[Rowan Chance]

"I've got you..."

I can feel those words dripping into your ears, poisoning your will. Your body is losing its strength as I sap it from your muscles. No oxygen, no blood, no strength. None of that vaunted power of yours. Just a tall, lean, mass of helpless muscle. That's what you'll be soon. Or, you'll tap out. Either way, people are reminded of who I was. Won't be saying, "Hey, great match with Punky, but too bad you lost."

"You're the first victim, Tiff," I whisper. "You can thank pretty little Punky for..."

Something wraps around my thumb. Tight. I feel...

What the fuck are you...

I scream out loud as you twist my thumb nearly right out of its socket. You want me to let go of you. Trying to make me break the hold. Okay, bitch. I'll break the hold. But not in the way you were thinking.

I do just that. Let go of my wrist. Use my left hand to reach up and around your head, grabbing at those long, blonde locks. So easy to coil my fingers into. So easy to just grab on and hold on. And when I do get hold of your hair, I pull your head up. Yeah, up. Just enough so you can catch a quick breath. You'll need it after I've been shoving my thumb into your windpipe. You'll take a long, deep gasp. Good.

Because with my right arm, I'm bending it at the elbow, and sending the hard, boney tip of my elbow straight at the tip of your perfect little upturned nose. I'm gonna try holding your head in place as I spend just a second getting a really good aim. And you'll be distracted by trying to get that deep suck of air.

Seeing your breasts stretch across your chest as I pull your head up gives me another idea...but I'll save that one for later. Let's see if I can arrange a meeting between my elbow and your nose first.


And FUCK, my thumb hurts. She may have just knocked it out of socket...

[BustyTiffany35]

Fingers locked tight around your thumb, twisting and bending, going so far as to snap it off if I have to. It doesn't look like I have to go those lengths as I feel your hands loosening their grip, your anguished, high-pitched scream still echoing around the ring. My fingers in turn release your thumb, letting it go, just as ya unravel your arms from around my neck. The unnerving pressure on my windpipe is cleared as ya take your hurting thumb back, and I slump down from the tip of my toes to lay my knees into the canvas. My taut stomach bumps into your flat tummy, sliding to rest heavily atop yours while my hands plant firmly onto the canvas on either side of your head. Your legs are still wrapped tight around my waist, the bottom of your thighs bumping against the tops of mine. It don't matter none, you've released me from that damn choke. I can breathe a lil' easier now, which I intend to with a deep breath. Then, I'll ground n' pound ya until those sexy legs unravel from my waist.

"First, victim..?" I rasp, the words moving up my throat like a jagged piece of glass. "Heh. Well, sugah. I'll, be sure.. to tell Punky... how ya FAILED... to make me, your first, vic--UHMMMNNA!"

Suddenly, your hand shoots up, moves around behind my head, grasping a handful of my hair. I feel those fingers tangle in my mane, latching on painfully, my scalp starting to scream. It happens so frequently, my hair getting pulled like this. All the pretty gals grab my hair and Rowan's one of the prettiest. I scowl at ya as ya grip my hair, feeling ya pull on my head to yank it back.

Yeah babe, pull on my hair, grab it a lil' harder. I love it rough like that. Hold on tight and pull as hard as ya can cause in a second I'm gonna rearrange that fuckin' gorgeous face of yours!

Actually, having ya pull my head back is doing wonders for my throat, stretching it out like this, letting me breathe a lot easier. I take a much needed breath after having your now possibly broken thumb plug my windpipe for a few scary seconds. But all comforts are fleeting and short-lived, especially when you're in a wrestling match, scratch that, a fight with Rowan Chance.

"NGH!!"

I see your elbow rushing up at me. I can't move outta the way with your hand clutching my hair, and so that elbow slams into my nose and strikes it so viciously hard my head snaps back and into your hand that's gripping my hair. Gawd DAMN that hurt! My eyes instantly tear up, this hot tingling sensation spreads across my face. I'm not bleeding, surprisingly, but it feels like ya put a big ol' dent in the middle of my face. I shut my eyes tight and clench my teeth and my right hand moves up instantly to cover my nose. I flinch - my fingers barely grazed it and already it started to sting. This intense throbbing almost instantly flares up, pounding away on the inner walls of my cranium, and for a moment I just woozily hang above ya, grasping my nose with my right hand, letting your left hand keep my head held back by my hair.

Ooh sweet lord, that hurt... That fuckin' hurt... That.. Fuckin'. HURT.

For that brief moment, I just hang there. Disoriented, whimpering softly, straining to breathe through gritted teeth and a possibly busted nose. My face is a throbbing mess right now and it's a wonder how I'm not bleeding all over ya. The pain in my crushed nose, it is horrific, it's distracting, it's almost unbearable - but, I'm still awake, and angry. When I get hit with shots like that, if they don't knock me out.. the first thing that happens is i get pissed. My anger, it'll outweigh the pain. It'll toss it to the wind and my body will snap into action, almost automatically. Already, the adrenaline is starting to kick into overdrive. It starts spreading through my body, firing on all cylinders, causing me to shudder on top of ya, losing all thoughts and inhibitions to focus on one thing alone: strike back.

One tearful eye pops open, to glare angrily down at ya. I plant my knees a bit harder into the canvas, lowering my right hand from my nose, tightening it into a fist.

That was a hell of a shot, baby... My turn.

