Post by hawkeye on Nov 9, 2020 2:47:10 GMT
BETHANY CHRISTIAN:
Bethany Christian held the box out to Trixie. “Just consider it.”
TRIXIE DECKER:
Trixie looked in the box. “I’ve considered it. I’m saying no.”
KANAKO AKIYAMA:
“This is fucked up, Bethany,” Kanako said, clutching onto Trixie’s shoulders. “We’re all trying to put what happened at the last event behind us and you drag this out?
AKIRA YUKIMURA:
NOAH LIGER:
Bethany’s eyes met Kanako’s and then moved over to the other two women’s, Noah Liger and Akira Yukimura. Both were wrestlers but not with FAWN. Not yet, anyway - not that Bethany hadn’t brought it up. But they were apparently in some sort of relationship with Decker and Akiyama, which meant, right now, they were giving the older woman death glares firmly rooted in the bowels of hell.
Bethany raised a hand. “I understand your concern--”
“No, you do not,” Akira said, her eyes boring holes into Bethany’s head. “You can’t begin to fathom why this is unacceptable.”
“And we already got Trixie a costume for the show!” Noah protested. She held up a cute, if very slutty, witch costume. “I thought FAWN did more of this than,” she nervously gestured to the box Bethany held out, “that.”
“There’s a method to the madness,” Bethany said, mostly addressing Trixie. “Your popularity has soared almost overnight. Everyone loves an underdog. We’ve had to reprint your shirts, Trixie. Including your newest one that features an image of you from the end of your last match.” The CEO laughed in disbelief. “A new shirt design and we had to reprint it in a week. The fans are hungry for you. And they love what they say.”
“Her family didn’t,” Kanako snapped, pulling Trixie tighter. “We hated every second of it.”
“It was awful what happened,” Bethany admitted. “Every second of it. And De Cyr and Grimm will both be punished for this. I’ve already begun the process of terminating Kate from FAWN and all related companies, and I’ll be seeing to it she’s blacklisted from our partners. Anciline, well… I’ve got special plans for her. But I also have special plans for you, Trixie.” Again, she held the box out. “But I need you to at least try. Now, I can technically demand you wear this from now on to every match. I will not.”
“Good,” Noah blurted, emotions getting the best of her. Trixie took her hand and squeezed.
“But I will,” Bethany continued, “demand you wear it tonight. A test run. See if you like it at least, please. I think you’ll like it. I think you’ll like the crowd’s reaction. I think this is something you’ll want.”
“Which is something we don’t want,” Akira snapped
“With all due respect,” Bethany said, not looking away from Decker, “the only opinions that matter in this moment are Trixie’s and mine’s.”
“So I have no choice,” Trixie replied softly.
“You do have a choice,” Bethany assured Trixie. “And you have a whole match to make it.” She gently pushed the box into Trixie’s hands. “Do me proud tonight, Decker. More importantly,” Bethany called over her shoulder, “do yourself proud.”
A silence fell on the room. Kanako’s embrace grew tighter. “Goddamn you, Bethany,” she whispered.
Trixie opened the box and began to undress.
“You are not going to wear that,” Akira said flatly. “None of us are okay with it. None of your friends are, either. I am comfortable saying this much.”
Trixie didn’t look up at the women as she pulled her shirt off. “I have no other option besides walk out. And if any of you are asking me to walk away from a match because you don’t like the gear I’m told to wear, I want you to remember you’re telling me I have the right to make demands on you about your matches, too.”
Noah winced. “None of us would dream of asking that.”
“It’s just,” Kanako began, “we don’t want to see her retur--”
“Me,” Trixie said, looking at them as she undid her bra. “That was me the whole match. Every bit of it was me. Please, I know it was upsetting but put the blame where it lies. On me.”
“No one’s blaming you,” Kanako said, her guilt over Kate attacking Trixie after the fight still heavy on her heart.
“Everyone’s nervous when we talk about what happened,” Trixie said flatly. She side-eyed the women. “Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you don’t all get upset like I almost fell into an abyss while ignoring the fact I walked away from that on my own.”
No one responded.
“I love all of you,” Trixie said, rubbing the tattoo of their names on her chest. “This has to happen once, though. If you wanna go home, I get it. I won’t hold it against any of you.”
“We’re not going anywhere,” Kanako promised. “We’ll be here, no matter what.”
“We’re just worried you’re going to like this,” Noah whimpered.
Trixie looked in the box, down at the pile of black clothing and the brand new crown of barbwire resting on top.
“So am I,” Trixie said.
Bethany Christian stood proudly in the center of the FAWN ring. Her ring. No, she didn't own the promotion but she'd fought in this ring, bled in it, and made other women bleed in it. And for the bulk of FAWN's life, she'd kept it running.
And Bethany had no patience for her ring, her authority, being disrespected.
But at FAWNmania, that happened. And that simply had to be corrected.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the tall exec said into the mic. “We're about to have a special match that is so near and dear to my heart, I wanted to personally come down and introduce both it and its combatants. Consider it a special treat in your Halloween bag. I know I've been eagerly looking forward to it.”
The fans muttered in confusion at FAWN's head paying so much attention to a match. Bethany raised the mic to her lips again. “Ladies and gentlemen, introducing first, from De Cyr, France…” She looks at the info card, where the metric measurements are crossed out and replaced with feet and pounds, “standing at five feet, seven inches and one hundred thirty-five pounds… ANCILINE DE CYR!”
ANCILINE DE CYR:
"La Marseillaise"
The French anthem began to play and all heads turned to see FAWN's V.P. angrily stomping her way to the ring. Donning the black lace and satin bustier, panties, and ankle boots she was once known for, the former FAWN and FAWN 2 star glared at Bethany as she made way to the ring. No sneers at the fans. She climbed the metal steps and moved to a corner, arms crossed, livid.
Bethany gave her vice president the kindest smile. “Why, Anciline my dear, you don't seem happy to have a match tonight. And it's Halloween. No costume?”
The FAWN fans burst into cheers and laughter at this. But Bethany wasn't done.
“Or did you have enough play dress-up at FAWNamania when you came out here and pretended you were in charge of this company?” Christian boomed. “When you set up a hardcore four-on-one, involving talent from other promotions, without my approval? Without my knowledge” Bethany's ire was raised. “Putting one of my wrestlers in a situation where they had to, literally, get their body broken to keep their employment here?”
The fans begin to heckle and jeer de Cyr but she obviously doesn't care.
“Well, tonight you get to play wrestler,” Bethany continued. “And I know that's something you've been good at. You had quite a career at FAWN before moving up to management. Nineteen wins, six losses. And that's not including your FAWN 2 record or the matches before you were signed.” Anciline didn't like Bethany buttering her up like this but she watched silently.
“So obviously, you won't mind a surprise match yourself,” Christian assured her underling. “And you won't mind me making your return to the squared circle extra special.” As the CEO spoke, ring attendants rolled a casket, sitting on a stone altar that simply said FAWN in large, engraved letters, to ringside. “A coffin match, Anceline. Do whatever you have to, but put your opponent in the coffin and slam it shut to win.”
Bethany moved towards de Cyr, looking her dead in the eyes. “See if you can bury her like you tried to bury her career.”
The arena went dark. Mist began to fill the stadium as black lights slowly turned on. “Your opponent for this fight, standing at five feet, three inches and one hundred seventeen pounds... hailing from a Special Place of Hate and Nightmare,” Bethany's voice rose to a steady yell. “ALL RISE FOR YOUR BLOODY QUEEN… BEATRIX DECKER!”
"The Ballad Of Resurrection Joe And Rosa Whore" BY ROB ZOMBIE
Rob Zombie's aggressive sounds played as a shrouded figure parted the curtains and entered the arena. Stepping forward in a long, hooded cloak, the figure stared at the glowing arena before her. She took the edges of her hood and pulled it back to reveal Beatrix. In a black top, laced with an upside-down star over her chest that barely tried to hide the heart puzzle piece tattoo, long black leather pants, knee-high boots, and a barbwire crown crusted in her own blood, Beatrix stared out over the screaming fans. But her face paint – a bloody red hand with a third eye painted above her own – was what sent the fans reeling.
Methodically, Beatrix moved to the ring. Fans reached to touch her and she allowed it, even sometimes touching back gently and holding their hands. But her eyes never left the ring and the woman who tried to do her in.
Beatrix slipped into the ring, shedding the cloak to a nervous attendant. She carefully removed the crown and placed it on top of the folded cloak so the ring attendant wouldn't have to worry about hurting herself.
Across the ring, Anciline laughed. “T'es sérieux? Decker?” The older, taller woman rolled her eyes. “She is petite and, on her best day, a fetish fighter.”
“You're literally in lingerie,” Beatrix growled, “mon petite fucktoy.”
Anciline’s eyes flamed with hate.
“Now, last time, Anciline, you gave Beatrix an ultimatum. Win or be fired,” Bethany continued. “It seems patently unfair I don’t do something requirement for you in this match. So, Beatrix, when you win I’ll figure out some boon. We can work it out later, really.” She waves it off. “Anciline, if you win I have the amazing prize of I’ll forget all about what you pulled in FAWNamania.” Her face becomes deadly serious. “Lose and, well… I can’t fire you, per se, but I foresee your time in FAWN being very uncomfortable for a good, long while.”
De Cyr only glared.
“But I’ll give you the same offer you gave Beatrix,” Bethany says in a syrupy sweet tone. “Give in now and we can skip to the fun part.”
“Va te faire foutre,” Anciline spat.
“I’m guessing that wasn’t, ‘Gosh, I sure am sorry, Bethany, for all the trouble I caused,’” Bethany joked to the glee of the fans. “Very well, ladies. Let me leave the ring and then you two can proceed to tear each other apart.”
Bethany moved to leave the ring but Anciline grabbed her wrist. “Mon cher, this is certainly, how you say, a joke? I outweigh her. I’m taller than her. I’m meaner than her. Vous know her win last time was a fluke against idiots. I am an established star of the ring. This will be embarrassing. She cannot go against someone unafraid to truly go hard.”
Bethany grinned. “Well, today we’re learning a lot together. For instance, I just learned you’ve never read the histories of the wrestlers we sign up. And you get to learn,” Bethany cooed, placing a hand on Anciline’s shoulder, “That before she came to FAWN, Beatrix’s entire career was hardcore wrestling and death matches. Sure, there was some, as you put it, ‘fetish’ thrown in, but she regularly got beaten so bad and bloody, her nickname was Zom-Bea.” Bethany gae the shoulder one more squeeze before leaving the ring. “All the other lessons I’ll leave to her to teach you.”
Anciline looked back across the ring. Trixie - she refused to give her the name Beatrix and play into Decker’s little head game - stared at her. No mouthed or nonverbal threats. She just stared, almost looking through Anciline. De Cyr had faced stronger, crueller women in FAWN’s squared circle than Trixie could ever dream of being, women she wasn’t fit to hold the boots of. The fact this puny waif would attempt to intimidate de Cyr was nothing short of insulting.
Insulting… but Anciline did feel a knot forming in the pit of her stomach.
The bell rang and Beatrix boomed across the ring, eyes wild. Anciline threw her hands up to block an attack but the tiny goth slammed a kick on the side of her knee. Dropping to her other knee, Anciline cried out.
