[Jack Hex]

I've been in the figure four leg lock before. Dozens of times. I'm not saying I've always been able to escape it, but I'm long and tall enough that I can usually reach the ropes before I feel something starting to break. And that's the real danger of a submission hold like this: you feel something start to break and you tap out to prevent that from happening. I've been forced to tap to this hold before. I want to make wrestling a profession and that means saving my legs from breaking.

Everyone thinks the figure four puts pressure on the ankles and knees. Yeah, that's true, it does, but what it really puts pressure on is your shin. Look at the hold. Look at where the pressure points are. That's where the pain comes from. And by pain, I mean...well, imagine breaking both your knees and your ankles at the same time. Then imagine someone trying to bend your shin in half. That's what a figure four feels like.

Now, this...this is worse because everything is wrong. My knees are still bending the wrong way, but from the opposite angle. And my ankles, too. But what's even worse is my shin. Rowan has put my shin in a pinion, bending it. Trying to break it.

And it's working.

Add all that pain to the pain that already exists and you have me screaming so loud, my voice breaks. My eyes are wide open while I scream, my face beet red. My arms pushing my torso up, trying to alleviate the pressure, but it doesn't work. The pain is so intense, all I can do is scream. I can't even think of telling the referee to stop the match. My eyes are wide, but all I see is red.

I fall face first back down to the mat, my hands over my head as I scream again, this time into the canvas. The referee asking me if I want to quit, but I can't hear. All I can hear is my own screaming and the sound of the pain in my legs.

Oh, you don't think pain makes sound? You're wrong. It POUNDS in your head. Makes your ears squeal. Like the moments after a concert where you realize you should have worn earplugs. My legs are screaming, too. They're screaming at me to make the pain stop. Do anything. Beg. Plead. Agree to any offer. Too bad I can't hear one right now.

Finally, my wet eyes look up and see the ropes. I know they provide solace from this. I know it.

But they're so far away. I'm in the middle of the ring.

And I can feel the bone in my leg starting to give...

[Rowan Chance]

My lips are wide with an evil grin as I see you struggle in pain. And as your legs get weaker, less able to resist the hold, I increase the pressure. Because I'm not here to beat you, Jack. I'm not here to pin you or make you tap out. That's not what I want.

After that little moment we shared where you dared to show me pity...I'm here to put you out of this fucking business and end your career before it started.

"You don't belong here!" I shout at you. "You weak little boy! You don't belong in this ring with me!"

I grab your ankle and give it a good twist.

"You wanted to find out what it meant to take on Rowan Chance? Well, you're finding out now, aren't you?"

I start bucking my hips. Raising your trapped legs and dropping them down on the canvas.

"Tap, bitch!" I scream. "Give up! Or you'll be walking with a fucking cane for the rest of your goddamn life!"

You're not the only one who can feel that shin of yours, Jack. I give it a good slap with the flat of my palm.

Seeing you scream and squirm, I grit my teeth, my eyes almost totally black. And then...

And then...

I start to laugh. That dark laughter that comes from the shadowed part of my soul.

"You think this is pain, Jack? This isn't pain. I haven't even started hurting you yet. You wanted to have a match like Paris? You want to know what real pain is?" I raise an elbow and drop the point of it down on your shin. "Real pain is having to hurt the one person in the world you love the most. Hurt them so bad that they can't get up. Hurt them so bad that they beg you to stop. And looking at the hate in her eyes because... because...

My voice breaks. I feel my eyes welling up. But I blink those weak tears away and scream at your back.

"BECAUSE SHE DOESN'T LOVE YOU ANYMORE!"

Another hard elbow.

"You understand, Jack? Do you? I don't think you do!"

Another hard elbow.

"Come on, Jack! This is what you fucking wanted! You wanted emotion! You wanted intensity! Is it too much for you to take? Is it?"

And. Another. Elbow.

"THEN BE A MAN AND FUCKING ADMIT IT!"

[Jack Hex]

Your words are like rubbing Jalepeño peppers into an open wound. The injury hurts enough, but those words make the pain even worse.

I was wrong. I wasn't ready for this.
I was right. I'm in way over my head.

My hand reaching for the rope trembles, hesitating just an inch over the canvas. My eyes are wet. I can feel tears starting to roll down my cheeks. I scream again, just an inch from the ropes. Just an inch.

I can feel the ligaments in my knees ready to pop.
I can feel my ankles ready to break.
I can feel my shin...just...

