[howardcosell]

While I'm pretty busy and trying to figure some things out, I wanted to bring this one back. I did this story back in 2006 to give a deeper presentation of Rachel, since she was already in a few stories before. Now, I haven't decided whether or not to have her "retire" as a fighter yet, but since soooooo much was lost when the board crashed, and the Wayback Machine is still updating stuff, I'm glad I had this in an e-mail lol. Marie B. does a part of this story too where she spars with Rachel. Everybody be cool and happy

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I've been very sick, but I needed something to take my mind off of it, so I decided to start this story. It probably isn't that good so far because I've just been pretty ill, so I apologize before hand.

Rachel’s Dilemma

Los Angeles is a very interesting city, but it isn’t a place that I like very much. But that’s where I am, driving my silver Mercedes through the hills of Hollywood to one of it’s most exclusive neighborhoods… to meet the devil herself and to pick up a friend. I am Rachel Apache. Many people will tell you that I am the best fighter in the world. The reason why is quite simple… they say it because I say it. I am 5’10” and I weigh about 152 lbs, but I’m going to probably come down to 147 now that I’m back in OPW. I have very long wavy black hair; it goes all the way down to my shins, but I pin it up and make it as far down as my rear. I have blue eyes, which is different for someone who is Persian descent, but my skin is a tan. Many people say I look like a tanned Wonder Woman, but whatever. My body is a work of art; in my near 27 years of living, I have put 26 into my body. My abs are especially great; they are my favorite. I am weak in particular places on my body, but only one person knows this… Angelo. That’s what all this pain I have been feeling is about, isn’t it? I have defeated every major female fighter who has ever been in OPW, but I am the one who is now defeated. I am the one who has no choice, no control. I pull into the long driveway and I make sure that I have an easy way backing out. I get out of my car and go to the side entrance. Pamela Jean opens the door for me with a smile. The 19 year old is in a baby blue shirt, blue jeans and bare feet. PJ is a talker, and a bit of a prankster. One particular occasion, she called my hotel room and pretended to be someone else cursing and challenging me to a fight. I went running into the hallway and found her standing there looking at me and asking me what was wrong. But she is a very nice girl; I like her and that’s saying something. I walk up the stairs, all the way up the tower. PJ says that Brandy is out with her boyfriend Eric, and for me to call her. I guess the three of us will do something later. PJ tells me that I could take the elevator, but nothing bothers me about taking the stairs. The devil waits for me in her office.

Siena Brown or Siena Blaze and I go back a long way together. Siena was the champion of OPW for eleven years and I was only five when her reign began. She was someone who I would see quite often at my house talking to my parents. I don’t know why someone like her came to our home so often, but she was friends with my father. To make a very long story short, I was winning tournaments and competitions quite easily when I was a child, and at age eleven, Siena and I got into the ring together to spar. I bruised her ribs and broke her eardrum. She hit me a few times, but while her punches were hard and did hurt, I was determined to send her a message that day. life for me is all about respect and conquest. And Siena Blaze was something that I one day wanted to conquer. And in 1996, just before my seventeenth birthday, I beat Siena and won her belt. She had never lost before then, and I beat her. Can’t you see me smiling? Of course not, smiling is not something I do very often. I beat Siena two more times, the last time I fought her here in her hometown in a boxing match. In the weeks before our last fight, Siena repeatedly taunted me, telling me she would do all sorts of sexual things to me on camera and repeatedly tried to start fights with me at the press conferences. I’d never heard or been exposed to someone of the same sex coming on to me, so I told her she was only saying all of it when the cameras were on. She didn’t like that very much, so she attacked me in the locker room. She fought and I could’ve injured her then, but I kept enough of her around for the fight. Every time I set foot in the public eye leading up to this fight, I was cursed at and spit on. The fact that Angelo was with me, was able to protect me, made me feel good. On the way to the ring that night, someone threw a bottle filled with urine at me and it put a knot on the back of my head and I got urine all over my hair. They hated me. But my focus was on Siena. That night, I wanted to hurt her. That night, there was no way she was going to win because I wanted to make all those people feel what I was feeling. I wanted them to hurt. I could’ve knocked her out in the first round; I hit her midsection and she threw up blood. I later found out that I had opened a huge cut on the inside of her mouth. I hit her so many times in her face and body and she was groaning and moaning and crying in her corner. And I noticed something as I was doing it; the crowd was silent. She quit after the seventh round.

So, the devil herself is sitting at her desk talking on her intercom to PJ. “WHO ATE MY PEACHES AND CREAM ICE CREAM?!! WHO ATE MY PEACHES AND CREAM ICE CREAM?!! Oh you emptied all the cartons as a joke? Well, where is my ice cream, PJ?” is what she seems to be yelling. She has on a pink tank top and probably her pajama bottoms. She still looks tired as she pulls some of her blonde hair out of her face and looks at me with her blue eyes. I stare at her until she ends her conversation. We have a bit of a staredown until she opens her mouth.

Siena- “You still hate me, don’t you?”

Rachel- “What did you call me here for?”

Siena- “You still hate me. You know Rachel, I am sorry for everything I’ve--”

Rachel- “WHAT did you call me here for?”

She sits back in her chair. She offers me a seat and she stretches; she is wearing her pajama bottoms.

Siena- “I’m gonna tell you something. It’s not going to make you very happy, okay?”

Rachel- “When am I ever happy these days?”

Siena- “It’s about that. You know, that situation that’s going on with you and…”

Rachel- “Angelo? You can say his name, Siena.”

Siena- “I’m sorry that you’re going through this, Rachel. I never thought Angelo would--”

Rachel- “What did you want to tell me, Siena?”

Siena- “Some of my people intercepted some negotiations with Angelo and Staples Center here in Los Angeles. It seems as though he wants to get back into the fighting and managing position. Did you severe your ties with him as a manager yet?”

Rachel- “What business is it of yours?”

Siena- “That hurt. Look, Angelo’s new girlfriend is looking to fight. He did an interview and he said that he would train her for a fight against you if it came up. You wanted straightforward and blunt, and you got it.”

My heart breaks, shatters and sinks down to my toes. I am in so much pain now. It’s like being kicked in the stomach and I fight back tears as I see the devil looking at me, analyzing and studying this new show of emotion from someone who doesn’t show any.

Rachel- “He has always been in my corner practically my entire career and he’s willing to do that?”

Siena- “I’m sorry I had to be the one to break it to you. That’s why I asked about the managerial thing; if he’s still managing you, he can put you in this fight. And he said… well, would you like to see the video of the interview?”

Siena closes the blinds and they become a screen with Angelo’s face on it giving an interview about me and our breakup. The half Native American half Black man with the long black hair was smiling and speaking as if he’d had a huge weight lifted off his shoulders. Seated with him is Asia, a tall fit young lady with an exotic face and long blonde hair. I don’t want to watch this but I have to; I can’t resist. Angelo says that he helped create me; he helped create who Rachel is and helped create Rachel’s fighting style. But Rachel never loved him; Rachel loved Rachel and Rachel’s success. He wanted me to get out of the fighting and get married and have kids, but all I wanted to do was fight. He really plays me up as this egotistical self-centered woman. And knows it’s going to hurt me; he knows it’s going to break me down. That’s what he wants to do. Then he talks about her… Asia. She loves him; she’s always loved him. He talks about how she and I … well, we won’t go there. And he talks about having her fight me and training her to ‘break my style.’ She is smiling and holding his hand the whole time. There’s footage of her punching a dummy that is dressed in a purple bra, purple shorts and has on a black wig. She’s landing hard punches to the lower abdomen, and kneeing the ribs. This is all designed to send a message to me. At 6’1” Asia is taller than I am and she looks very determined, as she is made to.