And that’s when the hand shoved into her mouth.Beatrix’s nails raked the top of Anciline’s mouth and the VP gaped in horror and agony at her tiny attacker. She was even too stunned to react when Beatrix roundhouse kicked her to the back of the head. Ancy went, face first, to the mat.
“That’s better,” Beatrix replied coldly. “Bow to your queen, Anciline.” The petite fighter ground her boot into the back of the woman’s head. “Genuflect and ask for mercy.” A double axe handle slammed into Ancy’s back. “Your ring rust is showing. How long has it been since you had the spine-” Trixie kicked Anciline in the back - “to step in the ring?”
“Va te faire foutre!” Anciline screamed as she shoved Trixie back and looked up. “You dare--
Beatrix brought her heel down between Ancy’s eyes, dropping her back to the mat.
“Yes, I do,” the goth said calmly. “For all my life.”
Beatrix grabs her opponent’s arm and pulled her to her feet. Spinning, she twisted the arm pushed the wrist back. Anciline yelped, slapping at her arm. “Nothing to say, Anciline?” Beatrix asked. “You were so talkative when I saw you last.”
Beatrix raised an elbow and dropped forward, slamming it through the trapped arm. Anciline screamed as she pulled away, cursing. But immediately hands dug into her hair.
“Let me talk then,” came the soft, hateful voice. Beatrix pivoted and slung her into a new corner. “You pinpointed me to end my time here. You put me in an unwinnable match with women who wanted to end my career.” Anciline pushed up in time to catch a boot to the throat, pinning her to the turnbuckle in a choke. Beatrix leaned forward. “Because I violated a clause in my contract that doesn’t exist? Because other promotions have figured out how to use me?” Beatrix leaned her weight onto Ancy’s throat. “Tell me.”
Anciline choked and sputtered furiously. “Tais-toi, petit imbécile! I owe you nothing!”
Beatrix rewarded Anciline’s impertinence with a kick to the side of her head. Racing to the opposite ring, she returned and drove both of her knees into Anciline’s face. The VP shudders at the impact.
“I just need to loosen that tongue,” Beatrix said. She pulled Anciline from the corner by her hair, but the larger woman pushed up and drove her shoulder into Trixie’s midsection. She plowed the tiny fighter across the ring into turnbuckles, using her own body to drive more air and fight from Decker. This was followed by a gesture meant less to hurt and more to remind Trixie of her station - a solid slap across the face.
Ancy pulled Trixie forward into a belly-to-bell bearhug, flipping her over in a belly-to-belly suplex. The French Nightmare immediately began to pepper Trixie’s face with punches, aiming straight for her eyes and nose. Trixie could only fend off so much of the attack and too much of it connected.
Trixie tried to shake the attack off as Ancy pulled her up to a sitting position by her hair and snapped bodyscissors on her. The older woman had a shocking amount of strength in her legs as Trixie was learning, first-hand, as her ribs fought to expand.
Punches to the back of the head followed. Anciline wasn’t even pretending this was going to be a clean fight. She wasn’t here to just win, she was here to solve a rodent problem. Trixie wasn’t the only pest but she would be the example to the rest of the rats in the back, who would watch her limp, shattered body carted away on a stretcher.
Again.
Two hands clasped around Trixie’s throat and pulled her back. “You want to know why, ma pauvre souris, why you?” Trixie could only gag and cough in reply, frantically pulling at the iron grip on her throat while legs crushed her abdomen. “I could say it was because you sullied our good name by consorting with gutter trash promotions and their ‘talent.’ I could say it’s because your spot would be better served by someone who might make an impact.” She pulled Trixie back to make sure she heard the next words. “Honnêtement, I was bored and you were the first one I thought of.”
Trixie threw her head back into Ancy’s mouth with enough force to make her break both holds, pulling away from her and gasping. Ancy rose, laughing. “Vous n'aimez pas être étouffé? I assumed gutter trash like you enjoyed being used, Trixie. It’s been your style, hasn’t it?” A buzzsaw kick spills Trixie onto her side.
BUZZSAW KICK:
Trixie rolled over but Ancy puts her back on her back. She dropped her butt, landing on Trixie’s midsection. “I assumed the tall girl… Akira? I assumed she’d like the rough stuff on you. Maybe Kanako, too. She seems folle - how you say, crazy? - enough.” Aciline returned to strangling Trixie, loving the look of fear in the smaller woman’s eye. “Something happened with this once, no? You are assez terrifié.” Cruelty covered Ancy’s face like a mask. “Thank you for this tasty little treat, Trixie.”
“Ms. de Cyr,” the referee said nervously, “I can’t DQ you but I still need you to stop--”
“Do not forget who signs your checks, écume!” Anciline warns the official. “Your job is JUST to announce when I take out this trash.” Cowardly, the referee backed away. Anciline returned her gaze to Trixie’s purple face. “Do not fear, Trixie. You won’t die in this ring. Just your career will. I told you I’d take it.”
“Be… cause… you’re… b-bored?” Trixie forces.
“Oh, no, I was bored last time,” Anciline said. “This time, I just hate you.”
Anicile pushed herself up into a handstand then dropped a knee into Trixie’s chest. “You are nothing,” she reminded Trixie.
The tiny fighter stared up at her, the fear subsided. No hate replacing it. Just stared. Something about this upset de Cyr. An opponent not giving her something was almost worse than having something being taken away.
“FINE!” Anciline yelled, dropping to the mat. She pulled Trixie into a bodyscissor/sleeper combo. “If you’re going to not talk like a used up ragdoll, let’s make you into one!” She pressed the hold in tight - tighter than was realistically safe - and jerked Trixie’s head side to side, swearing at the woman under her breath. “You think a change of gear and some face paint is going to scare me? Fuck your carnnival tricks, Decker! This is the big time. I am not scared of clowns!”
Trixie struggled and scratches but as time dripped on, her struggles slow and her hands fell limply to the side.
“Already?” Ancy cackled as she stands. She dragged Trixie to the side of the ring and toppled her over the top rope. Decker landed in a collapsed pile like a doll dropped off a bridge. Satisfied, Anciline left the ring and wandered over to the coffin. She lifted the lid, grabbed Decker, and pulled her to her feet.
That was when Trixie slammed a hand on Ancy’s cheek, shoving her head into the coffin, and slammed the lid down. The VP roared in pain and shock. When she yanked her head free, she saw a set of metal steps coming at her fast. They clanged off of Ancy’s face, knocking her back a few feet.
Beatrix tossed the steps aside and shoulder tackled de Cyr, driving her to the floor. She owed her boss a few good smacks across the jaw and Beatrix intended to repay them. She fell onto Ancy with a falling fist to the chest. The veep yowled and tried to scramble up Trixie folded the woman down and grabbed her around the waist, lifting and toppling her over in a gutwrench suplex.
GUTWRENCH SUPLEX:
Ancy slams into the thin covering on the concrete, winded but yet somehow still enraged as she rolled onto her stomach. The sheer indignity of Trixie fighting back was simply too much to bear. This pipsqueak was bred to be an easy victory and yet here she was, upsetting the order of nature by giving Ancy a hard time.
Decker dropped onto her boss’s back and pulled the woman’s arm behind her in a chicken wing. Slapping a hand under her jaw, Beatrix turned it into a crossface chickenwing.
CROSSFACE CHICKENWING:
The woman under Beatrix flailed for her life. Beatrix just stared calmly, holding the tortuous attack in place. “It’s not fun to feel trapped, is it?” she said finally.
Anciline fumed, finally rolling over and dislodging her attacker. She saw Trixie racing away, turning and running back. She watched as the woman lept at her and landed across her shoulders. It was meant to be a Frankensteiner.
Anciline had other plans and dropped Trixie to the floor in a powerbomb.
The wind knocked from her, Trixie felt Ancy drag her from the side of the ring and closer to the barricade. She heaved Trixie up and slapped her in an abdominal stretch.
ABDOMINAL STRETCH:
“How does this feel, Trixie?!” Ancy demanded. A taller woman, she was able to stretch someone as petite as Trixie out more. The goth gritted her teeth, taking the attack as best she could. Ancy’s eyes trailed to a fan in the front row holding a bottle of beer. She snagged it.
“You look parched, Trixie!” Ancy cried. She rammed the bottle as far into Trixie’s mouth as she could, waving it around so Trixie had a hard time either swallowing or not swallowing it. Silent gags and chokes sounded from Trixie until Ancy saw the bottle was empty and she yanked it out. Trixie gasped and pulled in as much air as possible.
And then the bottle came down on the side of her head.
It disappointed Anciline the bottle didn’t shatter like they do in movies but the agony flashing across Trixie’s eyes more than made up for it. Stunned, Trixie’s head hung to the side. De Cyr released the hold and threw Trixie back into the ring, following her shortly after.
Getting back into the circle, Ancy saw Trixie pushing up to all fours. This, obviously, would not do. Simply unforgivable, she told herself, as she ran at Trixie and delivered a somersault leg drop across the back. Trixie crushed back to canvas to her superior’s delight.
SOMERSAULT LEGDROP:
Anciline spun around and grabbed Trixie’s legs, heaving them up in a Boston crab. Decker howled, punching the mat.
“Now, now, Trixie,” Anciline cooed. “No tap-outs. Don’t worry, I’ll tuck you in soon enough.”
Trixie palmed the mat but Anciline had height and weight advantage. And she felt like using it and her tongue. Leaning back, Anciline began to taunt Trixie, “Truth be told, Trixie, I did read up on you. I was most shocked you didn’t in my little maze. Apparently, before coming to FAWN, you were considered difficile à tuer… how you say, hard to kill?” She leaned back more and Trixie howled.
“My mistake was going outside the company,” Anciline confessed in a rare moment of accepting blame. “Next time - oh, and there will be one if you are stupid enough to come back in my ring after I destroy you here - I will use top tier combattantes. Next time, you will learn ‘hard to kill’ does not mean ‘impossible to kill.’”
Beatrix clawed her way to the ropes, trying to grab them, but Anciline grabbed her hair and shook. “Non! We play by my rules! And my rules state you take what I give you and lose!”
“How’s… those rules… work out… against Krystal Erway?” Beatrix struggled.
Anciline slowly looked down at Trixie, shocked at the audacity for her to invoke an embarrassing loss from so long ago. “How… DARE you!” Anciline released the hold and began stomping on the back of Trixie’s neck. “I beat Shea London! I beat Shannen Dennehy! Kylie Sanders! Hopkins! Mitchell! LeBlanc!” She reached down and dug her nails into Trixie’s forehead. “I beat real warriors and you didn’t even have to spine to take advantage of an easy win over a schizophrène who laid crippled at your feet!” A rip and deep red scratches appeared in Trixie’s face make-up, dripping slightly.
Anciline hauled back and sent a boot into Trixie’s rib. “You dare try to play mind games with me?! Putain stupide, you have now picked a second fight with me you cannot win!” She pulled Trixie up and across her shoulders, spinning around in an airplane spin before dropping Trixie and letting the goth’s face me Ancy’s knee in a GTS.
