRIFIED! HE COUNTS!

RP: ONE!

RP: TWO!

—

I hang onto the corner, holding myself up but just barely.  I end up sitting on the second turnbuckle and resting when I see Punky moving out of the ring. Where in the hell is that crazy woman going? I get more of my bearings and just decide to wait. I can't win on the outside and I don't want to be running into a trap.  I hear the commotion more than see it.  I get fully on my feet and watch Rowan's body slung into the ring.  Gawd, even unconscious herbody moves so sinuously that it makes my body respond.  I shake my head and get my wits about me. But again I wait.

I watch Punky slide in, cold like komodo dragon sizing up her prey. Looking like just a small predator, but deadly enough to take out the largest of prey. She's cinching her up into a familiar move. My head just aches all on its own thinking about how that Skullfuck hurt me.  Wait, what are they calling it? Mindfuck? She think she's Criss Angel or something?  And down goes Rowan. I wince, but smile.  It's good seeing Rowan hurt and helpless. Bitch deserves it. But then Punky does the unthinkable. She's pinning her. Fucking hooking her leg too. Oh hell no!

I stride from the corner and the fast count redneck gets to two before I can slide my arms under Punky's armpits, joining my hands at her neck and pushing her head down as I squeeze and HAUL her in the air. She fights me.  I whisper into her ear and say "Shhhh..shhhh...have some fun with my Shen Long Slam"  I grip her in tightly and enjoy the feel of her bottom grinding back as she tries to get free.

"Mmmnnn, nice try, but..." I lift her violently up over my head and bridge back, looking to drive her through the ground with a dragon suplex.
—

I don't just drive Rowan into the mat - I crash her like she's falling from orbit, losing the hook partway so it becomes a sheer drop backdrop driver like they don't do in the States.  That was an impact that would make a Japanese audience wail in sympathy.  I slither around to hungrily watch the crimson-masked Widow topple bonelessly to the mat, shuddering with a lustful hunger as I pounce for her, hooking her leg deep and laying across her.

The big cow punching referee's hand falls like a frying pan to the mat, and I nod along, blood running down lips and nose like I've just come fresh from the set of Blood Feast - and what a bloody feast Rowan is.  I lick my lips, confident in finally breaking this bitch's spell on me.

And then, of course, I'm taken like a sinner in the hands of an angry God.

Except it's not God.  It's just an angry boy.

Red's hands lace under my arms and peel me off of Rowan's twitching body.  Strong fingers lock at the back of my neck as I'm hauled off my intended and yanked up, snarling.  I twist my hips, kicking my feet in the air, tensing my fists in my blood-stained white leather fingerless gloves.  "YOU FILTHY COWARDLY SONUVABITCH!" I roar, my sweating purple mane lashing as I twist my head under the iron grip of that nelson.

"NNHHHHHH!" I growl, gritting my teeth as my head is forced down.  Pulled off my feet, I swing back and twist my hips, grinding against Red's strong body. How the FUCK did he get up from that?!  I tense my arms, trying to break his grip. He hisses in my ear and I try to tense my head back to smash into his stupid face - Shen Long Slam my fucking ass - but his grip is forcing my head down so my chin presses my chest, crushing my already bloodied throat.  My struggles slow as I growl and thrash, eventually hauled up to a risky position, hung up against him before he snaps me over with a surprisingly graceful dragon suplex.  Slam.  Fucking Southerners.

I manage to tuck my shoulders up and tense my muscles the way Master Yoshihiro taught me, but I still hit like a ton of fucking bricks, white flashing behind my eyes as I'm folded up on the mat, my legs splayed over my head and the tips of my boots touching the canvas above my head with my arms sprawled out on either side. My fingers twitch in the air.

Fuck.

Fucking suplexes.

Fucking triple threats.

I HAD that.  God DAMN it.

Fucking jackasses with no fucking masks.

Fucking blood loss.

What the fuck is all this noise about?

RP: AND RED ENFORCER MIGHT HAVE IT!  THE PAINTED MAN HAS PUNKY BRIDGED PERFECTLY, NO DOUBT, AND ROWAN IS IN NO CONDITION TO STOP THIS PIN!