Siena- “Are you okay?”

Rachel- “You did this to instigate something, Siena?”

Siena- “I swear on my kids’ lives that I only told you this to make you aware. You’ve been an inspiration to Brandy; no matter what you and I have between us, I cherish you for helping my daughter get over her shyness.”

Rachel- “Even the one who you don’t acknowledge? The one you had when you were thirteen and gave away?”

Siena- “Is that necessary? Oh my God, Rachel. Do you have to say something like that? Do you have to hate me like this? I can’t f**kin’ believe the way you bring up stuff like that! What does that have to do with--”

Rachel- “I have to leave. I apologize.”

I was out of line with her and I leave her up there crying. Siena sends her 22 year old daughter Christina checks but doesn’t acknowledge her as a daughter the way she does with her other three. Christina has been in and out of jail and has a very long rap sheet. She’s just like her mother used to be, a problem child. At one point, the younger Siena Blaze would tell everyone she had a miscarriage because she was so ashamed about having the government take her child from her. Then she lied to Hadrian and told him she was eighteen when she was fourteen and got pregnant again right after she won the title. She ended up marrying him, but of course, he cheated on her and Spider Slade was born. It’s amazing the things someone learns when she does her research. And I research on every opponent I face, but the things I found out about Siena never have ceased to amaze me. Every person, no matter how strong, has a weakness, has a breaking point physically and mentally. I am an expert at breaking people. But enough about her and her problems. I go downstairs and leave. If Brandy were here, I would be in her room right now crying. But she’s out with her boyfriend and I don’t want to bother her. Love is such a beautiful thing and Brandy is in love with the right guy. I'll call her when I'm in a better mood. She's my best friend, but she's been great helping me deal with all of this and she needs a break. I get into my car and pull off. I can’t believe this.

Angelo and I grew up together. Angelo was an annoying kid; he would follow me around, he would flirt with me and accuse me of giving him the cold shoulder. We weren’t even five years old, and he was flirting with me and talking to me like we were grown ups. He wasn’t inappropriate or sexual, but he just wouldn’t stop. We went to a martial arts camp in Japan; the training was hard, but we both graduated. I saw a different side of Angelo then; he was becoming attractive and he showed me that he was an intelligent person. He serenaded me at a concert when he was eleven; he got on stage and stole the microphone, I was slightly amused. He was also my punching bag; we would spar and I would beat him silly every time. It was very weird to beat up a male, but it was something that I would do plenty of times when I became a professional fighter. I preferred to fight men, and many of them avoided me simply because they knew they would lose. Angelo was always in my corner for my fights; I didn’t feel like I needed him, but he seemed to want to be there badly enough, so I said fine. Angelo would eventually leave to go to military training, and that’s when I knew I was in love with him. Looking at the corner and not seeing him there brought out a side in me that just… I needed him. I realized that he helped me focus; his positive energy and sense of humor helped me. When he returned, he and I became engaged, but not in the traditional way. Eventually, he had to go back to training. When he got back the second time, he brought Asia with him and the events leading to our break-up began. Or at least, the seeds were planted.

There are traditions in my culture and traditions that I have adopted on my own that I follow strictly. For example, every morning I wake up and jog. I come back and train until I am exhausted. Then I shower and make breakfast. This is how I do things every day, no matter where I am. My training is extremely hard; I am a perfectionist in everything that I do. Another thing that I don’t do is show my feet. In my culture, a woman who shows her feet is showing her shame. I take great care of my feet; I believe in good foot hygiene and a woman who doesn’t take care of her body is the most disgusting thing in this world. I give credit to Siena for doing that; she got herself clean and doesn’t drink as heavily as she once did. But the traditions that deal with Angelo come from my adopted Amazon heritage. There is an Amazon way that the woman doesn't show emotion. I am a master at this, because if you show no emotion, then your opponent doesn't know whether you are hurt or not. I've been hurt, but my eyes are the only thing that will show emotion. If I groan loudly from a blow, or groan at all, then you have really gotten me good. There is an Amazon tradition that the only way a man can win a woman’s hand in marriage is if her first defeats her in combat. Angelo could never do this to me; but I was in love with him.

So, when I was twenty-one and living in my own house, we sat on the roof and I exposed myself to him. I told him I was in love with him, I told him everything about me. I’m not this egotistical person and I’m not this bland stoic woman. I’m a sensitive person with feelings and weaknesses, but he told me that he already knew that. He had been hurting me in sparring; he knocked me down with a hard blow to my abdomen. My abs are my pride and joy, but just below is my navel and below that is my ‘belly.’ My belly is a pouch of fat that I just can’t get rid of; it’s something that women, especially Persian women like myself, will never be able to get rid of. And my navel sticks neither in nor out, it sits on the surface. I wear my purples shorts just above it, because it is so sensitive, but he used it and my lower abs as target practice. I admitted to him that he had found my weak spot. I told him that he had impressed me. A few years before that, he told me something that hurt me badly. He said that I was acting too masculine and that I was too aggressive because I always wanted to fight someone and I never showed emotion. To have him, someone who had done nothing but compliment me on my body and my work ethic, to have him say that, it made me cry. I told him about it and he realized my dilemma. I say I’m the best fighter in the world, but the pressure of living up to being Rachel is very hard. I needed Angelo to keep me grounded. I needed him for life. So I told him that my navel, my lower stomach, my neck, and my feet were very sensitive and they were my weak spots. I told him everything. I told him that my breathing was essential to my fighting, if I can’t breath, I can’t fight. I told him that I put up a front of being invincible, because deep down I don’t want to hurt, I don’t want to lose. I lost my virginity that night. And then, a few weeks later, I let him beat me. I told him how our fight would end and we went through it and I gave up. There was no way he would’ve won had I not done this. I had never lost, and technically I was still undefeated, but tradition is tradition and I let my heart override my mind. I thought we would be together forever. I kept fighting and he kept worrying about me. The fighters in OPW were getting a lot better and I was still undefeated, but I wasn’t winning as easily as before.

I told him to give me four more fights and I would retire and we would marry and have children. They would all be boxing or cagefights. I won the first, but lost the second to Nikky Smalls. Then I broke both Spider Slade’s arms and made him submit nearly five minutes into our fight. I was considering my options for my last fight when Angelo called me and told me that he wanted out of our relationship. He didn’t want anything to do with fighting and he was tired of waiting for me. He told me he never felt like I loved him. I didn’t know what to say, so I said fine. He went to Asia, and the two have been together ever since. So, I called Siena and told her I wanted to come back to OPW. I haven’t really thought about the break up with Angelo; I still bury a lot of my emotions. He taught me how to cry and let it out. And Brandy has been there for me; she and I have been friends practically all our lives. Angelo says he doesn’t want anything to do with fighting, but Angelo is training another girl to fight me, training another girl to beat me. When Asia first showed up all those years ago, I greeted her by burying my fist into her stomach. Angelo introduced us to each other. I was out jogging and they found me. I remember it well…

Angelo- “Asia, this is my girlfriend Rachel.”

Asia- “How are you? I’ve heard so much about you.”

Rachel- “Rule number one…”

I punched her underhanded in the pit of her stomach. Her abs were tight, she surprised me but she folded over my arm, made a groaning sound and sank to her knees. Angelo looked at me with scorn.

Rachel- “Protect yourself at all times.”

Then I sensed something as I stood in front of her in a purple sports bra and yellow shorts trimmed with purple. She was getting up pretty fast. Something came over me, it was a feeling that I couldn’t quite describe. I kissed Angelo and resumed my jogging; for some reason, I was jogging faster than usual. I made it to my house, showered and changed into a button up white shirt, some white jeans and my white bunny slippers. I unbuttoned the bottom three buttons on my shirt; I love the way my abs look. I made myself some spaghetti. I was such a big spaghetti eater when I was a child, that my nickname was Ragu. You’d never know it looking at my figure. A knock came to my door and I felt a tightness in my throat. I opened it and there was Asia, looking at me with a smile. My eyes widened.

