Post by walkindude on Oct 31, 2019 21:36:13 GMT
A roll of canned thunder preceded a brief Theremin solo as the FAWN.com logo dissolved into a sweeping shot of the promotion’s official archive, a cavernous place in the bowels of the arena where ninety percent of the floor space was taken up with high shelves that were themselves crammed to bursting with every conceivable sort of media documenting all the peaks, valleys, heroines and villainess from FAWN’s near twenty year history. The seasonal soundtrack was still rocking along when the camera drew to a stop on a battered wooden table decorated with an array of pumpkins, bats, witches, black cats and other Halloween staples.
Seated on the far side of the table was the semi-official FAWN Historian and curator of this particular archive, Kent Allard. A tall, perpetually rumpled looking fellow in his mid-thirties, Allard wore his beard short and his hair long. His glasses had heavy black frames and though they showed no electrical tape anywhere, you wouldn’t have been surprised to find some holding the bows together. Tonight the archivist sported a faded ‘Clarissa Shivers: Queen of Halloween’ t-shirt along with his usual worn jeans and ancient flannel shirt. Greeting the camera with a small salute, he waited until the music faded to nothing before he said, “Hello boils and ghouls, and welcome to a very special Halloween edition of the Allard Archive. Tonight I’ll delve into a particularly odd, some would say frightening corner of the professional wrestling world and since those delvings require navigating the minefield that is the internet and social media, I’ve gone ahead and recruited a specialist in that area to help us pass through unharmed. Please allow me to introduce the Tweet Storm Trooper herself, Lyssa Zahn!”
LYSSA ZAHN:
The camera pulled back enough to reveal the Vine Vixen curled up in a chair next to the host, scrolling through something on her phone.
“Good to have you here tonight, Lys.” Allard prompted when the brunette didn’t look up after a few seconds.
“Course it is.” she still hadn’t looked up. “Booking me for this nerd-fest of yours is gonna double, if not triple the audience. You’re welcome, by the way.” Zahn tossed the gadget down, turned her attention to Kent. “Oh, how’s your girlfriend? That nosebleed I gave her in Tampa looked pretty nasty.”
“Doing just fine, thanks for asking.” he replied without missing a beat. “In fact she asked me to tell you your bottom lip looks much better now that the stitches are out.”
Lyssa smirked, though her dark eyes flashed at the memory of their match in Miami. “She knows we’re not done, right? In fact we’re just getting started.”
“Rest assured, she knows. But we’re getting off track! I didn’t ask you here to poke the Raven, no indeed. I asked you here because--”
“Because I like a good Creepy Pasta as much as anyone.” the Black Hat interrupted. “And because there’s no other woman on this roster that could parse the truth… or at least SOME of the truth, from the copious amounts of bullshyt concerning Violyt Goodheart.” Zahn paused for a moment to consider her words. “Or more accurately, the woman calling herself Violyt Goodheart.”
Allard murmured agreement. “Couldn’t have said it better myself. And for those of you scratching your head over the phrase ‘Creepy Pasta’, it’s simply--”
“Urban Legends for the YouTube generation.” Zahn sighed. “MOST of them are complete fakes and bad fakes at that, but occasionally you run across one that’s actually got some legit documentation. In the case of Violyt Goodheart there’s actually a metric f*ck ton of evidence assembled throughout the last five years or so. Only problem is…”
“Damned near none of it makes sense.” Kent finished for his guest-host when Lyssa trailed into silence.
After a moment she nodded. “Yeah, that’s as good an explanation as any.”
Turning his attention back to the camera, Allard went on, “By now I’m guessing a good number of you are practically shouting ‘So who the hell is Violyt Goodheart!?’ Fact is, I don’t know. Neither does Lyssa and neither does anyone else.”
“Hypatia might.” Zahn broke in. “Of course she’s also bat-shyt crazy and prone to lying.”
“Agreed on both counts, but you’re skipping ahead a few chapters. We’ll get to the GSPW incident sooner than later, but for now let’s start at what most folks agree is the beginning. October 2014, it’s Friday night in a northeastern Ohio town with the memorable name of Euclid. It’s about eight o’clock and approximately three hundred fans have packed themselves into an old warehouse down by the waterfront to watch Buckeye State Pro Wrestling, heretofore referred to as BSPW, put on their monthly card. One of the marquee matches was supposed to be BSPW Ladies Champion Isabella ‘the Body’ Sato defending the strap against ‘Painkiller’ Jade Swanson. Unfortunately for the promoters, Sato ended up in a minor car accident on her way to the show and while she was ultimately fine, the champ was still getting checked over by EMT’s when she was supposed to be stepping through the curtain. Enter an unknown blonde babyface who’d arrived at the show earlier that afternoon just in case a spot opened up. Well, ‘Violyt Goodheart’ was a nobody, but she was at least a local nobody with references from a wrestling school over in Cleveland. She sure wasn’t going to move any tickets, but she was blonde, bubbly and favored sparkly pink trunks, so brass figured she could at least get some sympathy cheers while Painkiller beat her from pillar to post. She came out to bubblegum pop and crickets, the crowd clearly disappointed by Sato’s absence. Little did they know they--”
“Shut up a second, would ya, glasses?” Lyssa chirped. “You’re glossing over some important details.”
