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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 to her hands and feet. Alicia raised her hockey stick high and swung it down like an axe at the back of her tormentor’s knee. As if on instinct, Black Violet rolled out of harm’s way at the last possible moment, sparing herself another crippling blow. She was up like a flash, slingshotting off the ropes towards the challenger still recovering from the 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 to turn around, two cold, sticky hands clawed their way up her face toward her eye sockets. She grit her teeth and stuck to the gameplan: don’t waste energy fighting Black Violet’s unbreakable grip. Alicia slammed the wooden blade of her stick against her captor’s left shin and dragged it straight down the bone, buying herself a few seconds of respite from the cracked yellow talons digging into her cheeks and eyelids.
Alicia slammed the blade of the stick into the same shin and once again scraped the wounded flesh. Rather than loosen her grip, Black Violet leapt onto Alicia’s back, forcing the challenger to bear her entire weight. The former hockey player dropped her stick, reached back and grabbed a handful of greasy, matted hair in her right hand, wrapped her left arm around Black Violet’s leg, and took two unsteady steps toward the corner with her gym bag.
With a signature burst of power, Alicia 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 rush from the champion’s lungs, Alicia felt her own left shoulder smack into the barely padded concrete.
The ponytailed referee still in the ring started her count, “One! Two!”
Black Violet lay flat on her back, wheeze-coughing between soggy gasps for air. This felt like a chance. Alicia got to her feet and reached into her gym bag’s side pocket. Her fingers and thumb slipped into place as she withdrew a pair of cast-iron fabric scissors 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 right ankle.
Alicia plunged the blades between Black Violet’s ragged shoelaces. The material was durable enough to slow Alicia down as she cut her way through the filthy, crisscrossed laces all the way to the top. With the laces completely severed, the mismatched wrestling shoe on Black Violet’s right foot visibly loosened. The champion started to struggle, but Alicia couldn’t afford to let her get away. She grabbed Black Violet’s left ankle and stood up, then swung a hard toe kick into the back of her left knee—the same knee that felt the kiss of a hockey stick moments earlier—coaxing enough compliance out of Black Violet to allow Alicia to roll her onto her belly.
Alicia dropped onto the small of her opponent’s back in a seated position and pulled Black Violet’s left leg into a Single-leg Boston Crab. Rather than torque back on the captured limb, Alicia instead pulled her opponent’s foot into place and secured a tight grip. She wedged the scissors between the laces of Black Violet’s left wrestling shoe and got to work. One at a time, the laces gave way as the special-purpose scissors chewed through the material, but there wasn’t enough time to finish the job.
Alicia yelped as Black Violet bucked her onto the floor. No! Don’t lose track of her! Alicia rolled onto her back just in time to see bloodstained hospital scrubs and a pair of mismatched wrestling shoes rush past. She tightened her grip on the scissors just as something determined and powerful tried to tug them away. Alicia and the crowd gasped in unison as, with one violent yank, Black Violet took control of the scissors.
The challenger rolled to the side a split-second before the scissors slammed into the floor where her head had been. Another blur of motion sped past as Alicia pushed up to all fours. Black Violet sprang from the floor to the apron and up to the top turnbuckle with uncanny grace. Much less so when she leapt 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 screamed full-volume at Alicia to get out of the way, scramble under the ring, and look for something heavy to hit the champion with—but that wasn’t the gameplan. She instead shot from the ground, threw both arms out wide, and caught her screeching assailant in a bear hug. Genuine confusion registered on Black Violet’s sallow, painted features as she dangled inches from the floor while Alicia crushed the air out of her. The momentary shock turned to violent resistance, and Alicia struggled to maintain her grip as her rabid opponent flailed at her back with the scissors.
Rather than let go, Alicia charged toward the ringpost with a full head of steam, plowing Black Violet’s back into the steel. The impact stunned the champ long enough for Alicia to transition the bearhug into a front waistlock. She dropped low, popped her hips, and sent Black Violet sailing overhead with a Belly-to-belly Suplex. Alicia knew as soon as she hit the floor, it would be a race to get back to her feet. Just as she got to her knees, that unbreakable grip latched onto her left braid and yanked her head back hard enough to cause whiplash. Something struck Alicia in the forehead, and something warm ran down the bridge of her nose.
She gazed up at Black Violet’s painted, weeping expression that somehow looked both pale and dark silhouetted against the arena lights. The champion clutched the cast iron scissors tight in her bony hand and gouged them again into Alicia’s exposed forehead. Although Alicia hadn’t felt the first cut, she really felt the second. The unforgiving metal scuffed open the flesh as it tore another angry wound into her forehead, eliciting a scream of agony from the trapped challenger as a trail of blood rolled down her temple and cheek. A third vicious stab ripped open a hole just above Alicia’s right eyebrow, forcing her eye shut as the resulting fountain of claret poured down her face and onto her white and yellow hockey jersey.
An earsplitting screech preceded a fourth stab of the scissors that grew even louder when Alicia grabbed Black Violet’s wrist and held it tight. The scissor-wielding Mother of Nightmares bared her fangs and bent closer to snap at Alicia’s fingers. The challenger tried to pull her hand away from those eager jaws, but Black Violet leaned closer still. Alicia grabbed her opponent’s wrist with her free hand as she rose to her feet and charged the ringpost, judo flipping the ghost of Plunj Arena over her shoulder and headfirst into the steel. The champion went down in a heap clutching her skull as the scissors clattered to the floor beside her.
