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Descriptions of violence and injury
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Despite the simmering animosity between the two, neither woman left her corner at the bell. Seconds passed in tense silence as they stared across the ring, measuring each other up. Alicia shifted her weight and took the first tentative step forward, seeking the ideal range from which to press her reach advantage. The leader of The Reinforcements preferred a direct approach.
Jill McKill suddenly shot out of her corner with a sneer etched on her face, lifting the the camo folding chair overhead and closing the distance in five quick steps. The grunt of exertion turned to one of pain as the veteran-veteran started the downward swing, and her eyes popped open in shock. The former hockey player had thrust the heel of her stick into McKill’s solar plexus, knocking the wind out of her. Alicia swung her stick like a baseball bat, missing Jill’s shoulder by millimeters as she combat rolled out of harm’s way.
The goon followed in hot pursuit. Just as her hand wrapped around McKill’s shoulder, she reached into her pocket, grabbed a handful of something, and flung the stinging, gritty substance over her shoulder into Alicia’s eyes. Alicia shrieked in pain and dropped her weapon as she grabbed at her face with both hands while stumbling for the ropes, trying to make some space.
Shockingly, slapping and clawing at her burning, stinging, teary eye sockets with both hands did little to clear Alicia's vision. However, she did manage to find and grab hold of the top rope a fraction of a second before the earsplitting clatter of metal against flesh filled the arena as pain exploded through her back. Jill McKill threw the chair out of the ring and followed it to the floor. She reached under the bottom ropes and yanked Alicia's ankles out from under her, sending the larger competitor crashing to the mat.
With one sharp tug, the Commander pulled her new favorite victim out of the ring and onto the floor. McKill picked up the chair and hefted the weapon above her head like a sledgehammer before slamming it down onto Alicia's right hand and wrist as though she were driving a railroad spike.
The clang reverberated uncomfortably long throughout the venue as Alicia let out a bloodcurdling scream. Her hand felt as though it had been shot. Alicia wailed in pain and buried the mangled appendage under her left arm as she rolled onto her knees, trying to shield the injured area with her body. McKill tossed the chair aside and stayed on the attack, grabbing her wounded foe’s injured wrist and wrenching her up from the floor. The Mastermind dragged Alicia around the ring and threw her shoulder-first into the steel ring steps, then grabbed both of Alicia’s braids like a set of handles, and slammed the rookie's head into the steps.
Jill leaned in close and snarled, "You could've just taken the joke. You asked for this." The Commander slammed her victim's forehead into the steel again.
Alicia slumped into a seated position against the ring steps. Her vision had at least somewhat cleared from whatever Jill had thrown at her–it tasted like cayenne powder–but a throbbing sensation radiated from her forehead all the way down her back to the base of her spine from the damage she had already sustained. The leader of The Reinforcements took several steps back, drew a pair of invisible pistols from her hips, and pointed them at the dazed rookie. She was signalling for the McKill Shot.
She leaned back and bellowed as the whole arena joined in, "Two between the eyes!"
Alicia knew what came next. She had seen her opponent execute this move a dozen times, but never with 50 pounds of steel as a backstop. Wake up. Combat boots pounding closer. Wake up. Wake up. Gaining speed, going airborne. Wake up. Wake up! MOVE!
The moment Jill McKill tucked for the flying double-knees, Alicia found strength enough to flop to safety. A hollow, metallic thud accompanied the Mastermind's knees-first collision with the steel that sent her toppling over the steps and onto the floor.
Alicia crawled under the ring skirt in search of a weapon. She only made it halfway when two powerful hands clamped around her ankles. She could feel McKill brace herself to yank her out from under the ring. Before the goon lay a treasure trove of blunt force trauma. A veritable buffet of plunder. Folding chair: classic. Chain: something for the motorbike enthusiast. Toolbox: strong “maybe.” Time was up.
Alicia grabbed a heavy red canister–the biggest object within reach–as an irresistible force hauled her back out into the open. The rookie rolled onto her back and braced her eyes for the arena lights as she slid out from under the ring skirt into view.
BWWWWOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSHHHHHHH
Blinding, freezing, chalky smoke blasted from the nozzle of the full-sized fire extinguisher, sending the Commander onto her back like a cartoon slipping on a banana peel. Now it was Jill trying to rub the vision back into her eyes.
