[~*M*~]

As previously seen on part one of this match ~ ~ ~ Fucking Espinoza restarted the match !! What a class~1 A~HOLE !!!  

Well ,, fuck it ~ and fuck him ~ ~ ~ And fuck you Becca !!! (( Kidding ,, you’re da bestest !! ))

~ Enjoy the climactic conclusion everybody!!! ~

XoXo ~*M*~

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Hotness on wheels ,, Ms. Rebecca Payne



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And flarffy Mcflarffson herself ,, me !!




Emily: I stand there ,, or whatever pathetic excuse for standing anyone would call this half slouched lean against the buckle. I keep eyeing you ,, watching you sob ,, rub your shoulders and arms. Flashbacks from the fight coming to my mind. Your baseball dive ,, kicking the chair into my face then using it against me. The battering outside the ring and inside it. And I turn my head to the side ,, and I see Espinoza standing there, a smug satisfied grin on his face ,, knowing he just put up the biggest match these folks have ever seen. But strangely enough ,, he's not looking at me ,, he's just staring at you

Why isn't there disappointment and disapproval in his eyes ?? Why ?? Fucking why ?? The thoughts rummage my head ,, and I watch him gesture for the announcer who walks to the ropes and passes him the microphone ~ And Espinoza's voice seeps through the speakers ~ "Ladies and gentlemen . . . As you have witnessed ,, today's match was not short on . . . Excitement ! ! !" And the crowd roars ! ! !

~ " Ring mastery and skill !! " ~ another approving roar ~

~ "Excellence ,, that only us can bring you ! ! " ~ an even louder roar ~

"But . . . it was not devoid of controversy !! " ~~ A mixed roar with boo's rise ,, that make my heart sink ,, watching you stir ,, and sit up against the ropes ~

"And as you know ,, we here ,, take our wrestling very seriously. And thus ,, after consulting with my colleagues ,, we have decided to . . . Have a rematch ! ! ! " ~ the crowd ROARS even higher ,, and my head shakes slowly right and left ~

~ "Right hereeeee ,, right nooooowwwwww!!!" My jaw drops ,, turning to you ,, seeing you risen to your knees ,, your blue eyes gazing at me ,, and I see the smirk on your face ,, the smile of someone who has nothing to lose ,, and everything to gain ,, including vengeance ~ ~ ~


Rebecca: I rise to my knees as Espinoza books a second match: right here, right now.  I feel a rush of exhilaration go through my body.  That feeling doesn't counteract the pain I feel; I'm sore from head to toe, with my back and shoulder sockets especially aching from your vicious submission hold.  I grab the ropes and push to my feet, shaking my sweat-soaked hair out of my face, revealing the rough marks on my cheek and lips from where your sand-paper rough bands ground against my face...

My blue eyes focus in on your like lasers.  So is this what it feels like to be on the other side of a screw-job?  The one reaping the benefit?  I haven't experienced it before, and I would have thought I would have hated it... but after all those years of being fucked over at the old place, I almost feel like I DESERVE it.  And I know the emotions welling up in you right now; I've felt them before many times.  The smile on my lips is also from that fact: the fact I know what it feels like to be where you are now, and the satisfaction of it being someone other than me!

Adjusting my top and elbow pads, I swing my arms back behind my back, loosening up the stiff muscles, muscles that scream in agony from the movements but I don't care, I've got more important things on my mind right now than mere pain: I've got your belt to focus on!


Emily: I can't fucking believe my ears. My swollen upper lip (( from the earlier punches in the start of the match)) tremble. Tears and swear still rolling along the two welts running down my face from the barrier fence smacks. My temples cheeks are bruised temples from our standing striking contest. My abs heave with the ugly purple marks on them that mirror the ones on my back from the chair shots. But it's nothing to show up for the fury that I gaze at Espinoza with. Really?? FUCKING REALLY?

I push off the corner post and rush to him ,, grabbing the arm of his expensive Armani suit and turning him to face me. And even for a girl like me ,, turning his 260lbs frame is an effort. And he turns to me with a raised eyebrow ,, his left hand covering the microphone ~ "Yes dear??" He says in a calm ,, provocative voice ~ "THIS IS BULLSHIT!! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING??" I scream at him ,, and he turns and nods at the announcer outside the ring who says ~ "Ladies and Gentlemen!!  We will be having a 10 minute break. Refreshments are available at the open bar. Please help yourselves while our athletes get ready."

People get up and start to walk to the bar ,, exchanging excited remarks about the match ,, and the ~bang for the buck~ they are getting. Two matches in one night. But right now ,, my whole intention is to make this ~not~ happen. But with every step they take it just feels that whatever I do or say is in vain. ~ "Listen ,, young lady. Don't forget your place ,, and don't you ever touch me again. Or you will find yourself in the streets, do you understand me??" ~ Espinoza's words fill my ears and my eyes widen in shock. He never talked to me like this ,, and the low whispering hiss that carries the words just make them even more terrifying

"You will get your ass back in your corner. And you will fight for the money we ~PAY~ you. And just so you know ,, you've talked yourself into making this an Iron Woman match. Say another word ,, and I will make it a handicap match and drag whoever I find in this locker room with their boots on. Are we clear??"

My face goes pale ,, and I feel a bit lost. But I purse my lips ,, giving him a long glare ,, then past his shoulders ,, to ~you~ standing there with the smug smile on your face. The smile that says that you know damn well ,, what a screw job is. And I just purr ~ "All clear ,, SIR." ~ and I turn walking to my corner ,, hollering to one of the ring helpers to toss me a bottle of water.


Rebecca: I should feel guilty.  I honestly am slightly disgusted with myself that I DON'T feel guilty, after how many times I've been screwed.  But just slightly.  That emotion that I'm still in the hunt, that this is still an open question as to who is walking out of here with your belt.  Your belt?  The belt.  In my mind, I'm no longer giving you ownership of it.  A waiter walks by and offers me a bottle of water on a platter.  Very elegant.  I twist off the top and take a good drink... I don't want to make myself sick, but it tastes SO good.  Perfect temperature: not ice cold, but cool and refreshing.  I can practically feel the water run down my throat as it replenishes my dehydrated body.

As I watch you settle down from your tantrum, I recall saying many the same words you did.  But as you settle back towards your corner, my eyes focus less on what you are saying than your body: how you are moving, how it is reacting.  From the beating we both dished out, I have to admit that in a lesser opponent, I'd expect to see a bigger impact... which reinforces just how dangerous you are.  I splash a little water on my face to cool off, feeling some of the bruises as I do so, but not wincing, before I take another sip.
Rebecca: I'm sore, I'm battered, I'm bruised and I'm hurt. But I am far from defeated.  And I am one more adjective: determined.


Emily: I yank the bottle of water off the tray ,, and I just glare at the poor waitress ,, saying in a hoard voice ~ "Another. . . " ~ she just nods and rushes to the bar. And popping the cap open I lift the bottle and tilting my head back I douse it slowly on my face ,, aaaahhh!! It feels so good ,, running down and washing the sweat and blood off my forehead and down my chin and neck ,, creating a small river that runs between my boobs. I can feel my nipples stiffen a bit ,, while the water seeps down my stomach. And when the bottle empties I just toss it outside and grab the other one ,, that I lift to my water and sip on it in slow ,, controlled gulps

I rest myself against the corner ,, and I sit there ,, gazing at you ,, my belt slumped over my shoulder ~ MY BELT ,, MY SHOULDER ~ And I glare at you with one mean scowl ,, when one of the officials come to me and asks for the belt. And it feels like someone is yanking my baby from my embrace. I give it a kiss and I whisper ~ "Few more minutes baby ,, I'll see you soon." And I give it to him while he clearly looks at me as the nutjob that I am.