I lean into your left forearm so that flat, sexy tummy of yours is nice and open. With a feral cry that barely escapes through clenched teeth, I rip my right fist down into your stomach, aiming my knuckles into your mid-section as fiercely as I can.

[Rowan Chance]

I see you stunned for a moment, and if it weren't for my current position, I'd take advantage of it. Unfortunately, your weight is a little too much for quick movements. I've got to figure out how to get out from under here. This is a bad place to be with someone as strong as you. One strong punch and...

...then I see the glare in your eyes.

...then I see you rearing back with that fist of yours.

Yeah. This is what I was afraid of.

I see the punch coming. There's no way to avoid it. No way. I can't dodge, I can't squirm, I can't use any of my famous agility to get out of the way.

I watch your fist descend with a rapidity that surprises me. Apparently, pissing Tiffany off adds points to her Dexterity. I'll have to note that.

And as everything slows down, I remember being a little girl, playing chess with my dad. I know, it sounds weird, but stay with me. Dad's a gamer. Like, old school. As in, his favorite platform is tabletop. And he taught me how to play chess. And on this particular day, he taught me one of the most valuable lessons I've ever learned.

Looking at the board, I see a move. I could capture Dad's queen, but it would mean losing my bishop. And I like bishops. I like how they move across the board so far and so fast. And angles. The angles are cool. Remember, I'm like nine years old. I'm looking at the board...looking at the board...

Dad says, "You should do it."

I look up at him. "What do you mean?"

He says, "You should sacrifice your bishop to take my queen. If you can sacrifice a smaller piece to capture the bigger piece, you should take it."

"But I like my bishop," I say, my voice a little sad.

"That's how life works, sweetie," he tells me. "Sometimes, you have to give up something you want to get something you need."

So, I see that fist coming down at me. Hard. Like a wrecking ball falling straight down on the hood of a car. And I remember what my dad taught me.

Sacrifice the bishop to take the queen.

In this case, the Platinum Queen.

Your fist hits my stomach and I feel all my inner organs shift. It hits so hard, it makes ripples on my firm, toned belly. I made sure to flex those muscles to lessen the impact, but that strategy had limited success. I feel all the air rush out of my lungs and through my mouth. My body arches up off the canvas. Arms flailing up. Legs kicking. My eyes wide as my mouth. And then, my body collapses back to the mat. For just a second. Just one precious second.

And despite the pain in my gut from your continued attacks, despite the ache in my body, despite the fact I have no air--I'm a sexfighter; I can hold my breath for a long, long, long time--my body snaps like a spider, my limbs reaching up and coiling.

I grab your extended arm.

I wrap my right leg under your chin.

Throw my left leg over your right shoulder, locking it in.

Tuck your arm in tight.

Grap at your pretty head and pull your neck down over my shin under your chin.

In MMA, it's called a gogoplata.

The Undertaker called it the Hell's Gate.

I call it the Widow's Kiss.

And if I can lock it in, you'll find out why.

[BustyTiffany35]

I punched you. I punched ya so hard there ought to be a hole in your mid-section. I punched ya so damn hard my stomach was about to turn. My knuckles slammed deep into that aching tummy, I felt your very core shudder beneath my fist, heard that loud exhale of breath as your lungs emptied completely. You should be splayed out, motionless and groaning right now, ripe for the picking, helpless to the onslaught of my hammerfists that rain down onto your gorgeous face and body.

But, no.

That punch… it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to neutralize ya. It wasn’t enough to even slow ya down. If anything, my punch activated the trap that I’m now ensnared in. I'm tangled, trapped in your signature finishing hold, wrapped up in your web, inching closer to your mesmerizing face, closer to those immaculate lips. Closer, to oblivion.

..no...

The Widow's Bite. I never saw it coming. Never expected it to, either. For that brief second as ya laid there following my punch, I felt such a rush of confidence. For that moment alone, I was free of any fear, absolved of all doubt, relishing in the fact that you were mine. Serves me right for letting my guard down. Even if it was for a second, I should have never given ya a moment's worth to retaliate. Now, I’m paying for it, trapped yet again, left to wonder how ya managed to pull this off. Wondering, not just how ya were able to, but also if I’m even able to keep up anymore… if I can even beat ya at all… You’ve had an answer for almost everything I had thrown at ya. And once I did get something going, you’d just cut me off at the pass, and trap me yet again, and had me wrapped up… Wondering, and despairing, and panicking, and doubting..

No...

The hold’s nearly locked into place, everything’s happening so fast the coiling of your legs around my head is a blur. I can’t see anything now except your face. Forced to stare at ya, forced.. to realize, this match has been yours - that I’m yours. I stare at your beautiful face, into those dark, determined eyes, and I feel myself drifting, just losing myself.. Your technique has been nearly flawless. Your speed, unfathomable. But your resilience, my gawd.. it's inhuman. It’s the stuff of legends. Ya fight back from the brink of oblivion, ya strike back when you’re not even fully cognizant. You're so lethal at every point of the match. Despite my peril, even as ya drag me closer to defeat, I can’t help but admire that about ya… your indomitable will, your resilience.. I can’t help but admire you. You’re not just unbreakable Rowan.. you’re unbelievable.

No.

I moan. Your shin feels like a knife at my throat, ready to slice it clean as it as ya settle your right leg beneath my chin. Your fingers coil around the back of my head, tangling in my tousled platinum hair. My left arm is trapped in the crook of that bent leg, your other leg draping over my right shoulder. I shut my eyes as I feel ya dragging my head down, pulling me closer to certain defeat, finishing up the hold to end me, to end what was a year's worth of fighting..