Allard extended a hand, inviting the brunette to continue. “First off, no one at the Cleveland Finishing School had ever heard of anyone named Violyt Goodheart, and none of their students fit her description so we know that those credentials were forged. Second, she was billed as being from Peaksville Ohio, which is total bullshyt. Because there is no Peaksville Ohio, at least not in the good ol’ U.S. of A. There is however a Peaksville Ohio in the Twilight Zone, particularly the episode ‘It’s A Good Life’, where a little boy with freaky-ass mind powers terrorizes a whole town. The fact is, shyt was off-kilter from the very beginning, but nobody figured that out until… hmmmmmmhhh, how do I put this?”
“The salad fork made an appearance?” Allard suggested.
Zahn’s lips curled in a smile like charring paper as she leaned forward in her chair. “Pretty much. See, the match went how everyone expected it would. Swanson comes outta her corner like a juggernaut and proceeds to sling Goodheart around the ring for a good five minutes before she hooks her up for that Backpack Stunner she likes. She starts to parade the new meat around the ring and outta nowhere Violyt’s got a fork in hand and she jabs it into Painkiller’s forehead! Of course the ref’s outta position because Swanson loved to pile on whenever she could, only this time it backfires on her and the fork vanishes before the striped idiot ever knew it was there! Hell, even the fans aren’t quite sure what they saw, all they know is Violyt’s loose, Painkiller’s forehead is bleeding like crazy and then this frilly slice of blonde Bikini Meat has the big bad Destroyer down flat on her stomach, shrieking to the rafters in a Jim Breaks Special!”
“That’s a particularly nasty Double Armbar, for those that--”
“Don’t ever interrupt me, Allard.”
“Sorry Lyssa.”
“Anyhoo, Goodheart’s got her locked up tight in the middle of the ring, Swanson’s just squalling but even then the crowd’s expecting her to power out and put this no name brat through the wringer. So what does Goodheart do? She catches hold of Painkiller’s right pinkie and pulls it back like she’s gonna touch it to her elbow! Next thing you know Swanson’s bawling a submission and Violyt’s skipping around ringside slapping hands and chatting with the sub-humanoids! Now, we’ve got video footage that shows Goodheart produce the fork, but BSPW didn’t have a ‘tron, so they didn’t have instant replay, which meant that most of these dopes are cheering their heads off for a complete stranger that mauled one of their regulars! If you go back and listen to the tape you can hear at least one voice say something like ‘what the f*ck was with the fork?’ but everyone was so thrilled to see Painkiller get some comeuppance that they pretty much chalked it up to their imagination, at least until… well, you have the footage in question, right, glasses?”
Kent nodded and the screen was promptly filled with some rather unsteady phone footage of a petite blonde in her late twenties standing back-to the crowd at the top of a small stage. The woman’s two piece is gleaming pink with thin white trim, pads are an identical pink, her boots a spotless white. For a moment she’s motionless, then her shoulders start to rise and fall like she’s doing her best to stifle otherwise uncontrollable giggles. Then she looked over one shoulder and the amateur cameraman zoomed in just close enough to spot the small silver fork hanging from her mouth. A hand passed over her face and the fork vanished like a conjurer’s trick, as did Violyt Goodheart herself a heartbeat thereafter.
Cut back to the archive where Kent was shaking his head while Lyssa looked simultaneously disgusted and amused. Once he’d collected this thoughts, Allard went on. “Course it didn’t take long for everyone backstage to realize just what the hell had happened and half the roster, not to mention the promoter, went looking for their mysterious temp and do you know what they found, Lyssa?”
“Exactly Jack and Shyt.” Zahn replied. “Bytch had already lit out for the territories, didn’t even stick around to collect her paycheck. Good thing too, because Jade Swanson was pissed!”
“Yeah she was.” Kent agreed. “So fans, wrestlers and brass alike took to social media in search for any trace of the mystery blonde, but Goodheart might as well be a ghost. Not a hint of her on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, any of the usual platforms. Hell, they even combed MySpace and didn’t find a damned thing.”
