Content warning, highlight the hidden text between the lines:
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Descriptions of blood and violence
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
By the time the goon's boots hit the floor outside the ring, Party Girl had already rolled to her feet, thrown up the ring skirt, and started looking underneath the ring for something to do some damage with. Alicia laid her hockey stick on the ring apron and approached the ailing "One Shot" Jaime Carlyle, who lay on her side trying to massage the soreness out of her neck. Hope it worked, thought Alicia with a sneer as she reached down and dragged the comparatively small Sharpshooter off the scuffed floor padding with both hands tight around her opponent's neck, ignoring the pain of her injured hand.
Alicia knelt down and slung the smaller woman's arm around her broad shoulders, then grabbed her cargo between the legs and hoisted her feather-light opponent up off the ground. "Goon!" cried Party Girl as she reached under the ring for something. "Goon, right here! Use this!" shouted the VIP of ultraviolence while snatching a large, metal trashcan hidden under the ring and rolled it towards the powerhouse. The biggest wrestler in the match turned and fell backward, sending Jaime helplessly onto the trashcan can with a Backdrop, leaving the high-flyer writhing on the deformed metal. "Pick her up!" shouted Party Girl.
With a groan, the goon stood up from the floor. A quick glance at the tag team understudy confirmed the plan as Party Girl giddily clutched the lid of the ruined trashcan. So that's the sort of manicure four figures can buy, thought Alicia. Pretty alright, I guess. The goon reached down to drag their chosen target up to her knees but hesitated when she noticed something up above casting a shadow over both Alicia and her partner. Both partners looked up just in time to see the six-foot-tall Bridget Slaughter vault off the top rope with a Flying Body Splash a split-second before being flattened by the sheer size and velocity of Bridget slamming into them.
Now it was Bridget's turn to go to work. The demolitions specialist reached for that trashcan lid as she rose to her feet and managed to get upright before anyone else. The demolitions specialist made the jet-setting celebrity pay with a massive two-handed swing that parted the winds before coming to an abrupt stop against Party Girl's skull. "Who invited you?" shouted Bridget at the downed fashion mogul. A few feet away, the former hockey player pushed herself to all-fours and tried to crawl for safety, but the Reinforcements' heavy-hitter quickly covered the distance to smash the trashcan lid into the newcomer's back as well. The rookie fell face-down at Bridget's feet gasping for air and watched as a black combat boot rose from the floor and hung just out of Alicia's field of view. She knew where that boot was headed.
Alicia cried out as she tried to retract her injured right hand as an urgent, stabbing, throbbing pain beyond anything she had ever experienced poured through every tendon, bone, and joint in the her hand. The powerful competitor bore down on the damaged appendage with her full weight. The rookie howled in anguish while trying to yank her hand away in a desperate attempt to literally free herself from beneath the boot of her oppressor. With each full-strength pull, Alicia inched a bit more of her hand out from under the torturous stomp. Seeing her captive trying to escape, Bridget changed tactics and began twisting her boot into the back of the rookie's hand, grinding the unforgiving heel into it like a cigarette butt. Suddenly, there was a break in the violence. Despite both Alicia and her tag partner having been laid out on the floor and easy pickings for the trashcan lid-wielding veteran, the assault relented. Instead, Bridget walked to where her downed comrade-in-arms lay and offered a hand. "You okay?" asked Bridget.
"Fine," answered the banged-up and visibly irate Jaime Carlyle as she took a moment to steady herself on her feet. Bridget lifted up the ring skirt again as the two women whistled the military march of their ring entrance theme while they withdrew a long, wooden folding table from under the ring and set it up. Content to leave her partner in charge of the table, the high-flyer found a folding chair underneath the ring and brought it with her as she slid back to the inside under the bottom rope. Bridget positioned the table on the floor a few feet from the ring apron. The muscular demolitions specialist approached and loomed over her downed opponent before securing a grip under both of Alicia's arms and hauling the rookie to her feet. Bridget transitioned her grip into a waist lock and lifted her near-200-pound opponent up onto her shoulder in a fireman's carry.