A year's worth of fighting, of winning, of conquering, of proving that I am still worth a damn. That I'm still good enough to fight the likes of Rowan Chance, that I could still beat someone as elite as her. My "free" hand hovers over the mat, as the last bits of air leave my body.

All that work, all that fighting, all of it-- 


NO.


I open my eyes. They glare fiercely into yours.

NOT now. I came too far to lose now, to lose like this.

I'm still here. I'm still conscious. I'm still alive. And, I'm still pissed.

You are NOT capturing the Platinum Queen this easily, Chance.

And with every ounce of breath left in me, I am gonna fight you Rowan to the end.

I am NOT gonna let ya capture me.


My body's shaking uncontrollably. My "free" right hand, it starts to rise. It rises up as ya start cinching in the Widow’s Bite, my right arm raising high in wild flailing motions. Even with your hands on the back of my head I manage to turn my body, my cheek now pushing down against your shin. I’m clawing and scraping to get to my feet, despite my head and left arm still trapped in your suffocating embrace, I still fight to rise up from my knees to get my boots planted into the canvas.

Turning and leaning toward your right side, while my right arm continues to rise up - to try to get OVER your right ankle. I’m fighting for all I’m worth now, thrashing at your legs, pushing and shoving and turning wildly. Breathlessly.

My head’s spinning, I feel nauseous, every ache and pain that batters my body is amplified in these heated moments. Every one of my actions are dictated by desperation. There ain't no turning back now - I must get my arm over your leg.

I’m extending my arm as far as it can possibly go, all so that it can drape over that shin. If I can just get it over, then I’ll be able to push up on my feet, and flip/roll over your body, escape your Bite and maybe even get a pin outta it.

If I can get my arm up and over.

[Rowan Chance]

The announcer screams into his microphone:

"Rowan Chance has the Widow's Kiss cinched in! Tiffany is fading! The Platinum Blonde Bomber is going limp! Is this the end of the match? Will Rowan put Tiffany to sleep?"

He's right. I've got the move on you so tight, there's almost no air between us. You look down as I pull your face closer...and closer...and you see that dark light in my eyes. You know what's happening.

I'm stealing your breath.

With your throat crushing against my shin, there's no way to breathe. And as your eyes start to bulge and your lips turn from bright red to pale blue, your face changing from that perfect tan to something more like a red cloth that's been through the dryer too many times, I keep pulling. Another inch. Another inch.

I'm stealing your blood.

The gogoplata does more than just cut the oxygen off to your brain. It also makes all that blood rushing into and out of your brain just...stop. You feel that pain in your skull, Tiff? That's blood stuck inside your skull, desperate to get out and desperate to get in. And it's just sitting there. Stagnating. Filling up your head with oxygen deprived blood.

And now...as you struggle to get your arm out of the hold...

...as you feel your legs tingling...

...as you feel your feet and fingers going numb...

...as your arms are as heavy as tractor tires...

...I pull you closer...

...and closer...

...and just as I feel you about to sneak your arm out...

...just then...

...I pull your face in to mine...

...close enough that our lips brush against each other...

...and with a wicked grin on my face...

...I bite your lower lip, so softly...

...run my tongue across your pale blue lips...

...and show you exactly why I call this move...

...the Widow's Kiss.

My teeth...
My tongue...
My lips...
All made into weapons with my sexfight training...
And I use them...
And moan deep into your mouth...
Whispering your name...
As I pull you in to oblivion.

[BustyTiffany35]

My fingers graze the back of that tall Dominatrix-style boot, nails feverishly clawing along the smooth leather. It's taking everything that's left in me, and then some, to do this. My arm feels like deadweight, fingers are going numb. Both my boots are planted beneath me but I'm still crouched over ya, a dull ache starting to resonate in my lower back from being stuck in this position. My other trapped arm is curled along your tummy, my throat is crushed. My eyes glare fiercely into yours but that fire is starting to dim. I'm almost completely drained of breath, of energy, of willpower.. but I'm almost there, my arm is nearly free. It's almost up and over, just a lil' more--

You kiss me.

Ya pull my face in close. Your mouth brushes against mine. I can feel your teeth sinking into my lower lip, can taste your hot, wet tongue. I hear ya whispering my name, moaning it into my mouth as ya kiss me. I freeze, I go completely still, and for a split-second, I don't struggle. I don't fight at all, I don't do anything but stay there in your tight grasp and allow your sweet lips to kiss mine. My head just swirls with shameful excitement, the abrupt lash of lustful heat surging through my rattled mind and trapped body. All the pain dissipates as well, all I feel.. is this kiss. This moment. I've wanted ya for so long Rowan, ya don't even understand.. and now, you have me.

I slump down onto my knees. My eyes shut tight. My arm just hangs there, against your left foot. My upper body sags against your legs, my throat now agonizingly sealed tight. I start to wince, start to shake. Whatever air is left in me, this sensual, sinful kiss has stolen it away.

And I kiss ya back.

It’s like stepping into an oasis after wandering for ages through the vast, cruel wasteland. It's water to a woman dying of thirst, food to a starving animal, attention to a crying child. Your kiss, it’s what I need, it’s what I want, more so than air, than freedom. My body’s on the brink of total collapse, I could black out at any second now. And, despite all that, I choose to return your kiss, I push my lips back eagerly into yours, desperate to taste more. I sink into ya, fall into ya, Your teeth, your tongue, your lips, I feel em' all at once, assaulting me sensually, driving me wild. I hear my name carried on the wave of your torrent moans, your fingers in my hair, dragging me closer into oblivion.