Asia- “Would you care to step outside?”

Rachel- “For what?”

Asia- “I just want to talk. Come outside; it’ll be fun.”

Rachel- “I have no desire to fight you, if that’s what this is. Go away.”

I don’t know what was wrong with me. There should’ve been anything to worry about from this military brat. I tried to close my door, but she jumped up and forced it open. She yanked me off my porch with one hand and threw me on the grass. I got up fast and I was dizzy and couldn’t get focused.

Asia- “Rule number two…”

I felt pain explode in my stomach and a feeling of not being able to breath at all. I heard my voice make a high pitch squeal and my body when down hard.

Asia- “Keep your hands to yourself. I got you. I can beat you; I know all about you. Angelo couldn’t stop talking about you.”

She pulled me up by my shoulders; her strength was incredible for a girl who was only two inches taller than me. She kneed me hard in the stomach and pushed me down. She looked down at me and waited for me to get up, but I stayed down.

Asia- “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll never do anything to upset Angelo. Because I do want him, and if he leaves you, he’s never coming back.”

That was Asia. The first woman I could remember who wasn’t afraid to fight me. Well, other than my sister Lady Jasmine, but that’s another story. She had me down and unwilling to face her in front of my own home that day. I wasn’t afraid of her; I just didn’t know her and I rely so much on strategy. Another time, there was a picnic and we were playing football. I had the ball and she was on the defense. She was approaching to tackle me and I thought it would be nice to run right at her, then flip over her. The second I planted my feet, she kneed me in the stomach. I went down and Angelo stopped the game. He thought it was funny. I told him that I was vulnerable to knees to the body; for some reason, I haven't been able to see them coming or defend against them. Brandy grabbed Asia and punched her, but Asia punched Brandy in the stomach. Brandy is a fit girl, but her stomach is as delicate and soft as a pillow; though it doesn’t look that way when she’s wearing something over it. Asia stood over both of us in a fighting stance. Asia is a problem for me. And now she’s got Angelo; now she wants to fight me. But as I ride to my next destination, I let the thoughts of Asia take a backseat to what’s coming. What I have to do. And my next destination is my Los Angeles home. My main home is in San Diego, but I have property here as well. Someone is coming to train with me and I patiently await her arrival.

TO BE CONTINUED…

[howardcosell]

Rachel Apache vs. Marie B.......Sparring Session by Marie B.


I knew that Siena was sending over a sparring partner for me to work with, but I was still shocked when I opened my door and saw Marie B. standing there, looking up at me.

“You’re the wrestler I’ve been hearing so much about.” I said to the small, blonde girl. “You’re not much to look at, not in a fighting sense.”

“Stop wasting time, Rachel,” answered Marie, flatly. “I can tell that you’re surprised; maybe even a little disappointed…..don’t think it’s uncool to show it. I know you were expecting someone with more of a national reputation than me. I don’t really care. Let’s fight.”

I must confess to being a bit impressed…..and as most folks know, I, Rachel Apache, do not impress easily. I expected Marie to get defensive about my insult, perhaps even to mention that she was a former, two-time OPW champion; but she didn’t and I felt a grudging admiration for her because of it.

On the other hand, when Siena said she was sending “some tough competition to help you get back in the game,” I was expecting to see Kayla or Tito Blaze show up at my door. (“Joo want to fight, Raccchhhhhhhhhel?”). I agreed to let Siena send someone because I do need to tune-up and I don’t really care who it is…..I can beat anyone. But I knew that Siena wasn’t doing this for me; she had to have some other goal in mind. Marie must have read this on my face because she said;

“Don’t think Siena is sending a sparring partner so she can butter you up, Rachel. She doesn’t need to do that. No….she set this up to help me. She says I need to lock up with good fighters in order to improve. And she says that there is no one better than you. So, let’s fight.”

I smirked, “You don’t seriously expect to win, do you, Marie?”

The small girl sighed audibly;

“Are you trying to get out of this, Rachel? Or are you trying to piss me off? Because you shouldn’t expect your words to psyche me out.”

I stared at Marie, surprised at her answer.

“Because I’ll tell you this, Rachel. I always try to win any type of contest I enter…..but winning or losing isn’t the essence. Doing my best and learning my trade is what I’m after. There’s no one here but you and me. There is no crowd to please, no money to be made and no titles to be won. Until this morning, I thought Siena was going to be here to watch me; she usually is. That she isn’t neither pleases nor displeases me; it’s simply the way she chooses to handle it.”

“But do you actually think you have a chance to win, Marie?”

“Have you been hearing a word I’ve been saying, Rachel? No? Okay, let’s take it point-by-point. First, it doesn’t matter who wins today. If you win, you won’t hear a word of complaint from me. If I beat you, I don’t expect to derive anything from it except experience, which I need. Records aren’t kept in fights like this, right? Second, I want to learn to be the best fighter I can be; and Siena says that tangling with you can help me toward that goal. Lastly, you look at me and aren’t impressed with what you see? Well, I can’t control what you think and do…..and I wouldn’t want to. But if I can force you into extending yourself in trying to beat me, both of us will benefit. It doesn’t matter to me if you derive benefit or not, but you would.”

***********************************

People of my background don’t show outward emotion very much; but I will admit to harboring a smile on the inside. I liked this girl. I hadn’t expected to and I wasn’t going to let her see it, but I did.

“We can go down to the local gym and use the mats there,” I said.

“I’d just as soon use the grass in your back yard,” answered Marie.

I nodded. “I need five minutes to put on my purple outfit. I assume you want to change, too.”

“You assume wrong,” said Marie. “Go ahead and change.”

I donned my purple t-shirt, shorts and exercise shoes. It was hardly traditional wrestling gear, but purple is my trademark and I always sport it when I fight. When I stepped into the back yard, Marie was standing there dressed as before, but her feet were bare.

“A proper woman doesn’t show her feet,” I said, disapprovingly.

“Those are your standards, Rachel…..don’t presume to apply them to me. I dress as I please.”

I thought about this confrontation. As I said, the best way to keep in fighting shape is to have fights, but I had serious doubts that this contest was to be of any value to me. It would be more like shooting fish in a barrel. She was too small, too inexperienced, and probably too unskilled to do either of us much good.

Still, she was here…….

*******************

As we got ready to wrestle, we stood a few feet apart and sized each other up. Marie had knotted her t-shirt around her waist, and I thought how vulgar she looked with her exposed midriff and shoeless feet. Mostly, though, I thought about how gaunt and vulnerable she appeared……and so very small. Yet, I was no fool. I had studied tapes of her fights, as she had undoubtedly done of mine, and I knew she had had success against larger foes; she must have something going for her.

Marie and I had agreed to go for the best of five falls; first to win three wins the match. As we circled each other, I decided on my usual strategy; to let the opponent make the initial move and to counter it. I was sure Marie would fall into the trap….everyone else had.

Marie used an ultra-quick move to try and circle behind me. She was very fast, but I was just as fast and had turned so that we were face-to-face when she completed her dash. I expected her to be nonplussed by my counter and to be momentarily uncertain. Sure enough, her eyes looked disappointed and she seemed ready to back away…..then she shocked me by leaping forward and wrapping both her arms around my right leg. I figured she would attempt to pull the leg toward her and trip me. Instead, she fooled me a second time by continuing her forward momentum; thrusting her entire body forward while lifting my body in the air and forcing me onto my back. Releasing my leg, Marie attempted to mount me, but I was quick enough to grab her wrist and bend it roughly, forcing her to wince and abandon her riding technique. I used the crook of my elbow under her chin to push her off me. We both instantly rose to our feet and faced off.