A soft chime rises on the speakers. The crowd starts to come back and settle down. It's quite ridiculous how classy and immaculate they are. 20 seconds from the chime and everyone is in their place ,, with happy smug rich faces and full drinks in their hands. And I then hear Espinoza's voice rise on the speakers ~ "Ladies and Gentlemen. It's time to restart our match between our two fierce competitors! And it's my delight to tell you that our Champion ,, Emilllyyyyyyyy Wiisshhhmmaaakkkeeerr has decided to set all doubts aside ,, and she ~chose~ to face Ms. Rebeccccaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa Paynnnee in a Last Woman Standing match!!!" ~ I give him a dark ,, hateful glare ,, as he tries to make it sound like my choice


Rebecca: I watch as you gulp down the water and pour it over yourself.  I splashed a little in my face, but I won't lie: seeing the water drip off of you makes me feel jealous as to how cool that must feel, and also how it cleans you up from the wear and tear of the fight.  Grabbing another water, at the risk of copying, I do the same... the comfort of it outweighing that risk.  I feel a shudder as the cool water washes over my sweat-soaked face: it is ridiculously refreshing.  As the official takes your belt, I see your last loving kiss... and as psycho as it looks, I can also understand: any belt I owned I would treasure.  Any belt WORTH owning, anyway.  I smile and have to play a little bit of mind games, though

"A last kiss goodbye?  How sweet." I purr, loud enough for only you and anyone else in the ring to hear.  As the chime goes off and the well-behaved crowd quickly find their seats, I take a breath to steady my nerves and swing my arms, loosening up once more, twisting my pain-wracked back to try to loosen it up as well as Mr. Espinoza speaks.

I manage not to laugh out loud when he describes the Last Woman Standing component as your request, but I don't manage to hide the shit-eating grin from my face, my eyes dancing with amusement as you sullenly glare.  "DING DING DING" the bell rings, and I move from my corner, circling, eyes locked on you.  Sore, but far from broken.


Emily: I hear your words and they surely unnerve me ~ "Come and try to get it ,, bitch. I'll fucking eat your babies!!" ~ I scream out like a maniac. And yeah ,, that's pretty much who I am right now. Espinoza's grin widens ,, looking at us. He never thought this would be so good. But after months of growing tired of my Diva attitude ,, of me taking ~out~ all legit competition ,, he sure is having a hoot finding someone who might dethrone me. And if he doesn't ,, then he just gave his high~rolling ,, high~paying spectators one heck of a joyride. The bell goes off ,, and we both dart off the corners. Both moving fast ,, the short break ,, and our excellent physical conditions making us look quick on our feet

But the truth is every step carries it's aches ,, and each time I stare at your pretty bruised face I know that I'm in for way more pain. There is no submissions ,, no pin falls ,, no fucking count outs ,, and the only way to win is to put the other out ~flat out. I give you a long glare ,, then charge at you and we engage into a collar and elbow lock up in the middle of the ring ,, fingers squeezing the backs of the other's neck while pushing hard on her elbow ,, struggling hard to overpower the other


Rebecca: We lock together in a classic collar and elbow lockup, gripping each other tightly as our bodies strain into one another.  I'll admit that I'm impressed by the strength you can bring to bear, but mine is no less impressive.  We shift around, moving in a circle, each trying for the upper hand as we attempt to overpower one another.  "I've got no babies to lose... you do... that belt" I hiss in your ear.  I consider a knee shot to your abs, but at this point I've got enough respect for you (madwoman or not) to think you will see that coming and counter.  

So instead, as we grunt and hiss, lean toned bodies straining against one another in an effort to overwhelm that is quickly proving fruitless, I try another tactic.  I start to give way, letting you push me... but I also duck down and shift my shoulder, trying to use the change in momentum as well as the shifting grip of my hands to turn the lockup into a arm-drag toss, trying to duck low enough to whip you over me to the canvas  with the arm drag, trying to stay on my feet as I do so, to spin and gloat at you after you crash (if you do...)


Emily: "Ugghhh ~~ You got that right bitch !! ~~ huggghhh ~~ It's mine and you won' fucking take it!!" Growling we spin and twist ,, bouncing into the ropes ,, when your strength suddenly falters ,, and I can see that I did not overpower ,, you are bouncing us into the ropes and you duck ,, and I gasp ,, your arms twisting mine and ~ "wooaahhh!!" ~ I lose my balance ,, flopping forwards and crashing into the canvas ,, using my right elbow and forearm to protect my face from hitting it with high impact ~ "Ufff!!!!"

I see you towering over me and gloating ,, and I can even hear Espinoza's distinct laughter ,, and it's just too much ,, so I roll quickly to my left to turn and face you ,, and like I expected ,, you are slouched over ,, to talk down to me ,, and while your head is far out of reach ,, your lovely dark tresses are not ,, and I grab them tightly pulling you down ,, my boots shooting up and pushing them into your abs ,, yanking your weight and bending them ,, in preparation to send you flying overhead into a painful monkey flip ,, only that I know ,, there is not enough room over my head for you to crash ,, there's the ropes ,, that might make your landing a bit more complicated ,, and painful for you


Rebecca: I gloat as I see you there, planning on just doing one quick mock before I follow up with my next move, but even that is a mistake as you grab at my hair and slam your boots into my toned abs, flipping me over you in a monkey flip... but as I land, I feel the ropes against my ass and legs... what the fuck!?  I cry out in shock and surprise as my ring-awareness doesn't serve me well, and I'm disoriented for a moment...

I land, with my left leg over the top rope, my right leg having barely slung under the top rope, to be trapped between the top and middle.  My shoulders rest on the apron as I face the center of the ring, my arms splayed out.  I let out a hiss of pain and anger as my heart thuds in my chest: I do NOT want to be tied up when that insane tigress starts stalking.  I thrash my hips and kick my legs, but I'm still a little dizzy from the flip, and the ropes feel like they are everywhere, like a spider web tying me up!  

I kick and thrash, struggling to pull free, finally starting to do so as my body starts to slump to the apron....


Emily: I flip you over head and ~immediately~ roll to my right trying to get up before your body bounces off the ropes and crashes down atop of me. But what the ~ ~ ~ You are tangled in the ropes like a little bug in a spider's web !!! Even better??? I see my chance ,, turning and dashing to you ,, grabbing your left leg ,, and pushing it down and around the outside of the top rope ,, hooking your ankle beneath it ,, I feel you thrashing and trying to hit my legs but I fire a hard ~PUNCH~ to your left knee just for good measure and I back away quickly before you can get in a good hit

And without turning my back to you fully ,, I turn and charge at the opposite ropes ,, throwing my body at them and using the rebound to come charging across the ring ,, leaping up in the air and thrusting my boots ,, both of them ,, powerfully into your stretched ,, and dangling abs !!


Rebecca: I hear you pounce at me before I can free myself, and you grab at my leg, yanking it back and bending it against the top rope... a quick but sharp SLAM into the side of my knee softens up my ability to resist for a moment.  AGGGGGHH!!!  I swing angrily but you dance out of my way, like the dangerous opponent you are.  I struggle against the ropes, my body twisting and writhing as I hiss in anger...

My body folds in half from your powerful dropkick, and my ass flies out between the ropes.  My arms and legs tangle in the ropes for a moment, but I've got no grip anywhere near good enough to keep on my feet.  I crash to the rubber mats around the ring with a THUD as my body falls in a heap

I roll to my front, groaning and gasping in pain... curled up to protect my abs as I taste rubber, my face plastered to the mats.  My right hand fumbles to the side as I twist in pain... not intending to, but as I jerk and moan in agony it accidentally sides under the ring apron, and I feel something firm between my fingers as I clamp down.  