The referee once again started her count. “One! Two! Three! Four!”
The scissors lay on the ground within arm’s reach, so Alicia reached. Brandishing the tailor’s implement with blood pouring down her face, she looked every bit as deranged as the woman who stabbed her. Alicia leapt onto her downed opponent’s back and snatched her left ankle. Rather than work on Black Violet’s injured left knee, she slipped one of the scissor blades under the remaining uncut shoelaces. Come on, come on! Alicia shouted internally as her tool snagged just short of the finish line on a Gordian facsimile of a bow. She repositioned the scissors for the final cut when 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.
She changed her grip on the scissors and swiped at her literal hanger-on’s arm. Despite impaling only the air, the threat of a clean hit made Black Violet let go of Alicia’s jersey. A surge of disproportionate strength threw Alicia face-first to the floor hard enough that she only just barely broke her fall with her forearms—all that front bump training paid off.
Black Violet scrambled to regroup. Alicia had lost the chance to stay on her, but maybe she traded it for an opportunity, if she was quick. Black Violet rose to her hands and knees to spider crawl away, but a sudden tug on the champion’s left leg got her attention. Alicia lunged with both arms outstretched, using every inch of her six-foot-three stature to grab her wriggling opponent’s shoe. Black Violet met the annoyance with violence and kicked Alicia in the face as the bloody wrestler tried to keep her head down.
Kicks struck Alicia’s head like raindrops that hurt like the dickens, turning the stream of blood from her forehead into a gusher. She rose to her feet and yanked Black Violet up off the floor by one leg to flip her onto her back. Unphased by the landing, the furious champ resumed kicking at her captor. Left knee flush to the back of her right knee. Release the left foot with your right hand, step over. Keep turning... a vicious kick nearly sent the challenger sprawling, but she had already stepped into place for the Figure Four. Alicia dropped backwards onto the floor and poured on the pressure while Black Violet threw her head back and howled like a rusty door in a storm.
Alicia took the opportunity to cast the horrible, her-own-blood-soaked shears aside. Back to the matter at hand—so to speak. She clamped two large, powerful hands around her foe’s wrestling footwear to a surprising amount of resistance. The Mother of Nightmares wore her shoes tight. One, two, three quick wrenches and Alicia pulled the worn, moldy shoe free, overwhelming her senses with a scent of vinegar and hot summer roadkill. Eau de trenchfoot. Yellow, splintered toenails tipped the foulest appendage Alicia ever beheld. She reeled at the stench of success wafting from Black Violet’s gangly left foot and flung the cursed object into the crowd. Forgive me.
The champ used her powerful arms to roll herself over, forcing Alicia to break the Figure Four Leglock to avoid having the submission reversed. Both competitors scrambled to their feet, but Black Violet was up first. She ensnared Alicia’s right hand, pulling her up and into the path of a Short-arm Clothesline that put the challenger right back down.
The Mother of Nightmares maintained her grip and yanked her prey up to her feet and then off them, effortlessly lifting Alicia’s muscular, 193-pound frame up onto her shoulders. She approached the steel guardrail and let go, content to let gravity do the rest. Despite managing to get her hands and arms up, Alicia’s skull bounced off the steel on the way to the floor. The pounding headache was enough on its own without the ringing in her ears. A growing puddle formed beneath her as blood poured from multiple gaping wounds across her forehead while her aching muscles screamed for mercy as she pressed up off the floor. The attack seemed to relent for a moment.
That probably wasn’t a good sign.
Alicia turned her stiff neck and plummeted into those cavernous eyes. Piranha grin. Porcelain white complexion weeping purple warpaint. A vinyl torture chamber of hooks. Shadow descended as the feral champion lifted the body bag into position above her struggling captive and grabbed a fistful of hair. She wanted to give Alicia a hood.
Rather than fight the unassailable grip on her braid, Alicia threw her head back and 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. Alicia dragged herself away from her opponent and up to her feet, racing toward a security guard seated at the corner where two guardrails met.
“Move! I’m taking this!” Alicia shouted as she waved off the bearded security guard with one hand before throwing him off with two. Alicia grabbed the chair, lifted it, and turned. “MMmmffphhh!” she protested, doubling over as a wrestling shoe buried itself in her stomach.
The chair clattered to the floor as Black Violet pulled Alicia into a side headlock. In one fluid motion, the champ leapt onto the barricade and then off, using her momentum to spin Alicia headfirst down onto the chair with a Tornado DDT, causing her skull to hit the steel with a noise closer to a splat than a clang. The wiped-out challenger rolled off of the chair and stared through glassy eyes at a starburst-patterned bloodstain on the seat. Her forehead throbbed, and ached, and pounded, and each thought hurt worse than the last.
“One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Si-”
She tried to gather herself up onto all fours. Black Violet did it for her. The TV Champion dragged her to something approaching upright, gathered momentum, and slung Alicia shoulder-first into the steel ring steps, then turned and stalked towards the bloodstained chair with a slightly lopsided gait. Gnarled fingers closed around the steel. She turned and loomed over her victim with a diabolical glint in her eye and a face masked in sinister implication.
Things were no longer going according to plan.