And for that brief moment, I want oblivion. I want ya to drag me into that darkness. I want to fall, I want to be captured, I want to be bound and helpless in your embrace, be taken and ravished and conquered. I want to be yours.

But Ro, baby..



I want you more.



As good, as fucking wonderful as kissing Rowan Chance is.. I also can't breathe. I'm still trapped. It still hurts to be locked up in the Widow's Kiss, and I need to escape this. I need to break out. I need to breathe. I need to take you, Rowan. I need to fight. I need to get back to work.

My fingers are tingling, but I can still move em'. They start to stir, start claw again at your ankle. My hand starts to twitch, rubbing anxiously at your boot. My arm begins to shake at your leg, brushing into it, desperate to pass up and over once more. I come alive, awakening to renew the struggle. What was once lustful, gasping moans but a second ago are now deep, throaty growls. I kiss ya back hungrily, madly, lustily, but my body now shakes against your legs, my head is pulling away, pulling back from your dragging hands, and my arm --

It gets over your leg.

Hard part's done. Now..

I devote every last bit of air left in me into my next course of action. Fuelled by sheer willpower alone, I coil my arm as tight as I can around that leg now and at the same moment, I try and yank my other trapped arm out from between your legs. My arms feel so heavy, exhaustion and fatigue have almost entirely settled in. But I push through it, I have to.  With a desperate steely focus, I peel my lips from yours - dear GAWD it feels so good to breathe again! - and frantically I get to my feet, but still crouched over ya. Then, I try to dip my face forward, ducking my head to push my body against ya, so that I can roll over ya, hooking your legs up, attempting a sloppy but hopefully effective Jacknife Pin!

[Rowan Chance]

Bitch.

Broke.

My hold.

I'm laying there, shoulders down, you on top of me, all that weight, and I hear the referee count...

"ONE!"




Bitch.

Broke.

My hold.

Nobody...nobody...except fucking Pun...no. Don't say the name. Never say the name again. Not ever. She wrecked me. Took everything I had and kept going. Broke my back with her fucking wife's finisher. Her fucking slut whore bitch wife with the cute British accent and the tattoos and I bet they're in that big fucking house right now fucking each other senseless and...

"TWO!"



Bitch.

Broke.

My hold.

No. She didn't take everything I had. I had one last trick left. One last move. And if I got that off, she wouldn't have been getting up for a long, long time. I...

Did the referee just count tw--

I see the hand falling faster than a star. Nearly down on the mat. An inch away.

That's when I twist my hips and shoulders and toss your sloppy ass pin off me and the referee raises two fingers and the announcers say something about "Two and nine tenths!" or some lame ass shit.



Bitch.

Broke.

My hold.

You broke the Widow's Kiss, Tiffany. I was going to finish you off mercifully. A sweet little trip to dreamland, complete with kisses.

But you didn't want that.

Oh, no. No more Ms. Nice Rowan.

I see you struggling on the mat after my kickout. Holding on to your throat. Your face bright red. You can barely feel your fingers and toes right now, I bet. Well, you're not going to feel anything ever again, babe.

Because you.

Broke.

My hold.

Nobody humiliates me like that and gets away with it Tiffany. Not you. Not her. Not anyone.

I push myself up to my feet, my guts still aching from that punch. I try to hide the pain, but it's like I swallowed a dozen razor blades.

I grab your hair.

Tug hard and lift you up.

Put your face next to mine.

I whisper, "Hope your neck is as strong as that punch, bitch."

Then, I hook my left arm around your neck, hook my right arm under your left arm, and grab hold of my wrist. A simple front face lock.

I had one more trick for...her. And I almost pulled it off. But I was weak, and my back failed me.

It's not going to fail me this time.

This isn't a standard DDT, Tiffany. This is a DDT I designed after watching years of Jake Roberts perform the move. After months of being forced to do nothing but DDTs. I used it once in Japan. Just once. And it broke the girl's neck.

I almost pulled this off on... her. But I was weak.

I'm not weak now, Tiff.

Step one: Pull you up off your feet using your neck as leverage.

Step two: Twist your body around so that neck of yours gets all jacked into directions it wasn't supposed to move.

Step three: Drop down hard so the impact of your skull travels through that neck of yours and straight down your spine.

That's the plan. And if I pull it off...

...you'd better have a strong neck.

[BustyTiffany35]

"Owf."

I land bodily onto the canvas after ya dash that shoulder up and break my Jacknife Pin, though it wasn't entirely surprising that ya did. I didn't reinforce the pin, didn't clutch your legs as tightly as I would if I was fresh and lively, I just rolled my back into your face and upper body and laid there on top of ya. The important thing was escaping the Widow's Kiss.

As I slump onto the mat beside ya, I roll onto my side, coughing and gasping for air. I'm clutching my throat, my body trembling as I suck in air in long, labored breaths. My chest heaves against my tight lycra corset as my lungs fill up with oxygen, but I'm still disoriented with my head feeling as if its spiralling wildly without end. I can feel how red my cheeks are, my eyes blurred with tears, my platinum mane a big tousled mess and the rest of my battered body just laying there on the mat, unresponsive to my feverishly wild mind.