Emily: I hear the chants ,, and they drive me wild ~ ~ THAT'S RIGHT CHUMS!! I AM YOUR CHAMMMPPP!!! ~~PPWOOOOOFFFF~~~ My boots hit your damn perfect abs ,, and it feels like I bounced off wooden planks. They give of course ,, but not much and I crash down to the canvas ,, with you following hard ,, then cleverly ,, rolling your way out of the ring. I breathe hard ,, then I push up. Good ,, good. Keep it up Emily. This is it. I push up to my feet and I see you bent over by the side of the ring. I grab the top rope ,, and just as I'm about to fling myself over in an over the top dive ,, i get flash backs about how that worked out for me last time

Instead ,, I pull down on the ropes and slide my boobs and body between the middle and bottom rope landing behind you. Your body obscuring your hand reaching beneath the ring's skirt ,, and I just walk up to you ,, pressing my boots to those firm buns of yours ,, trying to push you forwards to fall face first to the black padded floor ~ "Your ass is mine ,, Payne!!"


Rebecca: Whatever my hand has, its wooden... I can feel the grain and the rough, course material against my fingers.  They clamp down tight around it, and then I feel your boot slam into my up-turned ass as you show off to the crowd.  That comment sends my face flushing red, and brings me to flashbacks of how our first match of the evening began... with you dominating me and showing off to the crowd.  And how did that end?

The thoughts whirl in my head and cause my anger to rise.  I use that, clamping down the pain in my midsection as I snarl.  I drag my arm from under the apron towards me, and whatever it is, its long... so I grin and swing it up and back, driving the point of the object into your abs in payback for your dropkick!  I hear a grunt of pain as you back off, and I roll over to my back, then scramble to my feet.

I see what I'm holding, some kind of pole.  A push broom without the broom head?  A pole they use for hoisting something in the air for a "belt on a stick" match or something else like that?  I don't know and don't care.  I've got it and I'm using it.  I let out a snarl as I swing it, two-handed, trying to connect with your shoulder or the side of your neck or head... not aiming for your body, but higher!


Emily: Is there anything more symbolic than that when a phone camera flash goes off when my boot is touching your butt?? It's that feeling that gives me that this ,, this moment of ~ass kicking~ is forever going to be immortalized in someone's phone. Even if no one else sees it. That person will just see that photo months and years from now to remind him or her of that epic battle. And you flop forwards ,, but ,, what's that in your hand ?? ~SHIIII~UUUGGHHH!!!!


The point of the broom leg smashes hard into my abs ,, and I grunt doubling over in pain. I feel like I was stabbed. And I cry in pain ,, arched over ,, when you rise up and swing it hard towards my fucking skull!!! And I dip my head protectively ,, raising my right shoulder up and ~SMACKKKKK!!~

It's that sound of wood hitting flesh and muscle. A blinding jolt of pain filling my head and I scream ,, spinning and turning stumbling back ,, my left hand squeezing the upper side of my right arm ,, crying in pain ,, my eyes shut ,, and I try to rush around the ring. To go around the  corner and escape the broom~flailing maniac. Reaching the first corner I turn and head a ~SMACCKKK~ The wood narrowly missing me and hitting the steel.

But you're not giving chase ,, you keep persisting and I rush further more ,, hearing you taunting me about running away ,, and I turn around the next corner,, then turning my head back ,, readying my left boot to launch in a back mule kick towards your gut if you turn that corner and  towards me


Rebecca: "Where are you running to, little lamb?  No no no... a champ doesn't run away.  A champ stands and fights!"
Rebecca: "Or maybe you're not really a champ.  I mean, not REALLY.  Are you really a champ, Hurricane?"

I stalk after you, stick in one hand, my chest heaving.  My abs still throbbing with each breath from your dropkick to my abs, but the sight of you running from me provides all sorts of motivation to keep coming after you... mouth hanging open as I pant, eyes blazing.

But I'm not quite dumb enough to charge... no, your smart enough to be trying to lure me into a trap, and I'm not going to play your game.  After that last swing that connected with the perfectly polished steel of the ringpost, the end of the stick is a bit frayed, but not broken entirely.  As I approach the corner, I glance over and see a splash of pink-tipped blonde hair that isn't blocked by the next (gleaming) ring post.  I smile and grin... rolling myself into the ring before I turn the corner and then sweeping the stick in a side-arching sweep under the bottom rope, trying to tag you once more!


Emily: I cut the corner ,, and I stop my rush ,, waiting for you to rush into my bait. A bull~headed blood thirsty slut like you ,, you will surely rush into my trap. And I pause for a second ,, readying my left ,, pistoned ,, but there is nothing ,, and I turn my head more ,, almost till my chin is over my shoulder ,, and there is nothing. Then ,, my blood freezes when I notice the crowd. The way they are looking ,, and how their heads are tipped high ,, a little bit ,, to look inside the ring ~ ~ ~ FUCK !!!

And before I can react ,, before I can do anything ~~ THWWWAACCKKK!!!!~ The frayed tip of the broom stick smacking into my right temple hard ,, sending my neck wrenched back ,, and a loud groan from my mouth ,, my neck whiplashing hard ,, the fact that my head was bent did not help ,, and I fly backwards ,, crashing on the black mats. Lights out ~

The referee rushes to that side of the ring ,, his foot pressing over the top rope ,, and he starts raising his arms in the air ,, counting ~

ONE !!

TWO !!

THREE !!

FOUR !!


Rebecca: I keep rolling  across the mats, almost (though not quite) like it is one fluid motion, rolling back out onto the ringside, my boots hitting rubber mat as you lay there.  You look quite pretty like that, hair a tangled mess behind you, body heaving.  "Stay down" I say, more to myself than to you...

I use a boot to force you onto your back, then I plant my foot on your chest... grinding my heel down into you and flexing as I play to the crowd... sort of.  My actions are playing to them, but my attention is focused on you.  The ref keeps counting FIVE!! SIX!!!! SEVEN!!!  'Stay down' I say again, this time just in my head, my lips barely moving.  The stick hangs in my grip, the end of it dangling, the earlier damage compounded by connecting with your rock hard head...

But before the ref can get to EIGHT you give a groan and jerk your shoulders, then fire a kick up that hits my ass as I stand over your chest, causing me to stumble off of you, into the guard rails.  I lose my grip on the stick and it rolls into the crowd.  I groan, my chest connecting solidly with the metal. I roll, putting my back to the rail as I somehow see you on your feet, a look of hate in your eyes.


Emily: I feel a weight on my chest. And I groan in pain ,, my head lolling right and left. A killer headache in my skull ,, and the source is that pulsating agony in my right temple. The weight just gets harsher ,, with every bit of my consciousness coming back ,, and WHAT THE FUCK ?? I see your legs atop of me ,, and a pretty indecent shot of your crotch high above me ,, and I can hear the referee counting down. What the FUCK is he doing ?? Is this Espinoza's doing ?? He can't count with you atop of me like this. But there is no time for me to argue. We're at five . . . six . . . seven . . .