Alicia stayed on the attack. She gripped the red tank tight in her hands and cracked McKill in the side of the head with a blistering swing that laid Jill out on the floor. Alicia braced herself for the worst as she surveyed the damage to her right hand. It wasn't good. It would be a miracle if none of her knuckles were broken or dislocated, and she didn't like that purple under her fingernails. She no longer had a plan for winning the match, but she had an idea.
With her good hand, Aliclia grabbed a fistful of McKill's blonde hair close to the scalp and threw her headfirst into the steps. The locker-pillaging grappler dropped to the floor in a heap, allowing Alicia to haul her dead weight up and roll her onto the ring apron. Alicia grabbed the top rope with her good hand to pull herself up onto the ring apron next to her downed opponent.
The powerhouse pulled her payload into position with a fistful of blonde hair, lifting Jill McKill to her knees. Alicia latched onto Jill's throat with her left hand, pointed at the announcer's desk, and shouted to the well dressed pair seated behind it, "Get out of the way!"
She could hear Christopher Michaels trying to squeeze in a final one-liner, "Alicia must have a broadcasting background, she's about to throw to commentary righLOOK OUT!"
The crowd roared as the long-time weightlifter grit through the pain in her throbbing right hand and put all those gains to use as she deadlifted her opponent. In one motion, she powered Jill McKill up and sent the human projectile hurtling towards the commentary desk. The crowd gasped as the former Marine briefly joined the Air Force.
Helene and Christopher—not for the first time—ripped off their headsets and fled the splash zone as a sickening crunch accompanied Jill McKill’s flat-back landing. Somehow, she had managed to avoid ending up on the monitors and most of the other equipment as the impact ruptured the broadcast table, spilling its contents onto the floor. Fans rose to their feet as a deafening wave of cheers washed over the battlefield.
Alicia beheld the wreckage and took a moment to catch her breath before dropping to the floor. She dragged the inert Jill McKill from the aftermath and tossed her back into the ring, then threw herself onto her writhing, coughing opponent for a pin.
The referee dropped to the mat to make the count. "One! Two! Thr-" Shoulder up.
Not even the pain everywhere else could block out the agony in Alicia’s right hand. Her puffy, swollen knuckles hurt to even look at, and the throbbing in her wrist had grown steadily worse. She wouldn’t be checking any guts tonight. The goon crawled for her discarded stick and used it like a crutch to push herself upright. The former collegiate hockey star slashed the heel of her stick into the side of McKill’s right knee with a nauseating thunk that elicited a yelp from the crumpling veteran.
Alicia gripped the hockey stick like an executioner’s axe, but as she lined up the finishing stroke, the desperate Mastermind grabbed two fistfuls of black and white stripes and pulled the referee into harm’s way. Alicia growled as she grabbed the referee by the lapel and shoved her aside just in time to catch a right cross loaded with a roll of quarters to the jaw. Just before impact came a realization. Right. She has two pockets. Alicia's arms and legs turned to spaghetti, and she dropped to the mat where she stood. The shot hadn't turned out her lights, but it did reset the microwave clock.
The rookie slowly pushed herself up to her hands and knees while trying to compensate for the arena spinning and watched helplessly as Jill McKill wrapped her fingers around the hockey stick. The leader of The Reinforcements limped closer, brandishing the weapon at its owner. Despite stiffening, aching muscles, Alicia crawled away, searching for a weapon through blurry, multiplying vision but finding nothing.
Actually, there was one thing.
With an unflattering grunt, Alicia threw herself at the small, white paper tube lying on the canvas and snatched it in her hand. She thought it would weigh more. Alicia rolled onto her back, gripped the roll of quarters in her off-hand, and flung the change as hard as she could into McKill’s right cheek. It didn’t knock the veteran down, but it made her flinch. Best ten bucks she ever spent.
The goon launched herself off the mat and nearly left her feet as she blasted her foe's jaw with a tooth-loosening uppercut that sent McKill pitching backwards onto the mat. It was a solid hit, but not a knockout blow. Alicia kicked her old practice stick out of her foe's hands, sending it out of the ring and clattering to the floor. Her hand still hurt like the dickens. She needed to close out the fight. What did she have left that could keep McKill down for three?
Nothing.