"TWO!" counts the referee and the audience.

l suddenly come to what alcoholics call a Moment of Clarity - I'm not going to get pinned by a fucking dragon suplex by anyone not wearing an actual dragon mask.  I bring my feet up and swing my hips to my left, thrusting my right shoulder up and breaking the pin before Hoss's hand can slap the canvas a third time.  "TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" cheer the wrestling geeks, gleefully long and drawn out.

I roll over and fold my legs under me, coming up on my knees, rolling my shoulders in a slow yoga stretch.  Unfortunately, Red doesn't intend to give me time to go through my soothing meditations. The Enforcer comes right after me, with evil intent painted all over him, and roughly manhandles me up, lacing a few sharp chops across my chest that flatten my tits against my ribs, staggering and crossing my arms over my aching girls after each chop as the assholes in the crowd chant "WOOOOOOOO!" and I wonder why I ever though I liked wrestling fans. 

"UNNNHHHH FUUUUUCK!" I cry out, staggering back against the ropes.  The Enforcer takes my wrist and power whips me to the far side, my boots pelting across the canvas that the referee has thankfully cleared Rowan off, putting her to the side. I manage to twist, taking the ropes across my back and hip, and come racing back, big knee-high boots slamming across the mat.  Big Red is waiting, and SLASHES a lariat at me that would've taken my head off if I hadn't managed to barely duck, purple hair streaming behind me, searing past the painted man to LEAP - not as gracefully as I would have been the bell first rung, but still making the leap.

My boots hit the second cable and I KICK hard at the peak of the cable's spring, soaring backwards with my bloody face and crushed throat and pulsingly cracked neck and all, hooking my right arm back and clasping my right fist in my left palm, aiming to SMASH my elbow into Red's painted mug with a jawjacking springboard back elbow!

As I fly, my battle cry roars out over the audience:

"FUCK YOU YOU FUCKING FUCK!"

My perspicacity suffers as my head injuries accrue.

—

I get that damn wrong coast Punk up and over and I enjoy the shudder of her body slamming into the mat.  Mr. Old n Slow makes it to the mat and starts his count. One....Two..and shit...

I feel the Punk Rawk Goddess twisting those fine hips of hers and getting just barely one shoulder up. She gets out of my grasp and I get out of the bridge.  She starts undulating up on her knees, but I can't let her get her bearings. I'm so close to reclaiming what's mine.  I grab her by her hair and jerk her up to her feet, holding her a bit out from me. I pull my right arm back and drive it forward, slamming my right hand edge into those pillows she calls breasts and hears that sweet SMACK followed by the "WHOOOOOOOOO"  from the crowd. I have to admit, giving her a chop felt a lot better than slapping the pecs on some of my other opponents.

So I do it again. SMACK
and again SMACK

She presses against the ropes and I pounce, grabbing her wrist and flinging her to the other side. I then load up my arm to do a lariat that would make Stan Hansen weep with joy.  So of course she ruins it by ducking. SHIT

I turn and see Punky flying back into me, slamming into my face with a perfectly executed springboard elbow.  Fuckin' joshi wannabes. 

I get knocked back and down, onto one knee. I'm hurting but I need to hurt her more. I need to stop her from getting more punishment on me. As she gets up and turns around, I launch myself forward and aim my shoulder right for her belly, looking to drive her air out with a devastating spear!

—

Ideally after you hit a crisp springboard back elbow, you want to gracefully roll to the side and come up on one knee, ready to launch yourself into an immediate attack.  This is the principle of shizen-hontai, of standing ready.  In an ideal world, I'd be in that one-knee position, ready to launch straight at Red as he gets up with a flying calf strike or a Kenka kick.

Unfortunately, I've had the shit kicked out of me in this match, so instead I hit the back elbow and rebound like I ran back-first into a brick wall, bounding back to the mats and barely managing not to collapse onto my aching tits.  I manage to get to my boots in fairly prompt order, SMACKING at my right kickpad with a sweet echoing CRACK that promises my intent to kick Red's teeth down his throat.  I get to my feet and turn around and

what the FUCK who let a bus in here

Red PLOWS into me with a spear, cutting right through me, folding me in half over his body as my legs are blasted out from under me and my purple hair flies gracefully out like I'm caught in Dorothy's tornado, crashing me to the mats in a breathless heap, folded up and kicking my boots in protest as I clutch my aching ribs.