Then ~WOOOMPPPP~ my boot flies into your ass and with one foot off the floor ,, you stumble and crash down ,, the broken stick out of your grip and you crash into the railing ,, sitting up ,, while I roll to my hands and knees and see you shaking your head in anger and rage. But I don't really have much focus to launch a proper attack ,, so all I do is ~lunge~ at you ,, or not really at you ,, but at the railing itself ,, going ~high~

My hands crashing at the top of the steel rail ,, while my right knee swings forward hard ,, and I ~SMASSSH~ it into your chest powerfully ,, feeling the jolt of pain rocking your body ,, and along with it ,, the entire rail delinks from it's sisters and comes CRASHING down ,, with us falling behind it ,, with you sandwiched between me and the steel bars


Rebecca: I feel your knee slam into my chest and then the railing, which is SUPPOSED to prevent just such an occurrence, delinks and we crash backwards towards the well-heeled audience.  I feel your weight crash down on me as the polished steel of the guardrails dig into my back, and my eyes squeeze shut in pain.  When I open them, I see a sea of red in front of me, with yellow at the horizon... but that is just your shorts.  Then my chest registers your knees pressing down.  I let out a groan as my body twists in pain against the unyielding guardrails beneath me.

My face contorts in pain as I'm ground into the metal.  My hands shoot up, reaching around and behind you, hands digging at your waistband of those shorts as I try jerking to shove you off me to the side, badly wanting to get that weight off me that is grinding me down.  "BITCH!" I snarl with a gasp as I struggle to suck in air


Emily: I lay atop of you ,, a deadweight. My hands pressing to the floor outside the ring. And unlike the black one around it ,, it's not padded. I shake my head to knock off that dizziness enveloping me ,, but your arms move fast ,, grabbing my shorts ,, stretching them ,, and the first row of the audience get a pretty good view of my crack before you yank me off you and roll me to the side ~ "WHORE!"
Emily: I cry out in pain ,, my ass hitting the downed rail and I see you rising up ,, but only to get a mouthful of my left boot that crashes into your face and sends your back into the edge of the still upright rail ~BOOOMMMM!

You crash back ,, taking it with you and your upper back flops onto the black padding. And I breathe hard ,, pushing up to my feet ,, watching two officials rush to us ,, but I know from experience they are not trying to stop us ,, not that they could ,, but they are merely trying to fix that railing to protect the viewers.


Rebecca: I lay there, groaning and twisting against the padding as I breathe hard, my eyes squeezed shut.  I can feel the bruises already forming at my back where it has repeatedly hit the guard rail, and across my face, where your vicious boot did its job.  I am grateful that you are still dazed, as a full strength boot to the face might have me at a standing ten count now.  And just as I hear those words, I hear a count start... "ONE!"  "TWO!"  as I moan in pain.  At the same time the ref is counting, Mr. Espinoza's voice comes over the mic...

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I won't insult you by asking you to move away from the action: you pay quite well for action, and when it comes into your lap, you have every right to observe it.  I will, however, remind you of the clause in your membership agreement that we are in no way responsible for any injuries you may suffer if you do not choose to make room for the fighters.  Thank you and please continue to enjoy this fantastic battle we have arranged for your viewing pleasure."

I hear the clink of railing as a few employees work on the railing, but I am not hearing that.  I'm hearing the count.  I crawl forward and grab at the apron... if you were less dazed that count might be higher now, but as is the boot was painful but not crippling.  I grab at the apron and rise as the count hits "FIVE!" and then ceases.


Emily: I watch you writhe on your back ,, and I press my hands on my knees ,, bent over ,, the two officials dashing past me. Espinoza takes the mic and talks ,, while I eye you ,, and I start to move ,, but then I feel an arm grab me ,, it's Espinoza !! !He's still talking ,, but shaking his head ,, and I try to break free ,, but he keeps his grip on me ,, then when he's done ,, he says ~ "No interference with the count sugar ,, touch her ,, and the count is reset ! ! !" ~

I can't believe it !! THAT ASSHOLE!! Where was that stipulation when you had your boot pressed against my chest??

But there is no time for this. No fucking time. I just yank my arm from him and see you getting up ,, or barely so ,, your knees leave the floor ,, even with the help of the ring side ,, it breaks the count ,, and it pisses me off. . . Five FUCKING FIVE!! That's less than my count. . . Espinoza talked for TWENTY MINUTES THERE ,, and the ref only got to five ??

My feeling of how ~rigged~ this getting deeper and deeper ,, and right now ,, I want nothing more than to show everyone up. Starting with you. I rush to you and grab your dark hair by the back of your head  ,, my pink locks floating up behind me ~ "Oh no you don't !!" ~ I yank your head back then send it smacking down into the edge of the ring ~ THUDD!! ~ Then I drag you along the length ,, taking a pause ,, and ~THUDDDD!!! ~~ Few more steps ,, and a third ~THUDDD!!!!~ Trying to dizzy you ,, until I'm at the steel steps ,, pressing my left boot against the bottom step ,, to steady myself and protect myself against a reversal ,, I pull your head back as far as I can and try to smash your face into them


Rebecca: WHACK!  My head bounces off the apron as you drive it in... then I kick as you drag me along the apron, grinding my face against the rough canvas; not as rough as that sandpaper at your wrist, but rough enough, as it scrapes some of the same real estate on my face... then THUDDD as you follow up with a second.... drag... then THUDD!!!!!! of a third.  After three slams, my eyes are glazed, my jaw hanging open, and the world spinning.  You pause, and in that pause I weakly fire an elbow into your abs, but after three face shots in a row that elbow causes a gasp from you but doesn't stop anything...

and then WHAM my head slams into the perfectly polished steel steps, the tiny rivets and formations in the metal driven into my features as you use my hair to crack my face into the steps.  I groan and flop to my knees, hugging the stairs on instinct, because my legs certainly won't keep me up.  I feel my stomach roil and spin as the waves of nausea come up.  

My eyes blink as they open... dizzy, unable to focus, and thus not quite make much out, except the color red as blood drips from a cut that opened on my forehead and drips across my face.

OWWWWWWWWWWwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww


Emily: SMASHHHH!!!!! ~ Your face crashes into the steel steps ,, in such a brutal manner that causes half the posh audience to wince ,, the other to gasp ,, but none shut their eyes. Oh no ,, not that sadistic bunch. They crave violence. And right now ,, they stare at the blood seeping down your forehead with delight. I step back ,, clutching my ribs in pain. That elbow was hard ,, but not enough to stop me. Although it sure lead to my face smash to be weaker than I intended it to be. I take one ,, two ,, three ,, ten wide steps back .. Gazing at your back ,, you're on your knees ,, arms over the steps hugging them ,, your perky chest pressed against the sides
Emily: "OUTTA MY WAY!!" I scream at the ref ,, and I sprint forwards ,, flying at you and dropkicking my boots hard into your shoulder blades ~ BOOOOOMMMM!!

My ass hits the floor again ,, and I yelp in pain ,, but that's it for me. For you ,, and those stairs ?? A lot do happen. Your boobs get crushed between your body and the steel ,, before the impact knocks the 25lbs  steel steps out of their place. The upper part flying away and falling some 4 feet away ,, while the lower ,, broaden part drags on the black floor ripping the padding and exposing the foamy interior. Your body ,, crashing somewhere in between

I roll to my left ,, and I push up. My body shaking. I know the count won't start if we are ~both~ down. I clutch the edge of the ring, and I push myself up ,, glaring at the Ref ,, and I yell at him ~ "WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR!! COUNT HER OUT!!"

He looks at me ,, dumbfounded ,, then gazes at Espinoza ,, a look that could've been innocent ,, but in my paranoid state confirms so much to me ,, before he rushes to you ,, and raises his arms up

ONE !!

TWO !!

THREE !!


Rebecca: The hit cracks into me as your dropkick slams into my shoulder blades as I clutch the stairs for dear life.  If the crowd's reaction before was divided, it is not now, for almost as a whole they let out an "oooomphhhhffff" that is a pale imitation of the one I let out as my body is crushed against the steps, and they break apart under the force of it, which should give them all an idea of just how badly that hurt.

