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Descriptions of violence
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"And Alicia Winthrop once again hits the canvas as Kunoichi nails her with a spinning heel kick off the ropes!" cried Helene Rivera. The beleaguered powerhouse had just snapped off the cables herself and was traveling the other direction when a wrestling boot that looked like ninja footwear crashed into her chin. She rubbed her eyes to clear her vision as a muddle of form-fitting grays and blacks towered overhead. The multi-discipline black belt and former muay thai lightweight champion hauled her woozy victim upright in a side headlock to deal more damage.
"Kunoichi has been all over the auditioning challenger from the bell. Right now Alicia Winthrop must be wondering what she's gotten herself into, and more importantly, how she's going to get out of it!" squealed an enthusiastic Christopher Michaels over the action.
In a blur of raw violence, the former hockey player popped back to life to deliver a crushing right hook to her undersized opponent so hard that Alicia swore she felt some spine. Kunoichi's eyes bulged out of their sockets as her feet flew out from under her, causing her to plunge face-first to the mat. She lay on the canvas at Alicia's feet, clutching her stomach with both arms as desperate, ragged gasps escaped her lips.
"That's how, Chris!" hollered the co-owner of the promotion. "I said before the bell the kid's got a hell of a Sunday punch in her arsenal. Let's see if Alicia's built some tools around it over these past two weeks." The rookie angrily stomped on the back of Kunoichi's head several times before stepping behind her downed opponent and pulling her into a standing belly-to-back waistlock with both arms around the smaller competitor's waist. With the reverse bearhug locked in, Alicia lowered and popped her hips, hurling the back of her much lighter opponent's head and neck into the canvas with a Belly-to-back Suplex.
Helene continued on play-by-play, "Winthrop wisely stays on top of Kunoichi as she puts that size and strength advantage to use!" Chest heaving, arms burning, legs like jelly, but still holding onto the rear waistlock, Alicia rose to her knees, then her feet while maintaining the suffocating reverse bearhug. Once steady on her feet, Alicia deposited her cargo one more time on her shoulders and the back of her neck with a second Belly-to-back suplex. The energy rose in Helene's voice as she picked up the tempo of her call, "Hang on: we've never seen this out of the upstart before! Alicia keeps the reverse bearhug on tight and sends Kunoichi on another trip to the canvas!" The two suplexes had clearly taken it out of Alicia, but she rolled off the canvas and onto her feet, ignoring the pounding headache and throbbing pain in her jaw. The larger wrestler reached down, pulled Kunoichi to her feet by her ponytail and arm, and shoved her back-first into a corner.
"Looks like Alicia thinks she's back on the ice, bringing Kunoichi to her feet to land some more punches," exclaimed Christopher Michaels. "Kunoichi better do something; it looks like a hockey game's about to break out!"
"You have to wonder if Winthrop's going to that well again too soon," pondered Helene aloud. As if on cue, the bruiser let a massive uppercut fly that would've been impressive had the Japanese wrestler not weaved out of the path of the swing, seized the errant limb, and wrestled her aggressor hard to the ground in an armbar. The smaller mat technician lay on her back, legs wrapped around Alicia's right arm, hyperextending it. The larger wrestler wailed in agony as the connective tissue in her elbow and shoulder were being pulled apart, tendon fibers stretched, straining like the joint would give way at any moment. The trapped wrestler grit her teeth to block out the tension of bone testing the limits of full extension, and yet the martial artist dared them to go further. Something was creaking in the joint; Alicia could feel it. Her face was frozen in pain, unmoving. It stayed like that.
"Didn't we practice reversing that exact armbar into a pin attempt?" shouted Sabrina, pointing to the screen. "That exact one! She would've had to break the hold. You'd have gotten right out. Why didn't you stick to the plan? You told me you'd remember this stuff! Or did you forget? You specifically-" The increasingly red-faced veteran took a silent, furious pause. "No. You know what? Let's see what you do instead." She held up the remote and pressed play.
"Looks like the announcer's curse strikes again, Helene. Just as you suggested, Kunoichi had that punch scouted. Alicia missed the goal and now Kunoichi's going to really stick it to the former hockey player," interjected Christopher Michaels.