Another moment of struggle and I could reach it. But if my hand hits the mat, the pain is all over. A choice. A moment of shame or more pain. It's my decision to make. This won't end if I reach the rope. It will just keep going. She'll hurt me even more. I can barely walk, let alone run or jump or kick.

A moment of shame or more pain.

Sweat dripping from my forehead like it's running from a faucet. I tuck my chin, forehead buried against the mat. A moment of...

And...
my...
hand...


...grasps the bottom rope. My fingers coiling around it like a sailor washed overboard holding onto a life preserver ring.

"Make her break it!" I scream at the referee, my eyes shut tight. "Make her stop!"

[Vivianne]

I’ve said I have a third row seat, but with a match like this that really means I have a place to stand in the third row. The crowd all around me has been on their feet since the intros, and right now they are reacting strongly to seeing their babyface being taken apart. Screaming. Booing. Shaking their fists…and waving middle fingers. Going crazy. I stand amidst it all, motionless with my arms crossed over my chest and my eyes locked on Rowan. I wonder…does she see me? The human eye is drawn to movement, but will my lack of motion within an angry crowd stand out? Does she know I am here? Would she even care if she did? I'll likely never know.

“BECAUSE SHE DOESN’T LOVE YOU ANYMORE!”

Rowan’s voice rings out, and I slowly shake my head side to side. It all makes sense now. Everything I know about her since Paris. Vegas…The Viceroy in LA…Minneapolis…Jersey…everything.

This poor kid didn’t know what he was getting himself into, and now he is paying the price as Rowan seeks to fill that black hole within herself with pain. HIS pain.

I see him grab the ropes and yell for the ref to make Rowan let go. To make her stop. Silly boy…this is a no DQ match. The ref won’t make her break.

And NOBODY can make her stop…

[Rowan Chance]

You reach the ropes, grabbing on for dear life.

How adorable. How absolutely adorable.

I look up at the referee. She's looking at me with those big, brown sheep eyes. She doesn't know what to say.

I do.

I look right at you, Jack. Right into your eyes. I grab hold of your ankle. Tighten my grip. Give you a big, warm, loving grin.

"Go on, ref," I say. "Disqualify me."

And then I wrench your heel.

[RedEnforcer]

My feet take me forward, out of the tunnel and into the light of the arena. All the way to the railing, standing next to a security guard I've known for years. He just nods,  but I just stand there watching. Transfixed.

Rowan's not here. This...person in her clothes using her moves isn't Rowan. Not Rowan Chance. This is a frightened, angry young woman who's lost her way. Her world has been turned upside down and it seems like the emotional injuries of Paris are more permanent than her physical ones.

It hurts me to see her like this. Engulfed by the flames of her fury, her humanity being burned clean away from her soul. 

She feels betrayed by those closest to her. Even me. She thinks I betrayed her because of Paris. I can see why she thinks that and I wish I could explain, but she's shut me out.  We don't talk like we used to. She finds new windmills to charge and I chase after her in her wake like a pathetic Sancho Panza.  Moreso because at least Sancho was acknowledged. I don't know what she wants from me, what more could I say or do to make it up to her.

Instead she's let those negative emotions fester and corrupt her.  She's not fighting this kid Jack. She's fighting herself. She's fighting the fear that she's been abandoned, left alone, unloved. I still care. I guess that's why I hang around making an appearance here and there, even when she doesn't care to react to me.

Right now, I can't help but think that Jack is paying the price for my sins.

If I could tell him, I'd let him know that he's not fighting Rowan or Aika or any number of her different gimmicks.  What he's fighting is the sum of all her fears turned and twisted into hate. Self loathing. All because she doesn't see herself as worthy of our love.

She's wrong, but she won't let me tell her that. And this kid is gonna get his leg snapped because of it.

"Shame about the kid. He had a good run." says the guard beside me.

"He's too damn star struck and intimidated to do what needs to be done. He needs to stop seeing Rowan as his idol and start seeing her as his opponent. Quit trying to play nice and fucking fight her."

"He doesn't have a chance now though. She's got him all tied up."

"No. He's got a shot. It's just is he prepared to do what needs to be done to get free.  Right now Ro isn't trying to break his leg, she's trying to chase away her hurt. Ro's fighting demons and Jack's fighing a ghost. He needs to stop pussyfooting around and get shit done."

Or a promising career gets snuffed out before it has a chance to begin....

[Jack Hex]

My fingers clutch around the taped cable and for a moment, I tiny light of hope shines in my heart. Then, I see the look in the referee's eyes and I hear your voice.

"Disqualify me."

That's when I realize just how far in the dark I really am. How naive I was. No, not naive. That's too smart a word. How fucking stupid I was.