As the stairs fall apart I stagger and roll, twisting under the impact as my body drags across the lower portion, crashes between the upper portion that flew further, and the out of alignment lower base.  I flop onto my back, arms spread out, smear of red across my face as my chest heaves, every breath an excruciating pain.  

SIX!

SEVEN!!

EIGHT!!!

I feel the agony in my body, and I can barely hear the counting... words at the end of a tunnel of hazy pain.  But as the words slowly register, I don't even comprehend the number itself so much as what it means: the train to loser-town.  It could be ten he just said, I don't know:  but I know if I do nothing it will be.  My left hand grabs as the ring apron near me, clutching it like a lifeline, and my foot weakly kicks against the rubber mats as I try to haul myself up...


Emily: ~ "Come on. . . Come on . . . Fucking stay down damn you . . . " I fixate on you . . . Staring ,, watching you twitch and roll. Already a count of five and you haven't as much as  moved. And I start to smile ,, turning away from you and raising my arms up. I hear it . . And I start to thrust my arms up with each count ,, my fingers reflecting the count. SIX !! Seven !! EIGHT !! ~~ The crowd start to roar ,, and I think they are roaring with me ,, ~FOR~ me ,, their Champ!!

I hear the NINE!! And I tilt my head back ,, screaming out ,, the crowd getting to their feet !! YES !! YES !! And I thrust my arms up in the air screaming out ~~

~~ "TEN " !!!

But ,, there is something wrong. I didn't hear the referee's voice. The hall filled up with ~my~ voice saying the ten ,, and I turn around ,, my eyes wide in shock. There you are ,, leaning against the side of the ring . . . Your pretty face bloodied ,, your boots on the floor ,, and yes ,, your GODDAMN KNEES OFF THE floor !!

I feel nerve cells in my brain exploding ,, with fury ,, frustration ,, rage ,, and I scream wildly ,, charging at you . . . A vicious glare on my face ,, and I grab your chin with my right hand ,, my fingers cupping your jaw ,, and pressing into your cheeks ,, squeezing and forcing you up ,, crying into your face ~
Emily: "YOU WANT TO DIE BITCH ?? IS THAT WHAT YOU FUCKING WANT ?? DO I HAVE TO KILL YOU TO KEEP MY BELT ?? BECAUSE I WILL DO IT AND SLEEP LIKE A BABY TONIGHT YOU STREET TRASH ! ! ! "


Rebecca: I hear cheering and shouts and sounds and applause and countless other sounds... enough that make me think the match might have just ended: the explosion of sound that accompanies a victory.  And since I couldn't even process the meaning of the numbers (beyond the fact they are numbers!) I would believe it.  I feel like I got hit my a truck.  My ribs ache with every breath, my breasts feel like someone just mule-kicked them, and there's blood.  I don't know if there is just a little or a lot, but I can't help noticing it all the time when my eyes blur in and out of focus.  

But the experienced part of my brain manages to cut through the fog and drive home one thought to me:  all those sounds?  None of them were a bell ringing.  So this isn't over.  And while there is time there is hope.  Suddenly, I feel you lunge into me, screaming into my face and twisting my jaw and cheeks to look up at you.  My eyes meet yours but are still having trouble focusing.  I see a blur of screaming skin, pink hair, and white, white teeth as your mouth hangs open, screaming at me.

And that blur is enough to tell me one thing.  Face.  Bitchface, actually.  And half-blindly, I reach both sets of hands up, and rake my nails at it angrily, the desperate move of a woman in as much pain as I am to back you the fuck off.


Emily: I hold your face ,, screaming wildly at you . I can feel your top pressing against my abs ,, my crotch against your tummy and pinning your sore back against the side of the ring madly. I've tried everything. And you just won't fucking stay down. And right now ,, I seem to be the only one in this ring that is not thrilled about your tenacity. The crowd is loving the hard match ,, Espinoza is loving to see another girl give me a hard time ,, hoping it would be enough for me to lose ~my~ belt ~

And while I try to just break you mentally ,, to associate this pain you are feeling with me killing you ,, so that hopefully a couple more shots would trigger your survival instincts and make you ~stay~ down instead of meeting an untimely demise. I suddenly feeling your claws on my face ,, and ~ "AAHHH!!!" ~ in the dirtiest move in wrestling ,, you give me one heck of an eye gouge // claw !! Enough to send vibrant colors flying into my vision ,, and I cry in pain ,, stumbling back from you ,, swinging wildly at where I left your head ,, but my arms and fists cut through thin air

And then there is the PUSH ,, the push of shoulders into my back sending us crashing into another portion of the railing ,, and like before ,, taking it down ,, and this time ,, it's me on my back ,, and you atop of me. Moaning in pain.


Rebecca: I pant as I lean against the apron, rubbing my eyes, wiping the sweat and blood from them as I finally start to focus.  I see you stumbling from the eye rake, staggering around, clutching your face and screaming, your blows hitting nothing but thin air.  I want to curl up here and rest, but you're too violent, too dangerous too lethal to be left alone.  So I dig deep down and hurl myself off the apron, and as your body twists and puts my back to me as you stagger around, I lunge forward and drive my shoulders into your back in a spear, slamming you into the guard rails.  It doesn't pack the momentum an earlier spear would have: hell it barely qualifies at all.  But it is enough to send us into the rail and send it tipping over beneath me

I push up slightly and swing angrily at your head as I lay roughly atop you, furious blows, though not as powerful as they would have been if you hadn't just nearly broken my body in half against those stairs!  Your chest ground into the rails beneath us, I swing a few times, then grab for your hair and raise up your head, trying to bounce your forehead off the less-padded floor beyond the guard rails in payback (not enough but some! for the head slam against the steps)


Emily: I crash chest first into the rails ,, screaming ,, with the dirty wildcat atop of my back. Your weight is more than enough to squish my poor boobies beneath us ,, and I groan in pain. But it's my eyes that are hurting the most ,, and I just shut them and cry out in rage ~ "YOU DIRTY BITCH!! ~ UUUGGHHH!!! UFFFF!! !NNNGGHHH!!" ~My angry verbal barrage about your second eye gouge of the evening interrupted rudely by your fists hammering into the back of my skull ,, effectively stunning me

But then ,, when I feel the fingers grab my hair ,, fingers slipping past the pink highlights and into the blonde roots ,, lifting my head up ,, all I can do is slide my right hand between me and the cement floor and ~UNNNNGGHHH!!! My forehead smashes into the back of my wrist hard ,, grunting in pain ,, the blow is cushioned ~slightly~ but you seem to notice it and lift my head up and smash it again ,, TWICE ,, for good measure ,, leaving me slumped down ,, completely stunned. The ref moving to our side ,, ready to start the count when you get off me ,, while the two officials in charge of the rail await to fix it if we move


Rebecca: I slowly roll off of you... to my knees beside you, still on the rails.  The ref watches, not about to count until I get to my feet.  I hang there for a few moments.  It feels like an eternity.  In reality?  Seconds, probably.  Who knows.  My sense of time is in the garbage with half my other abilities to reason.  But I don't need to reason to realize the pink haired death machine next to me isn't moving.  I grab for your hair as I slowly push to my feet, dragging you up somewhat... the ref shouting "No count, no count"

I glare at the ref but ignore him.  I rise up, then step over the guardrails so my back is to the crowd.  You hang there in my grip.  My hands press against your head, then I lose my grip and you slump back down, face first.  I roll you onto your back as the officials eagerly try to be ready to set up the gate.  "BACK OFF!" I shout, and I lift up again... you feel like 100 tons.  I hook your head so it is against my hip, staring up.  I hang there... pausing, building my strength... before I prepare to fall back to my ass and drive your back into the rails once more in an inverted DDT


Emily: I'm a total mess. Even with my hand shielding my face ,, I feel a grogginess take over my consciousness ,, and I just grumble and moan weakly. Stunned ,, and completely out of it. I feel your weight shifting. The referee saying something. You start to pull me up ,, but I'm quick to act dead ,, dropping down to my knees and slipping down. I'm trying to buy myself some time ,, protect myself from this maze of steel and concrete beneath us. But you are persistent ,, and you pull me up again ,, this time ,, to my knees.