“And there still isn’t.” Zahn took over when he paused for a moment. “Whenever she does show up on-line it’s either because she’s in a video produced by whatever promotion she’s working for at the time… or she hijacked one of her opponent’s accounts to send a message. Then there was Hypatia, who gave her feed over willingly while the two of ‘em were busy terrorizing New Jersey, but again, getting ahead of ourselves.”
“It’s cool, we’re closer now. So after Euclid the trail goes cold for more than six months and most everyone’s forgotten about the weird little blonde girl that made Painkiller Swanson tap out after shredding her forehead with a fork. Then comes a Polaris Pro Wrestling show in St. Paul, I believe it was mid-May. Tawdry McClane was a big heel on the Polaris roster at the time, running a twist on the old Rick Rude gimmick where she’d run down the ‘sweat hogs’ in the audience, then challenge any wife or girlfriend to defend the poor dope’s honor. That night she started running down this beanpole of a guy--”
“Kinda looked like a classier version of you, glasses.” Lyssa snickered.
“Thanks Zee.” he deadpanned. “So McClane’s just laying a verbal beatdown on this guy when all of a sudden this blonde materializes at his side and starts giving it back to Tawny!”
“Dude’s reaction is priceless.” Zahn noted. “Just look at his face, he has no idea who this chick is, but he certainly seemed to appreciate the defense. Tawny’s not having any of it, she calls the brat out, dares her to hop over the barricade and tell everyone her name so the cops can contact her next of kin.”
“The fans advise her against this, Tawny McClane’s as mean as the day is long, but the ‘girlfriend’ does as bade, slips into the ring and identifies herself as ‘Vikki Godspeed’. McClane has a good laugh at this, goes to pie-face the intruder only for ‘Vikki’ to catch a wrist and Irish Whip her into the corner. Tawny’s so startled she doesn’t manage to turn around before she goes chest-first into the buckles! Godspeed nails her with a pair of Double Knees that drops her to her knees, then follows it up with a second set of Double Knees that smashes her face against the middle turnbuckle!”
VIKKI GOODSPEED:
“By now the crowd’s going nuts.” Lyssa picked up. “Tawny’s bounced away from the corner, trying to get to her feet while this schlub from god knows where is climbing to the top rope like she’s done it a thousand times before. McClane makes it to vertical and immediately gets planted when the blonde comes outta the sky with a nasty Diving DDT. By now everyone’s starting to realize that this chick’s either a ringer or a plant and it only got more obvious when Vikki wrapped Tawny’s left arm around her left leg, then grabbed the brunette’s right wrist and wreeeeeeeeeenched that arm back until she could plant her right foot atop McClane’s hand. Tawny’s howling and cursing, but the fans have gone… not quiet, but they’re buzzing in that way crowds do when they realize something nasty’s about to happen.”
“Ultimately it wasn’t so much nasty as it was… creepy? I feel like I’m understating it.” Kent added.
“Creepy. Disquieting. Weird as f*ck. Whatever you call it, it was scary.” Lyssa agreed.
“So Godspeed’s got Tawny McClane all tied up and it’s at this point where the blonde clearly says ‘I could break your arm right now, but I’m not through having fun!’ Tawny tells her she can go to hell, then there’s a whole lot of shrieking and wailing because the blonde’s clawing at her face, twisting her nose, raking her eyes, whatever you can imagine, she’s probably do it. McClane’s blubbering after less than a minute, pleading with Godspeed to let her go, but the blonde just keeps working her over until someone finally had the bright idea to send a ref to the ring. That got Vikki out of the ring real fast and she hops over the barricade to rejoin the fans, albeit nowhere near her supposed ‘boyfriend’. Just like in Euclid she’s vanished in a matter of seconds, but one enterprising fan got a good clip of her strolling by. She must’ve appreciated the attention because she slows down, waves and blows the camera a little kiss. Then she says, well, you say it, Lyssa. You’re delivery’s better than mine.”
Zahn closed her eyes for a moment before honing in on the camera. “Sometimes I do bad things.” she said in an amused, slightly singsong tone, “But I promise, I’ve got a good heart.”
Allard chuckled even though the hair on the back of his neck was standing at attention. “That one line was enough to start folks poring over the Euclid footage again. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that Vikki Godspeed and Violyt Goodheart were one and the same. Now we’ve got two appearances in two different promotions, both ending with notable heels wrecked by someone who looked like Lisa Frank’s interpretation of Shea London. That’s how it went for the next couple years or so. She’d pop up at some indy show that was short a hand, put a rather brutal beatdown on whatever unsuspecting heel they threw her in with, then disappear for a couple of months before resurfacing somewhere new where the cycle could start all over again.”