I'm out of my league. I should have never accepted this match. I wanted to have that moment in my career where I said that I faced Rowan Chance in a No DQ match. And now I've got it and now I know I'm under water and I don't know how to swim. That hand holding on to the rope starts to shake. It goes flat, hanging right above the rope.

I should quit. The pain in my legs is too much. I've never felt anything like this, like every inch of my legs are breaking, shattering, splintering. Like old wooden planks that have been out in the water for too long.

I have to quit. I can't fight like this. I just can't. I may never fight again if I don't. My hand slaps down at the canvas as hard and fast as I can.

...and then I see one man standing at the barricade. I've never seen him before. I don't recognize him. But his eyes sat he recognizes me. I don't know if he's a fan. He doesn't look like he is. He doesn't have that look in his eyes. It's something different.

My hand hesitating just an inch above the canvas, shaking like a leaf in the wind. And for a long moment, there is no pain in my legs. It's like locking eyes has made all that pain stop. We're locked together in an impossible moment. And he's talking to me. The crowd fades away. The roar diminishes into a soft sound, like ringing in my ears. And I hear exactly what he's saying.

He needs to stop seeing Rowan as his idol and start seeing her as his opponent. Quit trying to play nice and fucking fight her.

Then it all rushes back. The sound of the audience, the pain, the sweat, the smell of my own body, the rush of blood pulsing through my skull. It's all back.

I nod at him. I understand. Thank you.

Both arms reach out and grab the ropes. And with all the strength my upper body can muster, I use the bottom rope as leverage and twist my hips, trying to flip both of us over. Because what happens when you reverse a figure four, even one like this? Honestly, I don't know. I might have thrown myself out of the frying pan and into the fire, but I'm about to find out.

[Rowan Chance]

Funny how the brain works. First thing I think as I feel that twist is, "Boy's got some powerful hips. I'd just like to wrap my legs around them and...OHHOLYFUCKINGSHIT!"

That's because I've been intensifying the grip of this hold for about thirty seconds now, and with my tits hard on the canvas, my face right there with them, I'm now feeling exactly how tight that hold is. All that pressure you've been taking just got thrown over onto me. And I only need one moment of that pain to know I don't want any more of it. After a scream louder than the ones from my warmup in my hotel room earlier (the one that got complaints three floors up and down), I kick at the hold, splitting our legs apart as fast as I can.

And just for the record, it was him who was screaming, not me. Just for the record.

I scramble away, pushing myself across the canvas, grasping at my left knee which seems now to be revolting against any further activity for the next couple moments. I bend it out slowly, testing the pain, wincing through my teeth. Dammit. Godfuckingdammit. When I'm ready, I give it a couple of kicks. Soft at first, then harder. Okay. There's a twinge I'll have to deal with later, but nothing serious. Nothing as serious as what's going on with you right now.

I get back on my feet, delicately putting weight on my left knee. Yeah, it's good. I won't need a brace.

And that's when I smile. But it isn't a smile for you, Jack. It's for someone else.

Now...where were we? Oh, yes. The pretty young thing on the ropes.

"Come here, Jack," I tease. "I've got such sights to show you..."

And I start prowling across the ring.

[Jack Hex]

You break the hold just a moment after I turned us both over, then scooted away just as quickly. Good. I need the moment to think.


She's incredible. I've never faced anyone like this. Stop it. Get her out of your head. She's just like any other woman. She has weaknesses. She has...

...no. I won't. I won't.

You have to. She's not going to show you any mercy. She's going to wreck you, inch by inch. Just to prove a point to someone who isn't even here.

Look at her. She's taking her time. She thinks you're finished. You're not finished. You've got to fight, Jack. You've got to fight. Maybe for the first time in your life, you've got to really fight.


You're testing your leg when you finally look at me. And by that time, I've pulled myself up to my feet. Ropes are good for that. Yeah, I'm keeping all the weight off my right leg, almost bouncing off my left. My hands on the top rope for balance.

"Come on, Chance," I say from the bottom of my throat. "Is that all you've got? I've got cheap whiskey that hits harder than you."


All right. Bait is set.

Why do I feel like Brody on the back of the Orca, throwing chum into the water?

[Rowan Chance]

Fucking.
Little.
Shit.

Leaning on the ropes like he's got anything left. Your tank is empty, Jack. You've got nothing. And even if there's some gas, you've got a flat tire. You ain't going nowhere.

So, how to finish this off? I've destroyed your speed. Nearly broke that leg of yours. What's left to do?

Oh, yes. I know.