I gasp ,, feeling your left arm wrapping around the back of my neck ,, and I gaze down. Staring at the steel. I know what this will bring. I know damn well ,, what a smash with those bars to my face would do. Not only for my looks ,, but also to my chances of keeping my belt tonight ,, turn them to a double~digit zero. There is no way I try to block the fall with my arm ,, it would just break ,, the bones would snap like twigs from this vicious DDT

It's either take it ,, or . . . And for the first time in my life ,, I find the reason to stoop this low. But against someone who gouged my eyes twice in one match. I don't find much pity ,, pulling my left arm back and swinging it upwards ,, driving my left fist into the crotch of your shorts before you pull down the switch on the move!


Rebecca: I drop you down and start to go for the spin to roll you to your back when your fist cracks forward and slams into the front panel of my navy shorts, your knuckles slamming into my crotch as you dig new depths of how low you will go.  I stagger and release your hair, staggering backwards.  The patron behind me already was on his feet and watching, so he easily side-steps, but I crash past where he was to the next audience member, who wasn't so lucky.  Some overweight guy who's bad style screams Greek shipping magnate takes the brunt of my landing, as I stumble into his lap.  He probably would have enjoyed that if it weren't for the fact my elbow slammed into his ribs in the process as I crash roughly atop him.  I can hear him wheeze and gasp in pain eve

in pain even as I feel his cologne overwhelm me.  I struggle and roll off of him, and stagger over to another chair... gripping the back of it with both hands as I try to keep on my feet, bent over and panting.  My hair falls like a cascade around my head as I stare at the empty chair seat, my body aching from head to toe as my crotch throbs in pain from your cheap shot.


Emily: Espinoza’s eyes widen in rage ,, not for the mere fact that I low~blowed you. But because the fight is further distancing itself from the ring ,, where all this should happen. And while you stagger back to displace an audience member and smash your elbow into the ~Padded~ ribs of another. I flop forwards to all fours ,, and start to crawl after you. The officials looking confused ,, and worried ,, but Espinoza shakes his head at them, This should ,, and will go wherever it takes. An interference now ,, another one against me will surely bust the crowd's balls and expose the prejudice against me

His eyes follow my red shorts ,, coming up behind you ,, while your arms and head rest on the chair. And only then ,, does he see what I have in my grip. And his face goes pale. It's half of that damn broom stick you uses against me at the beginning of this match. And I raise it ,, gripping one end tightly with my right fist ,, I swing my right arm wildly ,, driving the butt of the stick hard into your left temple!


Rebecca: I hang there as my crotch throbs with pain.  I stare at the seat until I start to shake it off.. and I begin to turn towards you the butt end of the stick cracks into my head, just above my left eye!  I hear the crowd let out a moan and everything once again explodes in a constellation of pain and agony.  I literally see stars... well, flashes of light but who cares.  I certainly don't care about much as my body tips back and I crash into the (moments ago occupied but now vacated) seats further from the ring

My body falls like a tree... straight back and down.  I hit the floor with a THUD as I lay there.... moaning and not moving.  My chest rises and falls as I lay there, out cold.  I can't hear it, but the ref is already scrambling past chairs.  ONE!!!

TWO!!!

THREEE!!!

FOUR!!!!

FIVE!!!!


Emily: I drive the butt of the stick hard ,, and you turn ,, FUCK!!! The wooden end smacking into your forehead instead of the temple ,, that temple blow would have knocked you out for sure ,, but instead ,, you take it on the thicker part of the skull. Thicker ,, yet bleeding mind you. And you collapse back. And so do I. Breathing hard. I wait for the count. But nothing comes, so I roar and push up to my feet. Breathing hard. That cost me at least two or three counts. And I glare at you. You're laying motionless ,, and slumped.

But as we reach five. You start to stir. FUCK!! FUCK!! No... I won't let you. I then turn to the chair ,, the one you were slumped into and I pick it up. It's fun how despite this rich crowd, they opted to using these cheap ass steel chairs. I guess they wanted to give a really gritty wrestling vibe ,, and perhaps they use this room for other kind of events. Who cares. What matters is that I have the chair up in my arms.. Folded up ,, with the top of the back rest pointed downwards. Standing over you ,, with the count at seven.

You're still down. But I know you will get up. I know you will ,, and for that ,, I SMASH the edge of the chair down ,, driving the cold steel into the ~side~ of your right knee HARD!!

"HEY YOU CAN'T DO THAT!!" The ref yells at me but I just stumble back and hitting my back into the railing's broken section ,, pushing it back ,, and swinging the chair out of my grip ~ "Who gives a FUCK. Restart the count ,, asstole!!" I roar at him ,, and turn my eyes to give Espinoza a vicious grin. I did restart an already botched count. But now ,, let's see you rise with a freshly savaged knee ~

One!!

Two!!

Three!!


Rebecca: The blow from the chair drives mercilessly into the side of my right knee, and the pain from the blow jolts me out of the unconscious slumber I was in.  I sit up at the waist, screaming in pain after the impact.  My face is smeared with blood, the shot to the temple not only opening a fresh cut but re-opening the earlier steps shot that had started to clot...

Sweat and spit spray from me as I jerk upright after the blow.  My knee is in agony.  I sob in pain as the crowd watches... most in rapt fascination with this display of violence.  A few smiling at the display... one or two of the fans who come to see a level of fighting not available easily even looking away.  That ought to be a compliment, I suppose, but all I can feel, all I can think is MY FUCKING KNEE MY FUCKING KNEE MY FUCKING KNEE MY FUCKING KNEEE!!!!!

Even the pain between my thighs is instantly forgotten as your cruel vicious blow drives all other thoughts out of my head.  I hear the count growing...

SEVEN!!!

EIGHT!!!

and it is sheer pure HATE at the bitch that did this to me that drives me on.  I grab at a nearby chair, one that hasn't fallen, and use the back of it and my left foot to stand.  I rise up enough to break the count on "NINE!!!  T.." but the ref doesn't say TEN

I test my foot on the ground, and pain shoots through my right knee.  I wince and glare, hissing, but manage to snarl "What, that all you got, bitch?"


Emily: I stumble back away from you. Grinning wickedly. She's finished. She's fucking finished for sure. My butt pushing the loose railing back ,, and I stagger ,, half falling to my butt. FUCK. That would have been bad. To lose a count because I tripped and my butt touched the floor. But I make it to the ring. And I lean against it. Breathing hard. My left hand rested against it, my right on my hip bone. I'm aching all over. ALL fucking over. But at last, it's over. There is no rising from this shot. Or so I thought. When I see you stir and shift at six. Ha!! Nice try bitch ~~ I think to myself.

But then ,, I start to worry seeing how you keep your hurt right leg stretched ,, and push your left knee against the floor. No no no NO!! ~ I start to shake ,, your palms on the floor. pushing up. Your right knee is already off the floor. And you are bracing against your left knee and grabbing the edge of another chair then. you ~LIFT your knee off just after the ~nine~ and slide your other hand to the seat of the chair. And technically ,, now ,, you don't have any knees or hands touching the floor. Yes you're bracing against the chair ,, half slumped. But the count is broken !!