“I started paying attention in the middle of 2016.” Lyssa added. “I’d signed with FAWN by then and had plenty of my own shyt to do, namely humiliating the Bloodwinds and Treymanes of the world, but the idea of some bloodthirsty renegade babyface was so out there I couldn’t leave it alone. And that fact that she had NO social media presence? That… I cannot tell you how unthinkable that is in this day and age. Yeah sure, there’s plenty of norms out there that can get by without it, but pro wrestling might as well be subtitled ‘Lookit me, bytch!’ and this girl entirely bypassed that aspect of the industry. She didn’t just not want people looking for her, she wanted them to believe she didn’t exist. That, more than anything else makes me believe Violyt Goodheart is one of the few genuine lunatics in this industry.” Zahn reached for a water bottle and took a sip.
Kent took the opportunity to continue. “Let’s fast forward a little more than a year. It’s December of 2017, you’re with FAWN, but you’ve got the weekend off so you’re visiting a friend who’s working for Steel City Sirens. You’re in the audience a few rows back when ‘Daddy’s Girl’ Larissa Adams gets on the mic and starts harping about an open challenge. What happened next?”
“What happened was that snippy little brat made brazen eye contact and I was about to teach her a lesson in respect. But then the sound system kicked into ‘Choke’ and Violyt freakin’ Goodheart skips out onto the stage. I’d always heard the management at Steel City were half-crazy, they pretty much proved it by giving Goodheart her first official contract.”
“Were you mad about her potentially poaching your shot at Adams?” Allard asked.
“Nah. I’m sure Bethany would’ve had choice words for me if I’d actually gone over the barricade. And honestly? I was as interested as everyone else to see the crazy bytch in action.”
“Ask and ye shall receive.” Kent replied. “The following footage comes from the fine folks over at Steel City Sirens, thanks guys!”
********
LARISSA ADAMS:
“Get her back!” Larissa Adams demanded, the rookie sensation pointing an accusing finger at the… freak… slowly walking her down. Working hard to keep the official between herself and the other blonde, Larissa added, “Cray bytch almost tore off my skirt!”
VIOLYT GOODHEART:
This was technically true, though anyone in the crowd would’ve quickly added that Goodheart only tore at the offending tartan after Larissa had repeatedly scrubbed the material across her opponent’s eyes and even forced it into her mouth a few times during the first ten minutes of the match. The tipping point came when Larissa mounted the other blonde in the turnbuckles and slipped the skirt over her head for a tawdry little bump ‘n grind before she unloaded a series of punches to the hooded battler’s pate. The crowd’s count was up to ‘SIX!’ when Violyt reached up with both hands, caught hold of Adams’ skirt and began to pull in opposite directions.
Startled by the dry ‘riiiiiiiip’ coming from behind, Larissa uttered a curse and went to hop clear only to find herself glued in place when Goodheart knotted her hands beneath the curve of opposing buttocks. “Bytch, you better let go right goddamned now!” Adams freed her foe’s head from the tartan prison so she could pull at her hair with eye-watering intensity. “You don’t know who you’re messing WHOOOAAANNGGHH!”
Violyt marched her outta the corner, went up on tiptoes and abruptly sank to one knee, all the better to THUMP Larissa’s crotch with an Inverted Atomic Drop! Adams went knock-kneed and pigeon-toed in the blink of an eye, yet ‘Daddy’s Girl’ showed off some veteran ring awareness by sending Goodheart back to the buckles with a huge two-handed shove! Didn’t buy her much time, but it was more than enough to let her take cover behind the zebra.
“I mean it!” Larissa added a fearful tremor to her voice that she really didn’t feel. “Keep her offa me! Bytch be cray!”
Violyt halted her advance, smoothed back her shoulder-length hair and smiled. “Now that’s just not true, Larissa!” she explained. “Doctor Cruz says I’m doing VERY well in group, I even have the discharge papers to prove it!” Goodheart trailed off, gave the other blonde a sly little smile. “I’m sorry, that’s a lie. They don’t even know I’m gone to--”
Larissa shoved her striped shield aside and lunged for Violyt, meaning to drive a Spear through her gut that’d take ‘em both back to the corner. In this she was only partly successful because Violyt hopped over neat as you please, thus forcing Adams to slam on the brakes to avoid a face-first collision with the middle buckle. Crisis averted, the black-clad battler hopped onto the second strand and launched herself off in a back-flip on the assumption that Goodheart was already careening down her back-trail. Alas, Violyt hadn’t followed her opponent to the corner, meaning she was still very much behind Larissa when the ingénue returned to the canvas with a crisp little ‘thwhump’ that was completely overshadowed by the THWHACK of Violyt’s striking the base of her skull! Adams’ knees gave out and she pitched forward into much the same position she’d occupied heartbeats prior, only now her arms were draped over the second rope and her forehead rested heavily against the middle buckle.