Panting, tasting my own blood - drinking it, really, like an Italian drinks red wine - I rasp for air, looking up at the lights as they form dizzy star patterns above my head.  Sparkles burst on the edge of my vision as my body protests in the strongest possible terms my insistence on depriving it of the oxygen it needs.  I shunt its complaints aside into the queue formed by my crushed throat, aching neck, split lip, busted nose, and throbbing ribs.

There's a shadow that falls across me as a rough hand rolls me to my back, big hands reaching for my head - and since I don't like being picked up when I'm in the middle of indexing my bodily agonies, I fold up, my aching ribs creaking and my tight bruised abs flexing as I snap my right leg up, aiming to just CRACK that kickpad right against Red's painted face to send the Enforcer staggering back, bringing the fans to their feet as the participants in this match just refuse to die.

RP: THEY WON’T *DIE*!  ACCURSED!  I NEED AN OLD PRIEST AND A YOUNG PRIEST!

—

I soar through the air and think, man if I miss this, I'm so fucked.  WHUMP..I land in the Punk's midsection trying to bifurcate her, but doing serious damage to her ribs and abs. She folds up into me and I feel her go limp.  I then hit the mats on top of her after driving her body hard downward. I get up to my knees, breathing hard and yell with a satisfied scream. 

I get to my feet and seeing the Punk down, I know it's time for the killshot.  I roll her onto her belly, chuckling as I see her body bounce a little and with her skirt flung up, her bottom bounces nicely on display for her nerds.  She has this mystical ability to enchant the nerds like a succubus with a taste for C++ , tablet apps and runny noses.  They fall to her spell and are set on fire. Right now, they're torn. They hate seeing their goddess tortured, but she writhes about so sensually, it's hard not to be aroused.

All these thoughts are in my head instead of looking out for danger. I get her lifted up when I feel Punky's foot slamming into my face. I think maybe for a moment she's broken my nose. I'm glad I still  have thought and I chalk that up to her being hurt so she's not able to put full strength into the kick. Still it's enough to make me release her hair and stagger back into the ropes.  I rest on the top one and watch Punky, wondering if she's going to folllow up on this before I can get my bearings.

—

I snap my leg up and pop a crisp kick against Red's face, sending him staggering back instead of toppling dead to the mat.  Fuck.  I didn't get everything I wanted behind that one.  I cut a glance at Rowan as Red sags on the ropes and tries to clear the circling cartoon birdies from around his head - and I feel a surprising twinge at seeing the beautiful Widow still twisted in a pool of blood after that flying table crash and the sickening sheer-drop Mindfuck.  I bite my lip and try to shake off that feeling, instead focusing on Red.

Snarling, my ghost eyes blazing, I bare bloody teeth in a roar as I focus my chi, bringing my fists together at my chest before I SNAP forward, racing across the canvas and just within a foot or two of the painted madman, I TWIST on the ball of my left foot, bringing my right leg up in a high, rounding kick and throwing my weight behind it, driving with my hip as I aim to just PLOW the sole of my boot under Red's jaw.

My purple hair, matted with sweat and blood, streams back wetly behind me, my white eyes flaring and my dark bloody lips curved into a delicious snarl of raw fury, my tattooed lithe form twisting into the high strike as I swing my right leg high and fierce.

The Yakuza kick. If I can hit this clean, I'll blast ol' Reddy clear over the top rope and send him crashing to the outside, leaving me to gather up Rowan and pin her under the safety of my warm body so we can end this madness.

Normally I'm never one for ending madness, but we've all left a lot in the ring tonight.  So now I just need to clean up.

"NNRRRRAAAHHHHHHHH!"

—

I see that Punky is looking over at Rowan, who still hasn't stirred yet from her beatings so far. Good.  I'm feeling better, but I still hang on the ropes. I hope I look like an inviting enough target that Punky will try something stupid and brash.  I don't want to come at her head on when she's in decent shape. 

It's hard to believe a girl that looks so sexy could become such a roaring vessel of revenge, pain and destruction.  She turns on me and I can see her tensing up, preparing. She's looking for the knockout blow. I don't think I'd survive a shot of all her strength. I can't believe she took one of my signature moves and is still coming at me. That girl has no quit in her.  I doubt I can beat her down enough to stop her from interfering with me and Rowan, so I need another tack.