My jaw drops ,, blinking and staring at you ,, my eyes starting to fill with tears ,, again. They hurt so much and right now ,, all I do is shake my head ~ "No no no no you can't. You fucking CAN'T!!" ~ I roar wildly at you, while Espinoza's grin slowly returns to him


Rebecca: I see you resting against apron of the ring as I am resting against the chair... in reality, there is no comparison, but there is a visual symmetry to it that causes a few of the fans to swivel their head from you to me to you to me.  I take a break... my chest heaving.  My knee aching, even when my foot isn't touching the ground.  I wipe my face to clear the blood and sweat, then start hobbling towards you... hopping in my left foot, gripping the backs of chairs, but moving towards you.  "I can... and I'm coming for you." I hiss.  

I will be honest with myself: I have no fucking idea what I will do when I get to you.  But given your reaction, I'm relying on playing to your psyche and mind games.  Its what I've got left, as my head clears enough to focus, perhaps thanks to the pain.  My body is bruised from head to toe.  My face is a mess, bruises from your blows, black and blue marks, two significant cuts, and numerous rubbed-raw spots.  My body is in similar state.  My hair hangs, drenched with sweat around my head, and my legs move like I'm 99.  But I do move... in your direction.  And the one other thing I can still manage is my gaze of rage.


Emily: I just glare at you. A mixture of amazement ,, hatred ,, and respect in my eyes. Why ,, why wouldn't she just go down. And deep inside me ,, my frustration starts to get tainted with despair and fear. Maybe I don't have what it takes to put her down?? Maybe she's just too much for me?? This was not Espinoza's doing. Nor was the last count. The ref counted as fast as any. I watched. And yet ,, yet you rose. And now ,, you start hobbling towards me. And I start to get ,, scared. Your attempt at intimidating me works. And I start to slowly step back ,, trying to calculate what I can do ,, but coming up with nothing

And nothing means I need more time ,, and to keep the space. And suddenly ,, the crowd watches this odd scene unfold. You ,, bloodied ,, battered ,, with one leg ,, chasing down the so far well~kept me while I back away from you ,, until I reach one corner of the ring ,, and you are coming closer ,, but I suddenly charge at you ,, swinging my right arm in a clothes line towards your chest ~ "Why don't you just fucking die bitch!!"


Rebecca: As I stalk after you actually retreat.  If playing mind games with you wasn't taking up every bit of my focus (well, that and walking, which really isn't an insignificant chunk) I might have dropped my jaw in amazement.  But the crowd watches the bizarre scene in near silence.  As I relentlessly stalk after you, you finally turn and charge me, extending your right arm in a clothesline.  Luckily, my mind games have fucked with your timing and you advertise it more than you should have.  I duck under it and hurl myself against the apron, barely avoiding it as you lunge.  My side to the apron as I hurl myself against it, feeling the wind of your clothesline on my back as it barely misses.

Gripping the bottom rope with both hands, I let out a snarl and MULE KICK backwards with my left foot, hoping to hit whatever part of you is still in range.  The downside of that, however, is my right foot comes down on the mats and I let out a howl of pain... throwing myself so that I roll against the ring edge to put my back to it, hoping that takes the weight as I lift up my right leg to avoid the pain


Emily: I need to fucking break her. There is no other way. I've lost the crowd, I've lost Espinoza, and without the company ,, I know I don't have much. I need ,, I need to beat her. But right now even taking a breath of air feels hostile ,, when I'm in this large hall full of people who despise me (( or so does my paranoia lead me to think )). And that surely affects my game ,, missing my clothesline with ease ,, and when I turn to face you ~~ "UFFF!!!!" Your foot comes crashing into my sore and bruised abs. And I gasp in pain ,, my washboard abs jolted ,, my feet sweeping from under me

And I come crashing down to my knees ~ hard. The padded floor absorbing the fall ,, but not enough ,, while I double over ,, groaning in pain.


Rebecca: I lean against the apron, my right foot in the air, my back against the ropes as I throw my head back, sweat dripping over every inch of my body.... but unmoving.  You kneel there, groaning and gasping, doubled over there... but unmoving.

The ref looks from me to you, from you to me... over to Mr. Espinoza, and shrugs.  "No count" he says, as Espinoza nods.  I want to cry, want to curl up and sob and sob and sob and just make it stop.  But I know you won't do that.  You're going to be on your feet any moment.  So I do what I have to: I push off the apron.  There are no chairs to hold, nothing to lean on, so I just hop towards you.  And hopping isn't that easy when every muscle in your body is screaming and you've been nearly ko'd repeatedly (and was fully out, though not for long).  All of that messes with your balance.

So as I hop towards you, slowly and clumsily, I lose my balance and my right foot comes down again, with a fresh wave of pain shooting through me.  I cry out and fall to my knees near you.  My arms shoot around your shoulders in a clinch as we kneel... largely (but not perfectly) facing one another.  My mind reels as i clutch you to me, trying to buy enough time to get some more fuel in the tank back.  


Emily: I lay there ,, on my knees ,, groaning in pain ,, shaking my head wildly ,, right and left. Sobbing and trying ~my best~ to not flop forwards. I just can't allow it. I need to persevere. I need to hold on. I take in deep breaths, my abs hurting from the earlier abuse and chair shots from our previous match ,, and now there you are.,, coming at me. Hopping on one leg like a fucking swan. And you fall down ,, facing me ,, your arms around my shoulders ,, in a near hug.

My arms half trapped. I can feel your body holding on to me ,, and I try to fire wild punches into your sides. Landing one ,, a second ,, then you tighten round me ,, rendering my arms useless ,, and I just groan at you ~ "My belt ~~ My baby" ~~ I pull my head back and swing it forwards ,, trying to headbutt you right into the gash above your left eye


Rebecca: As I kneel I grind my teeth in pain... putting the pressure on my left knee only goes so far.  We hang there, grappling clumsily.  I hear you mutter the words and I mutter back "Your headache" and pull my head back as if to swing it forward in a head-butt, but you get there a moment too soon... cracking on my cheekbone just below my left eye, and catching the ridge around it as well.  Once again I see stars explode.  Once again I see the world spin.  Once again I feel waves of nausea overcome me....

And once again I feel my back slump onto the rubber mats.  My arms fall to my sides, my legs at an angle, bent from kneeling, my chest jutting up.   The ref watches us and is about count but notices you aren't standing and once again says "No count" and shrugs.

[~*M*~]

Emily: ~SMACKKKKK!!~ My forehead smashes into your cheek ,, just below your eye ,, a moment after hearing your words ,, and I watch your head snap back. Arms falling off me and you drop to your back ,, but still somehow pulling me down with you ,, and I crash down ,, chest on chest ,, before I roll off you to my back. Pain and headache exploding in my head ,, just like you promised me. I moan and roll to my tummy ,, and start to drag myself towards the ring. I know the count won't start. Not until I'm up on my feet. And then ?? This tough bitch would have probably picked herself up to her feet.

~ "No count." The words tell me what I already know ,, but I have another plan. Dragging myself to the skirt of the ring ,, I reach beneath it,, fingers slapping on stuff. I'm searching ,, I'm looking ,, doing this blind~woman's shopping for what could help me ,, and I feel it ,, grabbing it's end ,, and I start pulling it out


~Clang~Clang~Clang~ The sound of metal dragging and hissing rises when I pull my right hand from below the ring ,, holding the edge of a steel link chain in my grip. One end gripped ,, I start to slowly wrap it around my right fist ,, Glaring at you ,, On both knees ,, and waiting for you to rise


Rebecca: I groan... my eyes flickering as they slowly come to once more.    One of the fans in the audience asks "Do they offer them medical?  Because..."  "Dmitri, I don't know and I don't want to know.  Shut up and watch this."  I groan as the lights overhead spin clockwise, then counter clockwise, then slowly stop spinning... then 3 combine into one, as my vision focuses.  I lay there... listening... no bell.  No cheering, at least not enough for a win.  But also no count. What... what the fuck?

