Alicia Goon 040: Vegemite

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Descriptions of blood and extreme violence

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It felt nice to do the stalking for once as Black Violet scrambled back to her hands and feet on the mat. Alicia raised her hockey stick high and swung it down like an ax at the back of her tormentor's knee. As if by instinct, Black Violet rolled out of harm's way at the last possible moment, sparing herself another crippling blow. A split-second later, she was up like a flash and slingshotting back off the ropes at the challenger still recovering from her wild overhead swing. The tape didn't do Black Violet justice; even with a solid blow to the kneecap, she had enough speed for a baseball slide between Alicia's legs.

Just as Alicia thought about turning around, Black Violet had already risen to her feet behind the rookie. Two cold, sticky hands clawed their way up Alicia's face towards her eye sockets. Alicia grit her teeth and stuck to the gameplan: don't waste energy fighting Black Violet's unbreakable grip. Instead, she tightened her grip on the stick and turned the blade sideways and slammed it into her captor's left shin and dragged the wooden blade straight down the bone. The pain bought Alicia enough time to shift her head a few inches to the side. Although not much, it offered a few seconds respite from the cracked yellow talons digging into her cheeks and eyelids.

Alicia slammed the blade of the stick into the same shin, scraping it down the same wounded flesh. Rather than loosen her grip, Black Violet instead leapt entirely up and onto Alicia's back, forcing the rookie to bear her attacker's entire weight. She could use this. The former hockey player dropped her weapon. She reached back and grabbed a handful of slick, matted hair in  her right hand, wrapped her left arm around Black Violet's leg, and took two unsteady steps toward the corner. With a once-signature burst of power, the former athlete threw herself and her passenger out of the ring through the top and middle ropes. 

There was enough momentum to partially roll in midair and position Black Violet to take the worst of the fall. A split-second after hearing and feeling all the wind depart from the champion's lungs, Alicia felt her left shoulder smack into the barely padded concrete, eliciting a soft groan. There wasn't time to assess the damage; Black Violet lay flat on her back, wheeze-coughing between soggy gasps for air. This was a chance. With a groan, Alicia forced herself upright. From inside the ring, the short, ponytailed referee started her count for Black Violet to get to her feet.

"One! Two!"

Alicia reached for her gym bag's side pocket. Her fingers and thumb slipped into place as she withdrew a pair of cast-iron fabric scissors - the ones Zack used for making his renfaire getups. "Three! Fou-" The referee stopped the count as soon as Alicia crouched at Black Violet's feet and secured a grip on her opponent's right ankle. 

Alicia shrugged as she reached forward and plunged the blades between Black Violet's ragged shoelaces. The material was durable enough to slow Alicia down, but not stop her, and she managed to cut her way through to the top. The right mismatched wrestling shoe visibly loosened. The champion had already started to get up, but Alicia couldn't afford to let her get away and lose her best shot. The Hard Times graduate grabbed Black Violet's left ankle while standing up, then swung a hard toe kick into the back of the same knee that felt the kiss of a hockey stick moments earlier. The shot coaxed enough compliance out of Black Violet to allow Alicia to roll her over and sit down on her back in a Single-leg Boston Crab position. Rather than torque back on the captured leg, Alicia instead pulled her opponent's foot into place, secured a tight grip, and wedged the scissors between the laces and set to work cutting through the other shoe's laces. 

One at a time, the laces gave way as the special-purpose scissors chewed through the material, but there wasn't enough time. Alicia yelped as her opponent bucked her onto the floor. No. Don't lose track of her, Alicia reminded herself, and rolled onto her back just in time to see a pair of mismatched wrestling shoes and bloodstained hospital scrubs rush past. Her grip instinctively tightened around the scissors handle as she felt something determined and powerful try to tug them away. One more yank, and then a terrified gasp from Alicia and the crowd as Black Violet took control of the scissors. 

Alicia rolled away a split-second before the scissors slammed into the floor where her head had been. A blur of motion caught the challenger's eye as she pushed up to all-fours. Black Violet sprang from the floor to the apron to the top turnbuckle with uncanny grace. Much less so when she leaped off, scissors clutched tight in both hands. Hungry black eyes and a slick, bloodstained mouthful of spikes descended upon the grounded competitor. "AAAAALLLLLLLIIIIIIIIICCCCIIIIIIIAAAAAA!!" 

Every instinct pulled at the terrified wrestler to get out of the way, scramble under the ring, and look for something big and heavy to hit Black Violet with - but that wasn't part of the gameplan. Alicia shot up from the ground, threw both arms out wide, and caught her screeching assailant in a crushing bearhug. Genuine confusion registered on Black Violet's sallow, painted features as she dangled inches from the floor having the air crushed out of her. That momentary shock turned to violent resistance, and Alicia struggled to maintain her grip as her rabid opponent thrashed at her back with both sets of claws.

Rather than lose her grip on the captive Black Violet, Alicia charged toward the ringpost with a full head of steam and slammed Black Violet into it back-first. The impact seemed to stun the champ long enough to allow Alicia to quickly transition the bearhug into a front waistlock. The powerhouse dropped low, popped her hips, and threw her weight backwards as she sent Black Violet sailing overhead with a Belly-to-belly Suplex. The instant Alicia's back hit the floor, she knew she was in a race to get back to her feet. Right as she got to her knees, Alicia felt that unbreakable grip latch onto her left braid and yank her head back hard enough to cause whiplash. Something warm ran down her forehead and the bridge of her nose. 

Alicia gazed up at her tormentor. Black Violet's weeping, painted expression appeared both pale and dark silhouetted against the arena lights. Clutched tight in her bony hand were those cast iron scissors, which she again gouged into the rookie's exposed forehead. Although she hadn't felt the first cut to draw blood, Alicia really felt the second. The unforgiving metal scuffed open the flesh as it tore another angry wound into her forehead. A trail of blood rolled down her temple and cheek a second later. The third opened up a hole just above Alicia's right eyebrow, and the fountain of claret temporarily forced her eye shut. Crimson droplets spilled onto the former hockey player's chest, staining her white and yellow jersey.