I escaped your hold, a move that no one has been able to break out of. Well, almost everyone.. amongst the flashes of panic and desperate planning that assaulted my mind, one image kept popping up in my head. An image from that bloody match that took place in Paris, an image of a woman I adore and love so damn much breaking outta the Kiss herself with a deadlift-esque powerbomb. That gave me an idea of how to break free while I struggled in your grasp, but I just didn't have the energy to pull that off. Too much air was cut off from me and I didn't have the strength to lift ya at the moment - hell, I barely had the strength to complete that jackknife pin. I broke out of the Widow's Kiss another way, showed the world y'all can do it a different way. But at what cost? I can barely move right now, and my head won't stop throbbing..

Ya grab my hair. Gawd, you're already on me.. You're giving me zero chance to breathe, to try and catch my breath and get my second wind. Ya wanna dominate me, you want to conquer me, want to capture me - and by the way you're sinking your fingers so viciously into my hair, it seems pretty obvious that ya wanna end me. I wince, and moan as ya manage to drag me up onto unstable feet. I gaze sheepishly at ya, my eyes glossed over. Yours are filled with darkness, with anger, with vile, wicked intent. You're pissed, and I'm helpless in your hands. I shudder.

Ya pull my face in close to yours yet again and a part of me hopes that ya go for another kiss.. I'm still tingling all over from the one we shared a moment ago. Though, that tingling is probably due to the severe air-deprivation..

Ya whisper something cruel and ominous into my ear and it sends such a chill down my spine. Your words actually cause the throbbing in my skull to stop, only for a few sweet moments, as I really concentrate on what ya said, and what ya may have in store for me.

My neck...oh, fuck.

No more Ms. Nice Chance, it seems. Within seconds ya have me wrapped up in a tight front-face lock. But, there's something different.. the way you're torquing the hold, leaning down onto my neck, tightening your arms around me.. this ain't no regular DDT you're going for, Lady. Ya got something far worse, far more vicious in mind.

I'm only now starting to get my wits about me, my body's finally beginning to respond. Terrible timing, now that you've got me wrapped up tight and bent over, ready to execute whatever sick move ya got planned for me.

I glance up through the crook of your arm wrapped around my neck, through the curtain of silver platinum bangs that drape over my wearied eyes. I see the corner turnbuckles are just a few steps behind ya. My mind's working on overdrive now, formulating a plan of my own. Gotta move fast, gotta move now.

Move your ass, Tiff - move HER ass!

You're getting ready to hit this deadly DDT.

Here goes.

I fire an uppercut right up into your stomach, delivered from my right hand. It slices at an angle, rushing up speedily, knuckles aiming to drill right in there.

I hope it lands, hope it hits ya hard, hope it strikes ya hard enough to stop ya in your tracks.

Because if that distraction will pay off, I can start pumping my feet into the canvas, pushing my shoulder into your tummy, all in an attempt to RAM ya into that corner just a few feet behind your pretty ass.

[Rowan Chance]

I'm ready to spike your head into the mat, to crunch your spine like a beer can, to end this match once and for--

--a sledgehammer hits my stomach, knocking my feet right off the mat. My body bends over, my arms losing their grip on your neck and arm.

...and I taste copper in the back of my throat...

I said before my stomach felt as if I had swallowed a box of razors. That punch just sent every single one of those razors into a wild dance, slicing and cutting with every move.

I was worried about my back...and now I have to worry about my belly. And I have to--

--you lift my body and shove me into the corner. My body bends backward, my back arching, my eyes closed. Your shoulder into my abdomen, making all those razors dance again. This time, I don't just taste the copper in the back of my throat, but taste it on my tongue.

I'm dazed. Can't focus. My arms limp over your shoulders. You're holding me up in the corner. Otherwise, I'd be falling right down on my ass.

[BustyTiffany35]

I feel your midsection just crumble around my surging fist. Your body folds up as I uppercut ya, and I feel your grip on my neck and arm loosening. I struck ya so hard your feet even leave the canvas for a moment. If only I wasn't on the defensive, fighting from the bottom - had I hit ya at full strength, fully in control of my actions and not acting outta desperation, I probably would have broken ya in half..

This'll have to do. Gotta get ya while you're reeling..

I punch ya so hard it stops ya from spiking my head into the canvas with what feels like a more devastating version of the DDT, and instead, you're left reeling, wavering on unsteady feet. I feel your arms now drape over my back and I know now that the first step of MY plan has been set in motion - now, to get me in motion.

Can't let ya breathe.. can't let ya get a second wind..have to stay on ya..

So I can do the next step. I PLOW my shoulder into your pained stomach, pushing and shoving ya back until you've SLAMMED into those turnbuckles behind ya. I hear ya gasp out, a sound that's more sweeter to my ears than your moans as ya whispered my name into my mouth only a few moments ago.

Have to.. finish you, Rowan..

You're leaning heavily against me as I start to straighten myself up. My hands travel up your reeling, slumped figure, gliding up along your smooth curves until they reach your face. My hands hold your face up, so that I stare at ya, and really look at ya. Confusion, frustration, and pain mar that beautiful face. I cup your cheeks in both my hands, making you look up at me now. Making you show me the dazedness, the uncertainty in those beautiful dark eyes. Making ya look at the slow smile that curves my mouth. It's still swollen from where ya bit it earlier. I tilt my head forward, so only a soft breath separates our lips. 

