Content warning, highlight the hidden text between the lines:
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Descriptions of blood and violence
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
By the time Alicia's boots hit the floor, Party Girl had already thrown up the ring skirt and started digging around for something to do some damage with. Alicia 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 wrapped both hands tight around Jaime’s throat and pulled the high flier up from the scuffed floor. She stood side-by-side with her opponent and hoisted the feather-light Jaime Carlyle up onto her broad shoulders.
"Goon! The Goon, over here! Use this!" screamed Party Girl.
The inexplicable role model lobbed a metal trashcan at Alicia's feet. Alicia turned and pitched backward, sending Jaime helplessly down onto the trashcan with a Backdrop that left the high-flier writhing on the deformed metal.
"Pick her up again!" shouted Party Girl, continuing to direct traffic.
With a groan, the goon stood up from the floor. A quick glance at her tag team understudy confirmed the plan as the VIP of ultraviolence excitedly clutched a trashcan lid tight in her hands. So that's the sort of manicure four figures can buy, thought Alicia. Pretty alright, I guess.
Alicia dragged Jaime Carlyle up to her knees but hesitated as something overhead cast a shadow. The crowd gasped as Bridget Slaughter vaulted off the top rope with a Flying Cross-body Splash. The infrequent flier crashed into Alicia and Party Girl with both gravity and velocity on her side. It wasn't a pretty landing, but the last-minute tag partners lay flattened beneath her.
Now it was Bridget's turn to go to work. The Demolitions Specialist reached for the trashcan lid and rose to her feet before anyone else. Bridget made the jet-setting celebrity pay for her intrusion with a massive two-handed swing with the lid that parted the air and came to a stop against Party Girl's skull.
"Who invited you?" Bridget shouted at Party Girl, who lay clutching her head on the floor.
A few feet away, Alicia tried to crawl for safety, but Bridget quickly covered the distance and smashed the trashcan lid into the rookie's back, causing her to collapse to the floor, gasping for air. A black combat boot rose and hung just out of her field of view. Alicia knew where it was headed, but she couldn’t react in time.
An urgent, stabbing pain beyond anything Alicia had ever experienced poured through every tendon, bone, and joint in her injured hand. Bridget bore down with her full weight, digging her heel into those swollen knuckles as Alicia howled in anguish on the floor, feverishly tugging her hand away. With each full-strength pull, she inched a bit more of her hand out from under the torturous stomp.
Bridget changed tactics and twisted her boot into the back of Alicia's mangled hand, grinding it with her heel 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, Bridget instead approached her downed comrade-in-arms and offered a hand.
"You okay?" asked Bridget.
"Fine," answered the visibly irate Jaime Carlyle as she took a moment to steady herself.
Bridget lifted the ring skirt again and retrieved a long, wooden folding table from under the ring and set it up on the floor. With the table in place, the Two-Woman Army split up. The high-flying Jaime Carlyle headed into the ring with a folding chair from the timekeeper's area while Bridget pulled Alicia up from the floor and rolled her lengthwise onto the furniture. From Alicia's vantage on the table, she could see Jaime in the ring playing to the crowd, stomping the canvas in rhythm as throngs of Two-Woman Army fans joined in. Jaime set up the chair a few feet from the ropes as the crowd carried on with the beat.
The strength had returned to Alicia's muscles, but she remained in place on the table. Inside the ring, "One Shot" Jaime Carlyle raised an unseen sniper rifle to her cheek, took aim, and fired on her prone target, then turned on her heels and took off towards the far cables. While the Sharpshooter was firing pretend guns, Party Girl had cleared out the cobwebs. Rather than rejoin the fray, she watched from the floor and waited.
After a few muddled seconds, Alicia and Party Girl found each other's gaze. Eyes still halfway shut, Alicia winked at the media anti-darling. She thought she noticed a little smirk as Party Girl shot her a wink back. Does she know what I'm thinking? The rookie's eyes darted back to the ring. She saw Carlyle hit the cables and come off them hot, racing towards the chair she had set up by the ropes. Alicia gave her partner a quick nod. Here she comes. Caught up in the excitement of the incoming aerial bombardmentt, 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, Party Girl sprang from the floor and threw herself at an unaware Bridget with a massive running leap.