I have to admit I was impressed; no one had ever overcome my counter move before. I could see Siena’s handiwork all over this. As much animosity as I had for the woman, I admit that she knew how to coach and train a wrestler. But, face it; the fighter being trained still has to deliver the goods, and Marie had done it. Seems I might have to extend myself more than I thought.

We approached each other again, and I could see that Marie was expecting to have to make the initial charge again. Seeing that, I rushed straight at her and scooped her up into a bearhug. Our bodies were so tightly pressed together that I knew Marie had no room to punch her way out in the second before I was able to truly apply the pressure. No, she couldn’t punch…..so she used a flashing elbow as a punch, exploding upward against my jaw and forcing me to see stars. I was stunned; I released the bearhug and staggered backward on unsteady legs. Marie propelled herself forward like a missile and launched the top of her head into my solar plexus. I was again driven to the ground and tried to get my arms up to fight her off; instead, she grabbed my legs and flipped me onto my stomach. She crossed my legs behind me and intertwined one of her legs between them to lock them in place. Then, she reached forward and lifted my chin in a camel clutch.

I couldn’t believe her quickness and cunning. The pressure on my back and neck was incredible. What a grip this little girl had. My arms were free, but there was nothing to grab onto except her hands. It took nearly a full minute before I could gain enough purchase to pry those hands apart. When I did, Marie tried to re-apply the same chinlock.

It was a mistake; her first of the match. Before she could clasp her hands together, I grabbed her wrists and pulled them forward. Marie was not expecting a move like that and her face smashed into the back of my head. Although this occurred behind me, I felt her body wilt from the pain. Suddenly, her leg-lock was gone and she was clinging loosely onto my back, stunned. It was easy to flip her over onto her back, hook a leg, and pin her….1-2-3…. for the first fall.

**************************

After a five-minute break, Marie looked more refreshed than I thought she would be. Believe me, many of my past opponents had initially demanded a multi-fall match, only to call the whole thing off after going just one stanza with me. That was not going to be the case here, and despite myself, I found myself appreciating this small girl even more.

As we circled, I saw Marie bend down and extend her arms as she approached me. I expected another attempt at my legs with her arms, but she fooled me again. As I prepared to counter her arms with my own, Marie swung her right leg forward dynamically and swept my two legs from under me, knocking me onto my rear end. It was a hard, unexpected landing and the momentary shock gave her a chance to do what she had wanted to in the first fall; to move swiftly behind me in an effort to control me from there. In a flash, Marie wrapped her legs tightly around my midsection and captured me in a full-nelson, forcing my arms straight in the air.

This was real trouble for me. Marie had locked her ankles tightly and was applying a world of pressure to my stomach and back. I felt as if my guts were being compacted and I knew I had to get out of this as quickly as possible, for there is little that saps the strength faster than a well-applied scissors hold. Her full-nelson was uncomfortable but not dangerous; she didn’t have the physical power to make it truly debilitating. The problem was, every time I tried to use arm thrusts to power out of the hold, Marie would wisely tighten her body-scissors to dampen my efforts.

I felt myself weakening. Marie was using all her strength to grind in the two holds and it was sapping her energy, too. Although I was using every maneuver at my disposal to escape, my own power was flagging and I was afraid I would have to submit the fall in order to avoid exhausting myself for the rest of the match.

But, no! Giving up was not my way. Never had been and never would be. I had one more tactic at my disposal, and I thought it might work on my inexperienced opponent.

We were both in a sitting position; with Marie behind me and in control. I used all my strength to pull my body forward, attempting to pull her with me. It was a slow, inexorable process, and Marie must have wondered what I hoped to achieve with it….after all, it didn’t loosen her arm and leg holds on me; if anything, it tightened them. She was applying only a small amount of backward pressure, obviously figuring that I had nowhere to go anyway. That’s what I wanted her to think.

Then, with a suddenness that Marie wasn’t prepared for, I reversed the direction of the pressure and snapped myself viciously backward. My body went back like a shot, and hers was propelled in the same direction with incredible force. Her back and head hit the ground with a thud, followed instantly by the crunch of my body flattening hers to the grass. Her arms and legs lost their grip and Marie moaned in pain. My plan had worked to perfection. Marie lay there semi-conscious, and it was an easy matter of straddling her and using my arms to pin her to the grass……1-2-3.

*************************

After another few minutes of rest, Marie again looked fully recovered. I admire fighters who keep themselves in perfect condition; it shows a respect for one’s self and one’s sport. And, being able to recover from a devastating tactic, much less two of them, is due to superior conditioning. Although I had great animosity for Marie’s teacher, I had the feeling that the small girl and I were going to become friends.

But I thrust that thought aside! First, there was a match to be won. I had only one more fall to win in order to take the contest, but I knew that Marie desperately wanted to take at least one fall, despite what she had said about winning or losing not being the essence. And, after all, she had nearly won the second fall; I am a big enough person to admit that. If she been more experienced and my desperation move had been unsuccessful, she probably would have forced me to submit the fall. It’s hard for me to accept that, but, above all things, I am a realist.


In the third fall, Marie wasted no time in going on the attack; she had wisely learned that my ability to counter-move made it unlikely that she could fool me again. She leaped at my upper body, grabbing me around the neck and attempting to wrestle me to the grass. I was ready, though, and I scooped her up with a hand under the crotch and turned her upside down in one fluid motion. I heard her gasp in surprise at the speed of the maneuver, but before she could try to grab onto me, I body-slammed her to the lawn. She landed hard and flat and her back arched in shock. I wanted to end this quickly, so I leaped cross-wise onto her chest, looking to pin her shoulders. Before I could get set, Marie shocked me by snaking her right arm around the back of my neck, pushing my face roughly into the grass.

Now here was a predicament! She was still under me with her shoulders on the ground and in danger of being pinned…… yet, I was at more of a disadvantage than she was. I was literally eating grass and had limited use of my arms as long as my face was pressed against the ground. I presumed that her left shoulder was at least slightly raised from the grass and could avoid the pin indefinitely. I was trying to brace my hands against the ground in an effort to lift my body upward, but as I said, it was impossible to gain any purchase while my head was being held immobile.

With the realization that I couldn’t lift my upper body, I decided instead to use my lower body to escape. Raising my right leg, I got one knee on the ground and moved it toward Marie. I could tell that Marie sensed what I was about to do, but she was still trapped beneath me and unable to prevent it when I snapped my knee into the side of her head. Despite herself, she cried out in pain…..and I repeated the maneuver. Her right arm released my head and I raised it from the ground. Seeing that I was preparing to mount her, Marie twisted and squirmed desperately to escape. I could feel that her strength was almost gone, yet she fought like a wildcat to get away from me. Catching me by surprise, she grasped both my wrists and twisted her body so that she could thrust one bare foot into my face and grind it against my mouth and nose. As I have said, a woman should not show her feet and this was surely a most undignified tactic to use. Yet, I knew that Marie was desperate to stave off defeat and if this was the method she chose to use in attempting to achieve the goal, I must respect it, even as I overcome it.

After fighting against her hold for a moment, I reversed my thrust and pulled backward. When Marie was forced to release me, I quickly reached down and snatched her entire body up toward me. I stood up straight, and in the same motion, tossed her over my head and across my back. Her rear end lie on the back of my neck; her left leg hung off my right shoulder, where I held it steady with my right hand; her head dangled off my left shoulder and I clamped my left hand under her chin. It was a perfect backbreaker and Marie no longer had the strength to escape it.