"My neck is as strong," I purr at ya dreamily, before I lean forward and kiss those perfect lips. I know we've been beating each other up and torturing each other for twenty minutes now.. but gawd damn, I like kissing you..

".. and sugah. The Flatliner is even stronger.."

I step back, hands sliding from your cheeks to grab the back of your neck. I pull ya outta the corner, you're still leaning heavily on me. I let go of your hands when we reach the center of the ring. Slip my fingers free of your neck, duck down into a half-squat, turn to the right. Your weight drapes over my shoulders rather easily. I take a deep, strained breath - my throat's still bothering me, but I can manage - and I push up with my legs, hoisting ya up into the air. My right hand snakes around the back of your head/neck, clutching ya tight, my other hand grabs at your smooth, toned thigh. I take a step around, holding your prone body across my shoulders, readying myself to finish ya off.

The noise of the Viceroy amplifies, rising excitedly. The fans know what's coming. I'm gonna plant ya with the Flatliner. The Platinum Queen is going to claim another victory tonight. Possibly the sweetest victory of em' all.

I push ya up into the air. Your body floats over my head. I push your legs to the side, make ya swivel around above me. Then, in one swift motion - I catch your neck and chest with my right arm, your legs shoot up into the air beside me, your back is now facing the canvas!

I drop forward. Fast.

I plant ya into the ground. Hard.

The fans erupt in deafening applause.

The ring thunders upon impact - your body is DRILLED into the rigid canvas!

I hit ya so hard with the Flatliner that even I landed roughly myself. Both my knees slammed stiffly into the mat, my breasts flattened upon impact, my lips smacked off the boards, causing me to bounce away from ya and land on my back beside ya. I lay there for the moment, staring up into the lights of the Viceroy, feeling every bruise and bump and ache, every scratch, every sore, every strained muscle. I glance over at ya with a gasp of air - I can only imagine how hard you took the fall.

Groggily, I will my body to turn over. I slump my arm across your chest, and pull my aching, battered body over yours. From the corner of my eye, I see the ref sliding into position, I can see the fans all around us at ringside, all the excited expressions written across their faces - but its your face that I'm concerned with.

It's all I look at as I lay atop ya.


"ONE!"


That beautiful face, frozen in anguish, unmoving. Eyes shut, lips trembling.



"TWO!"



The "Unbreakable" Rowan Chance..



"You're all mine, now.."

[Rowan Chance]

I've never been in a tornado, but once, on vacation in Florida, I was caught in the undertow.

I got swept up, spun around, thrown deep under the water. So deep, I didn't know if I could reach the surface before I ran out of breath. I got hit in the chest by a blast of fast moving water, knocking the wind out of me, as it spun me around. I tumbled and turned and started to panic. I was sure, right then and there, that I was going to die. And I was only nine years old.

As I feel the momentum of movement and the impact on the canvas, I remember that feeling. Completely out of control. My movement determined by something other than myself. And as my body plummets toward the canvas, a small part of me remembers that vacation in Florida. For just a moment. Because then, my body hits the canvas.

Kenny King likes to call this move "the Royal Flush." It takes a ton of strength to pull this off. Unfortunately, Tiff's got plenty of strength. More than King, I suspect. And that makes this whole experience that much more unpleasant.

It's like a spinning back breaker that stars on Tiff's shoulders. Except she doesn't use her knee, she just slams me down onto the canvas. Spine first.

And that's when everything just shuts down.

When my body hits, my legs are high in the air, my back and shoulders hitting hard. My arms fall flat to my sides. There's a flash of white in my eyes as they glaze over. And a flash of red hot pain just under that almost invisible scar at the base of my spine.

My legs fall numb down to the canvas. One bent, the other straight out, making a kind of "4" shape. My arms straight out. I try to scream, but nothing happens. Nothing at all. I can't move. I can't breathe. I can't do anything.

It's a long three seconds before you finally throw that gorgeous body over me. I barely notice. If you had covered me, this would be over by now. And your sloppy cover...If I was conscious, I'd be insulted.

"ONE!"

"TWO!"





Somehow...

...not of my own will or volition...

...my arm jolts up into the air.



But my eyes are still glazed over. And my toes and tingling. And I'm not even completely there.

My glass-eyed gaze is on the referee. She stands up and throws two fingers into the air.

You broke my hold. I kicked out of your finisher.

But I know I can't do that again. Fuck, I don't even know if I can walk back to the locker room.

[RedEnforcer]

I've been watching quietly with mixed emotions. It's always fun seeing Rowan in action, but is she really ready for this? I've been keeping an eye on Tiffany the past few months as she's been tearing it up and I have to admit, she's been building momentum and putting in serious time to sharpen her skills.

It's one of the reasons why I'm here. I could tell that Tiffany was preparing for something big. For a message type match. A signature event that would leave people talking for years in much the same way people mention Steamboat/Savage or Hell in the Cell Mankind/Taker. When I heard it was going to be Rowan squaring off, it just made sense. People like to write off Tiffany because of her looks and her...tastes. But they don't understand how much work she puts in or how even in a loss, she really shines. Her going after Rowan is really her going after the other side of the coin. Both woman, very sensual and highly regarded for their beauty.  But one really seen as talented and the other not getting the respect she deserves.

Tiffany's not here to play. She made that obvious. Breaking the Widow's Kiss takes as much mental toughness as it does physical. And now that Tiffany is in control, she's showing everyone just how physical she can get.