I duck in fast for a quick feint, then back away, watching you try to respond. I laugh. Laughing at you, Jack. Laughing. AT. You.

And as I do, I make the real move. A sudden leap for that leg of yours. Clipping is what they call it in pro football. It's illegal there. Not here.

And if I hit, you'll go flying over me, landing hard in the center of the ring. Probably clutching at that leg of yours. And that's when I'll finish this.

[Jack Hex]

You come charging in. Right at me. I can't believe I'm doing this: taunting Rowan Chance so she'll want to hurt me.

And when you come right at me, like a sleek, sexy atomic bomb of hurt and suffering, I do something I really shouldn't. Got to get the timing right on this or everything goes to Hell.

First...grab you by the hair. That long, gorgeous raven hair.

Second...snap your torso over the second rope. That gorgeous tattooed torso that leads into those magnificent hips of yours.

Third... grab the top rope while you're hung up on the second.

And last...kick myself up, swing myself up, and bring both knees down on the small of your back while you're hung over that middle rope.


This had better work. Or the crowd is right. I'm right royally fucked.

[Rowan Chance]

The Red Enforcer once said trying to catch me is like trying to catch your shadow. Punky said trying to keep hold of me was like trying to keep hold of sand. And just a few minutes ago, I made a reference to Batman turning his back on someone...

Damn, kid. Even with a leg you shouldn't be walking on, you're fucking quick. And that's bad news for...


I hit the cables. They run tight across my chest, my arms thrown over them. That knocks the wind out of me. Most people don't understand how hard the ropes are. Watch those "divas" wrestle. See how they treat the ropes like they're made of the fire of a dying sun? That's because hitting the ropes hurts. It's like having a long, hard tube smashed across your chest. Or, in this case, my upper torso, which means my breasts. And yeah, those aren't just padding fellas. There's a reason women wear bras.

My eyes puff out and so does my breath. My hair flowing forward over my face. Arms flailing over the ropes. Knees on the canvas. Fuck, where did that kid go?

Of course, that's nothing compared to what happens next. Because what happens next should be on every single promo video you ever send to a promoter, Jack. It's absolutely gorgeous.

Your body swinging up, then swinging down. All that momentum and weight angled into two points landing exactly where you wanted them to land. And, oh, does my body react.

My voice screams like a banshee dying in the morning light. It's a pitiful, painful sound. A wail. My face crunching into a mask of pain and despair. My back arches in from the impact, spreading my breasts wide against my top, my legs bending so wide, you'd think I was warming up for gymnastics. The pain that rushes through me is like shards of glass running through my spinal column. And I fall.

Just...fall...

A long, slow slide down the ropes. My eyes glazing over and rolling up under my lids. Mouth open. Arms slapping each rope as I fall. Crumpling down across the ropes like all the strength had suddenly been taken out of me. Landing on my side, my hair falling over my face, one arm tucked under me and the other thrown over my head, bent at the elbow. My legs bent at the knee.

And that's it.

That's all.

[Vivianne]

I know from personal experience how quick Rowan is, and seeing the kid actually grab her and fling her onto the ropes causes me to blink…hard. Did I just see what I thought I saw? Well, Rowan ended up lying across the ropes instead of destroying what is left of the kid’s knee, so I guess I did. Wow…

The next thing I see makes me wince…and then smile.

Wincing, because with his knee in that condition I am sure slamming it down onto Rowan’s back must have hurt…but not as much as being clipped by Rowan would have.

Smiling, because the moment that always seems to happen in a Rowan Chance match, since Paris, just happened. The moment her back gets nailed. The moment she screams out in pain, reminding everyone she is actually human. The moment she crumbles to the mat in a delicious heap. The moment she is ripe for the picking…if her opponent is vicious enough to make her pay.

I lick my lips, remembering how I wrecked her back in Minneapolis. Did it heal all the way Rowan? Are you still feeling the effects now that the kid has hurt your fragile little back? Are you reminded of what I did to you…or of what SHE did to you?

Look at her kid! This is it…the moment you’ve been waiting for! Make her pay…

…if you can.

[Jack Hex]

When my knees hit your back, Rowan, I feel a powerful eruption of pain through my left leg. So powerful, it blinds me. Sends me right down to the canvas in a crash with me clutching my knee. I don't even see that pretty sight of you falling to the canvas, rolling off the ropes. Wish I had. That would have been something to see. But I do hear the scream. Who the hell couldn't hear that scream. I bet a certain castle in England heard that scream.