ENZU SUPER KICK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=ot4anUNmUUg
As for Goodheart, she turned around and sauntered to the other corner while offering a pageant wave to the crowd. Her smile and energy were genuinely infectious, which was why it was just to odd to hear her chirp, “I hate you all so, SO much! I may be fighting Larissa, but I’m thinking of each and every one of you!” She whipped around on one heel and raced straight for the penitent grappler, Violyt leaving her feet in a low-flying leap that ended with both knees THWHUMPING against Adams’ vulnerable shoulders.
SMILEY FACEBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=dioTSZKKP8M
World exploding in stars when her skull was driven against the roughly padded steel, Larissa offered nothing in the way of protest when Goodheart grabbed a handful of that tartan waistband and hauled her to boot-leather. “Not all outta mascara and lip gloss, are ya?” Violyt asked in the midst of dipping her head beneath the other blonde’s left arm. “Because I’d like to paint the top buckle too.”
With that she curled her left arm around Adams’ waist and braced her right hand against the rookie’s tush, all the better to power her up onto the point of her right shoulder. Most fans guessed in favor of a traditional Atomic Drop while a smaller section figured Violyt was setting for a Sheer-Drop Belly to Back Suplex. Turned out everyone was wrong because Goodheart simply swung her burden forward and down to BWUUUNG Larissa’s forehead offa the top turnbuckle!
Adams’ noggin snapped backward and the rest of her followed sluggishly after, the woozy blonde staggering away from the corner like someone who’d wandered away from a car accident. Not that she wandered far, mind you. She’d made it no more than half a dozen steps when Violyt spun her around, went in low and snugged her head under Larissa’s left arm. In the same instant she curled an arm around the back of Adams’ left thigh and muscled her into the air. Larissa made a game effort to lock her legs around Goodheart’s waist but the Scissors had no edge and the pink-clad enigma ignored them while she hooked her left arm over Adams’ right shoulder.
“I think Lissy’s losing her Happy Thoughts.” Violyt observed with genuine sadness as she walked Adams around the squared. “It’s ok though! I know exactly where she keeps them so--” Goodheart rocked up on her heels and laid out flat to THAWHONK Larissa’s already pounding skull into the deck with a Cradled Reverse STO. Bounced onto her back by the power of Violyt’s ‘Happy Thoughts’, Daddy’s Girl let out a soft groan as Violyt slithered over her chest in a Crossbody. She didn’t bother hooking the far leg, not that this lapse kept the ref from counting out…
HAPPY THOUGHTS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=_xVsCvgeD74
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
Goodheart grabbed hold of Larissa’s wrist and wrenched it off the mat at the last second, Violyt going so far as to jostle her foe’s wrist ‘no, no, no!’ to better sell Adams’ steely resolve! “Gosh, you ARE strong!” the blonde exclaimed with mock gravity as she pulled Larissa off the mat and into Standing Headscissors. “Guess I’ll have to dig down deep if I want that winner’s purse!”
Adams groaned some sort of denial that wasn’t nearly enough to keep Goodheart from cinching both arms around her waist. From there she bent her knees and flipped Larissa onto her shoulders, the black-clad blonde slumping forward ever so slightly. Those gathered for the evening’s festivities were thinking Powerbomb and for good reason, so they more than a little surprised when Violyt swung her burden forward while simultaneously dropping back and raising her knees to hip level, the Princess of Peaksville ensuring Adams THWHUMPED down spine-first atop those posted joints! Larissa bounced away in a nerveless sprawl, her usually bratty lights snuffed out by the power of Unicorns & Rainbows. Sidling into a Crossbody with no noticeable sense of urgency, Violyt cradled the far (right) leg and drew Adams’ knee up to within inches of her chin while the referee tolled…
UNICORNS & RAINBOWS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=MxrFuJNrKCQ
ONE…
TWO…
THREE!
Goodheart broke her cover at the sound of the bell, but instead of bounding to her feet she straddled the other blonde’s waist and wrapped both hands around her throat! “This is for all your dirty birdy tricks earlier.” Violyt explained as Larissa writhed and the bell sounded over and over again. “It’s what you get for--”
“Get off ‘er, Violyt!” the referee barked. “Don’t make me reverse my--”
Violyt fixed him with a look of such vicious amusement he took a few steps back to put some more distance between himself in the blonde. Just like that Goodheart’s hands unlocked and she bounced to verticality, one foot resting jauntily on Larissa’s fluttering chest.