With trembling hands, Alicia reached down, snatched the Commander's ankles, and wrested her legs into position. How did it go from the beginning? Hang on. Connie's injury was to her left leg! It's the reverse of how we practiced! Left knee flush to the back of her right knee. Release the left foot with your right hand, step over. Keep turning. Face her. HOLD STILL. McKill shook the cobwebs out and saw her opponent on top of her going for the submission. She clawed at the mat, thrashing and squirming to get away. Too slow. Grab the foot with my free hand and step into place. Gotcha.
Alicia reckoned the scream could be heard from the parking lot. She leaned back and poured on the pressure, cranking the trapped limb and knee joint as hard as she could. Alicia had the hold locked in tight. She could crack a book and settle in while her opponent wailed and pulled her hair out in misery a few feet away. Jill's hand hovered above the mat, her face screwed up in a conflicted expression. Hatred, frustration, and pain warred for supremacy. Pain won. A hand frantically slapped the mat in surrender.
Ding ding ding!
As much as Alicia wanted to keep the hold locked in until the fire department arrived to cut McKill free with the jaws of life, she resisted the temptation. A few extra seconds would suffice.
She heard Guy Brody over the speakers. "Your winner, by submission, ALICIA 'THE GOON' WIIIIINNNNTHROOOOOP!!"
No sound was ever sweeter. The adrenaline ran out as soon as Alicia released the hold and scooted away from her defeated opponent, who lay on the canvas tenderly clutching her knee. Slowly, Alicia got to her feet and approached the middle of the ring. The referee joined her, raising Alicia's hand in victory as a chant grew in the stands.
"Goon! Goon! Goon! Goon! Goon!"
Alicia trundled to the nearest corner and climbed onto the second rope. She raised her arms and shouted into the crowd, "I won a match! Oh my gosh! Did you guys see that?! I did it! I flippin' did it! Oh my gosh!"
She stepped down from the turnbuckle and moved to the next. Again, she hopped onto the center strand, and again, the crowd roared. Urgent voices this time. More like a warning.
Every pain receptor in Alicia's back lit up as uncompromising steel crashed into it, causing her to cry out in pain and tumble from her perch. She landed awkwardly on her feet and turned to face her attacker.
Attackers.
The Two-Woman Army had joined their commanding officer in the ring. Once again, Jaime Carlyle did the honors, this time denting the steel seat of a folding chair with their outnumbered prey's skull. Alicia collapsed to the canvas as the trio lay into their downed victim with their combat boots, kneading gruesome bruises into muscle with each blow.
Ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding!
The timekeeper continued ringing the bell as if to reason with the assailants, but negotiations quickly stalled. Another roar erupted from the stands, but Alicia couldn't tell who or what for beneath all the kicking. Suddenly, the assault relented. She looked up between her arms to find The Reinforcements hastily trying to work out a plan before bailing out of the ring entirely.
The pain-wracked rookie tried to push herself up to her feet with bruised, uncooperative arms. A pair of scuffed wrestling shoes stepped into view, followed by a bandaged, callused hand. Alicia accepted it and clambered upright with considerable effort. Short, mussy brown hair. Scarred lips. Steel chair in hand.
"Thank you," croaked Alicia.
"Didn't want to see my hard work go to waste," Sabrina replied flatly. As she saw her former student's expression fall, something in the veteran seemed to change. "Sorry. Are you alright? Here." She sat on the middle rope, causing it to dip, while pushing up on the top rope to create an opening for Alicia to step through. Sabrina put her arm around Alicia and half-carried her up the ramp.
Alicia turned to face her former mentor, "I'm going after the other two."
The declaration seemed to catch Sabrina off-guard, and she chuckled. "They must've hit you in the head pretty hard. You barely survived just now."
Alicia agreed. "Their mistake."
They walk-hobbled in silence through the curtain. She locked eyes with Sabrina to show she was serious. "I've got one match left. If I can, that's how I want to use it. I'd need a partner."
Sabrina studied her for a moment. The right corner of her lips turned up in a crooked smile. "You know what? It'd be a pleasure." The head trainer offered her hand and then her left hand for a handshake with her former student. "Hey Allen, me and Alicia versus Two Woman Army next week?"
The man in the magenta sports coat appeared to be heading through the curtain for an interview segment, microphone in hand. He stared at Sabrina, measuring her and the request before relenting with a disinterested nod and a shrug.
"No DQ!" shouted Alicia.