Rowan...Tiffany seems to have sparked something in Rowan. She was more aggressive in the beginning, yes, but now it looks even more like this isn't the Rowan we've come to appreciate through the years. This is Rowan with a killer instinct. Less restrained. Giving into her feelings and letting loose. Breaking the Widow's Kiss was a big deal for Tiffany, but bigger for Rowan. Because now it looks like Rowan wants to take serious revenge out on Tiffany.

Until Tiffany got her hands on Rowan. Tiffany imposed her strength on Rowan. If not for the fact that Tiffany took too long to cover Rowan and did so very sloppily, this match would be over. Rowan's insides have to be a mess with all the punishment she's taken. And yet here we are, with Tiffany and Rowan lying side by side, having come at each other like two SUV's slamming into each other in head to head collisions again and again.

I sit there with my hands balled into fists on my knees. Once again having to watch Rowan being taken to her physical limits. This time, that journey being a lot shorter due to the effects from last time still being felt.

Right now, I'm not cheering for either to win. I just would very much like for both to survive.

[BustyTiffany35]

Somehow.

Somehow.


The Unbreakable, the Unbelievable.


Some fuckin' how.


She somehow managed to kick out.


How. HOW. HOW the FUCK!?!


I'm on my knees now, kneeling beside ya, staring down in disbelief. My eyes as wide as saucers, mouth agape, shocked to my very core. I'm staring at ya as ya lay there on your side after you've shot that arm up to lift your shoulder from the mat. To break the count, to kick outta my finisher.

No one's been able to do that in a long, long time.

When I hit the Flatliner, bitches stay down. They don't get up, they don't fight back, they don't get their shoulders up at the last fuckin' second. It's such an impactful move, a real finisher, capable of knockin' ya out long enough to get the pin. Three seconds is all ya need to secure a win and the Flatliner promises at least 60.

But you.. you broke the pin. Ya broke the pin, ya kicked outta my finisher.

How dare ya, Chance. How fuckin' dare you. 

She kicked outta my finisher, this bitch, kicked outta the Flatliner.

No one, no one, NO GAWD DAMN ONE can kick outta this-- well, Punky did, once.

If I wasn't so shocked at the moment, I'd probably smile at that.

No, NO NO this ain't fuckin' RIGHT! NO! NO, no....gawd, no.

Too shocked to smile, too shocked to move, to think. Too shocked to even feel properly enraged that this sexy bitch managed to kick out. Too shocked to do fuckin' anything. I just kneel there and stare at ya in complete and utter devastation, my heart feeling like a rusted anchor sinking to the depths of my stomach, an unsettling numbness that isn't caused by air-deprivation now blanketing my very soul.

That was my best shot.

I look at ya closely, just laying there, breathing heavily, barely aware of what's going on. How could ya even move after that shot... you were down, you were fuckin' out. I saw it on your fuckin' beautiful face, Rowan. There was no lights on cause I smashed em' all out with that one, glorious shot. How, how are ya doing this.. a Valkyrie should be here right this instant, ready to take your strong, fierce spirit up to Valhalla. But you kicked out. Did ya even know ya kicked out, Chance? Was that instinct as well?

Your dark, beautiful eyes are glazed over, your body still trembling in lil' spasms from the crushing impact of my finisher. Your back is probably on fire right about now, sheer twisted agony rattling your spine. A frown curves my lips as I stare at ya. I really didn't want to attack your back, Rowan. But I had no choice. Breaking outta the Widow's Kiss took a serious strain on me, physically and mentally. Hitting ya with the Flatliner took even more outta me. This match has gone from playing catch-up to a desperate race to the finish. The Flatliner was my best shot at ending it.

And it just, wasn't enough..,

That dreadful feeling in the pit of your gut when ya know the worst is about to happen? Yeah, that's all I'm feeling right now. I stare blankly at ya, the question of how ya kicked out shifting quickly to a question of how the hell am I gonna beat ya?

It wasn't enough.. I'm not enough..

The crowd is buzzing. They're in disbelief as well. All eyes are on us and I just can't keep my eyes off of ya, Ro. Then, my gaze slowly drifts down over your back. I shut my eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. I didn't wanna target your back, I didn't want to. But.

No.. I know exactly how I'm gonna beat ya.

My fingers reach out and sink into your hair, as I start to finally move. Slowly, pulling myself onto my feet, I drag your limp, luscious body up along with me until you're standing as well. I keep ya close as I let go of your hair, and ya sway. Your legs are rubbery and unbalanced, I'm all that's holding ya up, keeping ya from falling back into the canvas. You're in pain, a lot of it, stunned and suffering. But every second spent NOT beating ya up is giving ya time to recover. And ya recover insanely fast. I've really run outta options - any other move I try to pull on ya may result in a counter, in a reversal of some sort. I can't give ya an opportunity to strike back, I have to finish ya, now. Right now.

I MUST put ya back into the ground..

My hands slide along your waist as ya press yourself against me. Your eyes are still glazed, lost and uncertain. Our foreheads bump together, I lower my face just enough so my lips brush against yours. "You're not.. gettin', back up, sugah," I whisper to ya. My voice is silky, sounding almost like a purr,  "I ain't.. letting.. ya go, Rowan.."

We probably look more like two lovers enjoying a quiet slow dance in the midst of some dark club right about now, but the moment is fleeting. I lower myself, bend my knees, turn to the right, let your body drape itself over my shoulders, and with a strained breath I lift ya back up into the air. A hand over the back of your head, my other hand at your thigh. Getting ready to put ya back into the ground, once more, one more time.