Offering a wrist to the zebra, she batted her eyes and said, “Raise my hand or I’ll bite off your nose!”
********
Back in studio, Lyssa Zahn wore an expression that was either bemusement or disgust. “Raise my hand… or I’ll bite off your nose. What do you even say to that?”
“I’d say it’s about time we discussed Hypatia Masters’ role in all of this madness. In particular the--”
“Trenton Salad Fork Massacre?” Zahn interrupted. “’Bout goddamned time. I thought you’d never get around to it.”
“I wanted to establish a baseline for our subject for the evening.” Allard explained. “To make sure they understand--”
“Dude you can’t understand someone like Goodheart. To even try is to risk ending up as f*cking weird as she is!”
“Fine, fine. Since you’re so eager to get to the grue and gore, perhaps you’d like to give our viewers a crash course on one Hypatia Masters?”
“Gladly.” Lyssa consulted her phone for a moment, then tossed it down, leaned back in her chair and kicked both feet up on the desk. “Hypatia Masters is a ten year veteran of the Northeastern Indy scene, though she’s also had memorable runs in California, Georgia, England, Germany and Japan. Simultaneously loved and loathed in her native Garden State, she’s been nicknamed ’the Evil Eye’ and ‘the Jersey Devil’ and is reputed to be the only resident of that state that our very own Portia VanBuren wouldn’t dare use ‘the J-Word’ on, at least not to her face.”
“And why is that, Lyssa?”
Zahn grinned from ear to ear. “Because she’s an amoral lunatic, that’s why. Imagine someone with all the Old Money clout and ice queen bytchiness of POV, then make her as mercurial as Calliope. Oh, and she’s probably the most sadistic mat technician in the country today, even though Elise Winterrest would claim otherwise.”
“No one knows how Hypatia struck up a friendship with Violyt.” Kent chimed in. “But however it happened, the two went on a rampage through Northeast including a particularly vicious series with newcomers Randi Pike and Casey Newsome, a duo collectively known as the Jersey Angels. The Trenton Salad Fork Massacre took place at a GSPW show in a singles match between Masters and Pike. Violyt was at ringside because she had her ‘manager’s license’, but Hypatia had used her influence to make sure Casey Newsome was barred from ringside. The clip we’re about to run starts near the end of the match proper, but what we’re interested in happens after the bell. Roll it!”
********
RANDI PIKE:
The capacity crowd roared to shake the rafters as Randi Pike caught Hypatia Masters out of a flat run and THAWHAMMED her to the thinly-sheathed canvas with a Power Slam! Popping to her feet without so much as thinking of a cover, the sturdy blonde rookie busted out a double bicep flex and proclaimed, “THIS CHICK IS TOAST!”
HYPATIA MASTERS:
Down on the mat, Masters beat her heels against the deck and covered one eye with both hands and groaned, “My eye, ref! That tacky stripper bytch jammed a press-on nail in my eye!”
Give the ref credit, he tried to do his due diligence, but Randi shooed the man aside so she could haul the brunette to her feet with a double handful of hair. From there the green-clad blonde dipped a shoulder, slipped that arm through Masters’ legs and hoisted her onto her shoulders in a Fireman’s Carry that’d no doubt segue into her devastating ‘Jersey TurnPike’ finish. Violyt knew it too, which was why she hopped up on the apron directly behind the tangled pair and shouted, “Put her down ya big bully! You wanna fight? Pick on someone your own size!”
VIOLYT GOODHEART:
Pike, who had a good two or three inches on the little weirdo, spun to Goodheart and taunted, “Don’t worry baby, there’ll be plenty left for you when I’m doHEY! REF, WATCH HER HANDS!”
A sound warning indeed as Randi and the zebra could both see the flecks of glitter drifting from the blonde’s clenched fist. “Hey, you put that down, Violyt!” the ref ordered as he marched over to the interloper. “What did I tell you about glitter bombs?”
“That they’re fun for the whole family?”
“I most certainly did not! Hand it over. C’mon, give it!”
“Oooohhhh, all right.” Goodheart looked crestfallen despite the fact Hypatia was currently fighting free of the Fireman’s Carry by raaaaaaaaaaaaking her nails across Randi’s eyes. Pike’s wails combined with the outrage of the crowd to draw the official’s attention, but he didn’t even get the chance to turn his head before Violyt blew a huge puff of glitter directly into his face!