Encumbered but undeterred, the muscle of the Reinforcements marched towards the empty table and rolled the young wrestler lengthwise onto it. From her vantage on the table, the recovering newcomer watched the Sharpshooter in the ring playing to the crowd, stomping the canvas in rhythm as the crowd joined in. The high-flyer set up the chair a few feet from the ropes near where Alicia lay. The strength had returned to the rookie's muscles, but she remained in place on the table. In the center of the ring, "One Shot" Jaime Carlyle raised an unseen sniper rifle to her cheek, looked down the scope, took aim, and fired at her prone target. The lightning-quick sniper then turned and took off full-tilt towards the far cables. While one of their opponents was standing in the ring shooting pretend guns at the rookie, Party Girl had cleared out the cobwebs.
Still unsteady on her feet, Party Girl didn't immediately stand up, but instead crouched beside the ring to collect herself and take in her surroundings. After a few muddled seconds, the former hockey player and the inexplicable role model found each other's gaze. Alicia, eyes halfway shut, winked at the media anti-darling. She thought she noticed a little smirk on that magazine-cover-ready face as her impromptu partner shot a wink back. Does she know what I'm thinking? The rookie's eyes darted back to the ring to see the sniper hitting the ropes full-tilt. Quick little nod to the waiting Party Girl. Here she comes. Carlyle hit the cables and came off them hot, racing towards the chair set up by the ropes. Caught up in the excitement of the incoming aerial bombardment, Bridget failed to notice the living clothing label less than 10 feet away lining up a do-or-die shot.
Three steps to go between Jaime and the chair. Outside the ring, Chicago's brightest star rose from the floor, accelerated to a near-sprint, and threw herself at her inattentive opponent with a massive running leap. "Sup!" belted Party Girl at her target. Bridget instinctively turned to look, offering up her jaw for a jet-propelled haymaker full of brass knuckles. The instant the metal struck the Army member's chin, it was as though someone unplugged Bridget Slaughter. Gravity took over, and she would've gone to the floor in a heap, had a pair of toned and tanned arms not caught her dead weight by the waist.
The instant Carlyle's feet left the seat of the folding chair Alicia rolled off the table in the direction of the ring, clearing a nice, open spot for the high-flyer to land. To the rookie's surprise, rather than allow the demolitions specialist to fall to the floor, Party Girl had been keeping the dubiously conscious Bridget upright just long enough for Alicia to move and open up a space for the Party Girl to dump Bridget and watch with a gleeful smile as the high-flyer stretched out in midair with an Elbow Drop. Confidence turned to shock as Jaime checked the landing zone right before impact, just in time to see the imminent friendly fire. With a loud wooden snap, the unfortunately nicknamed Sharpshooter landed a picture-perfect Flying Elbow Drop on her motionless partner, driving both competitors through the furniture and hard to the floor. The Two-Woman Army had been routed.
"Get her in the ring!" shouted the celebrity pro wrestler, pointing to Jaime. The rookie bent down and scooped the wrestler off of her inert partner buried in the wreckage. The sharp, constant pain in Alicia's hand and wrist had grown too intense to ignore. She figured if it was going to hurt anyway, then she would at least make it worthwhile. The towering wrestler hoisted her compact cargo overhead, got a running start, and groaned with effort at lobbing Carlyle up and over the top rope and back into the ring while a delighted Party Girl laughed and clapped at the display.
The impromptu tag team climbed back into the ring side-by-side, leaving Bridget Slaughter motionless in a heap on the floor among the splintered wood. Alicia headed for those black duffel bags, opened one, and a mischievous smile spread across the young wrestler's lips as she withdrew "One Shot" Jaime Carlyle's own T-shirt sniper rifle and a shirt. The goon locked and loaded as the smaller woman crawled for the ropes. I will avenge you, children, vowed Alicia. The worldly avatar of size medium vengeance stalked the grounded Carlyle with purpose until the goon stood mere feet away. She lifted the barrel, pointed it at the crawling wrestler's temple, and didn't hesitate. With a thunk and another thunk, the shot hit its mark true. Carlyle lay face-down on the canvas barely moving.