GTS:
Beatrix’s body shakes and crumples to the mat. Ancy straddled her and pulled Trixie up into a camel clutch, sitting all her weight down on Decker’s back.
“You wish to bavader? Fine, let us chat, Trixie. I will defeat you in this ring because I’ve already defeated you repeatedly. Do you know how?” She laughed. “Because I’ve had a say in all the matches your entire time here. I helped choose your opponents. Why else do your premiere match was against Katsuki Akiyama on the same night she wrestled another woman? I didn’t see the point of wasting actual talent on you!”
She pulled back harder on Trixie’s jaw. “Any time your name has come up as an opponent for actual talent, I’ve said no - because why waste the good wrestlers?” She sneered down at Trixie. “And that title shot you ‘won’? That you never got to take?” She leaned into Trixie’s ear. “I’m why. I always found a reason to bump you from the schedule. You were never going to get a chance. You couldn’t have won the belt but I refused to even let that charade tarnish its gold,” she spat down at Trixie. “Not that you ‘want’ a belt. I’ve read interviews where you said you tired of them long ago. Calling them ‘leashes.’ You are a LIAR!”
Beatrix felt as if she was about to snap at the middle of her back but, struggle as she might, she was trapped and Anciline loved every second of it.
“You don’t want belts because you know you aren’t good enough to wear one,” Ancy crowed. “If you got one, you’d lose it immediately and expose yourself as the talentless hack to are!” Anciline jabbed her nails into Trixie’s eyes and ground them. “But I see, Trixie Decker! I see you are nothing and that’s how I’ll leave you. Unchanged except for the bleeding.”
Anciline palmed the back of Trixie’s had and slammed it into the mat before rising. She watched Trixie struggle, curling in a ball. Her hands rose to her eyes, rubbing them and tending them.
“Are you going to cry, Trixie?” Ancy scoffed. “Boo-hoo-hoo! Show us all your big girl tears! Maybe your girlfriends will kiss them away! Or maybe they’ll see how weak you are and move on.” She knelt down. “Just like everyone else. How many lovers-turn-tag partners have deserted you? And the rumor I hear is you aren’t even on speaking terms with half your family. Maybe tonight’s the night everyone else catches up to them.”
Beatrix looked up at Anciline, stone-faced. Her irises grey, her pupils white. But Ancy rolled her eyes. “Part of the trick, Trixie. You aren’t the first person to palm contacts and slip them in during a match.” A hand clamped on Trixie’s throat as de Cyr glowered. “Besides, I snuck a look at Bethany’s plans for your new persona. Now, back to fear.” Ancy’s other hand sought out Trixie’s throat.
Beatrix caught it and bent the fingers backwards.
The scream was loud and long and all the people in the arena loved it almost as much as Beatrix clocking Anciline across the mouth. The hit spun de Cyr one-eighty, letting Beatrix throw herself back into the ropes and rebound at her target, a knee raised to the base of her skull. Anciline topped onto her face.
Beatrix ran through all the holds in her head, eleven years of wrestling, but she couldn’t think beyond, “End her.” No holds, no moves. Just visions of Ancy in a ball of agony. Decker instead ran to the opposite ropes and whipped herself into a baseball slide, connecting with Ancy’s crown. Again, a pop, but the fighter was too concerned with ending this fight. Beatrix could feel bloodlust rising and she knew that would lead to mistakes. She couldn’t give in, no matter how bad she wanted to.
She scooped Ancy up and pulled her towards the ropes, German suplexing her over the ropes. The fans watched happily as the hated vet-turned-exec fell to earth. Beatrix hopped onto the top rope and dropped on Ancy with a legdrop, flattening her.
She looked at the coffin. It would end the match, Beatrix admitted. She could go to her family and they’d be calm. But… she could also torture Anciline and make her bleed.
After a sigh, Beatrix stood, glaring at the camera man getting dead in her face and walked to the coffin. She opened the lid and returned to Anciline. She heaved her up and moved her towards the coffin.
De Cyr threw a leg out and kicked the coffin over before spinning and bitch-slapping Trixie.
“This isn’t over!” Anciline roared. She grabbed at Trixie for a chokeslam but the wily tiny fighter ducked and threw a few cheap shots into Anciline’s ribs.
“Fine by me,” Beatrix admitted as she threw a kneelift into Ancy’s gut and pushed her into the barricade. As Beatrix neared, a fan called to her, “Trixie! Where’d you get the contacts?”
“Custom-made,” she growled, throwing a backfist across Ancy’s jaw. She looked up at the man. “And Beatrix, please.” He nodded in approval, taking a fast picture on his camera. Beatrix looked down at the barricade. It was covered in padding but she wondered. She ripped the gold covering from it and, sure enough, it was an old school barricade with bars. Bars limbs could fit through.
“Move back,” Beatrix warned emotionlessly. “Please.” The fans scattered while she set onto Ancy, folding her down while sitting on the barricade. Hooking her legs around the veep’s midsection, Trixie spun around and bent over the barricade to pull Anciline’s legs under the bottom bar in a brutal tarantula.
Trapped quite literally in the divider, Anciline could only call out in pain. “UNHAND ME!” she demanded but Beatrix showed not intent on ending this. De Cyr looked to the referee. “DISQUALIFY HER!”
“If strangling her was legal,” he said from the ring, “that’s completely fine.”
Anciline squinched her face up and rocked violently. “We are getting NEW SOLID BARRICADES!” She rocked back and forth, kicking and bucking, until she managed to pull her arms free. She raked Trixie’s wrists and pulled out of the barricade, rushing towards the commentary table.
“Fuck this!” Ancy panted, pushing ahead. She looked behind her and saw Beatrix coming at her, full-speed. Desperate, de Cyr grabbed at Trixie’s waist and threw her up and behind. Trixie’s face slammed into the commentary table’s edge, flipping it on its end and spilling its contents. Ancy watched the clutter, seeing an Ipad. She snagged it, dropped it on the ground screen up, and hauled Trixie up. Bending the younger woman over, Anci hefted her upside down, stepped over to the ipad, and dropped Trixie on it in a piledriver.
When Trixie fell over, Anciline saw all the red on her forehead and knew it wasn’t more make-up. She smiled. “This is twice I’ve caused you to spill blood.” Anciline bent down, grabbed the Ipad, and raked it over Trixie’s face. “Bleed more for me,” Anciline purred. “I think I’m owed that for this inconvenience. Annoyingly, Trixie didn’t yell up, just glare up at her with those cheap contacts reflecting de Cyr’s smug gaze.
Beatrix’s brain ran through possibilities. Usually she had so many back-up plans and techniques at her disposal, but all she could find in the clutter was anger at the situation. She wasn’t herself and she knew that meant she was in danger.
Anciline lifted Trixie in a cradle, dropping her back on an outstretched knee. Decker merely rolled, holding her back.
“Do better, Trixie!” Anci yelled with a deep laugh. “Do--” she rammed a boot into Trixie’s back, sending her forward several feet, “-- better!”
Beatrix pushed up. Take a swing. A swing at Anci’s knee. She turned around and threw a wild hit only to have it blocked. Anciline raised the broken Ipad to her lips and blew glass powder and bits into her opponent’s face. Beatrix managed to turn her head in time so none got in her eyes but that also meant she couldn’t see the next attack.
Anciline lifted Trixie and dropped her in an atomic drop. The brunette fell to the side and Anciline merely kicked her like an unwanted, wayward dog.
“Come, Trixie! I want that chatter!” Anciline demanded. “You’re one of the mouthiest mistakes we’ve ever hired. Cheap barbs, now! Something!”
Beatrix looked up at Anciline and said the first thing to really shock her.
“I came to fight,” she growled.
Anciline sneered down at her. “And you’re failing at it.” She yanked Trixie up by her scruff and bottoms and threat her like a bouncer ejecting a drunk, sending the woman into the barricade she herself uncovered. Beatrix wasn’t even on her feet when hands dug into her hair and slammed her bloody face against the guardrail. Trixie stumbled to the side toward the coffin but de Cyr had other plans.
“The people in the cheap seats can’t see you losing, Trixie,” she laughed as she threw the woman up the walkway back to the ramp. “Shouldn’t they get their money’s worth, too?”
Something, anything. Beatrix wasn’t panicking but she knew this was dire. She knew everyone who loved her was watching, again, as she was torn to shreds but this time it was inexcusable if she lost. A boot to the back of the knee, a kick to the back of the skull. She was face down on concrete.
Then, boots on her back as Anciline jumped on her again and again, crushing the wind from her lungs.
“All that bluster for nothing,” Anciline dismissed. She pulled Trixie up and threw her towards the metal ramp to the back. “Well, at least I will have a good laugh at all this.”
Beatrix felt her head put between thighs. She felt her body lifted. She felt wind. She felt metal.
Then she felt almost nothing but falling into a void of confusion and pain.
The powerbomb executed, the back of Beatrix’s neck slammed against the guardrail. Immediately, she went completely limp falling to the floor.
Anciline leaned down and smiled at the grey eyes. “That carnival tromperie will not save you this day, Trixie. You fall before me, just as you were meant to do.”
Trixie’s whitened pupils looked up to her attacker, staring, searching.
“I could end this now, but I won’t,” Anciline laughed. “No, today, everyone will learn an important lesson, oui? And I am going to give you something you would have never had without me. I will give you a legacy.” She traced Trixie’s jaw with her hand. “You’ll be that poor pute who’s last moments being able to walk on her own were spent instead on her knees.”
Beatrix’s jaw moved but nothing came from it beyond spittle and blood.
Anciline pulled her toy up and stood behind her. “And, let us surprise Bethany with all the moves I’ve been learning while away from the ring.” Seeing the mic still on the floor, Anciline grabbed it and put it to her lips. “Regarde, tout le monde! Watch as I finally make Trixie Decker into something. Before, she was nothing. But now,” Anciline leered at the wobbling woman in her arms, “she is a victim.”
Ancy tossed the mic aside and lifted Trixie, bringing her down on the ramp in a perfect storm cradle driver.
STORM CRADLE DRIVER:
Trixie’s form flopped to the side uselessly. Ancy moved her head so she could see the pain in Trixie’s eyes. She was momentarily shocked to see her pupils back to black, the irises brown again. “I knocked the contacts out of you!” the exec chortled.
Grabbing Trixie by the boot, Anciline dragged the smaller fighter’s form like a child dragging a doll they didn’t particularly like. Occasionally she’d whip and bump Trixie’s head into the barricade to the screams of hate from the fans.
Ancy loved every second of it.
She heaved Trixie up and rolled her into the ring before diving under the skirt and pulling a chair out. She got into the ring, pulled Trixie up to a seated position, and screamed, “FORE!” The head of the chairback slammed across Trixie’s temple, drawing more blood and knocking her over.
Anciline knelt and placed a pinkie on Trixie’s forehead as she counted out loud. “Un… Deux… TROIS!” She looked down at Trixie’s barely heaving form. “Que je suis bête! This is not that sort of match! I wasted a count on you!” She leaned down into Trixie’s ears. “What hasn’t been wasted on you, though?” Ancy looked over to Bethany to see how she enjoyed watching her “champion” picked apart. Something was in her face. Was it horror? Shame for sending this little idiot against a goddess? Good. She needed to learn, too.
