[The Red Queen]

This is when two women hit the ring: one in red, and the other in yellow, both wearing masks. We run in from the crowd, sliding under the bottom rope. Both wearing the same outfits in our appropriate colors: full body suits and masks. My hair is dyed red and my partner's hair is dyed yellow...

Rowan doesn't notice us because we're both behind her. The referee notices and takes a step back. Rowan is too busy trying to collect her money and crowing over her victory. So, we move behind her, very slowly. When we are in the right position...

We pounce, pounding Rowan's back with double elbow drops. Right onto the base of her spine. Of course, this breaks the hold, saving Vivianne. But we're not done yet...

No, we're not. We lift poor, wounded Rowan between us. It takes both of us to hold her up because her back hurts so much. The Red Queen puts her into a power bomb position while I stand ready...

As I lift her, I whisper, "Remember this, Rowan?" And then...

Rowan DROPS DOWN as I LEAP UP. A power bomb/backstabber combo!

[Rowan Chance]

The two elbows knock me straight down to the mat. Not only that, but they send two shocks of pain straight up and down my back. My whole body collapses into a pile of limbs. I feel Vivianne roll away.

I don't know what hit me. Something hard. Something working together. Something...

Then, I feel four hands on my body, lifting me up. Holding me up. Masks. They're wearing masks.

And in that moment--a single moment--I smell something. Something familiar. Something I haven't...

My head goes between the red one's legs. She wraps her arms around my waist...

...ohfuck...ohshit...no...

She lifts me up. Holds me above her head. She whispers to me...

"Remember this, Rowan?"

And I do. She may as well have said, "Tick tock."

And in that moment of hanging in space for the second time tonight, I remember that smell. I'll never forget it. I can't believe I forgot it, even for a moment.

I plummet down. Remembering the sensation. Not from a few minutes ago, but from a few years ago.

I feel the yellow one grab me. Put her knees behind my back. Her knees, right into the base of my spine as she pulls my hair back with her two hands.

A few years ago, this move nearly ended my career. Tonight...with my back the way it is...

There are no words to describe the impact. I don't even remember it. But I do remember one thing. Just one thing.

The smell of purple hair dye.

[Becca Blast!]

Once upon a time I swore an oath.....

That Rowan Chance would pay for her brutality if I had to rip out her entrails and write my name on her plasticene corpse. 

I came to Minneapolis to scout her.  To see what she was like now... how that back was doing.  I've learned much.  Even against the Midwestern heifer she just butchered.  And the rumors were true.  There was a bounty on the bovine heiress, and Rowan was more than happy to claim it.  Except for those two, who now seem to be after a bounty all their own. 

My hands tense and clench the arm rests.  I want her... I want her BADLY.  But if these two wreck her... she might have paid without me being the collector.

I have to decide if I am OK with that.  And, right now... I don't know.

[Vivianne]

I don’t know how I ended up on my feet, but when I open my eyes and raise my head off my chest I am sure I am seeing things. Two women…two MASKED women…are propping me in the corner. The taller one is brushing my hair back from my face while the shorter one is speaking.

“Hey, you awake again, pickle?”

“Wha? Who…who are you?” I shake my head and as my vision clears I realize two things. First, I am NOT seeing things. These two women are really here. Second, I see you crumpled on the mat on the other side of the ring.

“Don’t you worry yourself about who we are. You owe us one now, and we’ll let you know when we intend to cash in. Now?” The one in red simply extends her hand toward you palm up, like a game show hostess showing off the next valuable prize.

Rage is a funny thing. It can build up inside you to the point where you don’t feel anything else. I look at your broken body on the mat and my mind replays the things you said about me and my mom. Replays what you did to my knee…and what you were doing to my neck. An evil, unadulterated rage is boiling inside me now…a rage that courses through my veins, blocking out all other feelings…including pain… 

My hands grip the top rope and I pull myself out of the corner. I take a step and then limp on my left leg, the rage fortifying injured tendons and ligaments to keep me upright. A few more limping steps and I am standing above you. The crowd going nuts. The poor announcers losing their minds. The ref, having bailed to the floor out of sheer self preservation.

I reach down and grab your hair, lifting you up to your knees. I pull your limp body the few feet to the ropes and shove you under the top rope, bending you over the second one. Placing my left hand on the top rope, I reach over with my right and grab a handful of your sweaty, raven blue/black hair again, pulling you up.

Using my left hand for support, I drape my left leg over the second rope on your left, then hop a little and do the same with my right on your other side…straddling your lower back against the ropes. Smiling devilishly, I add one final touch. Something I saw HER do to you in Paris. A hold she had never done before, and though I am sure she named it since, I do not know what it is. Doesn’t matter, it will hurt no matter what it’s called.