"Sup!" belted Party Girl. Bridget instinctively turned, offering up her jaw for a jet-propelled haymaker full of brass knuckles. It looked as though someone unplugged Bridget Slaughter as gravity took over. Party Girl caught Bridget's dead weight in her arms and dragged her closer to the table.
Alicia watched as Jaime Carlyle took a running leap onto the chair and then off, soaring over the ropes toward her. The instant her feet left the seat of the chair, Alicia rolled off the table, clearing a nice, open spot for the high-flier to land. Party Girl slung Bridget onto the vacated table and watched with a gleeful smile as Jaime Carlyle stretched out in midair.
Confidence turned to horror as Jaime checked the landing zone again moments before impact--just enough time to see the imminent friendly fire. With a loud wooden snap, the Sharpshooter landed a picture-perfect Flying Elbow Drop on her motionless partner, driving both competitors through the wood and down to the floor. The Two-Woman Army had been routed.
Party Girl pointed at Jaime while shouting at Alicia, "Get her in the ring!"
Alicia scooped the grounded high-flier out of the wreckage and off of the insensate Bridget Slaughter. The constant, gnawing pain in her hand and wrist had grown too intense to ignore. Tomorrow would be misery--but if it was going to hurt anyway, Alicia figured she should at least make it worthwhile. The rookie grit through the pain and lifted Jaime up in an overhead press. With a couple-step running start, she lobbed the much smaller competitor over the top rope and back inside 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 in a motionless heap on the floor among the splintered wood. Alicia headed for those black duffel bags piled in the Two-Woman Army's corner. A mischievous smile spread across her lips as she withdrew "One Shot" Jaime Carlyle's T-shirt sniper rifle and a shirt. She locked and loaded as the disoriented sniper crawled for the ropes. I will avenge you, children. Alicia raised the barrel, pointed it at Jaime's temple, and didn't hesitate.
Thunk-thunk.
The shot hit its mark true. Carlyle lay motionless, face-down on the canvas. Alicia discarded the weapon and hoisted the Sharpshooter up across her broad shoulders, setting her up for a Samoan Drop.
"The Goon! Goon! Hey, The Goon! Over here!" shouted Party Girl. Alicia perked up; the voice came from above and behind her. "Yeah! Put her down there!"
Happy to oblige, Alicia threw herself backwards, flattening Jaime on the mat. Rather than go for the pin, Alicia rolled off the unwilling human crash mat, clearing the way for her partner as she soared off the top turnbuckle. For a long second, Party Girl seemed to hang in the air, unbound by gravity as she executed a graceful front flip and landed on her back across the Sharpshooter's prone carcass with "The Afterparty."
The crowd roared as Party Girl stood up and posed with her hands in the shape of a heart while Alicia dove on top of the thoroughly wiped-out Jaime Carlyle to secure the pin.
For the first and only time in the match, the referee played a role. "One! Two! Three!"
Ding ding ding.
Alicia leapt to her feet and threw both fists in the air, speechless and reeling at what just happened. Holy heckins, that's a winning streak! thought the wrestler on a winning streak. The same crowd that had given her a warm welcome exploded into white-hot cheers at the odd couple tag team's surprise success and chemistry.
Alicia turned to her savior of the hour and tried to make herself believe what she was seeing. "Thanks again. Again." She extended a hand to shake Party Girl's, morphing it into a fist bump at the last second to match her tag partner. "Like… thank you." Alicia threw her arms around a stiff and quite uncomfortable-looking Party Girl. "Thank you so much for helping me."
The sound of fighter jets whooshing overhead and a sick guitar solo cut the outpouring of gratitude short as the raucous crowd all left their seats at once, and a renewed surge of cheers shook the building. After two brutal battles between Alicia and the Reinforcements, the crowd wanted to see the feud escalate further.