An earsplitting screech preceded a fourth plunge of the scissors, which grew even louder when Alicia grabbed Black Violet's wrist and held it tight. Seemingly determined to turn Alicia's forehead into burger, the scissor-wielding Mother of Nightmares bent closer to snap at Alicia's fingers with those railroad spike teeth. The challenger tried to pull her hand away, and Black Violet leaned closer. Alicia pulled her hand a bit farther away from those snapping, eager jaws. Alicia stood up and charged the ringpost, while grabbing Black Violet's wrist tight in both hands, judo flipping Black Violet over her shoulder and headfirst into the ringpost. The champion went down in a heap, and the scissors clattered to the floor beside her. Go.

Alicia fell to her hands and knees behind the hurting and stunned Black Violet, who slowly raised her bony, callused hands to clutch at the wounded spot. With both wrestlers down, the referee didn't start her count. The scissors lay on the ground within arm's reach, so Alicia reached. With the improvised cobblery implement in hand and blood pouring down her face, the rookie looked every bit as deranged as her opponent.

Once again, Alicia leaped onto the back of her opponent, snapped up her left ankle, and folded it back. Rather than work on Black Violet's injured left knee, the challenger secured a formidable grip around Black Violet's left ankle. Alicia slipped one of the blades of the scissors under the remaining uncut portions of Black Violet's shoelaces. Come on, come on! mentally shouted Alicia as she grit her teeth into powder. Progress slowed to a near standstill as her tool snagged at the finish line by a gordian facsimile of a bow. Just as she repositioned the scissors for the final cut, a sharp tug on the back of her jersey nearly threw her off. Snip. A smile spread across Alicia's face as she crossed off another step of the plan.

In response to being grabbed, Alicia changed her grip on the scissors and swung an awkward stab at her literal hanger-on's arm. Despite impaling only the air, the threat of a clean hit discouraged Black Violet from yanking on the former hockey player's ring gear. Instead, a surge of disproportionate strength threw Alicia nearly face-first to the floor. She only barely managed to break the her fall with her forearms–the front bump training paid off. Black Violet was trying to scramble clear and regroup; the challenger had lost the chance to stay on her. 

But maybe Alicia traded it for an opportunity, if she was quick. The rookie saw Black Violet rise to her hands and knees into a spider crawl and retreat. A sudden tug on the champion's left leg got her attention as Alicia lunged with both arms outstretched, using every inch of her six-foot-three stature to wrap her fingers around the red, worn-through heel of her scampering opponent's wrestling shoe. Black Violet met the annoyance with violence, cocking back her right wrestling shoe and striking Alicia again and again in the face as the bloody wrestler tried to keep her head down while she crawled forward and wrapped both hands around her attacker's left ankle.

Kicks rained upon Alicia's head like raindrops that hurt like the dickens. The fine spatter of blood hitting the floor turned to a steady trickle as the powerhouse slowly rose to her feet. With a surge of core and upper-body strength, Alicia yanked Black Violet up off the floor by one leg and flipped her onto her back. Unphased by the landing, the howling, furious wrestler resumed kicking at the woman holding her captive. Left knee flush to the back of her right knee. Release the left foot with your right hand, step over. Keep turning… One of the kicks nearly sent Alicia sprawling, but Alicia had already stepped into place. Alicia fell backwards as she poured on the pressure. Black Violet threw her head back and howled like a rusty door in a storm.

Alicia took the opportunity not to be hoist upon her own scissors and cast the horrible, her-own-blood-soaked shears aside. Back to the matter at hand - so to speak. Two large, powerful hands clamped down on the loosened wrestling footwear to a surprising amount of resistance. The Mother of Nightmares wore her shoes tight. One, two, three, four quick wrenches and Alicia goon pulled the worn, moldy shoe free, overwhelming Alicia's senses with a scent of vinegar and hot summer roadkill. Eau de trenchfoot. Pale, yellowing, cracked, splintered toenails tipped the foulest appendage Alicia ever beheld. She reeled at the stench of success wafting from Black Violet's gangly bare left foot and flung the cursed object into the crowd. Forgive me.

Black Violet used her powerful arms to roll herself over, and Alicia broke the hold to avoid having the submission reversed. Both competitors scrambled to their feet, except Black Violet also scrambled to her hands and was up first. Alicia needed to get Black Violet on the other side of the ring, and she needed to get that second sho- like a flash, the long-limbed wrestler skittered the distance and snared Alicia's right hand and pulled her the rest of the way to her feet and straight into a Short-arm Clothesline that sent her right back down to the floor.

Black Violet still hadn't released her grip and once again yanked the rookie up to her feet, and then off them. Somehow, Black Violet made lifting Alicia's struggling 193-pound, muscular frame seem effortless as she pulled Alicia up onto her shoulders and rose to her full height. Black Violet took three steps towards the steel guardrail and dropped Alicia onto it. Despite managing to get her hands and arms up, her head struck the steel as she bounced off and hit the ground. The pounding headache was enough on its own without the ringing in her ears. The attack seemed to relent for a moment. 

That probably wasn't a good sign. Alicia forced herself to her hands and knees. There was the guardrail. Beneath her on the black padding, a pool of blood had begun to form from the steady dribble of blood from multiple wounds on her forehead. She couldn't lose sight of Black Violet. Alicia turned her stiff neck and plummeted into an abyss. Black, bloodshot eyes. Piranha grin. A porcelain white complexion weeping violet warpaint. In her hands, a vinyl torture chamber of hooks. A place hostile to the very notion of flesh. Bedlam for human skin. Black Violet yanked Alicia closer by a fistful of hair. Shadow descended as the feral champion tugged the body bag into position above her struggling captive. She wanted to give Alicia a hood.