My hands, over the top rope, snake around your head and my fingers lock under your chin, pulling you back into a modified, rope suspended camel clutch.

And I bounce my weight on your lower back, like I'm riding a child's rocking horse.

Wake up Rowan…

Time to SCREAM!!!

[Rowan Chance]

I’ve got nothing.

No movement.

Eyes shut.

Mouth agape.

Bent and twisted at your will.

I... have... nothing.

Only pain.

[Vivianne]

You’re not getting what you wanted tonight Rowan! You’re not leaving here with the $50K bounty you came for. You’re not breaking my neck. Hell, you’re probably not leaving here under your own power. No…you’re not getting what you wanted.

Or at least not all of what you wanted. As our bodies bounce on the ropes the crowd’s normal cheering for me has been replaced by something much darker. They are reacting, sure, but not like they usually do for me. They are reacting to the vicious way I am bending your back in this hold. They are reacting to the look on my face as I sneer at the back of your head. They are reacting to their babyface heroine’s heel turn. Heel? Is that how they are seeing me now? Is that what you were trying to bring out of me...to destroy my babyface persona? I cackle out loud as I stop bouncing on you and climb off, being careful with how I step with my left leg.

Heel? Me? Well, if it worked for mom, surely it can work for me.

I pull you from the ropes to middle ring and tuck your head under my right arm. Reaching under, I grab my right wrist with my left hand and cinch you in tight. I look out toward the crowd, but I am really looking into the cameras.

“I hope you are watching, Dark Winged Angel! THIS is what happens when you send a mercenary to do your dirty work for you. Watch carefully…because YOU'RE NEXT!”

I then look down at your back and let out something that only you could hear…if you were processing sounds at this point.

“Goodnight, Lady DDT!”

I then let myself fall to my back, pulling your body with me. My DDT nowhere near as lethal as yours, but it doesn’t have to be at this point. Your head is SPIKED to the boards with a  loud THUD!!!

When I stand up, the masked women are gone. I never saw them arrive…and I never saw them leave. I look down at you one more time, chest heaving. You won the match, Rowan, there is no doubt about that. I am leaving with a badly injured knee and reinjured neck. It will likely be months before I return to the ring, but I will return. You can bet on that.

A Labelle never gives up! 

[Rowan Chance]

After the DDT, I don't move. In fact, I don't leave the ring under my own power. They bring out a board and a neck brace. A crew of four medics moves me to the board and carries me out.

Not the first time I've been carried out of a ring. And I remember the last time.

I spend a full five minutes in the back before I'm conscious enough to answer the doctor's questions. "Do you know where you are? Do you know what day it is?" The standard. I only offer him one answer.

"Give me my phone."

He tells me, "Rowan, it's important that..."

"GIVE. ME. MY. PHONE."

Here I am, on the board, in the ambulance. They're testing if I can feel my toes. Yes, goddammit, I can feel my fucking toes now GIVE ME MY PHONE.

They've got security on me, just in case those two women try something again. I'm not exactly in the best position to stop them.

NOW.
GIVE.
ME.
MY.
FUCKING.
PHONE.

Finally, the doc goes into my bag and hands it to me. My hands are shaking so bad, I can barely hold it with both. There are tears in my eyes and that makes finding the number in my contacts not at all easy. I haven't dialed it in a year. I used to know it by heart. I pull it up and my thumb hesitates over the "CALL" button.

If she answers...

...okay, if she answers, then someone is fucking with me. That's a whole new set of problems. Two women coming after me and I don't know who they are but they know who I am and they know how to fuck with me.

If she doesn't answer...

...that means...that means...

You have to know. You have to know what all this is. If it's someone fucking with you or...

I hit "CALL."

My lips tremble. My hand shakes.

...ring...

...ring...

I want her to pick up. I don't want her to pick up. I want her to pick up. I...

"Hello..."

My lips barely stammer the name. "M-Megan?"

"...you've reached the home of..."

no.

"...we can't come to the phone right now because we're too busy fucking each others' brains out..."

ohfuck no.

"...please leave a message and we might get back to you."

I look at the phone with tears streaming down my face.

"NO!"

I smash the phone against the metal bar holding me into the board. I smash it again. And again. Screaming "NO!" each time. When there's nothing left of it, I throw the mess away. Put my hands over my face. My messy face, full of tears and snot.

"It's not her..." I whisper. "It's not... it's not..."

Shaking my head. Saying it over and over again. As if wishing would make it so.

THE END?

[Vivianne]

Thank you to everyone who has been following our story, I hope you’ve enjoyed it. Thank you also to my wonderful writing partner, Rowan Chance, for inviting me to create with her. I hope we can do it again sometime.