“You know, Trixie, it’s almost sad I didn’t get to fight the real you, not this ‘Beatrix’ déguisement. Oh, I will concede you’ve done some damage to me but fighting the real you would have been so much… funnier.”
"I am bored, Trixie,” Anciline admitted as she grabbed a handful of the goth’s black tresses. She tossed Trixie from the ring and followed. Opening the coffin, the French woman addressed Trixie a final time. “You lost. It was a given. Strip away the contacts, the new name, the new gear, the attempt to be spooky, the stronger friends, and what’s left? Not Beatrix. Not a warrior. Just Trixie Decker.”
“That’s enough,” came a tiny voice from Trixie’s throat.
“Yes, it is,” Anciline retorted. “I’m glad you finally figured it out at the end of--”
Trixie’s eyes floated up to look to Anciline. “No. Just Trixie Decker is enough.”
Two fingers shot up Anciline’s nose and curled up. Trixie pulled her weak legs up and dropped all one hundred seventeen pounds of herself to the floor, yanking Ancy down in a Three Stooges sketch gone horribly awry. Shrieaking, de Cyr stumbled back and watched in horror as Trixie, though ready to collapse, pulled herself up by the ring skirt.
“Cockroach!” Ancy snarled.
“Well, I am hard to kill,” Trixie said with a smile.
Anciline ran at Trixie and threw a punch at her face, but Trixie yanked the chair from the ring and held it up to greet the woman’s hand. With a clang and a yelp, de Cyr recoiled. With a second clang across the head, she fell backwards.
“Thanks for talkin’,” Trixie said, dazed. “I love it when idiots monologue. Really gives you a chance to recover.”
De Cyr rose and ran at Trixie, yanking the chair away and shoving the battered fighter onto her back. She brought the chair down but Trixie’s feet caught it and shoved it back into Ancy’s face. Decker rolled over to the side, pulling herself up by the barricade. “I’ve died enough,” she huffed. “And, honestly, that’s what’s getting boring to me. So fuck you, fight me.”
Anciline rose and charged. Trixie rolled back onto the barricade and brought a boot up into de Cyr’s jaw, followed by slamming her right heel down into the older fighter’s eye socket. Trixie pushed herself off the barricade and ran at Anciline and jumping on her with a running DDT.
RUNNING DDT:
The veep’s head bounced off the padding on the floor, again drawing swears. Trixie pushed herself up and slammed a kick between Ancy’s breasts, right into the sternum. It wasn’t as strong as it once was, but neither was Anciline.
“I… hate… you,” Anciline spat.
“Really? That’s weird. I don’t hate you.” Trixie followed the words by dropping her knee into a gravity-assisted lowblow. She smiled at the exec. “I don’t really ever think about you.”
Ancy jolted at the attack but brought her own knee up into Trixie’s skull. Decker stumbled to the side, pickinger herself up and watching Anciline warily. The veteran fighter hissed at Trixie, “Oh, you will. In your nightmares. You won’t wrestle anywhere when I’m done. Maybe your girlfriends will take pity on you and-- what are you doing?”
Trixie’s left hand mouthed along with Ancy’s threat. “Sorry, practicing my puppetry. I’ve got a routine coming up called, ‘Bitch, shut up and get on with it.’”
Anciline gaped at the insolence but Trixie only threw up her hands. “You wanted Trixie Decker, asshole. What did you expect? To be treated as an equal? For me to fall on my sword and give you a clean fight? Or me to brood nonstop, wax poetic, and promise you a long, drawn-out hate?” Trixie wiped blood and glass from her forehead. “Honey-gash, I got shit to do.”
“You are a fool,” Anciline said, completely astounded. “An absolute, unapologetic fool.”
Trixie winked at Anciline as she stepped in front of her. “Best card in the tarot deck. Know what? It’s stands for love, new beginnings, and believing in the universe and--”
Anciline rushed at Trixie, ready to slam into her, but Trixie dropped to her back, rammed her legs inbetween Ancy’s feet, and rolled, sending her to the ringpost.
The sound of Anciline's head clanging against the ringpost was almost sickening but the FAWNatics loved it. Trixie rose to where Anciline lay and whispered in her ear, “also, it means improvisation and expect the unexpected, jackass.”
Ancy stirred, whimpering from the pain. She slowly pulled herself up to her elbows as crawled, cradling her skull. Then she saw the shadow around her.
From the top of the post, Trixie lept and splashed down on her boss, crushing her flat. Ancy didn’t move. She didn’t even get a chance to dodge.
Trixie hefted Anciline's limp body up on her shoulder, walked over and dropped her in the coffin like a load of dirty laundry. It was ugly and probably not the idea splash screen image Bethany would have loved, but it was obviously definite.
She looked up at the screaming fans, all crying for more blood and more pain. A chant of “BE-A-TRIX!” One fan in the front row waves a toy baseball bad, painted in red with the name “Beatrix” on it, screamed, “Take her out! Take her the fuck out!”
The woman looked down at Anciline, the woman who less than a month before tried to remove her from FAWN permanently. Prone, weakened, and defenseless. A perfect victim.
If you liked making victims.
Trixie Decker did not.
Trixie walked over to the ring attendants and pointed to the black cloak she wore to the ring. The young woman handed it to her, obviously terrified. Trixie had never had anyone really be terrified of her. She understood some people really craved it but, to her, it just put a curled, sick feeling in her belly. She quietly thanked the woman and returned to the coffin.
She removed the crown from her forehead, unable to prevent Anciline's placement of it from not scratching and cutting her, and placed it on the VP's chest. Trixie took the cloak and rubbed it over her face, removing most of the face paint that hadn't already vanished in the couse of the match, and dropped the garb in the coffin, too. She reaches in and slaps Anciline a little, rousing her. The older fighter stares up, confused and dizzy.
“Hey, Ancy,” Trixie began. “You're right. This isn't me. I'm not a monster. I am just carny trash.” She tapped her tattoo. “Carny trash with a big heart and a lot of love. And I've come eleven plus years in this industry, surviving, as someone who doesn't 'kill.' And I'm going to reach the end doing the same thing.”
“Ffffuck yoooou, Dec… Decker,” Anciline muttered.
Trixie raised a finger. “But I'm something more important.”
The tired official rolled her eyes, waiting for more prattling from the goth. Trixie smiled big for her as she reached up and grabbed the open coffin lid.
“I'm the bitch who won this match.”
Anciline's eyes widened with realization as Trixie slammed the lid down. Designed specifically for matches, the casket made a locking “click sound as it began to violently shake. Trixie rolled into the ring to the applause of a full stadium – a first in her entire career.
Bethany joined her in the ring with the mic. “Ladies and gentlemen, it is my privilege to present to you the winner of this match.” She lifted the smaller woman's sore arm. “BEA--” Bethany stopped herself. “TRIXIE DECKER!”
Trixie looked up at Bethany. “Sorry, boss lady.”
Bethany waved it away. “You're right. The Bloody Queen thing isn't you. The fans love you just as you are right now.”
“No, I'm sorry I'm about to dent up your coffin.” Trixie ran to the ropes, bounded off them, races across the ring and baseball slid out of the squared circle. Her feet slammed into the coffin, knocking it off its altar and sending it back six or seven feet, rolling and scrambling its contents. Painful shrieks came from inside.
Trixie stomped over to the overturned death box and pointed at it, yelling, “FUCK YOU, I WIN!”
Immediately, feet thundered down the aisle towards Trixie. Kanako got to her first, followed by Akira and Noah. The Modern Day Ronin scooped Trixie up in a hug and twirled her. Akira and Noah piled on next, Noah practically in tears. Trixie kissed each of them.
“I told you,” she whispered. “I’m still your Trixie. Nothing changes that.” It was a picture perfect moment and an ideal moment to close the whole affair on.
Then they heard the clapping. And the voice.
“How cute!” growled a voice over the sound system. Trixie and her loves, as well as Bethany, looked towards the ramp entrance.
KATE GRIMM:
Kate raised the mic to her lips, clapping on her wrist. “How adorable. And, my goodness, Trixie. You healed up nicely. Did you get that tooth replaced?”
Bethany raised her mic. “NO! You aren’t--”
“Fired,” Kate said, cutting the CEO off. “I’m not fired. See, I know you’ve been trying to get that pushed through because I had to send Schizo down there a message. I can’t help it that Trixie Express is the best delivery system. But I can help you getting rid of me.” Kate grinned like the cat who caught the canary. “But, see, there’s someone above you, Bethany. A man who owns this fine promotion and, as it turns out, he takes meetings with talent. And I can be persuasive.”
Noah looked at Akira and mimicked a blowjob. Akira narrowed her eyes at the younger fighter.
“So, it turns out my termination,” Kate laughed as she pulled paperwork from her back pocket. “Is a one show suspension. This show. Oh, boo hoo. Like you’ve been using me right anyway, Christian.” She looked to Kanako. “Hey, Two-Face. How’s your better half doing? And I don’t mean the chewtoy you’re hugging.”
Kanako stepped forward, rage and something unearthly welling up inside her. First clenched she prepared to bolt but Trixie put a hand on her shoulder. “You can’t attack someone that’s suspended,” Trixie says. “That’ll put you in crosshairs.”
“Oh, no, don’t worry, Kan-Kan. You and I, we’ll settle this one day but I’m here to offer Trixie a present to congratulate her on her win tonight.” She looks to Trixie. “I know you want to go with me after what happened. That’s fair. I mean, you oughta want to take it out on Kanako since she’s the one who almost broke my neck and started all this bullshit. If she hadn’t done that, you might have had a celebratory fingerbang with all your bitches down there after last show.” She smirks. “Maybe you did. Hospitals have visiting hours, after all.”
Noah began to undo her braids. “She’s dead. I’m killing her.” Akira took Noah’s wrist and shook her head, glaring at Kate.
“So, next show. You and me, Decker. I’m gonna give you a chance to put me down. I’m going to let you, a one-time hardcore fighter, now a glorified jizz rag fetish dream, a chance to face me - one of the deadliest women to leave the fighting cage for the wrestling ring. You’re gonna get a shot to prove your tiny fists and big heart have half a change against me.” Kate thrust a thumb back to herself. “And I get a chance to do to you what your bitch did to me. But, unlike her, I like to make sure a lady enjoys completion.” Kate tossed the mic, turns around, and stomps out of the arena to the boos of the fans.
“This is trash,” Kanako yelled. “I’m not letting her--”
“You’re not involved,” Trixie interrupted.
Kanako whirled around. “Bullshit, I’m not! She did this becau--”
“She challenged me,” Trixie said. “She’s fighting me next month, not you. After I’m done with her, you can do whatever you want.” Trixie pats Kanako’s cheek. “It will be okay. She brought me into this, so I’m going to put my foot down. On her throat.”
Kanako forced a smile, wanting to believe this. Trixie looked back to Bethany, who didn’t pretend to hide her rage at Kate and concern for Trixie. It was kind of nice to, for the first time, feel people really cared. She led the others up the ramp, stomping on the shaking coffin as she went. There was celebrating to do.
But tomorrow?