Then she charges, full of fire and electricity. I swear I could sense some killing intent as well in this move. It's a Yakuza kick and she's looking to send me to the fishes with it.  As she nears, I go into action. I pull down on the top rope with all my weight, getting it lower than the second rope. I think to myself, 'Punky, you fought well. You deserve better than this cheap trick' and as her leg comes at me, her purple hair flying behind her making her look like a full bodied Teke Teke coming to claim vengeance on me.

Instead, I dodge her and let go of the top rope as her leg passes to where my head should've been. My intent is to get her leg very much tangled in the ropes if I can. She has to be stopped before I can deal with Rowan.

—

I'm going to hit this clean.

My boot's going to crack right HERE, under the jaw.

I can see the shot connect, a purple stick figure with neat articulation striking a red one while a black one lays in the background.

The impact is going to sharply arch his head back against the pivot of the C-4 vertebrae and he'll instinctively arch away from the force, which will combine with his precarious position to cause his center of gravity to abruptly shift.

The stick figures move, neat as clockwork, a foot rising and clipping under the red one, which rears back and begins a neat arc of descent over the cartoon top rope.

Easiest fucking geometry in the world.

My leg snaps up, graceful as a bullwhip and sharp as a scimitar, throwing my weight behind the kick and hitting a full extension, lethal as a jousting lance.  I learned this shit from Kyoko Kimura, the Monster Queen herself.  I learned it from having her kick my fucking head off every night during a tour of northern Japan with Ice Ribbon.

Of course, there's reason that I was in the corner when Kimura was doing it, or that Generico puts people in the corner when he hits his insane running Yakuza - Red kindly demonstrates what that reason is by snaking out of my way and yanking the top rope down.

"HNnN'AUHHHHHHHH!" I cry out in a snarl of shock, pain, and frustrated fury as my right leg snares through the ropes, crumpling up against them like a crash test dummy and springing back off the cables to thud on my shoulders to the mat, crying out in pain from my aching neck and ribs but immediately snarling and trying to claw my way to my feet ...

My foot ....

Fuck.

FUCK.

"YOU COCKTHIRSTY FUCKDOLL!" I scream in rage, clawing at the canvas and trying to do a sit-up, twisting my hips, kicking furiously, pounding my fist in a blind whirlwind of fury. My FOOT is twisted between the top and middle ropes, the steel cables viciously snaring around my ankle and calf, leaving me dangling like I'm in a fucking Ewok trap, half upside-down.  With a snarling effort, I can manage to get my left boot under me, but that puts agonizing pressure on my right ankle and I have to subside, trapped.

And Red's in there with Rowan.

—

[ThePurpleVixen]

I slither out from under Punky and the ropes and make it to my feet. She's cussing up a storm. Damn, do you kiss your demon progenitor with that mouth? I give her a snappy salute. "Truly I am sorry."

I move quickly over to Rowan who still has not stirred. Punky did a number on her and she should be easy to pin.  But that's not enough for me. I can't just swoop in on someone who has been hurt by someone else. No, Rowan has to pay. And pay at my hands. I reach down and grab her by her crimson hair, hauling her up on her feet. She is so out of it, she feels like she's boneless. I tilt her head back as the crowd boos me, for trapping their heroine and for taking advantage of the sexy wrestler in ways they wish they could. I lean down and press my lips against hers, planting a deep kiss and I feel her stirring. But it's too late.

I move her head down between my legs and reach around her chest, grabbing her arms and crossing them as I grab her wrists.  With a noticeable grunt, stemming from the exertion of this match so far, I haul her up into the air and rest her on my shoulders. I turn us so that Punky can see exactly what I'm doing. Sure it's a slap in her face, but that fuckwit deserves it for bringing all this on.  I think Rowan is coming to, but I'm not sure. I give her one more moment and then I RAM her back hard into the canvas, as if i'm trying to break the ring in half with Rowan as my mighty hammer. 

But I don't release her. I take a few deep breaths and start to lift again.

—

cockthirstyfuckdoll...

Is that... Punky? Talking to me?

Someone lifts me. There's so much pain, I don't even care. The crowd is an echo. The lights are blurs. I can feel my feet stumble over themselves, but someone holds me up.

Then, pressure on my lips. A familiar... 

Tantalus? Is it over? Is the match over? 
I can't... can't feel my fingers. I think I've really hurt myself this time.

I try to focus my eyes to look at him. I want him to hold me. To heal me. The words tremble on my lips, barely escaping my tongue. "Is it done?"

I get no response. Only cold, empty silence.