Alicia wrapped her left hand tight around Carlyle's neck and hoisted the Sharpshooter up across her broad shoulders in a face-down position and prepared to fall backwards on top of her dazed passenger. "Goon! Hey, The Goon! Over here!" shouted Party Girl from the top ropes behind the rookie. "Put her down there!" cried the wrestler with her own clothing line, pointing center-ring.
Happy to oblige, the rookie threw herself backwards onto the mat, sending Jaime hard to the mat with all 193 pounds of the goon coming down on top of her. As soon as Alicia planted her opponent with the Samoan Drop, she rolled off the unwilling human crash mat and got out of the way as Party Girl soared off the top turnbuckle. For a long second, she seemed to hang unbound by gravity in the air as she turned a half-flip, and landed back-first on the prone carcass of the sniper with a move she called The Afterparty. The crowd roared as Party Girl stood up and posed with her hands in the shape of a heart and her head cocked to the side. Alicia dove on top of the thoroughly wiped-out Jaime Carlyle and secured a cover. For the first and only time in the match, the referee played a factor. He dove to the canvas and made it official. "One! Two! Three!"
Ding ding ding.
As soon as the ref counted three, Alicia leaped to her feet and threw both fists in the air in a state of utter shock. The same crowd that had given her a warm welcome during her entrance exploded into white-hot cheers at the unexpected tag team's success and chemistry. Holy heckins, that's a winning streak! thought the wrestler on a winning streak. An irrepressible smile glowed on the goon's face as she turned to her savior of the hour and tried to make herself believe what she was seeing was actually happening. "Thanks. Again." She extended a hand to shake Party Girl's, morphing it into a fist bump at the zero hour to match her comrade-in-arms. "Like… thank you." She threw her arms around a stiff and quite uncomfortable-looking Party Girl. "Thank you so much for helping me." The outpouring of gratitude was cut short by the sound of a pair of jets whooshing overhead and a sick wailing guitar. The crowd leapt to their feet, excited to see the feud escalate further. Through the curtain and down the ramp came Jill McKill, brandishing the camouflage folding chair from her last bout, eyes locked in a hateful stare that nevertheless seemed to slide off the prizefighting socialite.
The winners of the bout remained in the ring, cut off from their escape route. At some point, Bridget Slaughter had gotten to her feet–if only just barely. The Commander approached her semi-conscious and slightly cognizant comrade, wrathful eyes still fixated on Party Girl. Suddenly, Jill McKill directed all that contempt somewhere else. The Mastermind raised the folding chair above her head and delivered a sickening blow that dropped Bridget where she stood. Horrified gasps in the crowd turned to boos, and Jaime watched her leader in stunned silence from the ring, as did Alicia. Based on Party Girl not speaking, Alicia assumed a similar reaction. The former Commander turned a dispassionate gaze to Jaime before turning and walking listlessly back up the ramp, surrounded by a chorus of boos. Someone in the crowd threw a camo T-shirt, still rolled-up from the mortar launcher, at the traitorous McKill as she dragged the chair behind her. On the WarMachine video board, the rookie could see the ex-Commander's expression--a blend of sadness, fury, and a hint of catatonia.
The sniper's face reddened and her eyes filled with hate. She scrambled for her rucksack and tore it open, pulling out what looked like a strap of cloth or elastic with a heavy piece of metal attached. Carlyle put her right hand through the ring of cloth and pulled it up her arm, revealing a steel-plated elbow pad. Like a bolt of camouflage lightning, Jaime closed the distance in an instant. Boots pounding, big leap, cock the elbow back, swing. The Sharpshooter let physics handle the rest. The elbow pad-assisted Death From Afar slammed into the back of her former commander's skull like a sniper's bullet that put the irate McKill down for the count. Alicia could see pockets heartbroken Reinforcements fans watch their favorite faction disintegrate before their eyes.