Tomorrow Trixie would begin to prepare so she could show Kate what pain really felt like.
Bethany Christian held the box out to Trixie. “Just consider it.”
TRIXIE DECKER:
Trixie looked in the box. “I’ve considered it. I’m saying no.”
KANAKO AKIYAMA:
“This is fucked up, Bethany,” Kanako said, clutching onto Trixie’s shoulders. “We’re all trying to put what happened at the last event behind us and you drag this out?
AKIRA YUKIMURA:
NOAH LIGER:
Bethany’s eyes met Kanako’s and then moved over to the other two women’s, Noah Liger and Akira Yukimura. Both were wrestlers but not with FAWN. Not yet, anyway - not that Bethany hadn’t brought it up. But they were apparently in some sort of relationship with Decker and Akiyama, which meant, right now, they were giving the older woman death glares firmly rooted in the bowels of hell.
Bethany raised a hand. “I understand your concern--”
“No, you do not,” Akira said, her eyes boring holes into Bethany’s head. “You can’t begin to fathom why this is unacceptable.”
“And we already got Trixie a costume for the show!” Noah protested. She held up a cute, if very slutty, witch costume. “I thought FAWN did more of this than,” she nervously gestured to the box Bethany held out, “that.”
“There’s a method to the madness,” Bethany said, mostly addressing Trixie. “Your popularity has soared almost overnight. Everyone loves an underdog. We’ve had to reprint your shirts, Trixie. Including your newest one that features an image of you from the end of your last match.” The CEO laughed in disbelief. “A new shirt design and we had to reprint it in a week. The fans are hungry for you. And they love what they say.”
“Her family didn’t,” Kanako snapped, pulling Trixie tighter. “We hated every second of it.”
“It was awful what happened,” Bethany admitted. “Every second of it. And De Cyr and Grimm will both be punished for this. I’ve already begun the process of terminating Kate from FAWN and all related companies, and I’ll be seeing to it she’s blacklisted from our partners. Anciline, well… I’ve got special plans for her. But I also have special plans for you, Trixie.” Again, she held the box out. “But I need you to at least try. Now, I can technically demand you wear this from now on to every match. I will not.”
“Good,” Noah blurted, emotions getting the best of her. Trixie took her hand and squeezed.
“But I will,” Bethany continued, “demand you wear it tonight. A test run. See if you like it at least, please. I think you’ll like it. I think you’ll like the crowd’s reaction. I think this is something you’ll want.”
“Which is something we don’t want,” Akira snapped
“With all due respect,” Bethany said, not looking away from Decker, “the only opinions that matter in this moment are Trixie’s and mine’s.”
“So I have no choice,” Trixie replied softly.
“You do have a choice,” Bethany assured Trixie. “And you have a whole match to make it.” She gently pushed the box into Trixie’s hands. “Do me proud tonight, Decker. More importantly,” Bethany called over her shoulder, “do yourself proud.”
A silence fell on the room. Kanako’s embrace grew tighter. “Goddamn you, Bethany,” she whispered.
Trixie opened the box and began to undress.
“You are not going to wear that,” Akira said flatly. “None of us are okay with it. None of your friends are, either. I am comfortable saying this much.”
Trixie didn’t look up at the women as she pulled her shirt off. “I have no other option besides walk out. And if any of you are asking me to walk away from a match because you don’t like the gear I’m told to wear, I want you to remember you’re telling me I have the right to make demands on you about your matches, too.”
Noah winced. “None of us would dream of asking that.”
“It’s just,” Kanako began, “we don’t want to see her retur--”
“Me,” Trixie said, looking at them as she undid her bra. “That was me the whole match. Every bit of it was me. Please, I know it was upsetting but put the blame where it lies. On me.”
“No one’s blaming you,” Kanako said, her guilt over Kate attacking Trixie after the fight still heavy on her heart.
“Everyone’s nervous when we talk about what happened,” Trixie said flatly. She side-eyed the women. “Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you don’t all get upset like I almost fell into an abyss while ignoring the fact I walked away from that on my own.”
No one responded.
“I love all of you,” Trixie said, rubbing the tattoo of their names on her chest. “This has to happen once, though. If you wanna go home, I get it. I won’t hold it against any of you.”
“We’re not going anywhere,” Kanako promised. “We’ll be here, no matter what.”
“We’re just worried you’re going to like this,” Noah whimpered.
Trixie looked in the box, down at the pile of black clothing and the brand new crown of barbwire resting on top.
“So am I,” Trixie said.
Bethany Christian stood proudly in the center of the FAWN ring. Her ring. No, she didn't own the promotion but she'd fought in this ring, bled in it, and made other women bleed in it. And for the bulk of FAWN's life, she'd kept it running.
And Bethany had no patience for her ring, her authority, being disrespected.
But at FAWNmania, that happened. And that simply had to be corrected.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the tall exec said into the mic. “We're about to have a special match that is so near and dear to my heart, I wanted to personally come down and introduce both it and its combatants. Consider it a special treat in your Halloween bag. I know I've been eagerly looking forward to it.”
The fans muttered in confusion at FAWN's head paying so much attention to a match. Bethany raised the mic to her lips again. “Ladies and gentlemen, introducing first, from De Cyr, France…” She looks at the info card, where the metric measurements are crossed out and replaced with feet and pounds, “standing at five feet, seven inches and one hundred thirty-five pounds… ANCILINE DE CYR!”
ANCILINE DE CYR:
"La Marseillaise"
The French anthem began to play and all heads turned to see FAWN's V.P. angrily stomping her way to the ring. Donning the black lace and satin bustier, panties, and ankle boots she was once known for, the former FAWN and FAWN 2 star glared at Bethany as she made way to the ring. No sneers at the fans. She climbed the metal steps and moved to a corner, arms crossed, livid.
Bethany gave her vice president the kindest smile. “Why, Anciline my dear, you don't seem happy to have a match tonight. And it's Halloween. No costume?”
The FAWN fans burst into cheers and laughter at this. But Bethany wasn't done.
“Or did you have enough play dress-up at FAWNamania when you came out here and pretended you were in charge of this company?” Christian boomed. “When you set up a hardcore four-on-one, involving talent from other promotions, without my approval? Without my knowledge” Bethany's ire was raised. “Putting one of my wrestlers in a situation where they had to, literally, get their body broken to keep their employment here?”
The fans begin to heckle and jeer de Cyr but she obviously doesn't care.
“Well, tonight you get to play wrestler,” Bethany continued. “And I know that's something you've been good at. You had quite a career at FAWN before moving up to management. Nineteen wins, six losses. And that's not including your FAWN 2 record or the matches before you were signed.” Anciline didn't like Bethany buttering her up like this but she watched silently.
“So obviously, you won't mind a surprise match yourself,” Christian assured her underling. “And you won't mind me making your return to the squared circle extra special.” As the CEO spoke, ring attendants rolled a casket, sitting on a stone altar that simply said FAWN in large, engraved letters, to ringside. “A coffin match, Anceline. Do whatever you have to, but put your opponent in the coffin and slam it shut to win.”
Bethany moved towards de Cyr, looking her dead in the eyes. “See if you can bury her like you tried to bury her career.”
The arena went dark. Mist began to fill the stadium as black lights slowly turned on. “Your opponent for this fight, standing at five feet, three inches and one hundred seventeen pounds... hailing from a Special Place of Hate and Nightmare,” Bethany's voice rose to a steady yell. “ALL RISE FOR YOUR BLOODY QUEEN… BEATRIX DECKER!”
"The Ballad Of Resurrection Joe And Rosa Whore" BY ROB ZOMBIE
Rob Zombie's aggressive sounds played as a shrouded figure parted the curtains and entered the arena. Stepping forward in a long, hooded cloak, the figure stared at the glowing arena before her. She took the edges of her hood and pulled it back to reveal Beatrix. In a black top, laced with an upside-down star over her chest that barely tried to hide the heart puzzle piece tattoo, long black leather pants, knee-high boots, and a barbwire crown crusted in her own blood, Beatrix stared out over the screaming fans. But her face paint – a bloody red hand with a third eye painted above her own – was what sent the fans reeling.
Methodically, Beatrix moved to the ring. Fans reached to touch her and she allowed it, even sometimes touching back gently and holding their hands. But her eyes never left the ring and the woman who tried to do her in.
Beatrix slipped into the ring, shedding the cloak to a nervous attendant. She carefully removed the crown and placed it on top of the folded cloak so the ring attendant wouldn't have to worry about hurting herself.
Across the ring, Anciline laughed. “T'es sérieux? Decker?” The older, taller woman rolled her eyes. “She is petite and, on her best day, a fetish fighter.”
“You're literally in lingerie,” Beatrix growled, “mon petite fucktoy.”
Anciline’s eyes flamed with hate.
“Now, last time, Anciline, you gave Beatrix an ultimatum. Win or be fired,” Bethany continued. “It seems patently unfair I don’t do something requirement for you in this match. So, Beatrix, when you win I’ll figure out some boon. We can work it out later, really.” She waves it off. “Anciline, if you win I have the amazing prize of I’ll forget all about what you pulled in FAWNamania.” Her face becomes deadly serious. “Lose and, well… I can’t fire you, per se, but I foresee your time in FAWN being very uncomfortable for a good, long while.”
De Cyr only glared.
“But I’ll give you the same offer you gave Beatrix,” Bethany says in a syrupy sweet tone. “Give in now and we can skip to the fun part.”
“Va te faire foutre,” Anciline spat.
“I’m guessing that wasn’t, ‘Gosh, I sure am sorry, Bethany, for all the trouble I caused,’” Bethany joked to the glee of the fans. “Very well, ladies. Let me leave the ring and then you two can proceed to tear each other apart.”
Bethany moved to leave the ring but Anciline grabbed her wrist. “Mon cher, this is certainly, how you say, a joke? I outweigh her. I’m taller than her. I’m meaner than her. Vous know her win last time was a fluke against idiots. I am an established star of the ring. This will be embarrassing. She cannot go against someone unafraid to truly go hard.”
Bethany grinned. “Well, today we’re learning a lot together. For instance, I just learned you’ve never read the histories of the wrestlers we sign up. And you get to learn,” Bethany cooed, placing a hand on Anciline’s shoulder, “That before she came to FAWN, Beatrix’s entire career was hardcore wrestling and death matches. Sure, there was some, as you put it, ‘fetish’ thrown in, but she regularly got beaten so bad and bloody, her nickname was Zom-Bea.” Bethany gae the shoulder one more squeeze before leaving the ring. “All the other lessons I’ll leave to her to teach you.”
Anciline looked back across the ring. Trixie - she refused to give her the name Beatrix and play into Decker’s little head game - stared at her. No mouthed or nonverbal threats. She just stared, almost looking through Anciline. De Cyr had faced stronger, crueller women in FAWN’s squared circle than Trixie could ever dream of being, women she wasn’t fit to hold the boots of. The fact this puny waif would attempt to intimidate de Cyr was nothing short of insulting.
Insulting… but Anciline did feel a knot forming in the pit of her stomach.
The bell rang and Beatrix boomed across the ring, eyes wild. Anciline threw her hands up to block an attack but the tiny goth slammed a kick on the side of her knee. Dropping to her other knee, Anciline cried out.