Commander Jill McKill marched through the curtain and down the ramp, brandishing the camouflage folding chair. Her eyes remained locked on Party Girl as she descended the entrance ramp and approached the semi-conscious Bridget Slaughter. McKill projected a hateful stare that seemed to slide off the prizefighting socialite--then directed all her contempt elsewhere. Jill reeled back and swung the chair as hard as she could, delivering a sickening blow to Bridget’s forehead that dropped her where she stood.
Cheers turned to horrified gasps and then boos while Jaime watched from the ring on her hands and knees in stunned silence. The former Commander turned a dispassionate gaze to Jaime before walking listlessly back up the ramp, dragging the chair behind her. The crowd didn't let up, airing their displeasure with a ceaseless chorus of boos. Someone in the crowd threw a camo T-shirt at the traitorous McKill. It was still rolled up tight from the mortar launcher. On the WarMachine video board, Alicia could see a blend of sadness, fury, and a just a hint of catatonia on her expression.
Carlyle's face turned a deep crimson, and a murderous look filled her eyes. She scrambled for her rucksack and tore it open, pulling out what looked like a steel-plated elbow pad. Like a bolt of camouflage lightning, Jaime closed the distance in an instant. Combat boots pounded the entrance ramp, followed by a giant leap. The elbow pad-enhanced Death From Afar slammed into the back of Jill's skull like a sniper's bullet, instantly turning out the former commanding officer’s lights as pockets of heartbroken Reinforcements fans watched the faction disintegrate before their eyes.
"This is probably a good time to peace out," whispered Party Girl.
The former hockey player grabbed her stick and followed her rescuer out of the ring and past Bridget Slaughter, who lay barely moving on the floor. Tensions briefly escalated on the rampway as the victors passed Jaime Carlyle on her way to check on her partner, but both sides went their separate ways without any further post-match extracurriculars.
Bewildered at how fast everything just happened, Alicia flashed Party Girl a did-you-just-see-that look, but the celebrity was busy showing the crowd she knew how to make a heart shape with her hands.
"I guess Bridget really was going behind Jill's back," remarked Alicia.
Party Girl's eyes went wide with shock as she covered her mouth with both hands. "Ohmygod
was she really?" she squealed, grinning ear to ear as she stopped in her
tracks in front of the curtain. Alicia suddenly had her full attention. "How did you find out?"
Alicia hesitated. "From you. You at least implied it."
Party Girl looked perplexed for a moment, but eventually, her memory caught up. "I did say that!" Her expression transformed into an impish smile as she recalled the exchange. "I think I might've said that to quite a few people that day." Another moment passed. Her jaw dropped and her eyes twinkled 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-?"
Alicia noticed Giselle giggling to herself as they walked through the curtain and into the back. In the glow of a dozen monitors, Allen was nowhere to be found. He had probably accompanied Sabrina to the hospital. Alicia hoped she would see her former trainer on Monday when she found out if she got a contract or cut.
The conversational void that hung between them made every step from the production area to the backstage corridor feel like drowning. Alicia needed to extract herself. "Thank you so, so much, Giselle. Really. I need to see about getting a ride, but if I can ever return the favor-"
Giselle batted her eyes and cheerfully cut Alicia off, "Always happy to help out a fan!" Alicia nodded with a big smile, hoping it looked genuine. 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!" Giselle pleaded. "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. Alicia wasn't unreasonable. "Will it be quick?" she asked. Giselle 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. "Okay," Alicia relented.
There were the star dressing rooms, and there was the door with the Party Girl logo. Alicia decided if the room was full of dead stray animals, she would just call a taxi. With a flourish, Giselle opened the dressing room door and invited her in. 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. She hoped Giselle was telling the truth about it being quick; this couldn't be good for her eyesight.
Giselle slammed the door shut and locked it. Darn it. I knew she was going to murder me. That was a silly mistake.
"Why was Black Violet trying to bite you?" asked the fashion icon. For the second time, Alicia saw Giselle Tillman's famous Look slip. "Did you touch her belt?"
Alicia froze. "Oops."
Giselle stared back at her, slowly nodding in agreement. "Oops."
No comments:
Post a Comment