Rather than fight the unassailable grip around her braid, Alicia cocked her head back and drove in a quick, sharp headbutt into the champion's nose. Another quick shot to the point of the nose landed flush, and Black Violet's unbreakable grip seemed to loosen as the abyss of Black Violet's eyes welled up with tears. Alicia dragged herself away from her opponent and raced to her feet at a security guard seated at the corner where two guardrails met. "Move! I'm taking this!" shouted Alicia as she waved off the bearded security guard with one hand before throwing him off with two. She reached for the chair, folded and lifted it, and turned. "MMmmffphhh!" protested Alicia, as a wrestling shoe buried itself in her stomach.

The challenger doubled over and dropped the chair with a loud metal clatter as Black Violet pulled Alicia into her hip in a side headlock. In one fluid motion, Black Violet leapt onto one of the barricades, then the other, then used her momentum to spin Alicia headfirst down onto the steel chair on the floor with a Tornado DDT. Getting her arms up had grown increasingly ineffective as the match carried on, and Alicia rolled off of the chair, staring through glassy eyes at a bloodstain in a starburst pattern on the seat. Her vision smudged worse than before as her forehead throbbed and pounded and each thought hurt worse than the last.

Seeing Alicia laid out prompted the referee to start her count, "One! Two! Three ! Four! F-"

The challenger rolled onto her side to try and gather herself up to all-fours. Black Violet did it for her.

With one hand around Alicia's throat and the other hooked under her arm, Black Violet dragged the rookie to something approaching upright, gathered momentum, and slung Alicia shoulder-first into the steel ring steps. Black Violet stalked toward the bloodstained chair with a slightly lopsided gait. Her fingers closed around the steel as she shot a glance at her soon-to-be victim with a diabolical glint in her eye. Then the champion rose and brandished the unforgiving thing and loomed, her face masked in sinister implication.

Things were no longer going according to plan. 

Alicia Goon 039: Cheers

Content warning, highlight the hidden text between the lines: 

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Descriptions of blood and violence

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"I'm going to go take one more look around to make sure I'm not forgetting anything," gasped Robert, his hair sweaty and no doubt rapidly cooling in the winter night air. What her former housemate lacked in upper body strength, he made up for in enthusiasm. Within a matter of a few evenings, they had managed to pack Robert's whole life into boxes, all in preparation for this. It felt final. The two former housemates stood beneath the untamed canopy of oak and hugged each other--one much tighter than the other.

"We're still hanging out all the time," Alicia said matter-of-factly. "And if you ever just want to talk, you've got my number. About anything. Like we're teenagers."

Robert lifted a sleeve to his forehead and wiped away the sweat. With one sharp laugh, he replied, "I haven't done that since I was a teenager." With a smile and a quick nod, he added, "But yeah. Yeah, I would love to."

Alicia replied with genuine relief in her voice, "Seriously, even if it's n-" Movement stole away her attention and smile as something skittered across the carpet a few feet away: a seven-and-three-quarter-legged wolf spider, big as her palm. "Robert," gasped Alicia in horror as it galloped past them down the hall. Eyes still locked on the retreating arachnid, Alicia reached back with one hand expectantly. "Give me anything to hit it with. What do you have?"

"Nothing, but," Robert stammered. "Um... Alicia? Don't be mad."

Alicia turned from the scampering visitor to her visibly nervous best friend in wide-eyed horror. "Oh Robert. Tell me you didn't," begged Alicia. But he did. Robert had been harboring a fugitive.

"I swear I didn't bring Ralph in," Robert insisted. "I just didn't kick him out. It's cold out there, you know? He's missing part of his leg. Who's he hurting? Can you please not kill him?”

"Robert, those things can bite you!" Alicia retorted.

“Yeah, if you mess with them! They're not your enemy or out to get you. That's just how they react when provoked." Robert licked his lips as he tried to arrange the next sentence, "And I guess he was kind of," Robert trailed off. "Sort of like a roommate?" No, Robert. Please no.

Begrudgingly, Alicia had to concede Robert at least held the high ground, "That's really nice of you, I think? I'm sorry! They really scare me. I can't stand them. I'm already on edge enough as it is."

"I'm not saying you have to, but would you please at least think about it?” Robert pleaded.

If it were anyone else asking, Alicia would've stood her ground. "If he stays on his side of the house, he's the next tenant's problem, but my side belongs to me. Okay?"

Robert sighed, not fully satisfied with the answer but unwilling to press the issue. "Alright, I'm going to have one more look around, then you can follow me in your car to the new place?" Alicia nodded. His eyes met hers as his face lifted in gratitude. "I really appreciate all your help despite the long drive."

She gave Robert a one-armed hug and replied, "It's 40 minutes. And remember you helped clean up after the break-in, and you took care of the burial. I appreciate it." Robert nodded. "So if you ever move again, don't bother with the amateurs. Give me a call."

"You're welcome," answered Robert. "And I mean it. I couldn't have done this without you."

They enjoyed a moment of contented silence. Alicia nodded back in agreement, "Same."

* * * * *

"I hope you appreciate me doing this," Sabrina half-jokingly grumbled over the mild but constant sound of wireless telephone static. "But if I end up with broken fingers, I'm gonna return the favor."

Alicia held the handset between her left cheek and shoulder as she scrubbed her plastic lunch containers under the break room sink. "I do. Really, really I do. Just please make sure they're in place by the timekeeper's table, okay?"

"You're crazy and this plan is stupid," chuckled Sabrina. "And if anybody asks, I'm taking credit." 

"49%," corrected Alicia, dabbing her silverware dry on a threadbare blue hand towel. "Alright, it's nearly 5:00, so I need to say some goodbyes. See you in gorilla?"

"Yeah, see you there." Beep.