Then, I feel someone crossing my arms. I whisper his name. This time, his true name.

And he lifts me up, high into the sky. He will heal me. Like he always has. Like he always will.

Then, I'm jerked out of that dream, down-down-down. Like falling from Heaven straight to Hell, thrown out by the only voice I've ever loved. And when I hit bottom, all the flames leap up to embrace me. Burn me. The fires of Hell feed on my pain, making every nerve in my body erupt.

I think I scream. Yes. I can hear it. The lonely, desperate scream of the angel thrown down into Hell, condemned by the one she loves the most.

My hands and shoulders and hands slam against the bottom of the Pit... only to be raised up once again... raised up so I can look upon the Heaven I was cast out from... so far above me...

—

As I begin to lift, I see Rowan and notice her face. Her mouth is open as if to scream, but no sound is coming out. I can only imagine what's going on in her mind. But the look on her eyes is a mixture of agony and ecstasy.  I'm not sure when it happens, but part of that cold fire, part of that monster in me breaks off and dissipates. I have her halfway up and I start feeling something for her.  I chase it away and focus. She must pay. I have to have retribution. 

I get her back up on my shoulders, still holding her in a strait jacket pose. Her body doesn't fight me. I can feel her slumping against me. Right in front of my face, I can sense the results of the exertion of the match and some excitement, some arousal that Rowan has felt throughout this match. 

With the second, I remove more of the stain on my honor.  With the second, more of my burden is lifted of my shoulders. With the second, Rowan is driven further into defeat.  

That mantra goes through my mind as the crowd is screaming at me. The lone announcer is calling for someone to stop the match, but many of the officials are tied up helping his partner. The grizzled ref in the ring doesn't like it, but he's old school and he knows dues must be paid. 

I cinch up my hold on Rowan tighter as her body has gotten more limp. With a primal roar, I SMASH her body down into the canvas again with force that seems to shake the entire arena. 


—

I drive my fists into the mat over and over as Red hauls up Rowan, my bloodied white leather gloves hammering deep, blue-black nails cracking with the ferocity of my pounding rage.  As her body slams into the mat I scream furiously, denied of my retribution again.  Ferociously, I lunge up again, almost feeling my ankle crack as I lunge on a single foot like a wolf in a trap.  This was the ankle Gemma Rox broke.  I strain out and collapse again, clutching my purple hair and snarling.

"You GOD DAMN COWARD!" I rage at Red's back, seeing Rowan's limp body rising again, bloodied froth trickling from my lips like a mad dog. "You FILTHY FUCKING SWINEHEART! FUCKING PUS-SWOLLEN SYPH-BLIND PRICK!"

I lunge again, straining my leg horribly under my twisted boot, my ragged crushed throat giving my voice a rough gravelly edge, the accusing snarl of the grave.

Rowan is driven into the mat again and I shudder on her behalf, shaking my head.

"YOU SHAMEFUL FUCKING YELLOW DOG!" I rage, my teeth gritted hard enough to crack as I twist at the end of my wrenched, trapped foot.  The referee made a sterling effort to get me free, but he's obligated to divide his attention between me and checking on Rowan - and I took a swing at him in my fury, driving him off.  I don't even notice.  Not him, not the pain, nothing but the incandescent fury.

"SHE'S MINE GOD DAMN IT! MINE! MIIIIIIIINE!"

—

After I'm thrown down through the nine steps of Hell, all the way down, I open my eyes and see the Devil looking down at me, smiling. He has me wrapped up in his arms, his hunger for my pain... insatiable. 

I look up at him, nothing but fear and tears in my eyes. "N-no..." I can hear myself mutter. But he lifts me again into his dark embrace. Lifts me high. High enough to see Heav...

... no, not Heaven. Not even an angel.

I see her violet hair, her black lips. Blood all over her face. The Devil has trapped her, too. Hung her upside down.

I see her.

She's struggling, swearing, kicking, grabbing at her ankle, trying to get free.

I see her.

And then... she sees me.

Our eyes meet as the Devil lifts me up high, my arms trapped across my chest.

I see her. She sees me.

I call out her name. "Megan?"

Something in her eyes goes soft and wet. 

And then, the Devil sends me straight down into darkness.

RP: This is the third unanswered powerbomb! Rowan Chance is nothing but a doll in the Red Enforcer's hands! He raises her up... and DOWN! Her body bounces off the canvas! She's out cold! There's no way she's kicking out of this! 