"This is probably a good time to peace out," mumbled Party Girl, reaching for Alicia's arm. The substitute tag partner froze for a moment, realizing how strong her partner was, before rolling out of the ring under the bottom rope. The former hockey player grabbed her stick and followed her rescuer out of the ring, past where Bridget Slaughter lay barely moving in the wreckage. Tensions briefly escalated on the rampway when the victors passed Jaime Carlyle on her way to check on her partner, but both sides went their separate ways without (further) post-match extracurriculars.
Bewildered by how fast everything just happened, the rookie flashed Party Girl a did-you-just-see-that look. The celebrity was preoccupied with showing the fans how to make a heart shape with their hands. "I guess Bridget really was going behind Jill's back," commented Alicia.
The fashion icon's eyes went wide with shock as she covered her mouth with both hands. "Ohmygod was she really?" squealed the fashion icon, grinning ear to ear as she stopped in her tracks in front of the curtain. The new wrestler suddenly had the mogul's full attention. "How did you find out?"
The bigger wrestler hesitated. "From you. You at least implied it."
Party Girl looked perplexed for a moment, but eventually, her memory caught up. "Oh my God, I did." Her expression transformed to an impish smile as she recalled the exchange. "I think I might've told a few people." Her eyes twinkled and her jaw dropped as the timeline of events came together. She looked back down the ramp at the faction in shambles. "No way. Oh my God, did I-?" The celebrity wrestler cut herself off with her own giggling as the two passed through the curtain into the back.
In the glow of a dozen monitors showing camera feeds, Alicia once again turned to the tag team understudy who continued giggling mischievously to herself. Allen was nowhere to be found, which Alicia hoped meant he accompanied Sabrina to the hospital. Hopefully, the aspiring full-time wrestler would see the head trainer on Monday when Alicia found out if she got a contract or cut. The rookie held the door for her tag partner as they entered the corridor. The conversational void that hung between them made every step feel like drowning. The rookie needed to extract herself. "I need to see about getting a ride, but if I can ever return the favor-"
"Always happy to help out a fan!" replied Party Girl. Alicia nodded with a big smile. How did she get famous, again? Suddenly, the celebrity's demeanor changed. "I need to show you something in my dressing room."
That was sudden. "Um," responded Alicia diplomatically. "I don't know if I should do that." Do celebrities count as strangers?
Eyes wide, big smile, classic Look. "You really should!" pleaded the TV star. "If you do, I'll drive you home."
Surely there had to be an exception for following a stranger to a second location if they were offering a ride. She wasn't unreasonable. "Will it be quick?" Party Girl nodded. It wasn't just suspicious--it was weird. It felt like a set-up. Still better than waiting for the bus in the cold. Alicia relented, "... Okay." Past the locker rooms, down the corridor, Party Girl logo, cloyingly pink lettering. The newcomer decided if the room was full of dead stray animals, she would just call a taxi.
With a flourish, the jet-setting fashion icon opened the door to the dressing room and welcomed in her guest. Alicia had to concede that a room full of dead strays would've been easier on the eyes. Floor-to-ceiling pink. Puffy pink sofa. Pink makeup chair. Pink bowl full of only strawberry-flavored Chus. Hopefully, it really was quick; this couldn't be good for her eyesight. Party Girl slammed the door shut and locked it. Darn it. I knew she was going to murder me, thought Alicia. That was a silly mistake.
"Why was Black Violet trying to bite you?" For the second time, the rookie saw Party Girl's smile slip. "Did you touch her belt?"
Alicia froze. "Oops."
Party Girl stared at the rookie, slowly nodding in agreement. "Oops."
No comments:
Post a Comment