I clamped down on both ends of the small girl. I bent her head further downward even as I increased the downward pressure on her left leg. She could have submitted anytime, but she made me admire her by holding out for nearly five minutes. By the time she gave in, Marie was bent backward almost double and the pain had to have been enormous. Finally, though, she did tap my shoulder with her free hand. I had won, three falls to none.

It has been my practice in the past to rudely drop my opponent to the ground after forcing them to submit to this hold. And, despite what you might be thinking, I did not depart from the practice for this occasion. I am a warrior…..but so is Marie, and I firmly believe that she would want no special treatment.

Marie thudded to the ground when I dropped her. I left her unattended as she writhed in pain. I walked into the house to refresh myself.

When I returned, Marie was still lying quietly on the grass, looking at the sky. Not speaking a word, I walked over to her and placed an appreciative hand on her shoulder.

After a moment, she put her hand on my shoulder, and we sat in companionable silence for a long, long time.

[howardcosell]

Marie and I watch the sun set over the Hollywood hills. The little girl really has impressed me with her behavior during the sparring session we had earlier. I shouldn’t call her that… Marie has impressed me. She handled herself with discipline and courage in facing a fighter like me and that is something I must admit to her. Siena Blaze doesn’t teach honorable fighting; she teaches hate as a motivation. Siena couldn’t have possibly taught Marie this. I open my back door and lead Marie to my living room.

Rachel- “Would you care to join me in a plate of spaghetti?”

Marie- “Sure.”

I don’t mind her bare feet in my house; I actually prefer that guests remove their shoes when walking on my carpet. It’s very expensive and stains don’t come out of it easily. But I certainly can’t stop looking at them. Marie pays me back in her own way by staring at my shoes. I ask Marie to wait for me in the living room. She doesn’t tell me that she is impressed with the furniture and the purple and gold decorations and carpet, but I know she is. Most of the lamps in the room and the decorations are made of solid gold. I have a lot of pillows; Brandy usually comes here and wants and takes pillows from me because they are the softest and most relaxing pillows in the world. I hear Marie gasp and I go to see what is wrong. She is staring at something and I think I know what it is.

Marie- “That big tiger over there looks about as real as real can get. Where did you get it from?”

There’s my full-grown Bengal tiger, Tony, in a seated position staring directly at Marie. I want to smile badly as Marie approaches Tony and pets his head. Tony is just as still as ever, but blinks his eyes and Marie jumps.

Marie- “That thing just blinked at me. It’s a real tiger!!”

Rachel- “Stay still; stay very still and don’t move. You startled him.”

Marie stays as still as she can be while Tony comes out of his seated position and circles her, sniffing at her feet. Then Tony puts his head under Marie’s hand and forces her to pet him. He looks up at her and sticks his tongue out. I have to turn to stop myself from laughing. I am not known for being a joker, but Tony brings that out in me.

Marie- “What kind of person has a pet tiger? And a full grown one at that?”

Rachel- “A woman who needs to be protected. Tony is my pride and joy. He watched over my house for me when I am away. I cook steaks for him and he always greets me with a smile. He didn’t want to stay in San Diego this time, so I brought him with me. He always misses me. Here, eat.”

I hand Marie a plate of spaghetti and meat sauce and we sit on my purple and gold couch. Most of the furniture in my house has a shine to it, as if it has glitter sprinkled all over it. This couch can be purple or gold depending on which angle you look at it from. We eat and I feed Tony. There’s something strange about a woman who’s father is Persian and mother is Japanese, eating Italian in an Aztec modeled mansion in Los Angeles. We sit back on my couch and Marie seems to really be making herself at home. She seems to look into my eyes a lot, almost like she’s trying to see my thoughts, and I am trying to do the same to her.

Rachel- “Why do you show your feet so often?”

Marie- “Why do you not show your feet so often?”

Rachel- “Because my culture dictates-”

Marie- “So you limit yourself to what your culture says?”

Rachel- “I don’t ever limit myself. I follow the standards-”

Marie- “You’re in Los Angeles and you live close to the beach. How many pairs of feet have you seen since you’ve been here. Do you stop all of those people and ask them why they show-”

Rachel- “Fine, Marie. I was only trying to start up a conversation with you is all.”

Marie- “About my feet? I’m sure the best there is, the best there was, and the best there ever will be could come up with something better than that?”

Rachel- “You mock my slogan, Marie? Remember, I am the one who defeated Siena Blaze. The ‘woman’ who is training you now. The same ‘woman’ who sent you here and put you at my mercy. I was the one-”

Marie- “Yes I know that. Siena didn’t tell me before I came, but it was common knowledge that you are the one. I notice that there’s an edginess in both your tones of voice when either of you mentions the other. But Siena told me that you are the best fighter in OPW and that I would learn greatly by sparring with you. So, she definitely respects you. I don’t know what the deal is with the two of you and your obvious dislike for her, but I just want to become a great fighter and continue to improve.”

Rachel- “Why?”

Marie- “What do you mean?”

Rachel- “Why do you want to be a great fighter? Why do you want to make a living hurting people?”

Marie- “Why do you do it?”

Rachel- “Come with me, Marie.”

I lead Marie upstairs to one of my meditation rooms. This is one of my favorites, because the ceiling is clear hard plastic and I can open it up via remote and experience the day’s air or the night sky. The stars are out and nostalgia settles into my stomach as I remember that Angelo and I danced up here. Marie and I sit Indian style on the decorative mats; she already knows what to do. She closes her eyes as the smell of incense tickles our noses. Tony sticks his head in yawns.

Rachel- “Marie, there are a lot of things that I want you to ask yourself. Why are you a fighter? There are so many other things that a smart young lady like you can do with herself, but you choose to give that up for this sort of life. You have money now; you are very famous now, but the pain that you will experience once you take on a full schedule of this, once you step in the ring night after night… that will possibly be more than you can bear. Can you handle that? Because no matter who trains you, that person won’t be laying in a hospital bed feeling what you’re feeling if this goes wrong. So you think about that, Marie. And then, what makes you a fighter? Because you can get in the ring and do some moves? Because you hang out with so-called fighters like your friend Kayla? Or is it because you’re being trained by a former fighter? Does this make you a fighter? It DOES NOT. You are not tough when you want to be; you’re tough when you HAVE to be. I fight because it is out of respect for my family’s legacy. I fight because both my parents fought, and despite our wealth, I choose to do this to be the best. That is why I fight. Serenity grew up in Compton, California in the middle of a gang war between the Bloods and the Crips. She had bullets flying through her windows and one of her friends was killed in the crossfire of a drive-by shooting. Fighting is what she learned for her defense, for her protection. Glory was homeless as a child; she lost both her parents before she could have a memory of them. Fighting is what made her who she is. She had to fight to survive on the streets of Spanish Harlem and in the homes of abusive foster parents. Titonia Velasquez or Tito Blaze as you know her was the youngest of eight children. She has seven older brothers and she grew up in the poorest part of Tijuana, Mexico. She used to sleep in a stack of old newspapers and her father was an abusive alcoholic. He would beat her mother and her mother would beat her. She had to fight to survive; she had to run away and become a wrestler to make it out of that hell. Do you understand me, Marie? Nikky Smalls could’ve been a gang member or a drug dealer in Wisconsin instead of a world champion boxer. And of course, there’s Siena herself. Marie, what makes YOU a fighter? You don’t have to tell me, but make sure that you tell yourself. Because when you step into that ring, understand that some of those girls that you’ll be staring at are willing to die for this. And what is your goal? What is it that you want out of fighting? The objective of being in OPW is to be the World champion. Right now, Kayla is the world champion… does that make you happy? Do you feel like it’s okay because she’s your friend? Because if you do, you are in the wrong field of employment. Your goal, when you feel you are good enough to have a goal, should be the World title. Because as far as I’m concerned, you have never truly held it. And what if Siena Blaze is the world champion when you decide you have a goal? Then what? You have to think about all of these things, Marie B… because if you and I face each other, and one day we probably will, I will have no mercy on you. Because I AM A FIGHTER, what are you?”