I roll over onto my side, then crawl forward... reaching for the guard rail, which has been re-assembled, my fingers wrap around the bars.  My arms strain as I pull myself up.. wincing as my right knee aches, but not quite as badly as it used to: either the pain is subsiding or I've got bigger problems and I'm not feeling the pain.  I don't know, and at this exact moment, I don't care.  I grab the bars, and haul myself up, trying to rise up enough to get to my feet, to break any count that might start, and look to see what the hell is going on... maybe I got lucky and you passed out, and I'll TRIGGER a count by standing!

oh my god that would be fantastic... please start counting please start counting... where is she?  My eyes scan looking for you.


Emily: I lean against the ring side. Gazing at you. My knees slightly off the floor. But I'm not standing. They are locked at 90 degrees, almost in a squat ,, heaving. My right arm over the apron ,, resting on my elbow ,, waiting. My eyes watching you roll up ,, but instead of turning to face me with your bloodied face ,, you roll away and start to crawl towards the guard rails. So typical. But I just wait. Watching you reaching and pulling. The steel rails shaking but hold ,, while you start to crawl up

Everyone in the arena ,, except for you ,, know what is coming. Know what I am going to go. At least ,, what I intend to do. I take in a deep breath. Watch your pace ,, your timing. And just as you are about to get to your feet. Just as you are about to turn. I push off the ring ,, charging at you ,, my right arm cocked back ,, and I ~PLOW~ my chain~wrapped right fist towards your face. Not really aiming for anything in particular. Your gushing forehead wound ?? Your cheek ?? Your mouth ?? Your nose ?? ~ ~ ~ Who cares ?? they are all good. I just need to hit something above your neck. ANYTHING !!


Rebecca: As I turn to see you, I see the glint of the perfectly polished metal chain links reflecting off the light of the overhead lights... then CRACK and I fall back, tipping over the guard rail, my ass sliding over the top so that I fall to my back.  My face took the brunt of the blow, your punch connecting with my lips and my nose.  My legs are in the air, draped over the guard rail, and my arms are at my sides.  The blow managed to give me a bloody nose and lip with the same shot, but I'm unaware of it.  I lay there as the ref comes over and starts counting

ONE! 

TWO!!!

THREE!!!!


Emily: Why is this sound becoming so familiar?? The sound of metal hitting bone ,, YOUR fucking skull?? I don't mind it though ,, it's music to my tears ,, and you crash down again ,, with me ,, our bodies taking the rail down. And I breathe hard. shaking my head.. Shaking my right hand and pulling it from inside the wrapped chain. Moaning in pain. My fingers hurt like sin. But it does not matter. I push hard against the fallen rail. And I rise up. Breathing hard ,, glaring down at your face ,, it's bloodied ,, and I let go of the chain over your body ,, just as the count hits three. And the ref shakes his arm ,, seriously ?? Was that a fucking interference ??

I just glare at him and i stumble back. Toward leaning against the ringside. I want to be as far away as I can ,, lest they say my breathing interrupted the count

"Once again !! ONE !! " ~

"TWO!!" ~

"THREEE!!"


Rebecca: I lay there, my body looking peaceful... well as peaceful as you can look with multiple cuts across your face and black and blue marks from head to toe.  My chest rises and falls rhythmically as the ref keeps counting, my feet in the air as my legs lay against the guard rail, bent at the knees.  The ref keeps counting.

FOUR!!

FIVE!!!

SIX!!!!

I start to stir... my head rolling from side to side.  My tongue, on instinct, goes to test my teeth... no, they are all still there, good.  My head feels like it got hit by a baseball bat, which knowing this is a Last Woman Standing match with no DQs, it probably did... no wait, there was metal...

SEVEN!!!!

EIGHT!!!

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck!  I start stirring more and scrambling... trying to stand up.  Where the fuck are my legs?  what's going on?  My eyes shift to them and I see how they are propped over the guard rail.

I scoot back, so they drop to the floor.

NINE!!!

I grab a chair and start to rise

TEN!!!!

TEN TEN TEN!!!

I let out a moan of agony and rage that can be heard by anyone nearby...

Sobs of pain wracking my body.


Emily: I stare at you. Laying down there. Your chest rising and falling ,, bringing the glint of the metal chain to the lights with each breath you take. And then. You start to move again. No. No no NO!! Fuck NO!! You move at the eight count. You make it to the chair at nine ,, and you start to pull yourself up. But then I hear it. The Ten count rising in the hall ,, and with it the bell going off ~~ DING! ~ DING! ~ DING!

And with that. My arms give and I slump down to the floor beside the ring. Moaning ,, breathing hard. And gazing upon you. Half sat up against the chair. And you start to sob. Covering your face in pain and shame ,, but I just smile. No ,, this is not the face I should be gloating to? Where is he ?? Where the fuck is he??
Emily: My eyes turn ,, hearing the voice of the announcer on the speakers ~ "Ladddiiess and Gentlemen !! We have a winner !! And ~STILL~ your Lightweight Wrestling Champion ~~ Emillyyyyyy Wishmaaakkkkeerrrrr!!"

The words booming out filling everyone's ears ,, just when my eyes find his ,, the enraged look on his smug face. Fucking Espinoza. And while my name is yelled on the speakers ,, my lips move ,, mouthing at him ~ Fuckkkk youuuuuu ~ nothing I can be caught with. He know what I said ,, but I can always say I was mouthing my own name.


Rebecca: I lean there, on my knees, groaning in pain.  Tears fill my eyes.  A few of the fans even go so far as to pat my back or say "amazing struggle" but I don’t give a damn about them.  I don't give a damn about Espinoza and whatever fucking power plays he has in mind.  I don't care about the money.  I don't even, and it takes me a while to realize this, care about the belt.  What I care about was that word: Champion.  And the fact that it doesn't describe me, it describes the woman who put me through hell.  I roll onto the seat, wanting to take pressure off my knee, which while not aching as badly as it did, is still hurting.  I see you sanding there, the look of joy on your face.

The look of ecstatic joy and thrill of rubbing it in Espinoza's face.  That amazing rush... I bare my teeth, hissing...and then my head starts spinning again... I slump forward, falling off the chair to my knees, arms draped over the guard rail, then falling off to the side... the violent agony of the vicious match catching up with me as I once more fall to my back, passed out.


Emily: I hear the sound of clanging metal to the side, and I turn my head ,, seeing you crashing to the floor. And Gawd do I feel like joining you. A bit of pity and respect rocking through me. More respect than pity. Every bruise on my body reminding me of the fate that you wanted to put me through ,, and how it's not so different from what you're going through now. But I just shake my head ,, and push towards you. The ref hands me my belt ,, and I pause next to him letting him raise my arm up and over my head ~ ~ ~

The Champ ,, is here ,, and still ,, the Champ !!

The end . . .

[~*M*~]

Thank you so much Minxy !! Both for notifying me to the error and that this was my 100th post !! ~ ~ ~ One can't find better friends anywhere x

[Rebecca P]

I just want to thank ~M~ for the amazing match, as always.  She's got the soul of both a poet and a freight train.  Guess which one I felt like I got hit by

Seriously though: one more example of how amazing she is, and how lucky her opponents are to face off with her!

[Stephanie Gibson v2.0]

Two of my all time favorite opponents put together something that should awe everyone who reads it.  Everyone who faces either of them knows what a privilege it is.  I'm just amazed.  This should be admired like a fine work of art, because that's what it is!  We're just lucky enough to be able to see it