And that’s when the hand shoved into her mouth.Beatrix’s nails raked the top of Anciline’s mouth and the VP gaped in horror and agony at her tiny attacker. She was even too stunned to react when Beatrix roundhouse kicked her to the back of the head. Ancy went, face first, to the mat.
“That’s better,” Beatrix replied coldly. “Bow to your queen, Anciline.” The petite fighter ground her boot into the back of the woman’s head. “Genuflect and ask for mercy.” A double axe handle slammed into Ancy’s back. “Your ring rust is showing. How long has it been since you had the spine-” Trixie kicked Anciline in the back - “to step in the ring?”
“Va te faire foutre!” Anciline screamed as she shoved Trixie back and looked up. “You dare--
Beatrix brought her heel down between Ancy’s eyes, dropping her back to the mat.
“Yes, I do,” the goth said calmly. “For all my life.”
Beatrix grabs her opponent’s arm and pulled her to her feet. Spinning, she twisted the arm pushed the wrist back. Anciline yelped, slapping at her arm. “Nothing to say, Anciline?” Beatrix asked. “You were so talkative when I saw you last.”
Beatrix raised an elbow and dropped forward, slamming it through the trapped arm. Anciline screamed as she pulled away, cursing. But immediately hands dug into her hair.
“Let me talk then,” came the soft, hateful voice. Beatrix pivoted and slung her into a new corner. “You pinpointed me to end my time here. You put me in an unwinnable match with women who wanted to end my career.” Anciline pushed up in time to catch a boot to the throat, pinning her to the turnbuckle in a choke. Beatrix leaned forward. “Because I violated a clause in my contract that doesn’t exist? Because other promotions have figured out how to use me?” Beatrix leaned her weight onto Ancy’s throat. “Tell me.”
Anciline choked and sputtered furiously. “Tais-toi, petit imbécile! I owe you nothing!”
Beatrix rewarded Anciline’s impertinence with a kick to the side of her head. Racing to the opposite ring, she returned and drove both of her knees into Anciline’s face. The VP shudders at the impact.
“I just need to loosen that tongue,” Beatrix said. She pulled Anciline from the corner by her hair, but the larger woman pushed up and drove her shoulder into Trixie’s midsection. She plowed the tiny fighter across the ring into turnbuckles, using her own body to drive more air and fight from Decker. This was followed by a gesture meant less to hurt and more to remind Trixie of her station - a solid slap across the face.
Ancy pulled Trixie forward into a belly-to-bell bearhug, flipping her over in a belly-to-belly suplex. The French Nightmare immediately began to pepper Trixie’s face with punches, aiming straight for her eyes and nose. Trixie could only fend off so much of the attack and too much of it connected.
Trixie tried to shake the attack off as Ancy pulled her up to a sitting position by her hair and snapped bodyscissors on her. The older woman had a shocking amount of strength in her legs as Trixie was learning, first-hand, as her ribs fought to expand.
Punches to the back of the head followed. Anciline wasn’t even pretending this was going to be a clean fight. She wasn’t here to just win, she was here to solve a rodent problem. Trixie wasn’t the only pest but she would be the example to the rest of the rats in the back, who would watch her limp, shattered body carted away on a stretcher.
Again.
Two hands clasped around Trixie’s throat and pulled her back. “You want to know why, ma pauvre souris, why you?” Trixie could only gag and cough in reply, frantically pulling at the iron grip on her throat while legs crushed her abdomen. “I could say it was because you sullied our good name by consorting with gutter trash promotions and their ‘talent.’ I could say it’s because your spot would be better served by someone who might make an impact.” She pulled Trixie back to make sure she heard the next words. “Honnêtement, I was bored and you were the first one I thought of.”
Trixie threw her head back into Ancy’s mouth with enough force to make her break both holds, pulling away from her and gasping. Ancy rose, laughing. “Vous n'aimez pas être étouffé? I assumed gutter trash like you enjoyed being used, Trixie. It’s been your style, hasn’t it?” A buzzsaw kick spills Trixie onto her side.
BUZZSAW KICK:
Trixie rolled over but Ancy puts her back on her back. She dropped her butt, landing on Trixie’s midsection. “I assumed the tall girl… Akira? I assumed she’d like the rough stuff on you. Maybe Kanako, too. She seems folle - how you say, crazy? - enough.” Aciline returned to strangling Trixie, loving the look of fear in the smaller woman’s eye. “Something happened with this once, no? You are assez terrifié.” Cruelty covered Ancy’s face like a mask. “Thank you for this tasty little treat, Trixie.”
“Ms. de Cyr,” the referee said nervously, “I can’t DQ you but I still need you to stop--”
“Do not forget who signs your checks, écume!” Anciline warns the official. “Your job is JUST to announce when I take out this trash.” Cowardly, the referee backed away. Anciline returned her gaze to Trixie’s purple face. “Do not fear, Trixie. You won’t die in this ring. Just your career will. I told you I’d take it.”
“Be… cause… you’re… b-bored?” Trixie forces.
“Oh, no, I was bored last time,” Anciline said. “This time, I just hate you.”
Anicile pushed herself up into a handstand then dropped a knee into Trixie’s chest. “You are nothing,” she reminded Trixie.
The tiny fighter stared up at her, the fear subsided. No hate replacing it. Just stared. Something about this upset de Cyr. An opponent not giving her something was almost worse than having something being taken away.
“FINE!” Anciline yelled, dropping to the mat. She pulled Trixie into a bodyscissor/sleeper combo. “If you’re going to not talk like a used up ragdoll, let’s make you into one!” She pressed the hold in tight - tighter than was realistically safe - and jerked Trixie’s head side to side, swearing at the woman under her breath. “You think a change of gear and some face paint is going to scare me? Fuck your carnnival tricks, Decker! This is the big time. I am not scared of clowns!”
Trixie struggled and scratches but as time dripped on, her struggles slow and her hands fell limply to the side.
“Already?” Ancy cackled as she stands. She dragged Trixie to the side of the ring and toppled her over the top rope. Decker landed in a collapsed pile like a doll dropped off a bridge. Satisfied, Anciline left the ring and wandered over to the coffin. She lifted the lid, grabbed Decker, and pulled her to her feet.
That was when Trixie slammed a hand on Ancy’s cheek, shoving her head into the coffin, and slammed the lid down. The VP roared in pain and shock. When she yanked her head free, she saw a set of metal steps coming at her fast. They clanged off of Ancy’s face, knocking her back a few feet.
Beatrix tossed the steps aside and shoulder tackled de Cyr, driving her to the floor. She owed her boss a few good smacks across the jaw and Beatrix intended to repay them. She fell onto Ancy with a falling fist to the chest. The veep yowled and tried to scramble up Trixie folded the woman down and grabbed her around the waist, lifting and toppling her over in a gutwrench suplex.
GUTWRENCH SUPLEX:
Ancy slams into the thin covering on the concrete, winded but yet somehow still enraged as she rolled onto her stomach. The sheer indignity of Trixie fighting back was simply too much to bear. This pipsqueak was bred to be an easy victory and yet here she was, upsetting the order of nature by giving Ancy a hard time.
Decker dropped onto her boss’s back and pulled the woman’s arm behind her in a chicken wing. Slapping a hand under her jaw, Beatrix turned it into a crossface chickenwing.
CROSSFACE CHICKENWING:
The woman under Beatrix flailed for her life. Beatrix just stared calmly, holding the tortuous attack in place. “It’s not fun to feel trapped, is it?” she said finally.
Anciline fumed, finally rolling over and dislodging her attacker. She saw Trixie racing away, turning and running back. She watched as the woman lept at her and landed across her shoulders. It was meant to be a Frankensteiner.
Anciline had other plans and dropped Trixie to the floor in a powerbomb.
The wind knocked from her, Trixie felt Ancy drag her from the side of the ring and closer to the barricade. She heaved Trixie up and slapped her in an abdominal stretch.
ABDOMINAL STRETCH:
“How does this feel, Trixie?!” Ancy demanded. A taller woman, she was able to stretch someone as petite as Trixie out more. The goth gritted her teeth, taking the attack as best she could. Ancy’s eyes trailed to a fan in the front row holding a bottle of beer. She snagged it.
“You look parched, Trixie!” Ancy cried. She rammed the bottle as far into Trixie’s mouth as she could, waving it around so Trixie had a hard time either swallowing or not swallowing it. Silent gags and chokes sounded from Trixie until Ancy saw the bottle was empty and she yanked it out. Trixie gasped and pulled in as much air as possible.
And then the bottle came down on the side of her head.
It disappointed Anciline the bottle didn’t shatter like they do in movies but the agony flashing across Trixie’s eyes more than made up for it. Stunned, Trixie’s head hung to the side. De Cyr released the hold and threw Trixie back into the ring, following her shortly after.
Getting back into the circle, Ancy saw Trixie pushing up to all fours. This, obviously, would not do. Simply unforgivable, she told herself, as she ran at Trixie and delivered a somersault leg drop across the back. Trixie crushed back to canvas to her superior’s delight.
SOMERSAULT LEGDROP:
Anciline spun around and grabbed Trixie’s legs, heaving them up in a Boston crab. Decker howled, punching the mat.
“Now, now, Trixie,” Anciline cooed. “No tap-outs. Don’t worry, I’ll tuck you in soon enough.”
Trixie palmed the mat but Anciline had height and weight advantage. And she felt like using it and her tongue. Leaning back, Anciline began to taunt Trixie, “Truth be told, Trixie, I did read up on you. I was most shocked you didn’t in my little maze. Apparently, before coming to FAWN, you were considered difficile à tuer… how you say, hard to kill?” She leaned back more and Trixie howled.
“My mistake was going outside the company,” Anciline confessed in a rare moment of accepting blame. “Next time - oh, and there will be one if you are stupid enough to come back in my ring after I destroy you here - I will use top tier combattantes. Next time, you will learn ‘hard to kill’ does not mean ‘impossible to kill.’”
Beatrix clawed her way to the ropes, trying to grab them, but Anciline grabbed her hair and shook. “Non! We play by my rules! And my rules state you take what I give you and lose!”
“How’s… those rules… work out… against Krystal Erway?” Beatrix struggled.
Anciline slowly looked down at Trixie, shocked at the audacity for her to invoke an embarrassing loss from so long ago. “How… DARE you!” Anciline released the hold and began stomping on the back of Trixie’s neck. “I beat Shea London! I beat Shannen Dennehy! Kylie Sanders! Hopkins! Mitchell! LeBlanc!” She reached down and dug her nails into Trixie’s forehead. “I beat real warriors and you didn’t even have to spine to take advantage of an easy win over a schizophrène who laid crippled at your feet!” A rip and deep red scratches appeared in Trixie’s face make-up, dripping slightly.
Anciline hauled back and sent a boot into Trixie’s rib. “You dare try to play mind games with me?! Putain stupide, you have now picked a second fight with me you cannot win!” She pulled Trixie up and across her shoulders, spinning around in an airplane spin before dropping Trixie and letting the goth’s face me Ancy’s knee in a GTS.