RP: Punky is caught in the ropes! She can't break up the pin!

RP: The ref is down. He counts!

RP: ONE!

RP: TWO!

RP: OH FUCK! HOLY SHIT, THREE! And that's it! The match is over! Rowan Chance is finished! Broken in two! She isn't even moving! Blood from her mouth and nose! Punky is going nuts in the ropes! The medics are running in! Red just sits there, a glaze over his eyes! The match is over! The match is over! THE RED ENFORCER IS THE WINNER!

—

I hear the ref count three and I've done it. I sit up on my knees, hovering over my prey. She's beaten. My honor is restored. I can cage the animal again.  But first....

I reach up and grab the zipper of her catsuit, and slowly zip it down. As it shows the inner halves of Rowan's breasts, the crowd gasps, but I ignore it. I keep going, to her belly and past her belly button. The crowd watches me, wondering how far I'll go. Some worried for the fallen warrior. Others just wanting to see some tits and ass.

That group went home disappointed.

I stop where the zipper stops, just below Ro's bellybutton.  I shift around so I'm facing her prone body. Both of my hands go inside her suit and carefully roam about.  I can feel the heat and the sweat from her body. She gave her all, as did Punky. But she lost, as it should be.  I find myself following her soft curves until. Yes, there.  Right there.


I ease one hand free of her suit, clutching my mask.  My other hand slides out as well, but goes to her face, catching her cheek and moving her so she could see if she were conscious.  See me lifting my mask victoriously over my head. I let her go and rise, slipping my mask back on and planting my foot right between her creamy breasts and posing.  Boos cascade down, but also pictures are taken. Pictures that will travel the world and show how Rowan was left lying at my feet.

I step off of her and move to where the crew is trying to gingerly release Punky's ankle from the tangled ropes.  I assume a catcher's position and lean over her face. "You fought well. Come at me again. Just you. Then we can see who'd win without some lucky break."  I smirk and decide to piss off the Punk Goddess off more by putting my hand on her head and ruffling her hair before I move away from her, exiting the ring to the boos of all involved.

—

Everything goes red when the referee’s hand counts the three.  I snarl so hard that I can almost hear my teeth cracking, blood and drool trickling from my black lips.  I don’t look like a sensuous Japanese succubus anymore. I look like a god-damned frothing zombie, clawing from the grave and ravenous with the hunger that only cerebella can satisfy.

I crane my head up, matted with bloody violet hair, one of my white contacts slipped free, a dark eye blinking naked and wet in curious tandem with my ghost eye.

Megan.  Rowan called me Megan.

She’s laying there, splayed out unconscious, partly stripped to bare that luscious alabaster skin I’ve licked like ice cream in the summer.

That deviant little cowardly fuck puts his boot on her like he won something.

I watch her.  “Rowan,” I say softly, like an incantation.  Summoning Bloody Rowan from the bathroom mirror.  But she just keeps laying there.

RP: I ain’t BELIEVIN’ this.  The Red Enforcer just SNATCHES a victory in this bloodbath.  Casualties all around!

The painted bastard comes over and crouches by me as I lay twisted on the mat with two ring girls and the timekeeper and the ref working freeing my twisted ankle. My mismatched eyes narrow hatefully on him and as he fucking TOUCHES me, so much as TOUCHES at me - I LUNGE at him, snapping my teeth just an inch from his fucking hand as he retreats.  I’m held back only by my cabled leg.

Fortunately, the match is over, and I’m not about to let his little gamesmanship bother me now. Everything over.  I have found my center.

I am calm.

“YOU FILTHY COWARDLY LITTLE PISSANT!  DON’T YOU TURN YOUR FUCKING BACK ON ME, NOT EVER, NOT IN YOUR *LIFE*!  I AM GOING TO FUCKING SNAP YOU IN HALF, DO YOU HEAR ME?! I AM GOING TO BREAK YOUR FUCKING SISSY BONES!”

… for a certain value of calm.

RP: And that’s gonna do it for this show folks.  For iPPV: Three Worlds Collide, for Coastal Championship Wrestling, for All Phoenix Pro, for Rose City Wrestling, for the Moda Center, and for the unconscious Larry Van Keel, I’m Rick Perle saying - seriously, fucking stay away from these people!  THEY’RE INSANE!