Alicia returned the transient wireless phone to the countertop next to the microwave and returned to the office. A somberness hung in the air of the Friday-at-quitting-time bustle. Shirley and Maxine stood side-by-side at the reception door, purse straps over their shoulders, sharing their last “have a nice weekend.” The time had come to leave her work-nana’s nest. Maxine threw her thick arms around Alicia for one last, “Goodbye, Miss Alicia. And I’ll see you around.” Alicia embraced her friend back just as tight.

Alicia let go of Maxine, except for her hands. “I’ll call to set up a date as soon as things settle down at my new job,” promised Alicia, allowing her former coworker’s fingers to slip through hers. Maxine threw her moonlighting colleague a wink and turned to the door.

The only part of Sherry that turned was her expression. “Okay, Alicia, I didn’t want to have to ask, but I’d like that explanation you promised.”

Right. It wasn’t that the wrestler/office assistant wanted to keep her other coworkers in the dark so much as a desire to keep her two lives separate. Admittedly, that line had long ago been crossed and crossed again many times since. Perhaps Robert had been right; there was only ever one life. How best to explain it? With the truth, probably. Alicia cleared her throat and confessed, “I’m a pro wrestler. That's why my face is all,” she held up her hands to her visible bruises and cuts. "Like this."

The dental assistant’s eyes popped wide open for a moment before a slight smile lifted her previously quite stern expression before turning to one of pleasant surprise. “OHHHH! I was so worried! Why didn't you say anything?”

“I don't know. I was worried what people would think,” mumbled Alicia, plugging up the silence while she waited for the other shoe to drop. Another beat came and went. Nothing. “Don’t tell Dr. Pupe?”

With a nod, a shrug, and an indifferent little smirk, Sherry answered, “Sure.” Oh, thought Alicia, somehow disappointed by the anti-climax. “Good luck on your next,” Sherry whispered, “match,” before returning to full volume, “whenever it is!”

“Tonight.”

“Oh!” replied Sherry with a small chuckle, “Hope you win!”

“Me too,” the wrestler agreed and waved one final goodbye to her now-former coworkers. Alicia sat back at her desk to pass the idle minutes in silence with her butterflies. 

The sound of the break room door opening and the reflexive urge to look busy interrupted the screensaver frog’s trek across the lily pads. Alicia grabbed the mouse and clicked open a spreadsheet. “Alicia,” called Dr. Pupe. “If all your work’s done, you’re free to go. I’ll clock you out.”

Alicia took a moment to recover before asking, “You sure?” Dr. Pupe nodded in response, clearly making an effort to be a nice guy at the last possible moment, when it mattered the least. Still, at this final moment, she felt like appreciating it. “Thanks. And thank you, seriously, for keeping me on the past two-and-a-half or so years. I know I gave you a few reasons not to,” said Alicia, shutting down her computer a final time.

“Except for those times, it was nice to have you aboard,” replied the doctor.

Alicia rose from her desk and grabbed the box of Mondoz Robert left in the shared kitchen. "Something to remember me by. -R" read the note scribbled on half a sheet of printer paper. She couldn't help but share it at the office to a series of horrified reactions. Three steps from the main entrance, she froze. Alicia reached into her pocket and withdrew the key to the reception door. The back of her head heated up as she slowly turned to find a smirk veiled beneath an ashen mustache. She groaned, “I promised myself all morning I would surprise you by remembering to lock the door.”

“You’ve surprised me enough, Alicia. It was nice to see you go out playing the hits. Let’s just agree we’re both better off this way. Best of luck in your future endeavors.” It wasn't the nicest good bye and good luck. As good as it might have felt to get in one last dig, it wasn’t worth a chance to end what had been a mostly unpleasant experience on mostly pleasant terms. “Deal,” agreed Alicia. Polite little wave. 

First thing out the door, Alicia checked her mobile. 5:17 PM, battery at three of four bars, 1 text message.

Fri Feb 13, 2004

4:11 PM PARTY GIRL (370)167-5770
we need 2 talk b4 ur match i dont want u to go out there 2nite wo tellin u sry plz meet @ my dressin room just nock on the door

The rookie hoped Party Girl meant it. Alicia fully expected the reconciliation, if for no other reason than she doubted anyone else would willingly tag with the Party Girl brand’s self-appointed mascot.

Time to face whatever life had for her next – and the fishhook body bag it had prepared for her. Breathe in, breathe out. Drive.

* * * * *

“Way to go, bestie! Main event! Wooo!” cried Party Girl, her excitement uncontagious. "I wish I had seen your promo." She looked at the can of Cinnamon with X-tra Hold clutched in her pink manicured fingers before looking Alicia in the eye and asking with sincere curiosity, "Do you know anyone who would be interested in buying a quarter-million or so units of Party Perm?" In the span of two hours, the young mogul's mood had shifted from sorrow to vengeful and then back to the baseline level of manic. The upcoming match seemed to have Party Girl on edge, as well.

Dealing with nerves presented enough of a challenge without the distraction of a room saturated in eye-biting, unrelenting pink. Although to be fair to the decorator, Alicia's headache actually sat four feet to the right in a pink bean bag chair. "What?" asked the preoccupied main eventer. "No. Sorry. Why are you asking?"

Party Girl's mouth opened to give an explanation, but thought better of it. A few false starts later, she tried her luck again with a revised answer, "It's selling so well that I have a very large inventory I need to offload extremely quickly because I have another massive shipment on the way." A whole lot of vacant nothing behind the faraway look behind Party Girl's eyes. More so than usual. But the Look returned to dissolve the appearance of tension. "And my accountant keeps calling to say 'great job, keep it up!'" Alicia answered with a shake of her head.

A knock at the door interrupted the pep rally. The rookie bounded to the door in two strides and threw it open. "You're up, Goon," said the woman with the headset. "Are you ready?"

Alicia double-checked to ensure she had all her carry-on items with her. "Got my gym bag. Got my hockey stick." Breathe in, breathe out. This was it. Alicia answered, "Yes. Let's go." To the bruised combatant's surprise, Party Girl trotted up alongside her in the corridor. "You following me to gorilla?" asked Alicia.