One more Flatliner.

One wasn't enough.

I push on your thigh, turn swiftly, throw ya up and over--

[Rowan Chance]

I don't know what celestial or diabolical power put my arm up, but it wasn't me. And laying there, every single ounce of my body wracked with agony, that same arm just drops back down to the canvas, limp and devoid of life. My body lies shattered by your Flatliner. Flat on the mat.

Everything hurts. Everything. Dropping that hard and that fast with deliberate malice...I haven't felt this bad since...

No. Forget HER. She's not here.

But that Flatliner was...like one of Red's powerbombs...deliberate and malicious. And...hot. I can't deny it. Being held up on her shoulders, so helpless, and thrown around like a goddamn doll...

Stop. Focus. Get your head back in this. Don't ignore the pain. Let it wash over you. Let it remind you of who you are. Of what you can do. Let it...


Your hands in my hair...lifting me...up onto your shoulders again...

...and part of me...wants it. Part of me wants it, Tiff. Wants to be lifted...thrown...be sent down to the canvas to be punished for my...

...up in the air...twisting...ready to fall...

...and my body moves.

In midair, my left arm hooks around your head, my right arm hooks under your left arm. Locking my wrist in place. Twisting my hips. Trying to pull you off your feet and your head into the canvas.

Yeah...that DDT. But it's all instinct. I don't know if this is going to work. But it's the last chance I've got.

[BustyTiffany35]

Darkness.



Sometimes, somethings can hit ya so hard, so fast, ya wouldn't even know ya were hit to begin with. One minute, you're on your feet and on top of the world. The next minute, you're flat on your back, wondering what the hell just happened?

A second ago, I was about to drive one of the toughest gals I've ever tangled with straight through the ring. Now, I'm flat on my back, staring up at the lights of the Viceroy. There's this intense ringing in my ears. My head feels like it's been caved in, throbbing horribly. My neck feels a lil' funny. It's hard to move right now, my arms and legs feel heavier. They're almost completely unresponsive too, deadweight, like someone shackled them to the canvas weighing the rest of my body down. There's this, tingling sensation running through my hands and feet. I blink once, twice, and suddenly my lids feel heavy as well. I try to lift my head, only it falls to the mat with a bit of a thud. I can only hear my breathing now, quick gasping breaths that block out all the other noises of the Viceroy that rage around us. My brain is fogged, mind cluttered with the kind of numbness that you'd swim through after waking from a long, long sleep. And as I lay there, broken, battered, I slowly recap the last few moments leading up to me flashing out and going blank..

I had her.

She was up on my shoulders, ready to be flung through the air and driven coldly and violently into the canvas for a second time. I remember her weight across my shoulders, feeling her smooth thigh in one hand, her dark silky hair in the other. I stood there for a few moments and just, savored the feel, the incredible rush of having her in such a helpless state. Dominating Rowan Chance like this, being the one that's in full control of the Unbreakable One sent such a thrill down my spine. I was ready to conquer her, definitively.

I push on your thigh, tossing ya up and over my head.

I turn sharply, moving along with the spin of your body, readying myself to catch your chest/neck as your feet sweep up into the air so that I can drill ya back into the boards down below.

The first Flatliner really hurt ya, Rowan. There ain't no way you'll be getting up after a second one. Ain't no way you'll be moving at all after a second Flatliner.

You're up in the air. Twisting. Helplessly spinning about. All I have to do is catch ya, and it's all over.

I catch ya, allowing your chest to drape over my waiting arm.

I snap forward, ready to slam ya into the ground.

But your left arm - it coils around my head! Tight!

Your right arm, it slips under and hooks my left arm! H-how!?

All in mid-air, in mid-move.

I can't stop her. Can't break her hold on me. She picked the absolute best time to get me, found me at my most vulnerable state. At the very last second, she struck, she attacked, and flipped my entire world on me. Can't believe this.

I go down. Hard. The force I was putting into the second Flatliner, it would have knocked her out. Instead, she used that momentum, used it for her, used it against me. And I ended up getting planted, planted so viciously, so destructively, the boards beneath my head rumble with fury. My head just impacts the canvas and all goes black.




Darkness.



So, that's what happened.


She reversed my Flatliner. Reversed it to hit another of her dreaded DDTs. I never saw it coming, never expected it to. But she did it, she managed. Somehow, someway, she hit me with something so damn hard I never even thought about it ever happening..

I'm flat on my back, staring up at the lights of the Viceroy. I must have gone out like a switch the second my head crashed into the floor. I don't even remember my feet leaving the canvas, legs thrusted up into the air at the behest of Rowan's surprise DDT. All that momentum I used to swing her off my shoulders, all that pressure she applied when she cranked in her hold over my head, neck and arm - it actually made my entire body fly forward, into the ground, as she drilled my head into the canvas. And after impacting the canvas, I flipped, over her. I landed flat on my back, in a dazed, brutalized heap. Long, agonizing moments slip by as I lay breathless and stunned, badly hurt, unable to move. Now, here I lay, flat on my back, staring up at those lights.


I had her.


No, I thought I had her.


Like the majority of this fight, just when I thought I had her, Rowan would surprise me. She's make a comeback, a counter, a reversal from outta nowhere. She'd surprise me in the most violent, the most shocking, the most exquisite ways possible. She'd catch me, trap me, take me..


I never had her..


I shut my eyes.


She had me from the start.




Darkness.