"Got it!" Allen hollered back before vanishing through the curtain. The classically trained grappler gave her new tag partner a too-old-for-this glare.
"Can we play to my strengths just this once? It could be my last match ever," pleaded Alicia.
Sabrina wore a face of bewilderment. Not the garden variety; it was the look of being flabbergasted by one's own actions. The never-in-a-million-years-but-somehow-it-just-happened face. "Fine," grumbled Sabrina under her breath. "You didn't look like such a headache when you first walked in."
"Nicest thing you ever said to me," Alicia replied with a smile. "Thank you, Sabrina. Really. I wouldn't have won tonight if you hadn't trained me, and I appreciate it so much, and thanks for saving me, and I'm sorry, I seriously need to get to the trainer's room because my head is killing me and my whole entire hand might be broken."
"You did the work," said Sabrina. "I just helped get you there. Take care, alright? I need you watching my back next week."
Polite little wave. Out into the corridor. Locker rooms ahead.
Her hand felt ruined. The pain hadn’t dulled since Jill slammed the chair into it. Of course it was stupid asking a match for next week, but tonight she had the crowd’s interest. She needed that momentum to make the most of her final tryout. Alicia walked past the locker rooms and the star dressing rooms. Did they take Ann Boulder's name down? she wondered. Alicia reached up with her hand and felt the lump forming on her forehead from the steel. Maybe she got replaced. She took the blind corner and staggered towards the helpfully labeled trainer's room.
Something was wrong. That wasn't a shadow.
Alicia looked over her left shoulder. From an alcove leading to a locked maintenance hallway, there were those bloodshot, jaundiced eyes staring hatred from behind a thicket of tar-black hair. Eyes that never shut on purpose. Teeth filed into a gnashing, jagged mouthful of splotchy brown and yellow spikes. The full weight of Black Violet smashed into Alicia like a feral battering ram, sending both women sprawling to the floor.
Alicia opened her mouth to scream but nothing came out. Terror had seized her by the vocal cords. She tried again. Nothing a second time. And then a lot of screaming. The rabid TV Champion crawled up Alicia's legs and torso on all fours, jaws snapping feverishly at the air. The straps and buckles that hung from her straitjacket tatters clinked as long, clammy fingers with snaggled claws groped for the flesh of her victim's neck.
"Alicia," hissed the Mother of Nightmares. Alicia shrieked like she hadn't since the first face-spidering.
A door flew open and slammed against the wall a few feet away. For the first time in eternity, those bottomless eyes were not on her.
"Hey! Get off her! Janice, can you hand me that- no! The thing behind it. Yes, thank you, Janice! God, obviously!"
There stood Giselle Tillman in the trainer’s room doorway. She really was taller than the photos made her look. The handle of a pink baseball bat protruded from the pink plastic backpack in her hands. It was the first time Alicia had ever seen Giselle without her signature smile. There was fear in those ice blue eyes.
"Get away from her now, or I promise you're not walking away." She wrapped her fingers around the handle and dropped the backpack. "I swear I will kill you."
It sounded like a statement of fact.
Black Violet seemed to weigh her odds. Not tonight. The TV Champion gurgle-hissed, flashed Giselle a rabid smile, and slithered from her terrified human perch and skittered around the corner out of sight.
"Where did she bite you?" asked Giselle, seemingly less out of concern for Alicia than her own clothes.
Alicia pushed herself to her feet inch by excruciating inch. "Thank you so much, Giselle. Thank you. Oh my gosh, thank you," she gasped. "She didn't bite me."
"She didn't?!" Giselle sounded shocked. She picked up her backpack and trotted over to the shaken rookie. "You sure you're alright?"
Alicia looked back over her shoulder. "Yes, but life is going to be weird for a bit, I think."
"Why?" asked Giselle, genuinely curious before deciding she didn't care that much.
"No reason," said Alicia, following her rescuer into the trainer's room. "Can you hold the door?"
"I'm so sorry," said the fashion icon, trying to sound apologetic. "It's completely full right now. You can come in when I'm done, okies? Thanks! Kisses!"
Alicia stopped in her tracks, one hand massaging her temple. "O- okay. Well, I really appreciate your help."
The door was already halfway shut, but the she thought she caught a "mmhmm."
Alicia looked at her bruised, swollen hand. Maybe she had an ibuprofen in her purse.
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