"I'm not going to let her ambush you on the way to the ring," answered Party Girl with a purpose in her voice Alicia hadn't heard since the night Party Girl first proposed going for tag team gold. The rookie shot a quick glance over both shoulders. Almost there. Through the door to production, past the threshold, and into the void. The crew and backstage staff paused and took notice of Alicia for the first time on the way to gorilla. "Why's it called gorilla position, anyway?" asked the three-year undefeated* wrestler.

"It's- I'll tell you later. Can you focus?" Alicia answered back, voice full of nerves. There was one face she needed to see before stepping through the curtain. The Hard Times graduate's eyes strained in the dark to find her former trainer. They caught each other's gaze just as Alicia stepped on her mark behind the curtain. Sabrina rose from the showrunner's desk and trotted over. "I know I said we couldn't talk, but tonight's the exception," said the former head trainer. "How do you feel?"

Alicia noticed her friend's cast hadn't come off yet. "Better, but still not good," she said. "Are the mousetraps in place?" If the plan failed or misfired or – heaven forbid – backfired at the do-or-die moment the cost would be dear. Win or lose, Black Violet's favorite chew toy expected the night to end in an ambulance. Alicia wondered how much of it she'd remember.

Sabrina's lip turned up in a sneer. "I nearly took my fingers off three different times," she said, holding up as many digits. "But it's ready to go. Not sure why you glued them to the underside."

Genuine giddiness washed over Party Girl's expression. "Oh my God, it's gonna be hilarious if it works. Can you imagine her face?" The former teacher and student exchanged concerned glances.

"It better. I don't have a backup plan if it doesn't," Alicia confessed with a loud sigh. Her eyes darted to the can of Party Perm. "I could use a drink." As if on cue, a pristinely manicured hand extended a pink and dark red spray canister towards her. Alicia pretended not to notice her tag partner's proud smile as the rookie took the can, shook it thoroughly, and brought it to her lips. Tears poured from her eyes as a literally intoxicating deluge of artificial, so-sweet-it-burns cinnamon overpowered her senses.

The voice of Guy Brody over the speakers made the inevitable official, "Your main event for tonight is a Last Woman Standing match scheduled for one fall-

"One fall!" the crowd called back.

"-With no time limit. There are no rules, no count-outs, no rope breaks, and anything goes. The match can only end when one competitor is unable to stand and answer the referee's ten-count."

"You're up, Goon," called Allen from his desk, making no effort to hide his irritation at yet another backstage reunion.

Sabrina offered some final encouragement. "You've got lots of ways to get her into a Figure Four Leglock," Sabrina said, slapping Alicia on the shoulder as she wiped the Party Perm tears from her eyes. "Look for a good opportunity, not the first opportunity. Like you said, you have one shot. I'll see you after." The veteran slapped Alicia on the shoulder a few more times before returning to her position at the showrunner's desk.

The sound of skates carving a path down the ice played over the sound system. The crack of a slapshot and the blast of a horn set off the light of a revolving hockey lamp that bathed half the crowd at a time in its red glow.

"Goon, you're on!"

Through the curtain. Roaring crowd. Four-thousand screaming faces, but in a good way. The QoW newcomer raised her scuffed wooden hockey stick and held it there, allowing the anticipation to build.

Bang. 

Alicia slammed the butt of the wooden stick down again and again on the steel stage platform while the rhythmic stomps and claps of a unified audience built until they echoed from the rafters. The crowd response crescendoed as the beat picked up. She twirled the weapon overhead, then drove the hockey stick blade down onto stage and fired an unseen slapshot of her own. The ring announcer continued Alicia's introduction as a renewed chorus of cheers accompanied the wrestler high-fiving her way down the ramp, "Introducing first, the challenger, wrestling out of Longstat, Minnesota and weighing in at 193 pounds, she is the tooth collector. She is the one-woman power play. She is THE GOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNN!!!" 

The debuting main eventer reached up for the top rope and pulled herself up onto the ring apron in one giant step, then stepped up and over the top rope before heading to center ring. Alicia clutched her stick in both hands high above her head in response to the crowd's renewed cheers. The adulation turned to gasps and then silence as the lights above a section of bleachers to her right flickered and cut out. Another ka-chunk of what she assumed was a lighting array shutting off dimmed another section behind her. Shadow seeped in now from the left as those lights gave out as well. Two more sections followed and then the rest, plunging the arena into absolute darkness.

Two more sounds, similar but smaller - ka-chunk, ka-chunk - pierced the eerie silence, and the glow of pair of spotlights teased Alicia's light-starved eyes. One beam stayed focused on the challenger, while the other pried among the crowd as if searching for something. Someone. Alicia spun in place at the thought of an ambush, but found only darkness. A handful of bloodcurdling screams cut through the low din of nervous chatter in the stands. Both searchlights snapped to a section of the front row close to where Alicia had been looking, leaving the challenger once again in darkness. Fans shrieked and shrunk in their seats as a pale figure weeping violet tears and shawled in the stained tatters of a straitjacket slithered at their feet towards the guardrail. With one visibly clammy hand then the other, Black Violet reached for the top and pulled herself over. Behind those craterous eyes, two tiny pinpricks of light peeled away Alicia's defenses, and for the first time in a fight, she felt scared. 

"Her opponent, with no officially recorded weight, hailing from Parts Unknown, she is Hell's ninth layer. She is the eater of light. She is the Mother of Nightmares. She is your reigning and defending Queens of War TV Champion, BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK VIIIIIIIIIIIIOOOOOOOOOLEEEEEET!!!!!!" 