Her eyes remain closed and I see the hint of tears. I don’t know why they are there, but my talk with her is interrupted by a horn I’m all too familiar with. I know there is a red Ferrari at my gate… Brandy.

Brandy- “Yeah, and I told Rachel to just have fun with it, and she did.”

Brandy. If there is ever someone who shows off the human side of Rachel Apache, it’s Brandy Blaze, Siena’s oldest daughter and my best friend. Marie looks at me with a puzzling gaze and grins.

Marie- “Wow, it’s hard to imagine you at a karaoke bar singing ‘Achy Breaky Heart.’ But stranger things have happened.”

Rachel- “It was only once. I am NOT a fan of country music or karaoke bars. Brandy begged me to do it and I did it for her.”

Brandy- “Oh but Marie, you should’ve seen her. She put on the cowboy hat and started going bananas. She even got on the mechanical bull. She got a standing ovation. And yeah, it was only once… at that country club. Usually, we go to another bar and we tear it up singing. Rachel can sing; she’s got an Amy Grant sort of sound, even with her accent. She’s a lot better than PJ. If I have to hear PJ sing ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’ or ‘We Will Rock You’ one more time, I’m going to slap her with her catcher’s mask. But you should try it sometime, Marie. It’s a great rush.”

Marie- “I think I’ll pass, ha ha! But I’d love to go watch you two.”

They are laughing at me, and that’s fine. When Brandy and I first became friends, she would tell me that she doesn’t fit in with her family because they are each unique. I told her that she did fit in because she was the normal one. Brandy’s softball card says that she’s 6’4”, but she’s probably a little over 6’2”, she wears heels a lot. She’s got a perfect body and she’s got long red hair and blue eyes. She’s the superstar centerfielder for USC’s softball team, #12. Any pitch you throw at her, she will hit a homerun… I’m serious; she’s that good, but she won’t admit it. She’s also an actress, a singer, and a former hopeless romantic. Brandy found the love of her life in Eric DeErico. Her sister Helena fixed her up on a date with Eric because he looked like someone who Brandy once had a huge crush on. If Helena did this to play a joke on Brandy, it backfired. She and Eric are in love. She has what people would call a ‘girl next door’ personality. She’s just a nice shy girl. She reaches into her large purse and pulls out a carton of peaches n cream ice cream. I’m sure it was Siena’s, since Siena is addicted to the stuff. She gets some bowls out of my cabinets and we eat the ice cream and I listen to her tell Marie things that don’t make me seem so much like the epitome of perfection I was only moments before Brandy arrived. None of us should be eating this stuff, but I need to do something to hide my embarrassment as Brandy tells Marie about the ‘penis suplex’ incident.

Brandy- “Rachel was wrestling this fat guy named Sal the Shark in Richmond, Virginia. Sal was a guy who was just so full of himself, as most guys I’ve known are. But anyway, he did this promo where he said he was going to destroy Rachel and embarrass her and strip her naked after the match. So I was backstage with her when she heard him, and she said she was going to embarrass him just for saying that. So hahaha, okay, so he and Rachel are wrestling. And he’s wearing these spandex shorts with the Italian flag on them, and Rachel lifts him into the suplex position, where he’s upside down and she’s holding him by his shoulder and thigh, but when she pulled him up, her hand slid the leg to his shorts up too. And his… parts, were exposed to everyone in the arena. And Marie, I’m not into looking at guys’ parts, but his were pretty, ummm, small compared to the amount of hair down there. It sort of looked like a canary’s egg in an eagle’s nest if you catch my drift, ha HA!! I’m sorry…”

Rachel- “Brandy, you have been hanging around your sister Pamela Jean too much.”

Brandy- “I couldn’t help it. I had to tell it that way so Marie could get the visual. And then you held him up there with his stuff hanging out for nearly two minutes before you dropped him. Everyone saw it… well, if they had microscopes, ha ha ha HA! Sorry…”

Rachel- “Marie, I did not do it intentionally. I was not aware of the circumstances. I am a professional and I would NEVER--”

Brandy- “Yes she would.”

Brandy and Marie stayed at my house almost until midnight. They did most of the talking, about ‘girl stuff,’ pedicures and Marie’s training. Brandy told Marie that I had gymnastics equipment at my house in San Diego. Brandy was even able to convince Marie to give Tony a neck massage. Brandy is something; she’s shy and quiet everywhere else, but when she’s around me, she talks and talks and talks. That makes me very happy. Brandy is a true friend and a good person to say that she came from Siena and Hadrian. I shouldn’t think like that. Brandy and Marie leave together; Brandy is going to leave her car at my house and let Marie bring her to Siena’s house. So, I am alone with my tiger and my house. I remember when I’d go to sleep and Angelo would be beside me. it was so great to feel so safe. But now…

The phone wakes me up. I’d fallen asleep on the couch with Tony’s gigantic body across me, pinning me down. I see my hair has wrapped itself around my waist again. I slide myself from under my orange and black friend and make my way to the phone. I could just say a code out loud and my house will answer it and put it on speaker, but I don’t want to wake up Tony. It’s too early in the morning for that. I would’ve been up an hour later than now to jog, but it doesn’t matter.

Rachel- “Hello.”

“Rachel. Hey sis.”

Rachel- “Sage? Hi, what is it?”

My eighteen year old sister, Sage.

Sage- “I wanted to catch you before you went jogging. It’s not an emergency or anything; I just thought you should be the first to know.”

Rachel- “Know what?”

Sage- “I’m signing with OPW. I’m going to be wrestling and competing for--”

Rachel- “WHAT?!”

Sage- “Yeah, isn’t it great? I’ll be the third sister to fight in OPW. And you’ll have someone to hang out on tour with.”

Rachel- “What about going to college? What about getting your degree in Criminal Justice? Sage, what are you doing?”

Sage- “Rachelllll, I thought you’d be happy for me.”

Rachel- “Happy? Happy? Sage, OPW is too dangerous for you.”

Sage- “Oh no. Don’t start that. I can take care of myself and you know it. I have trained, I have prepared myself for this. You know I am a good fighter and you know I’ll bring something special to OPW. And I have you and Jasmine as examples. It’s my time to shine. I grew up watching the two of you; I want to represent my family too. I want to be like you, Rachel. You are a symbol of female empowerment; you are a star. I want to do this. I can do so much more if I fight.”

Rachel- “OPW is getting back to being the way it was before. There are TOO MANY wrestlers coming in and most of them are untrained and overly careless and violent. I can NOT let you join. If something happened to you, I would never be able to forgive myself and neither would Mom and Dad. They already hold enough against me as it is. Sage, you are different from me and different from Jasmine. You are smart; you can go and be something more… you don’t need to do this.”

Sage- “I am a FIGHTER, Rachel. I come from a family of fighters.”

Time to put the last card I have on the table.

Rachel- “Sage, I FORBID you from fighting in OPW. I am your older sister and I command you to listen and obey me.”

Sage- “You are NOT my mother, Rachel. And you’ve been a great older sister to Brea and I, but you and Jasmine have to end this cold war between you. You both love each other, and you and Mom and Dad have to make up too. Rachel, it’s never to late to rebuild the bridges that YOU have--”

Rachel- “That isn’t the point of this discussion, Sage. You fighting in OPW is the point. And it is something that you will NEVER do.”

Sage- “It’s too late, Rachel. I was calling you to tell you that I’ve already signed the contract. I faxed it to Siena an hour ago. She was awake, surprisingly enough. I AM in OPW now and I WILL fight. I’m in Los Angeles now, at the Universal City Marriot. I thought we could hang out today.”