That was about the time Hypatia pulled free of the blonde’s clutches and slithered down her back. Reaching between her foe’s legs with her left hand, Masters snagged hold of Randi’s left wrist, then spun her around and secured a Fireman’s Carry of her own, albeit one of the Wrist-Clutch variety. The GSPW faithful jeered their hearts out because they knew what this meant, alas knowing didn’t make the inevitable any easier to endure and they booed all the louder when Hypatia went up on tiptoe and laid out on her right side to THWHAM Pike on the back of her head and shoulders courtesy of her ‘Masterwork’ Death Valley Bomb.
MASTERWORK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=QInIXGFu0pM
Pike bounced open in a glassy-eyed starfish, one that was partially obscured when the lithesome brunette swung a leg over and sat down directly atop her gaping face. Of course there was no count because the ref was trying to clear his eyes of a horrible rainbow, but Goodheart wasn’t about to let bad timing screw her friend out of a victory, so she peeled off the ref’s shirt, slipped it down over her head and dove in beside the action to count a totally legitimate, “ONE! TWO! THREE!”
The bell didn’t sound so Hypatia didn’t get up, rather she treated herself to a greedy handful of Randi’s bounty while she continued a slow grind atop the moaning blonde’s mug.
“Hey Hypatia?” Violyt asked after several more seconds.
“Yes, Vi?” Masters replied without slowing her pace.
“Is it true this doormat used to be a stripper?”
“Hmmmmmhhh? Oh yes. Probably bored the lunchtime crowd at some place with a name like Cheatahs or Knockerz. I’d imagine she was their star attraction because she’s the only one without a C-section scar.” Hypatia smirked, extended an index finger and proceeded to draaaaaaaaaag her index finger from the line of Pike’s green briefs all the way up to her navel and a little beyond.
“I’ve never actually been to a strip club.” Goodheart admitted. “Maybe sweet Randi could give us a little taste of her skills?”
“Skills is a generous term, Vi.” Hypatia noted. “Given her tepid efforts in tonight’s match, I’d expect her gyrations on the stage to be just as halfhearted. Besides, it’s not like we have a pole for the little tramp to work.”
“We’ve got a ring-post. And these…” Violyt finally got Hypatia’s attention when she spotted the handcuffs dangling from the blonde’s index finger.
“You know what, Vi? You’re right. Let’s go slumming.”
The Jersey Devil vacated her seat, buried both hands in Randi’s hair and hauled her up just enough to collect her in a snug Half Waistlock. Forgoing her traditional ‘Walk of Shame’ in favor of bustling Pike over to the corner, Hypatia grabbed the helpless grappler’s wrists and held them together so Goodheart could ‘snap’ the cuffs in place. Gifted with a sort of seamless cohesion that was genuinely disturbing considering how unpredictable they were in every other aspect, Masters and Goodheart got Pike through the ropes and onto the steel steps, whereupon they drew her arms over her head and hooked those cuffed wrists over the top of the ring-post.
“Hmmmmh, this isn’t working out like I’d hoped.” Hypatia said of the results. “Jiggles here is a little taller than I’d imag--”
Violyt hopped through the ropes to the floor, lined up beside the steps and kicked ‘em once, twice, three times! The last shot finally dislodged the top half and sent it skittering out from under the blonde’s feet leaving Randi Pike to drop to the wider, flatter, bottom step with her arms stretched awkwardly overhead.
“Rrrrrrrggggghhhhh!” Randi went up on tiptoe, the powerful but unfortunately outnumbered blonde searching for enough purchase to pull her hands clear of the ring-post. “You sick bytch.” she grunted at Hypatia. “You’re going to pay for--”
Masters reared back and CRAAACKED a huge slap against her opponent’s defenseless midriff. “Well OF COURSE we’re going to pay, silly.” Hypatia leaned down, slipped two fingers into her right boot and came out with a small roll of bills. “We wouldn’t dare dream of stiffing tonight’s entertainment. Now, how much for a lap--”
CASEY NEWSOME:
A blur of motion and a roar from the crowd drew Violyt and Hypatia’s attention to Randi’s tag team partner, the leggy and righteously pissed off Casey Newsome. Masters took a step back from the incoming brunette, Violyt however stepped directly into the line of fire and-- “AAAAARRRRGGGHHHHH!”
The second glitter bomb of the night caught Casey full in the face and sent her skidding into the guardrail before she could interrupt the private show. “Should’ve known this little trash heap wouldn’t have been far behind.” Hypatia sniffed. “I don’t suppose you brought--” the brunette’s lips curled up in an evil smile as Goodheart produced an identical set of handcuffs.
Ashen-faced over what these two psychopaths might do to her defenseless friend, Randi barked, “Leave her alone, dammit! It’s me you wanMMPPPPPHHHH!”
Hypatia stuffed a few small bills in the blonde’s mouth, then patted her cheek. “That’s where you’re wrong, pack-rat. We want BOTH of you.”