With her left hand, the champion dragged behind her long, black vinyl body bag. Around her neck hung the Queens of War TV Championship belt–that coveted black leather strap with the silver faceplate inlaid with gold and lettering in bold, and red steel. The champion crawled to the timekeeper's area. Alicia could see now her opponent wore what looked liked bloodstained white hospital scrubs. Her wrestling shoes looked worn and mismatched, but still sturdy enough. Black Violet rose to her feet long enough to bow her head and allow the belt to fall from her shoulders onto the table. The timekeeper wisely shrank away from the title belt as Black Violet turned and scampered up the ring steps on her hands and feet. She discarded the body bag on the top step and crawled into the ring. Only when she reached the corner did Black Violet rise to her full stature of well over six feet tall. Alicia slowly backed into her corner and slung an old, tacky neon green gym bag to the canvas.

She hadn't seen it at first, but as Black Violet slunk nearer, the rookie noticed something dangling from the champion's mouth. It looked like a white cloth bag about the size of a pillowcase shut tight with a drawstring. Black Violet popped her jaw open and allowed the bag fall to the mat in her corner. She sat crouched in her corner with pale, gaunt hands wrapped tight around the middle ropes. The lights had come back up in the arena, but darkness still somehow clung to her.

Ding!

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!" shrieked the pro wrestling banshee as she tore across the ring at the object of her torment.

"Pfffttt!" spat Alicia, blowing a cloud of 130-proof, sugary-sweet cinnamon hairspray cocktail into those dark, bloodshot eyes. The crowd came alive as Black Violet howled in fury. The straitjacketed competitor stumbled backward, clawing at her face in an effort to clear her vision. Alicia saw her window and smashed it. 

The rookie took a step forward, planted her feet and unloaded a crushing right hook directly into her ravenous opponent's midsection. The Gut Check caught the temporarily blinded Black Violet unprepared, doubling her over and forcing her to suck air. The former hockey player pressed the advantage. Alicia tightened both hands around her weapon of choice, hauled back with a generous wind-up, and swung the heel of the wooden stick directly into her stalker's left kneecap. The gurgling, ragged gasps and furious shrieking turned to howls of agony as Black Violet's leg folded beneath her. The barest trace of a smile lifted the right corner of Alicia's lips. Sabrina was right: it really was fun sticking to a gameplan.

Alicia Goon 038: Movie night

Content warning, highlight the hidden text between the lines: 

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Descriptions of blood and violence

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Allen lowered his microphone and shrank inside his crimson suit like the air had been let out of him. The made-for-TV smile melted and refroze into a look of horror and bafflement. "I have about a thousand questions," remarked Allen, "And they're all the same word: why?" 

"She won't leave me alone," said Alicia, throwing up her arms in exasperation. "I touched her belt, and now she's targeting me. She wants a match. I guess I'm going to give it to her."

Confusion rode shotgun with incredulity straight to his face. "She followed you home?" 

"She's made it clear this is what she wants," muttered Alicia, casting her gaze to the linoleum floor. "It's the only way."

A hushed pause shouldered between the two as Allen took the weight of her disjointed explanation upon his brow. The showrunner's eyes narrowed as he seemed to consider her claim before offering his thoughts, "Huh." Alicia offered him a comfortable stretch of silence to continue, but he had spoken his piece. "Alright. Well, good luck next week," offered Allen in lieu of advice, encouragement, or help. Hardly a bother when Alicia knew someone who could offer all three.

"Sabrina here tonight?" asked Alicia.

"Ah," said Allen, making a sound that has never preceded good news. "We've got her in Mexico scouting until next Friday. She did say to let you into her office if you want to watch tape as long as you don't–and let me make sure I get this right–'jack up the VCR.'" Finger quotes. Of course he used finger quotes. "Call ahead, make sure I'm there. I'll open it up for you. I'm not just handing you her keys. Cool?" With a casual half-salute, Allen headed with his crew toward the production area. A few steps further down the hall, he called back over his shoulder, "For what it's worth, you definitely did just make us some money."

Alicia found the near-pristine black and green wooden hockey stick about a dozen feet farther down the corridor than expected. Despite Black Violet's sickly, elongated appearance, those wiry arms posed a significant danger. Alicia wondered if crawling around in the ducts on her hands and knees would explain the incredible upper body and grip strength. That, along with startling reach and easily standing six feet tall, allowed Black Violet to overwhelm Alicia in each of their encounters so far. Although she did have the benefit of surprise, thought Alicia in her own defense. And home field advantage, let's be fair. A straight contest could either be a different story or a different chapter from the same book. The exhausted wrestler trudged back out the staff and talent entrance and trekked across the parking lot, either numb or indifferent to the cold. The nearby sound of a door unlocking steered Alicia in the direction of the car. The door was unlocked.

Alicia collapsed into the driver's seat and leaned back, then she turned the key, cranked the heat, and closed her eyes. 

She just took a minute.

And since no one was looking, she took a few more. 

She wanted another but she forced her eyes open. She didn't skip a gym day on account of a sore throat, and that same coach's voice inside once again kept Alicia honest. The weight of spent adrenaline hung from Alicia's limbs as she slid the cell phone from her pocket. She had just come face-to-face with her fanged, blood-drinking wrestling champion stalker in her boiler room lair and beheld her homemade death cocoon; now it was time for the scary part. 

Darvingtonfordhamfordshire Upon Avon was six hours ahead of Beaver, Illinois. Alicia could only hope that somehow Party Girl was awake, alert, energetic, and feeling talkative at 1:30 AM on a Saturday. With all the skiing it sounded like Party Girl was doing, it seemed unlikely.

Breathe in, breathe out. Alicia hit #1 on the speed dial and waited two rings and part of a third before Party Girl's shouting voice competed for the limited surface area of Alicia's eardrums, if that's how eardrums work. She'd look it up later. "HEY THE GOON I'M IN A CLUB NOW! CAN YOU HEAR THAT IT'S LOUD IN HERE?!"