"The newcomer is trying to scramble for a rope break, but when Kunoichi dragged Alicia down, Kunoichi made sure to take the two of them as close to the center of the ring as possible," said Helene. "Ironically, I bet Iron Maiden would've been proud of that level of ring awareness." Alicia felt the living legend's withering stare on her despite pretending not to notice. The rookie squirmed in her seat as her skeleton fought in vain to escape its tormentous flesh prison.
"-lailing, screaming, and thrashing than I expected for a supposed graduate of the prestigious training school," Christopher Michaels remarked, his bemusement palpable.
I died. I slipped in the shower one morning and now I'm dead and being punished because knocking people's teeth out for the purpose of sport is a sin. No other explanation made sense; the theory was bulletproof.
The challenger windmilled her arm on the mat trying to find purchase and drag herself to the ropes. Each revolution gained her about an inch to an inch-and-a-quarter of progress towards the ropes. Her wails were clearly audible from the footage, and they were not dignified. "Sometimes when you're a rookie, even if you've been trained right, nerves take over," explained Helene. "You lose yourself in the moment, but getting over that is one of the key differences between someone who breaks through to that next level and someone who never quite does. Didn't happen to me coming up, but I've seen it happen."
Fingertips on the bottom rope. Freedom was literally in her grasp--eventually. "Kunoichi, rope break! One! Two! Three! Fou-" The lethal grappler released her opponent only until the referee left enough daylight to sneak through again. Alicia's vision cleared long enough to glimpse her comparatively small opponent, who was wearing what looked like a black sleeveless hoodie with gray accents on the back and hood. She plucked Alicia off the canvas and pulled the dazed fighter to her feet at center-ring. "Kunoichi's got the novice exactly where Kunoichi wants her. Tally another one for the assassin," Christopher Michaels explained. Alicia knew what came next: side headlock, hook the leg, Fisherman's Suplex. And so it did.
The suffering wrestler hit the mat flush on her back. With her right leg trapped in the Fisherman's part of the Suplex, the uncontrolled impact felt like bashing against concrete instead of canvas. The ninja wrestler wasn't finished. With one swift maneuver, the compact wrestler somehow slipped under her opponent and twisted the rookie into a position with one arm in an arm hold, one leg in a leg hold, and one of Kunoichi's legs torquing Alicia's head and neck 90 degrees: the grounded Octopus Stretch. Helene kept up on commentary, "Kunoichi has it locked in! The Dream of the Fisherman's Suplex! Alicia is miles from the ropes. Is there anything left in the tank?"
The powerful wrestler grit her teeth and thrashed in the hold with the last of her remaining strength, eyes screwed shut in pain. Seconds passed like minutes as Kunoichi cinched in the hold tighter and poured on the pressure. With an arm and leg trapped, Alicia struggled in vain but succeeded only in tiring herself further. Unable to get a firm grip to pull herself closer to the ropes and too tired to power out of the hold. A sick pit of guilt grew in her stomach, but the trapped powerhouse could no longer bear to suffer in silence and screamed her submission. Despite the referee calling for the bell, the in-ring assassin kept the hold on a while longer, causing Alicia to cry out in anguish as she felt something about to pop in her right shoulder. "And that's it! The challenger gives up and starts her career off on a losing streak. Welcome to QoW, rookie!"
Losing streak?
"Quite a performance," said the head trainer flatly as she sat down in the worn rolling leather office chair and hit the rewind button on the remote. "So now that you've seen it in full, let's watch again from the beginning. I know you're sore, but don't worry--I promise we're not getting in the ring. This six-minute match is going to take the full four hours, and that's if I rush."
Alicia needed a release valve. "Did I do anything right?"
"I didn't see you trip coming down the ramp," remarked the trainer, hitting play on the remote. The opening bell rang, and the two competitors stepped out of the corner. "Nope. Can you tell me what you did wrong?" asked the former champion, eyes still on the TV. Silence. "Great answer, yes, thank you: you're letting her dictate the range because you aren't closing the distance against a faster opponent. Let's continue." Sabrina hit play. The competitors circled each other, Kunoichi the notably faster of the two. The larger woman took a step forward, froze in place, and looked a little blurry. "Mistake." There was that pause button again. "What did you do wrong?"