GTS:
Beatrix’s body shakes and crumples to the mat. Ancy straddled her and pulled Trixie up into a camel clutch, sitting all her weight down on Decker’s back.
“You wish to bavader? Fine, let us chat, Trixie. I will defeat you in this ring because I’ve already defeated you repeatedly. Do you know how?” She laughed. “Because I’ve had a say in all the matches your entire time here. I helped choose your opponents. Why else do your premiere match was against Katsuki Akiyama on the same night she wrestled another woman? I didn’t see the point of wasting actual talent on you!”
She pulled back harder on Trixie’s jaw. “Any time your name has come up as an opponent for actual talent, I’ve said no - because why waste the good wrestlers?” She sneered down at Trixie. “And that title shot you ‘won’? That you never got to take?” She leaned into Trixie’s ear. “I’m why. I always found a reason to bump you from the schedule. You were never going to get a chance. You couldn’t have won the belt but I refused to even let that charade tarnish its gold,” she spat down at Trixie. “Not that you ‘want’ a belt. I’ve read interviews where you said you tired of them long ago. Calling them ‘leashes.’ You are a LIAR!”
Beatrix felt as if she was about to snap at the middle of her back but, struggle as she might, she was trapped and Anciline loved every second of it.
“You don’t want belts because you know you aren’t good enough to wear one,” Ancy crowed. “If you got one, you’d lose it immediately and expose yourself as the talentless hack to are!” Anciline jabbed her nails into Trixie’s eyes and ground them. “But I see, Trixie Decker! I see you are nothing and that’s how I’ll leave you. Unchanged except for the bleeding.”
Anciline palmed the back of Trixie’s had and slammed it into the mat before rising. She watched Trixie struggle, curling in a ball. Her hands rose to her eyes, rubbing them and tending them.
“Are you going to cry, Trixie?” Ancy scoffed. “Boo-hoo-hoo! Show us all your big girl tears! Maybe your girlfriends will kiss them away! Or maybe they’ll see how weak you are and move on.” She knelt down. “Just like everyone else. How many lovers-turn-tag partners have deserted you? And the rumor I hear is you aren’t even on speaking terms with half your family. Maybe tonight’s the night everyone else catches up to them.”
Beatrix looked up at Anciline, stone-faced. Her irises grey, her pupils white. But Ancy rolled her eyes. “Part of the trick, Trixie. You aren’t the first person to palm contacts and slip them in during a match.” A hand clamped on Trixie’s throat as de Cyr glowered. “Besides, I snuck a look at Bethany’s plans for your new persona. Now, back to fear.” Ancy’s other hand sought out Trixie’s throat.
Beatrix caught it and bent the fingers backwards.
The scream was loud and long and all the people in the arena loved it almost as much as Beatrix clocking Anciline across the mouth. The hit spun de Cyr one-eighty, letting Beatrix throw herself back into the ropes and rebound at her target, a knee raised to the base of her skull. Anciline topped onto her face.
Beatrix ran through all the holds in her head, eleven years of wrestling, but she couldn’t think beyond, “End her.” No holds, no moves. Just visions of Ancy in a ball of agony. Decker instead ran to the opposite ropes and whipped herself into a baseball slide, connecting with Ancy’s crown. Again, a pop, but the fighter was too concerned with ending this fight. Beatrix could feel bloodlust rising and she knew that would lead to mistakes. She couldn’t give in, no matter how bad she wanted to.
She scooped Ancy up and pulled her towards the ropes, German suplexing her over the ropes. The fans watched happily as the hated vet-turned-exec fell to earth. Beatrix hopped onto the top rope and dropped on Ancy with a legdrop, flattening her.
She looked at the coffin. It would end the match, Beatrix admitted. She could go to her family and they’d be calm. But… she could also torture Anciline and make her bleed.
After a sigh, Beatrix stood, glaring at the camera man getting dead in her face and walked to the coffin. She opened the lid and returned to Anciline. She heaved her up and moved her towards the coffin.
De Cyr threw a leg out and kicked the coffin over before spinning and bitch-slapping Trixie.
“This isn’t over!” Anciline roared. She grabbed at Trixie for a chokeslam but the wily tiny fighter ducked and threw a few cheap shots into Anciline’s ribs.
“Fine by me,” Beatrix admitted as she threw a kneelift into Ancy’s gut and pushed her into the barricade. As Beatrix neared, a fan called to her, “Trixie! Where’d you get the contacts?”
“Custom-made,” she growled, throwing a backfist across Ancy’s jaw. She looked up at the man. “And Beatrix, please.” He nodded in approval, taking a fast picture on his camera. Beatrix looked down at the barricade. It was covered in padding but she wondered. She ripped the gold covering from it and, sure enough, it was an old school barricade with bars. Bars limbs could fit through.
“Move back,” Beatrix warned emotionlessly. “Please.” The fans scattered while she set onto Ancy, folding her down while sitting on the barricade. Hooking her legs around the veep’s midsection, Trixie spun around and bent over the barricade to pull Anciline’s legs under the bottom bar in a brutal tarantula.
Trapped quite literally in the divider, Anciline could only call out in pain. “UNHAND ME!” she demanded but Beatrix showed not intent on ending this. De Cyr looked to the referee. “DISQUALIFY HER!”
“If strangling her was legal,” he said from the ring, “that’s completely fine.”
Anciline squinched her face up and rocked violently. “We are getting NEW SOLID BARRICADES!” She rocked back and forth, kicking and bucking, until she managed to pull her arms free. She raked Trixie’s wrists and pulled out of the barricade, rushing towards the commentary table.
“Fuck this!” Ancy panted, pushing ahead. She looked behind her and saw Beatrix coming at her, full-speed. Desperate, de Cyr grabbed at Trixie’s waist and threw her up and behind. Trixie’s face slammed into the commentary table’s edge, flipping it on its end and spilling its contents. Ancy watched the clutter, seeing an Ipad. She snagged it, dropped it on the ground screen up, and hauled Trixie up. Bending the younger woman over, Anci hefted her upside down, stepped over to the ipad, and dropped Trixie on it in a piledriver.
When Trixie fell over, Anciline saw all the red on her forehead and knew it wasn’t more make-up. She smiled. “This is twice I’ve caused you to spill blood.” Anciline bent down, grabbed the Ipad, and raked it over Trixie’s face. “Bleed more for me,” Anciline purred. “I think I’m owed that for this inconvenience. Annoyingly, Trixie didn’t yell up, just glare up at her with those cheap contacts reflecting de Cyr’s smug gaze.
Beatrix’s brain ran through possibilities. Usually she had so many back-up plans and techniques at her disposal, but all she could find in the clutter was anger at the situation. She wasn’t herself and she knew that meant she was in danger.
Anciline lifted Trixie in a cradle, dropping her back on an outstretched knee. Decker merely rolled, holding her back.
“Do better, Trixie!” Anci yelled with a deep laugh. “Do--” she rammed a boot into Trixie’s back, sending her forward several feet, “-- better!”
Beatrix pushed up. Take a swing. A swing at Anci’s knee. She turned around and threw a wild hit only to have it blocked. Anciline raised the broken Ipad to her lips and blew glass powder and bits into her opponent’s face. Beatrix managed to turn her head in time so none got in her eyes but that also meant she couldn’t see the next attack.
Anciline lifted Trixie and dropped her in an atomic drop. The brunette fell to the side and Anciline merely kicked her like an unwanted, wayward dog.
“Come, Trixie! I want that chatter!” Anciline demanded. “You’re one of the mouthiest mistakes we’ve ever hired. Cheap barbs, now! Something!”
Beatrix looked up at Anciline and said the first thing to really shock her.
“I came to fight,” she growled.
Anciline sneered down at her. “And you’re failing at it.” She yanked Trixie up by her scruff and bottoms and threat her like a bouncer ejecting a drunk, sending the woman into the barricade she herself uncovered. Beatrix wasn’t even on her feet when hands dug into her hair and slammed her bloody face against the guardrail. Trixie stumbled to the side toward the coffin but de Cyr had other plans.
“The people in the cheap seats can’t see you losing, Trixie,” she laughed as she threw the woman up the walkway back to the ramp. “Shouldn’t they get their money’s worth, too?”
Something, anything. Beatrix wasn’t panicking but she knew this was dire. She knew everyone who loved her was watching, again, as she was torn to shreds but this time it was inexcusable if she lost. A boot to the back of the knee, a kick to the back of the skull. She was face down on concrete.
Then, boots on her back as Anciline jumped on her again and again, crushing the wind from her lungs.
“All that bluster for nothing,” Anciline dismissed. She pulled Trixie up and threw her towards the metal ramp to the back. “Well, at least I will have a good laugh at all this.”
Beatrix felt her head put between thighs. She felt her body lifted. She felt wind. She felt metal.
Then she felt almost nothing but falling into a void of confusion and pain.
The powerbomb executed, the back of Beatrix’s neck slammed against the guardrail. Immediately, she went completely limp falling to the floor.
Anciline leaned down and smiled at the grey eyes. “That carnival tromperie will not save you this day, Trixie. You fall before me, just as you were meant to do.”
Trixie’s whitened pupils looked up to her attacker, staring, searching.
“I could end this now, but I won’t,” Anciline laughed. “No, today, everyone will learn an important lesson, oui? And I am going to give you something you would have never had without me. I will give you a legacy.” She traced Trixie’s jaw with her hand. “You’ll be that poor pute who’s last moments being able to walk on her own were spent instead on her knees.”
Beatrix’s jaw moved but nothing came from it beyond spittle and blood.
Anciline pulled her toy up and stood behind her. “And, let us surprise Bethany with all the moves I’ve been learning while away from the ring.” Seeing the mic still on the floor, Anciline grabbed it and put it to her lips. “Regarde, tout le monde! Watch as I finally make Trixie Decker into something. Before, she was nothing. But now,” Anciline leered at the wobbling woman in her arms, “she is a victim.”
Ancy tossed the mic aside and lifted Trixie, bringing her down on the ramp in a perfect storm cradle driver.
STORM CRADLE DRIVER:
Trixie’s form flopped to the side uselessly. Ancy moved her head so she could see the pain in Trixie’s eyes. She was momentarily shocked to see her pupils back to black, the irises brown again. “I knocked the contacts out of you!” the exec chortled.
Grabbing Trixie by the boot, Anciline dragged the smaller fighter’s form like a child dragging a doll they didn’t particularly like. Occasionally she’d whip and bump Trixie’s head into the barricade to the screams of hate from the fans.
Ancy loved every second of it.
She heaved Trixie up and rolled her into the ring before diving under the skirt and pulling a chair out. She got into the ring, pulled Trixie up to a seated position, and screamed, “FORE!” The head of the chairback slammed across Trixie’s temple, drawing more blood and knocking her over.
Anciline knelt and placed a pinkie on Trixie’s forehead as she counted out loud. “Un… Deux… TROIS!” She looked down at Trixie’s barely heaving form. “Que je suis bête! This is not that sort of match! I wasted a count on you!” She leaned down into Trixie’s ears. “What hasn’t been wasted on you, though?” Ancy looked over to Bethany to see how she enjoyed watching her “champion” picked apart. Something was in her face. Was it horror? Shame for sending this little idiot against a goddess? Good. She needed to learn, too.