So there's me rolling on the canvas, clutching my leg. When I finally open my tear-stained eyes, I see you there, still unmoving, almost curled into a ball. That must have hurt. I bet it didn't hurt as much as what you did to my leg. But maybe it's enough.

I reach out to you, still off my feet, to pull you over so your shoulders are on the mat. I see your body just flop over. Your arm hitting with a thud. And I throw one hand over your chest, my fingers touching those perfect breasts for the first time. And despite the pain in my leg...well, let's just say my leg isn't the only thing aching.

I look up at the referee. "FUCKING COUNT!" I shout.

And the ref drops down. Hand hitting the mat. "ONE!"

[RedEnforcer]

I flinch visibly from the impact of Jack's move. I know Rowan's back. I know how badly it's injured and I know it's still not perfectly healed. Not that any of those facts are stopping Rowan now.

No, what's stopping her now is all of Jack's weight impacting on the base of her spine in two bony patellas crashing down on her.

It's nasty.
It's brutal.



It's not enough.

"Looks like the kid finally snapped out of it. He might just take this one."

I shake my head at Security Guard James. He doesn't know Rowan like I know Rowan.

"It's not enough. Rowan knows pain. Sometimes I wonder if she knows anything but pain. He hasn't taken her out completely yet. This was a good first step, but he really needs to do more. He needs to devastate her to the point it gets uncomfortable for him. Then he needs to do it a few more times." 

I look in the ring and I can't help but feel a tug at my heart for the hurting form all curled up before my eyes. Not pity. More a regret. A memory of what once was while seeing what is now.

When I first met her, Rowan was very much the opposite of...you know. I like to allude to Green Acres with Ro being Ava Gabor.  She seemed a bit out of place in the Carolinas, especially in the back roads. I knew she had money. She tried to hide it, but I've been around folks who are poor, folks who just came into money, and folks who have had money all their lives. It's a difference in perspective and bearing.
But I didn't hold that against her. In fact, it was kinda endearing that she tried to not shove it in my face. I knew we were getting close, but I didn't know how close till this one night after an impromptu mixed tag necessitated by weird booking and bad weather causing some no shows and a reshuffling of the card, she came to me in the changing room which was pretty much a boys locker room at a high school.

I had all the nozzles going. When you have a community shower and you're the main event and the other guy has a better hotel room to get to, you have it all to yourself. So I turned everything up. Steaming hot water. I took some bad bumps that night and wanted really hot water to help ease those muscles.  The finish was messed up. Rowan had the blonde in a submission hold, one she was trying out before she settled on the Widow's Kiss. The blonde's partner rushes in like he's going to break it up. I dunno, the rules of that fight were men fight men and women fight women. But this idiot comes flying in like he's gonna bash Rowan and there was no way she could stop him in time. But I was quicker in those days and I owed that guy a receipt for some potatoes he gave me during this match so I stopped him with a kick to his gut and decided what the hell and pulled his head between my legs, wrapped my arms around his waist and hauled his green ass up in the air and just drove his back into the mat so hard it left a dent I'm sure. I was pissed. I looked back to check on Ro and all I could see was her staring at me all wide eyed.

After, I was alone in the shower, steam everywhere. And I heard the door open. Thinking it was the janitor, I said I'd be out in 5 more minutes. I was facing a showerhead, leaned a bit forward so the water crashed into my upper back.

I felt a pair of soft hands on my aching spine.

"Wha..." I turned and saw her there, naked. A big smile on her face. Her hair all the way down. Before I could say anything else, she moved in close as I straightened up, reached up and put a finger to my lips  And took my right hand in hers.

"I'm glad you leave your mask on when you shower."

I remember that girl sometimes. The one who understood love and fun and saw wrestling as a passion.
Somewhere along the way, her desire to be the best, her need to master the art of wrestling, all of that just changed.
The passion became obsession. She had to have everyone know who Rowan fucking Chance was.
She demanded attention and respect. "Fun" for her now was making sure every new challenger that came her way ended up on the other side of the encounter knowing she's the best thing they've ever run into.

She lost sight of the simple things. She closed herself off. She confused love and sex and power.

How much of that was Tantalus twisting her mind or Rowan's own insecurities overwhelming her or a combination of both, I don't know. 

All I know is...I miss that girl I first met....I see flashes of her here and there.

But in the ring, all I see is the dark hearted woman who will stop at nothing to make sure her story is written the way she demands.  No matter what anyone says.

Jack going for the cover now is a big mistake. She's not done. Just hurt. If you don't put down a hurt animal, it'll come back and destroy you.

I'm afraid Jack's gonna learn that the hard way.