A drawn-out sigh escaped Alicia's lips. Oh, right. Of course she's up. She screwed her eyes shut in a wince of anticipation before answering, "Yeah, i- YEAH, IT'S REALLY LOUD! CAN YOU GET SOMEWHERE QUIET? IT'S VERY IMPORTANT!"

"OKAY, AFTER THIS SONG THOUGH, ALRIGHT?" Party Girl answered back.

Eleven minutes and twenty-nine seconds later, the throbbing rhythmic computer noises ended or at least turned into different sounds. Alicia could hear the music slightly fade as Party Girl left the dance floor and must have recognized someone as they shared a little hello and a 15-minute conversation about why Janice was a not-nice woman (although not in those words) and how Party Girl's #1 assistant should switch to a dandruff shampoo. After that, the career socialite had just one more quick stop to make an inside joke the other person didn't remember. One detailed explanation later, and it sounded like Alicia's tag partner made it outside. "What's up? I'm busy. And my phone's got, like, no battery, so make it quick," said Party Girl far too loudly for her new surroundings.

The sick pit in Alicia's stomach came back. "I'm sorry, Party Girl. Something happened tonight. I have bad news."

"Uh-" sputtered the millionaire. "What are you talking about? I'm fine."

"No, look, somebody, um… not somebody, Black Violet. She, uh," floundered Alicia. She backed up the story a bit and got a running start. "When I got home from work, I came home to find my door open."

"So why are you telling me?" asked Party Girl before seemingly asking herself that question. "You- Oh my God, Mr. Cattywampus!" shrieked Party Girl. The disbelief in her voice turned to rage by the end of the accusatory question. "No. Nononono. The Goon, tell me right now you didn't let Mr. Cattywampus run away!"

The former cat-sitter had good news and bad news. She braced herself. "No. Something a lot worse."

Party Girl stepped on Alicia's last word, "But it just  happened to you, right?" Alicia didn't appreciate the callous optimism in her tone. Party Girl paused for a long-for-her moment of silence, then barked again into the phone, "Janice! What about her? Did you call Janice?" The way Party Girl asked sounded like an attack. "No. Shut up. I'll call Janice. How quickly can you organize a search party?"

The rookie took a moment as she searched for the least worst answer possible. Time was up. The pause had gotten uncomfortable. Oh nuts, I couldn't think of it. She instead started saying words as they came to her. "I'm so sorry. I don't know how to tell you this. Black Violet broke into the house while I was at work and trashed my place, and," Alicia paused to choke back the lump in her throat. "Mr. Cattywampus… Mr. Cattywampus is dead. Black Violet, she-. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I locked the door when I left the house. I promise I locked the door. I don't know how she got in."

Shock, rage, grief, despondency, and sorrow poured from the phone in reply, "What? I don't- How could you let this happen? I trusted you! My presh presh is gone. You were supposed to take care of him!" Alicia thought she had gotten away with it, then came the pause and then the realization. "Wait... did you leave the door unlocked? Oh my God, at your house! When I visited, you left the door unlocked! She didn't BREAK in?! You fucking LET her in?!"

"No!" volleyed Alicia back. "And I already said I locked the door! Why do you keep asking? She raised her thumb and forefinger to her forehead and tried to massage away the stress of a month-long sleepless nightmare. It was a valiant failure. Alicia retorted with the obvious question, "Why did you leave him with me? You knew Black Violet had visited me once already!"

Party Girl shouted back, "Because I wanted to believe in you! Alright? You seemed sure, so I trusted you. I trusted you. You're the smart one, you know?" Her voice started to crack again, "What did you do? What did you even do?! You waited and waited and waited and now my widdle presh presh is gone. Why did I listen to you?! Why didn't you listen to me?!"

Alicia could feel her own emotions rising to match her hopefully-still-but-probably-not tag team partner. Out gushed the apologies, "I'm so sorry, Party Girl. I'm not asking you to forgive me. I'm just so sorry. I'm so, so sorry, I just want you to know I am fighting Black Violet next week, okay? I'm going to fight her. I'm just telling you so you know. I know it doesn't make a difference now. It's all my fault. I'm sorry, Party Girl. It's my fault. I know it's too late. I understand if you hate me. I understand," said Alicia, feeling that knot rise again in her throat.

Gut-wrenching silence smothered the car and its occupant. Seconds passed, and passed, and passed, but the unbreakable quiet lingered. Alicia couldn't breathe. She made the first move, "Part-"

Party Girl shed the forever-cheerful demeanor, and her voice dropped to a lower register. "I hope you kill her," demanded Party Girl. "I wish you would kill her. She deserves it. If anyone deserves it, she does! I want you to kill her. Please? Please would you just kill her? Literally nobody would care. Does anyone even like the crazy turd-smearing psycho living in the vents?" 

"Don't joke like that," said Alicia, chastising her partner with kid gloves. And the gloves were pink. "I can promise you, whatever ends up happening, I'm gonna hurt her really bad," promised Alicia. "Really, really bad. Okay? Even if I don't win, she will never forget what I did to her. Either I leave the ring on my own power or neither of us will."

Yet again, Party Girl trampled the end of her sentence, "Why are you talking like a loser? Do you want to turn your career around and prove the haters and doubters wrong? Then win. Take her precious fucking belt. She deserves to have the thing she loves most taken from her. It's the closest she'll ever feel to how I feel now." 

"I have a request," began the sentence Alicia hoped more than anything she wouldn't regret. "My match with Black Violet? It's a Last Woman Standing match. You've been through too much already. You don't need to have anything to do with this. I know it's personal between you and her, but could you please stay in the back until after the bell? She's my monster now."

"I wasn't planning on it," Party Girl answered back matter-of-factly.

"Oh," replied Alicia after a beat.

"But I'll be cheering for you!" offered the celebrity as consolation. The call dropped, and Alicia sat in the car alone.