Rachel- “What is wrong with you? Sage, you fool, do you want to wrestle in barbed wire matches like your sister Jasmine? Do you want to become a human pincushion like she is or have your legs broken or neck broken? You have Jasmine and I as examples? Well, look at what she did to herself during her career! She’s lucky she got out healthy and without any permanent injuries! And you want to put yourself in that situation? You did NOT start studying martial arts and training at the same age that Jasmine and I did. You were much older. Jasmine started cagefighting when she was NINE and I was sparring when I was four! You’re eighteen, and you have NEVER had a match! Jasmine and I HAD to fight; Sage, YOU DON’T HAVE TO!!”

Sage- “It’s what I WANT to do!”

Rachel- “Sage, I have some things I have to do today. But don’t go anywhere, because I am going to be over there later to pick you up… and then I am going to personally SHOW you why you don’t belong in OPW. So I hope you brought your sparring attire.”

Siena Blaze. She did this, that female pimp. But it's okay; some things can be reversed and I'll just have to make Sage change her mind. I go and jog and when I come back, I train HARD. I am angry, but my mood has to change. I have a stop to make at the hospital.

TO BE CONTINUED…
I get in Brandy’s Ferrari and take a ride. Sage’s announcement has really ruined my morning, but what comes next is something that I know I’ll be thinking about all day. I make my way to the hospital and park in the garage. It doesn’t take me very long to reach my destination. I see all of the children with their scars and their pink eyeballs and their baldheads and it all breaks my heart. The staff greets me with smiles, hugs and handshakes, but my attention is on the children. I hate coming here; I hate seeing these kids like this. But most of all, I HATE that I can’t do anything to change their conditions. I usually go there in a purple shirt and some black pants; I try to be as in character as I possibly can. The kids really love that. I always ask them who their favorite wrestlers are and I get Glory or Serenity a lot. One of those girls, Alice is a HUGE fan of a particular wrestler. I ask who, and she tells me Marie B… I ask her why and the little raven haired girl goes on and on about how cool Marie is. She gives everyone hope and she isn’t afraid of anything and she wasn’t afraid of Glory and she’s so fast and she’s so cute and she’s got perfect feet and she’s really smart. This girl stays up as late as she can to watch Marie wrestle. This girl LOVES Marie. No cell phone use in the hospital, but I use the regular phone and call Marie. She sounds like she’s half asleep, but when I tell her what it’s about, she’s wide awake. I promise her that if she does this for me, I will never forget it. It doesn’t take long before she is in the hospital smiling and sitting on Alice’s bed talking to her. Marie is all hugs and smiles. She plays video games with the children, answers all of their questions; she’s a pro.

We spend three hours at the hospital with those kids before I move to one in particular, who wanted to see me. Little eight-year old Randy has A.I.D.S. and her condition has worsened considerably. All I can give her is the same Rachel nonsense about beating the odds and being the best and if I can do it, she can too. I told her that I would win the twenty-woman battle royal in Sydney, and I won it, despite the controversy. She saw that herself. I promised her I would win and I told her that she would beat AIDS. I’ve spent a lot of time with Randy; she and the other kids here have really become attached to me. I approach her and sit down next to her.

Rachel- “See, I told you I would win the battle royal. And you are going to beat AIDS just like I beat those girls. You are smart, you are brave, and you are the real hero.”

Randy- “You sure did win and they gave it to Glory. But you won just like you said you would.”

Rachel- “That’s right. The best there is, the best there was,”

Randy- “And the best there ever will be!”

Rachel- “And if I beat all those girls just like I said I would, then you’re going to beat AIDS.”

Randy- “No champ. I’m going to meet God, and I’m going to tell Him that I know you.”

I have to fight back tears when she says this. I hug her; I pull her close to me and squeeze her, hoping that somehow, I can absorb the illness out of her. But when we break the hug, she’s still got the scabs in her face. Nothing I do or say will ever mean anything or matter in comparison to the struggles that these children have every day. They are far braver than I will ever be. One thing that must be understood about me is that I have a warm spot for children. For Marie to come here, for her to accept the invitation to make dying children smile and make her self depressed, it says a lot about her character. We leave them and we sit in Brandy’s car. I put my hand on the back of her neck and I tell her that she is great for doing this. Then I change the subject before I break.

Rachel- “You know, Glory pulled out of our match in San Diego next week. After what happened with Nikky and Allison, Glory has a new opponent on that night.”

Marie- “Siena didn’t tell me about that.”

Rachel- “Yes well, Glory left a message on my cell phone. She said she would tell Siena later; she wanted to tell me first. But I spoke to Siena, and I have a new opponent.”

Marie- “Who are you going to be facing?”

Rachel- “Death”

It all hits me when I say that word. All of this falls on me like a weight and I can’t lift it. My head falls on the steering wheel and I sob loudly. I can’t hold it in any more, not the Angelo thing or the Sage thing and especially not this. I need to cry and I don’t care who sees me now. I feel Marie’s body fold over my back and her arms wrap around me; she’s hugging me. She’s trying to absorb my pain, but she can’t.

Rachel- “Where do they find the strength to smile? Where do they find the strength not to just die?”

Marie- “A great fighter named Rachel told me yesterday that we’re not tough when we want to be, we’re tough when we have to be.”

I look at Marie and I smile. Siena is training her, but Marie is someone who I want to know, and Siena isn’t going to stop me from doing that. I don’t know what type of fighter or person Marie is going to become learning from Siena, but what I see before me is a woman of honor, pride and compassion. But thinking it isn’t enough.

Rachel- “Marie, I don’t know what type of fighter you will become or what type of person you will become being trained by Siena Blaze, but you are a woman of honor, pride and compassion. If you need me for anything, let me know. What you’ve done for me today has cemented you as someone who I respect. Don’t ever change.”

She sheds a few tears and we hug again, then she goes back to the children’s ward and stays even longer. I make my way to Universal City and pick up my sister Sage. Sage comes down wearing an all black jogging suit. This heat is intense and she chooses to dress this way. She gets in and smiles, but remains silent. We are going to spar, and she knows it. I have to convince her that she can’t compete in OPW and if it takes forcing her to submit, then so be it. She is too hardheaded and now I must make her understand. At 5’7” and probably around 125 lbs with light eyes and long dark hair, many people would tell you that Sage looks like the spitting image of Jessica Alba from her days on the show “Dark Angel.” Siena signed Sage without even taking her in to test her skills as a fighter or wrestler. I pull up to my house and we go to my basement. She takes off her jacket; she has on a black sportsbra and her stomach is firm, and fit. She smiles at me one more time, before raising her fists.

TO BE CONCLUDED

CONCLUSION…

Sage- “Are you sure we have to do this? I mean, I really don’t want to do this, Rachel. I always looked up to you and Jasmine and I thought I was doing what you guys would’ve done.”

Rachel- “Well you thought WRONG, Sage. If you really look up to me, you should have called me and asked me about this and I would have told you how foolish and unnecessary it is.”