That was enough. Alicia growled back, "Listened to you."
Sabrina turned to her student, her expression one part shock and two parts anger. "Sorry, what?"
Ever so slightly, the broad-shouldered wrestler leaned forward in her chair and locked eyes with the woman behind the desk. "You didn't train me to win," said the rookie.
"I've trained you and trained you and you get in the ring and wrestle like an idiot! You look like an asshole! That is not what we practiced! Why are you out there trying to brawl like it's a damn hockey game? All of this time, what the hell did you learn?" Sabrina didn't exercise the same restraint, standing up from her chair and for once towering over her student. "Why don't you lock up? Where the hell is your footwork? It's there when we practice!"
"It's a lot to remember when I'm getting dropped on my head!" snapped the novice.
The head trainer wore a smug sneer, shaking her head dismissively. "If you'd just do what I showed you, you wouldn't be getting dropped on your head."
The young woman looked up to her mentor, but only with her eyes. "All you did was train me to wrestle exactly like you used to. When am I winning? It's not when I'm applying wristlocks. You've never let me actually show off anything I'm good at!"
"I let you lose those two matches, didn't I?" snarked the seasoned grappler. Alicia shot up out of her chair and towered over Sabrina again. "Seriously, what the hell was that out there? Who trained you?"
"You did!" the novice shot back. "Here's a question: who were you training?"
"That's a stupid question."
"No it isn't!" shouted Alicia, "I told you what my strengths are. I told you what my background was! I am not your replacement. All you cared about was training me to wrestle exactly like you did!"
The scarred warrior continued. "You don't wrestle! You're not a wrestler. You're a name on the roster. Do you know how many people want your spot-"
"You want my spot!" shouted Alicia, and watched those words tumble from her lips irretrievably into the world.
Silence.
"I'm- Sabrina, I'm sorry," stammered the rookie, trying to staunch the bleeding. She didn't know what that look on her former mentor's face was. "I- I didn't mean it. I'm sorry. I'll quit. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please, I'm going to quit, okay?" This somehow incensed the former champion more.
Alicia's face stung before she could process why her head had just snapped sideways. "Don't you dare waste my spot, you ingrate," hissed the furious veteran, her green eyes flashed with anger. "You don't get to quit!" she shouted, stomping around the desk to push her former student towards the door. "You think I'm holding you back? Fine. Good luck in your match next week with Hellion." With a final shove, the ex-trainee found herself back in the sterile hallway.
Alicia hoped she misheard. "Hellion?!"
The door slammed shut.
Still in her street clothes, she exited the office hallway and headed for the gym. For the first time, the new wrestler didn't take a moment to marvel at its scope as she pushed through the door and trudged in sullen silence to the heavy bags. She'd actually never hit a bag before; only other players. Still, she figured, the same principles should apply, right? Fists clenched, the former goon planted her feet, and threw the same right hook that nearly put Kunoichi away.
Boom.
With an echo that drew a startled glance from the women stationed on the nearby free weights, the bag swung back a couple feet before speeding back in the direction of its assailant. The powerhouse grabbed the bag and steadied it for another go. The muscular brawler bounced on her toes, trying to imitate Connie Rocket and doing an admirable job of pulling it off terribly. She never really had to worry much about footwork on the ice, at least in the traditional sense. Jab, jab, uppercut. Jab, jab, uppercut. Jab, jab, hook. Jab, jab, hook. She had no idea what she was doing but spent several minutes throwing punches until her breathing grew deliberate and her arms started to weigh her down. Each punch jostled the bag a bit, but despite landing several solid shots, nothing approached the force of that right hook. She planted herself in a fighting stance and uncorked another.
Boom.
Same impressive distance–maybe even farther. A punch like that deserves a name, thought Alicia.
Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom.
Each impact sent the bag hurtling, requiring the brawler to grab and steady it in place for another swing. She recalled the saying about the swordsman who practices one swing being scarier than one who practices a bunch of different ones, although the person she heard it from said it better. She hoped it was a saying because it was true. Guess I'm picking up ice on the way home, thought Alicia.
Boom.
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