“You know, Trixie, it’s almost sad I didn’t get to fight the real you, not this ‘Beatrix’ déguisement. Oh, I will concede you’ve done some damage to me but fighting the real you would have been so much… funnier.”
"I am bored, Trixie,” Anciline admitted as she grabbed a handful of the goth’s black tresses. She tossed Trixie from the ring and followed. Opening the coffin, the French woman addressed Trixie a final time. “You lost. It was a given. Strip away the contacts, the new name, the new gear, the attempt to be spooky, the stronger friends, and what’s left? Not Beatrix. Not a warrior. Just Trixie Decker.”
“That’s enough,” came a tiny voice from Trixie’s throat.
“Yes, it is,” Anciline retorted. “I’m glad you finally figured it out at the end of--”
Trixie’s eyes floated up to look to Anciline. “No. Just Trixie Decker is enough.”
Two fingers shot up Anciline’s nose and curled up. Trixie pulled her weak legs up and dropped all one hundred seventeen pounds of herself to the floor, yanking Ancy down in a Three Stooges sketch gone horribly awry. Shrieaking, de Cyr stumbled back and watched in horror as Trixie, though ready to collapse, pulled herself up by the ring skirt.
“Cockroach!” Ancy snarled.
“Well, I am hard to kill,” Trixie said with a smile.
Anciline ran at Trixie and threw a punch at her face, but Trixie yanked the chair from the ring and held it up to greet the woman’s hand. With a clang and a yelp, de Cyr recoiled. With a second clang across the head, she fell backwards.
“Thanks for talkin’,” Trixie said, dazed. “I love it when idiots monologue. Really gives you a chance to recover.”
De Cyr rose and ran at Trixie, yanking the chair away and shoving the battered fighter onto her back. She brought the chair down but Trixie’s feet caught it and shoved it back into Ancy’s face. Decker rolled over to the side, pulling herself up by the barricade. “I’ve died enough,” she huffed. “And, honestly, that’s what’s getting boring to me. So fuck you, fight me.”
Anciline rose and charged. Trixie rolled back onto the barricade and brought a boot up into de Cyr’s jaw, followed by slamming her right heel down into the older fighter’s eye socket. Trixie pushed herself off the barricade and ran at Anciline and jumping on her with a running DDT.
RUNNING DDT:
The veep’s head bounced off the padding on the floor, again drawing swears. Trixie pushed herself up and slammed a kick between Ancy’s breasts, right into the sternum. It wasn’t as strong as it once was, but neither was Anciline.
“I… hate… you,” Anciline spat.
“Really? That’s weird. I don’t hate you.” Trixie followed the words by dropping her knee into a gravity-assisted lowblow. She smiled at the exec. “I don’t really ever think about you.”
Ancy jolted at the attack but brought her own knee up into Trixie’s skull. Decker stumbled to the side, pickinger herself up and watching Anciline warily. The veteran fighter hissed at Trixie, “Oh, you will. In your nightmares. You won’t wrestle anywhere when I’m done. Maybe your girlfriends will take pity on you and-- what are you doing?”
Trixie’s left hand mouthed along with Ancy’s threat. “Sorry, practicing my puppetry. I’ve got a routine coming up called, ‘Bitch, shut up and get on with it.’”
Anciline gaped at the insolence but Trixie only threw up her hands. “You wanted Trixie Decker, asshole. What did you expect? To be treated as an equal? For me to fall on my sword and give you a clean fight? Or me to brood nonstop, wax poetic, and promise you a long, drawn-out hate?” Trixie wiped blood and glass from her forehead. “Honey-gash, I got shit to do.”
“You are a fool,” Anciline said, completely astounded. “An absolute, unapologetic fool.”
Trixie winked at Anciline as she stepped in front of her. “Best card in the tarot deck. Know what? It’s stands for love, new beginnings, and believing in the universe and--”
Anciline rushed at Trixie, ready to slam into her, but Trixie dropped to her back, rammed her legs inbetween Ancy’s feet, and rolled, sending her to the ringpost.
The sound of Anciline's head clanging against the ringpost was almost sickening but the FAWNatics loved it. Trixie rose to where Anciline lay and whispered in her ear, “also, it means improvisation and expect the unexpected, jackass.”
Ancy stirred, whimpering from the pain. She slowly pulled herself up to her elbows as crawled, cradling her skull. Then she saw the shadow around her.
From the top of the post, Trixie lept and splashed down on her boss, crushing her flat. Ancy didn’t move. She didn’t even get a chance to dodge.
Trixie hefted Anciline's limp body up on her shoulder, walked over and dropped her in the coffin like a load of dirty laundry. It was ugly and probably not the idea splash screen image Bethany would have loved, but it was obviously definite.
She looked up at the screaming fans, all crying for more blood and more pain. A chant of “BE-A-TRIX!” One fan in the front row waves a toy baseball bad, painted in red with the name “Beatrix” on it, screamed, “Take her out! Take her the fuck out!”
The woman looked down at Anciline, the woman who less than a month before tried to remove her from FAWN permanently. Prone, weakened, and defenseless. A perfect victim.
If you liked making victims.
Trixie Decker did not.
Trixie walked over to the ring attendants and pointed to the black cloak she wore to the ring. The young woman handed it to her, obviously terrified. Trixie had never had anyone really be terrified of her. She understood some people really craved it but, to her, it just put a curled, sick feeling in her belly. She quietly thanked the woman and returned to the coffin.
She removed the crown from her forehead, unable to prevent Anciline's placement of it from not scratching and cutting her, and placed it on the VP's chest. Trixie took the cloak and rubbed it over her face, removing most of the face paint that hadn't already vanished in the couse of the match, and dropped the garb in the coffin, too. She reaches in and slaps Anciline a little, rousing her. The older fighter stares up, confused and dizzy.
“Hey, Ancy,” Trixie began. “You're right. This isn't me. I'm not a monster. I am just carny trash.” She tapped her tattoo. “Carny trash with a big heart and a lot of love. And I've come eleven plus years in this industry, surviving, as someone who doesn't 'kill.' And I'm going to reach the end doing the same thing.”
“Ffffuck yoooou, Dec… Decker,” Anciline muttered.
Trixie raised a finger. “But I'm something more important.”
The tired official rolled her eyes, waiting for more prattling from the goth. Trixie smiled big for her as she reached up and grabbed the open coffin lid.
“I'm the bitch who won this match.”
Anciline's eyes widened with realization as Trixie slammed the lid down. Designed specifically for matches, the casket made a locking “click sound as it began to violently shake. Trixie rolled into the ring to the applause of a full stadium – a first in her entire career.
Bethany joined her in the ring with the mic. “Ladies and gentlemen, it is my privilege to present to you the winner of this match.” She lifted the smaller woman's sore arm. “BEA--” Bethany stopped herself. “TRIXIE DECKER!”
Trixie looked up at Bethany. “Sorry, boss lady.”
Bethany waved it away. “You're right. The Bloody Queen thing isn't you. The fans love you just as you are right now.”
“No, I'm sorry I'm about to dent up your coffin.” Trixie ran to the ropes, bounded off them, races across the ring and baseball slid out of the squared circle. Her feet slammed into the coffin, knocking it off its altar and sending it back six or seven feet, rolling and scrambling its contents. Painful shrieks came from inside.
Trixie stomped over to the overturned death box and pointed at it, yelling, “FUCK YOU, I WIN!”
Immediately, feet thundered down the aisle towards Trixie. Kanako got to her first, followed by Akira and Noah. The Modern Day Ronin scooped Trixie up in a hug and twirled her. Akira and Noah piled on next, Noah practically in tears. Trixie kissed each of them.
“I told you,” she whispered. “I’m still your Trixie. Nothing changes that.” It was a picture perfect moment and an ideal moment to close the whole affair on.
Then they heard the clapping. And the voice.
“How cute!” growled a voice over the sound system. Trixie and her loves, as well as Bethany, looked towards the ramp entrance.
KATE GRIMM:
Kate raised the mic to her lips, clapping on her wrist. “How adorable. And, my goodness, Trixie. You healed up nicely. Did you get that tooth replaced?”
Bethany raised her mic. “NO! You aren’t--”
“Fired,” Kate said, cutting the CEO off. “I’m not fired. See, I know you’ve been trying to get that pushed through because I had to send Schizo down there a message. I can’t help it that Trixie Express is the best delivery system. But I can help you getting rid of me.” Kate grinned like the cat who caught the canary. “But, see, there’s someone above you, Bethany. A man who owns this fine promotion and, as it turns out, he takes meetings with talent. And I can be persuasive.”
Noah looked at Akira and mimicked a blowjob. Akira narrowed her eyes at the younger fighter.
“So, it turns out my termination,” Kate laughed as she pulled paperwork from her back pocket. “Is a one show suspension. This show. Oh, boo hoo. Like you’ve been using me right anyway, Christian.” She looked to Kanako. “Hey, Two-Face. How’s your better half doing? And I don’t mean the chewtoy you’re hugging.”
Kanako stepped forward, rage and something unearthly welling up inside her. First clenched she prepared to bolt but Trixie put a hand on her shoulder. “You can’t attack someone that’s suspended,” Trixie says. “That’ll put you in crosshairs.”
“Oh, no, don’t worry, Kan-Kan. You and I, we’ll settle this one day but I’m here to offer Trixie a present to congratulate her on her win tonight.” She looks to Trixie. “I know you want to go with me after what happened. That’s fair. I mean, you oughta want to take it out on Kanako since she’s the one who almost broke my neck and started all this bullshit. If she hadn’t done that, you might have had a celebratory fingerbang with all your bitches down there after last show.” She smirks. “Maybe you did. Hospitals have visiting hours, after all.”
Noah began to undo her braids. “She’s dead. I’m killing her.” Akira took Noah’s wrist and shook her head, glaring at Kate.
“So, next show. You and me, Decker. I’m gonna give you a chance to put me down. I’m going to let you, a one-time hardcore fighter, now a glorified jizz rag fetish dream, a chance to face me - one of the deadliest women to leave the fighting cage for the wrestling ring. You’re gonna get a shot to prove your tiny fists and big heart have half a change against me.” Kate thrust a thumb back to herself. “And I get a chance to do to you what your bitch did to me. But, unlike her, I like to make sure a lady enjoys completion.” Kate tossed the mic, turns around, and stomps out of the arena to the boos of the fans.
“This is trash,” Kanako yelled. “I’m not letting her--”
“You’re not involved,” Trixie interrupted.
Kanako whirled around. “Bullshit, I’m not! She did this becau--”
“She challenged me,” Trixie said. “She’s fighting me next month, not you. After I’m done with her, you can do whatever you want.” Trixie pats Kanako’s cheek. “It will be okay. She brought me into this, so I’m going to put my foot down. On her throat.”
Kanako forced a smile, wanting to believe this. Trixie looked back to Bethany, who didn’t pretend to hide her rage at Kate and concern for Trixie. It was kind of nice to, for the first time, feel people really cared. She led the others up the ramp, stomping on the shaking coffin as she went. There was celebrating to do.
But tomorrow?
Tomorrow Trixie would begin to prepare so she could show Kate what pain really felt like.