I am standing with my fists raised and my mind as unclear as it could be. My eighteen-year-old sister Sage is looking at me with a face that switches from worry to determination as we circle each other. I now see the resemblance to Jessica Alba from “Dark Angel” in her face and form as she launches herself at me with straight lefts and straight rights. I block them easily as I back up, letting her get into a punching frenzy. Usually, I like to dictate the pace of my fights, but this is a lesson for Sage; I want to show her all the mistakes she’s making. I grab her left arm and sling her into the wall, but not that hard. She makes a groaning noise and goes to her knees; this isn’t even close. I could put a rear naked choke on her now and make her submit, but I choose not to as she quickly rises to her feet. She comes at me again; she throws two punches that are over my head and then a front kick at my stomach. Now, let me help you understand what she is doing, because this is something that I do also. The punches are designed to get me to duck into the kick; she has no intention of hitting me full force with them. I’m suppose to be hit high on the forehead by the first punch then duck under the second one right into the kick. But of course, I know this, so I just lean back a bit and then catch her foot. I step over her leg, jump and swing my other leg around and hit her in the side of her head, sending her down. I roll up to my feet and look down. I could easily lift her legs, cross them around one of my own, turn her over on her stomach and sit down in the sharpshooter but I choose not to. Instead, I back up and let her kick herself to her feet. She surprises me by sweeping my legs from under me and trying for a quick armbar. I kick myself to my feet as she rises. She throws a right hand; I duck, give her an elbow to her stomach and armdrag her to the floor. When my elbow makes contact with the pit of her young stomach, I hear the high-pitched “oof” from her and feel her muscles soften and her body fold. I hate doing this to her, but it is necessary.

She rises again and I look at her with my hands on my hips. She raises her fists again and I shake my head. She comes at me again; this time she fires both fists at me at once. I catch one in each hand; she knees me low in the stomach and I feel myself weaken and my voice makes a sound I’m not too proud of. I have GOT to learn how to avoid those knees to the body. She pulls my arms towards her and rolling backwards, she kicks me with both feet in my stomach and then rollkicks me over her head. I flip and land on my back. My wind is cut, but I try to regroup as I turn over to my hands and knees. She kicks at me; she aims for where my neck meets my left shoulder but I catch her foot and yank her down. She lands in a split and seems to be completely unaffected by it as expected. If I were Kayla, I would have punched her between the legs. But only an amateurish coward like her would do something like that. When I get her in the ring, I’ll be sure to break my ritual of fairness and good sportsmanship and give her a taste of her own medicine. Sage spinaroonies her way back to her feet (a spinarooni is the same as a windmill breakdancing move where she spins on her shoulders) I rise and she kicks me in the ribs; she gets my liver. I feel myself suddenly feel like I can’t breath and I stagger back as she jabs me in the stomach. I bring my arms down but she takes a swing at my head and I move only to receive another shot to my stomach. My mouth is open, but my desire is beginning to sink in. Sage aims a right hand at my stomach, and I swat her hand away and it begins. I hit her with a right hand to her jaw, a left to her stomach, and back her all the way to the wall with palm strikes to her solar plexus and stomach; my left hand for her solar plexus and my right hand for her navel. I hear the ‘uh uh uh uh uh uh uh uh uh uh’ coming from her as she looks at me with widened eyes. Those quickstep lessons she’s taking are coming in handy as her feet backpedaled to keep up with my forward movement. She tries to punch me on both sides of my head; this is a Siena Blaze move. I block her fists and clap my hands hard on her head and ears. Her head dangles forward, so I knee her in her stomach. I hear a much louder ‘OOF’ this time and I let her fall. That is the thing about me; I LOVE to fight. It’s time for this to end because I don’t trust myself; I’m beginning to like this.

I grab her by her throat and I force her to look me in the eyes.

Rachel- “Sage, are you beginning to understand why you have no place in OPW? Right now, I’m not even breathing hard; you are covered in sweat and we’ve barely fought. I am TRYING to help you. The women of OPW will NOT go easy on you, Sage. When they find out you are my sister or Jasmine’s sister, you will have a target on you back until you retire. Sage, you are smarter than this. I’m BEGGING you; I don’t beg and I’m begging you, please don’t do—OOUUGGHH!!”

I feel myself double over as the knee slams into my stomach. I hear myself moan loudly and feel my eyes widen, my mouth open and my beautiful abs soften. I turn away from her and she climbs on my back. I feel her arms wrap around my neck and her legs wrap around my waist in a rear naked choke. I can feel the softness of her round fat cheek as it rubs against my ear. I remember when she was a baby; she would always play with my ears. Without even thinking about it, I grab the top and back of her head with both hands and I drop on my bottom. This is a variation of the stone cold stunner; Sage’s chin and throat are met by my shoulder and she is catapulted off me and to the ground on her back. I say I am the best there is, the best there was, and the best there ever will be because I can fight and beat anybody. In order to be successful in OPW, especially to be the OPW World champion, you have to be willing to fight all sorts of different people. You have to fight Marie B., or Glory, Tito Blaze, Kayla, Death, Siena, Sarah Primetime, Jolene Rictor, Big Black, Justine Credible. So many different shapes and sizes and styles, and you have to fight them all. It’s not about sucking up to everyone before the match and wanting to be friends like Kayla does it. You can’t survive in OPW by being friends with everyone, but Kayla is playing everyone. One second she hates Glory, then she loves Glory or she hates Jessika or she loves Jessika or Samantha or any name you want to fill in the blank. Kayla is all about herself; she doesn’t care about Glory and she doesn’t care about Siena’s training. She is only trying to butter up to them so that they can have sympathy on her and her pitiful fighting skills. This is a sport where you can die, and any sympathy you show can lead to weakness, and weakness leads to defeat. You have to be willing to stop caring during the match and just win. That is something that Sage cannot do because her heart is too big. That is something that my sister Jasmine couldn’t do; that’s why she was the one who was injured and busted open in most of her matches. And in order to exist in OPW, you also have to be willing to fight your sister. I have fought my sister, and now I’m fighting another sister to keep her out of this life. But now, I’m fighting myself also. I’m trying to teach Sage a lesson; show her the difference. But the more she’s coming at me, the more I am wanting to fight back. I don’t know if I can hold back much longer. Quit now Sage, before this really gets painful for you.

I grab her legs and step between them. I cross her legs around my right leg and begin to turn her over for my sharpshooter. She surprises me by leaning up and grabbing the front of my sportsbra and yanking me forward. She rolls herself ontop of me. I think she’s going to mount me and punch, ground and pound, but she rolls me on my shoulders, pins my legs down nearly to my chin and punches my stomach. The blow hurts me and my legs weaken and I freeze long enough for her to say “1,2,3!!”

She stands up and I immediately sit up. I am in complete disbelief of this. I let my anger and my want to restrain myself lead to my undoing. I thought too much.

Sage- “Oh my God, I just beat you! Oh my GOD!! I can’t believe this! I pinned YOU! I mean, you’re my sister and all… but you’re RACHEL APACHE; you’re the greatest fighter in the world and I just pinned YOU!”

Her words aren’t said in arrogance; her tone is quite humble and in shock. But it still doesn’t take away the void I feel inside of me. I am speechless as she stands there and puts her hands on her cheeks in disbelief.

Sage- “I can compete in OPW, Rachel. If I could beat you, then that has to be a sign from high above that I can beat anyone in OPW. I told you; I have the drive and the determination to do it. I still can’t believe I just beat YOU. I have to go meet with Siena; I won’t tell her about this though. Can you give me a ride over there?”

Rachel- “Take Brandy her car.”

I hand her the keys to the red Ferrari. I have no more words for her. I sigh and I go upstairs and get in my bed. I want to sleep and wake up as somebody else. Or maybe as a child again so that I could… oh what difference would it make. This is the price I have to pay for being Rachel Apache. This is the price I pay for being the best fighter in the world. I can’t have the man I love. I can’t save the children who love me. And I can’t protect a young woman from becoming me. And now, as badly as I want to, I can’t cry either.

THE END

[Kayla]

A nice blast from the past! LOL! 

Hugs
Kayla

[howardcosell]

Thank you both so much I do these first person stories to get a greater feel for a character, but this one was done to get readers more used to what goes on in her mind. I've been doing Rachel Apache stories since I think 1994, and I'm happy so many people have not only liked the character, but a bunch of good authors have used her as well.