[Rowan Chance]

This was one seriously epic match. Thank you Red and Vixen for giving me the fight of my life. Big hugs and kisses for you both.

[RedEnforcer]

You know when you watch sports and you see someone play that's great in the midst of his or her career you don't think "That's a Hall of Famer" until you get near the very end. That's how I felt about this match. I was caught up in the action by these two wonderful wordsmiths and their descriptions laced with humor and personality.  Only as things were winding down could I go back and say "Damn, this is impressive."  If you have the opportunity to take either on, I highly recommend you do so. 

Thanks very much Rowan and Punky for such an amazing fight. 

[RedEnforcer]

Since I'm in my dressing room about to take on Red in a three way match myself, I thought I better read through this for the sake of research.

The two things I learned were -

1) I'm going to beat the holy hell out of Red.

What color is the sky in your world?

2) Syllable for syllable, this is may just be the most entertaining match I've read here.

It was a lot of fun to do. Those two are really amazing to work with.

[Rowan Chance]

Since I'm in my dressing room about to take on Red in a three way match myself, I thought I better read through this for the sake of research.

The two things I learned were -

1) I'm going to beat the holy hell out of Red.

2) Syllable for syllable, this is may just be the most entertaining match I've read here.

1) Red is no pushover.
2) That's very kind. Thank you.

[ThePurpleVixen]

1) I'm going to beat the holy hell out of Red.

Get in line!

2) Syllable for syllable, this is may just be the most entertaining match I've read here.

I'll put my syllables up against any phonemes you wanna mash into 'em, baby doll.

[Rowan Chance]

1) I'm going to beat the holy hell out of Red.

Get in line!

2) Syllable for syllable, this is may just be the most entertaining match I've read here.

I'll put my syllables up against any phonemes you wanna mash into 'em, baby doll.

 

If, and when, I finally roll into the ring with you, I'm going to need to bring a dictionary and a pro wrestling wikipedia.

Oh yeah...and a nail gun.

Don't worry, sweetie. I'll carry you all the way to the finish.

[RedEnforcer]

1) I'm going to beat the holy hell out of Red.

Get in line!

2) Syllable for syllable, this is may just be the most entertaining match I've read here.

I'll put my syllables up against any phonemes you wanna mash into 'em, baby doll.

 

If, and when, I finally roll into the ring with you, I'm going to need to bring a dictionary and a pro wrestling wikipedia.

Oh yeah...and a nail gun.

Don't worry, sweetie. I'll carry you all the way to the finish.

That, I would love to see.

[RedEnforcer]

Can I just say that this and another RP are one of the reasons I signed u and have decided to start posting.

Not just this, but the entire series with you three. It's genuinely a masterpiece and something to aspire to. Magnificent, and also, crucially, thanks for sharing with the wider community. Only one question...where have you guys gotten to recently?!

All three of us are participating in the the FTW league. Our current PPV can be found at http://www.freecatfights.com/forums/index.php/topic,42490.0.html

FTW spawned out of a thread I started to do a promo for the above three way dance.  That thread is at http://www.freecatfights.com/forums/index.php/topic,40049.0.html

The first PPV is at http://www.freecatfights.com/forums/index.php/topic,40877.0.html

The tv shows after that are at http://www.freecatfights.com/forums/index.php/topic,41327.0.html  and http://www.freecatfights.com/forums/index.php/topic,41593.0.html

If you just want a recap before the latest PPV, you can check out this preview show at http://www.freecatfights.com/forums/index.php/topic,42094.0.html

And I made a separate thread in case people wanted to comment on all things FTW over at http://www.freecatfights.com/forums/index.php/topic,41682.0.html


Thanks for commenting and I'm really glad you enjoyed. This match was a real pleasure for me to participate in.

[Ashley Not Golden]

Excellent writing you guys

[~*M*~]

wooooo-weeeeee!!!

How did I miss this beauty!!

Awesome job you guys, and thanks so much for sharing, and giving me a total blast for the last 40 minutes and ~cough~ the two Earth~shattering interruptions in between!

~*M*~

[Rowan Chance]

Thank you! It was a lot of fun!

[Michelle]

Its wonderful to see that the three way isn't dead and people actually care to take the time to write something and do it well.  I have found when they make an effort ....the realism and yes....the arousal.....kinda tends to hit new and unexpected heights.

Can't say enough good things about it...