* * * * *

"Tapes, TV, VCR," Allen said while pointing to each item. "You know what they look like. I don't know why I bothered pointing them out. I trust you can find a chair on your own," he remarked, gesturing around the densely packed ten-by-ten-foot office. "Just so you know, the door locks when it's closed. I've got the key, so come get me if you need to get back in"

"Can I just hold onto it and give it back when I leave? I don't want to bother you," said Alicia, attempting a bit of self-serving generosity.

The rebuke was immediate, "No, I'm not letting you just 'hold onto' the key. Do I look stupid?" Not when you're off-camera. "You and your tiny bladder can knock, and I'll let you back in," repeated Allen.

Hang on. Hang on. "Sorry, did you say the door locks on its own when you shut it? Automatically?" Jeepers creepers, Dr. Pupe is never going to believe this! thought Alicia, to entirely her own amusement.

"You can also leave it unlocked. I mean, you can't, and I'm not going to, but it can be done." Allen muttered. "We live in exciting times."

Though she couldn't understand it back then, Alicia had known teammates who voluntarily spent their own, limited, personal free time in the tape room–watching tape, no less. Breaking down a play was something an assistant coach did. She played the game on the ice, setting records and putting up hat tricks on the same night as double-digit penalty box minutes, but the Professler's infectious passion turned Alicia into one of those nerds. Watching with Sabrina meant taking the occasional browbeating and getting her ego bruised, but Alicia could bear it now. Wrestlers get used to taking bumps, after all.

Alicia tossed her threadbare, fluorescent green and teal gym bag onto the chair next to her and stepped behind the desk with a strange trepidation. It was her first time on this side of the desk. She felt like a kid in the teacher's lounge. A folded two-step ladder leaned against the scuffed wall by the bookshelf with the sign at the top reading "Singles, Standard." She checked first under B for Black Violet. No luck. She tried V for Violet, Black. Maybe it was a legal name. Nope. Two shelves from the bottom, another section had been labeled "Singles, Stipulation." There she was. A single VHS tape in a white cardboard sleeve caught her eye.

Black Violet Dec 2001 -
12/7/01 SF vs Riptide (W) 3:10
2/22/02 SF vs Tiffany Bertha (W) 6:12
4/26/02 cage vs Kat Cable (W) 10:07
4/30/02 SF vs Trace Roote (W) 28:58
8/23/02 barb. ropes vs Kendra Terminus (W, TV title) 50:06
10/31/02 barb. cage vs Lady Gallows (W, retains) 1:05:11
11/30/02 I quit vs Shieldbreaker Mazenda (W, retains) 1:18:30
3/31/03 ladder vs Party Girl (W, retains) 1:31:46

Black Violet didn't have many matches on her record, but she was still undefeated. Every single one was all some flavor of no-DQ match - assuming "SF" stood for "street fight." How would Sabrina prepare for a fight like this? If she recalled correctly, the grappler spent most of her time looking for injuries to exploit. That's something, thought Alicia. She pushed the cassette into the VCR, looked at the back of the VHS box, and fast-forwarded to the start of the first match. Then she grabbed a Pupe's Full-Mouth Dentistry pen and leafed through the bicuspid-shaped legal pad looking for a clean page. "Ow!" cried Alicia, instinctively bringing her index finger to her mouth and sucking on a fresh papercut.

More impressive than the champion's capacity for violence was her ability to endure it. After wincing her way through most of those eight bouts, Alicia wondered what it would take to keep her unhinged opponent down.  Somehow, Black Violet rose from the splintered remains of a barbed-wire table and raced up the ladder to bite Party Girl when she touched the TV Championship belt and retain the title. Shieldbreaker Mazenda looked to have the match won with a brainbuster onto the steel ring steps. But when she grabbed the championship belt to try and hit Black Violet, Mazenda went from controlling the match to having a set of fangs in her neck to screaming "I quit" in submission in seconds. 

The final bell of the last match sounded at 8:27 PM, according to Sabrina's wall clock. Alicia paused the cassette on the same camera shot she saw during the Party Girl interview at the first show Alicia attended: Dark, wild eyes, face painted in violet tears, and Party Girl's blood running down her pale chin. Black Violet's unorthodox--heck, unnatural--fighting style made the straitjacketed fighter hard to predict - except for the biting. Lady Gallows grabbed the champion's belt from the referee and held it up to the crowd before Black Violet's title defense. Chomp. Touch the belt, and Black Violet comes running--that definitely feels like something I can use.

Alicia looked down at the notepad in her lap and felt confident she had circled the words "exploit injuries" enough times. She checked the back of the VHS box again. Black Violet had only fought eight matches total - still very much a rookie in her own right - and she probably hadn't been trained at a place like Hard Times, either. It seemed like a fair assumption. Now the rookie just needed to wring something useful out of it. With so few matches and little to no formal training, Alicia guessed Black Violet probably didn't know how to escape or reverse submissions, probably couldn't chain wrestle, and probably couldn't reliably counter throws, either. That also feels like something. Shieldbreaker Mazenda had been the only one brave enough to even try. Based on the few examples Alicia had to go by, the theory seemed to hold water.

Alicia hadn't noticed any obvious injuries from the tape. Maybe she could create one, but did it even matter? It was a Last Woman Standing match; winning by submission wasn't even possible. The match only ended when one competitor couldn't stand up within a ten-count. What did Alicia have that could keep Black Violet down for ten?

Nothing. 

But something clicked. She thought back to the first time watching tape with Sabrina. Was she looking for the obvious answer and not the correct one? After all, Alicia didn't need to knock Black Violet out for ten seconds - just keep her down.  Alicia looked at the papercut again. Maybe she just needed to hit the right spot.

The seeds of a plan started to come together. Sabrina would be proud: one of her lessons about ring awareness finally stuck. The Hard Times graduate tidied up and headed for the parking lot. The match took place in four days. Tomorrow after work, she'd swing by Things 'n More to pick up some supplies for an arts and crafts project. Alicia was feeling inspired.