And alas, Masters and Goodheart weren’t to be denied.
In a matter of moments Casey was tied in place beside her partner, the brunette’s modicum of height advantage nullified by the flurry of Kneelifts Violyt THUMPED against her belly. “Excellent, really excellent!” Hypatia clapped her hands. “All right girls, my friend Violyt has never been to a strip club, so I want you to go all out. Make her smile and I’ll make it worth your while.” To prove this she tucked a C-note into the waistband of Randi’s trunks and the front of Casey’s jeans.
“Shove it, freak.” Newsome huffed. “You can’t make us do RRRRRGGGHHH!”
Masters wedged a hand between the other brunette’s thighs and squeezed until her knuckles showed white. “I can do whatever I want to your sorry asses.” Hypatia snarled. “Buy, sell or whip in whatever order I choose. Now are you going to dance or do I have to--”
The Jersey Devil drew back in genuine surprise when Casey shrieked in her face! Confused, she looked up and blinked when she realized Goodheart had snuck back into the ring, climbed the corner behind their captives and gone to work on Newsome’s forehead with a fork! “Vi, what are you doing?”
The tip of Violyt’s tongue peeked from one corner of her mouth as she continued to draaaaaaaaaaaaaag those tines across Casey’s head. “Carving her stripper name in a place where I won’t forget it. She looks like a ‘Cinnamon’ to me, what do you think?”
Straining against her bonds as the blood began to trickle down her friend’s face, Pike bellowed, “STAY AWAY FROM HER YOU BYTHAAARRRRHHHHHH STAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHP!”
Violyt shifted from Casey to Randi without missing a beat, Goodheart cupping her target’s chin in one hand to keep it steady while she did her wicked work. “The line is actually GET AWAY from her, you bytch.” she giggled. “It’s an easy mistake to make, especially when someone’s trying to leave a stripper name on your skull. Which reminds me, are you a Mercedes or an Ambrosia?”
Delighted by the carnage, Hypatia turned to the crowd and spread her arms wide. “C’mon you cheapskates, how are these unfortunates ever going to pay off their student loans with nothing but ones and fives? Here, I’ll get you started!” Masters produced a roll of C-notes from her other boot, turned around and proceeded to ‘make it rain’ on the squirming, bleeding frames of the Jersey Angels.
Hard-hearted though they were rumored to be, the GSPW faithful wanted nothing to do with this show of carnage, in fact the volume and magnitude of their disapproval grew by the second. Hypatia milked it to the end, the wicked smirking brunette occasionally tapping one ear in between stuffing more bills into the togs of her hapless prey. It wasn’t until she noticed a red rill heading south to Pike’s navel that she murmured, “Careful, Vi. We can’t have these two missing time from their day jobs at--”
Masters’ barb was cut off by a roar from the audience as every referee in the locker room bolted through the curtain on their way to the squared circle. “And so the fun grinds to a halt.”
Hypatia blew a kiss to the Angels, then hustled to the barricade and threw a handful of bills at the losers in the front row to keep them distracted while she melted into their midst. As for Goodheart, she tucked the fork into her elbow pad with a little flourish, then put her head between ‘em and giggled, “Those are gonna sting from time to time. Know why? It means I’m thinking about you! Don’t forget about me now!”
She mussed Casey’s hair and planted a kiss on Randi’s cheek before she dove out the far side of the ring and disappeared through the fans in the blink of an eye.
*********
Grimacing when the feed cut back to the studio, Kent Allard noted, “For those of you wondering, Randi Pike and Casey Newsome recovered from that attack with no significant downtime and they’ve continued to develop their reputation as one of the best new Tag Teams on the Independent scene.”
“But now you know why both of them wore bangs for almost six months after that match.” Lyssa added dryly. “I saw some of the shots before and after those chicks got stitches. They’re not for the faint of heart.”
“No they are not.” Allard agreed. “And neither is our finale for tonight’s tale of terror, wouldn’t you agree, Lyssa?”
“Absolutely…assuming we’re talking about that horror show with AJ Swann.”
“We most certainly are.”
Since they were in agreement, Kent turned his attention to the camera and went on. “The horror show in question took place at Desert Heat Wrestling’s annual ‘In the Shadow of Superstition’, a card that is, as far as I know, unique in that it takes place in an honest to God ghost town. It bears a passing resemblance to our own All Hallows Evil, but the outdoor venue lends an atmosphere and a…presence, all it’s own. The match in question took place at SOS just last year, in fact it was the headliner pitting former FAWN North American champion AJ Swann going to war with Violyt Goodheart in DHW’s first ever ‘Fans Bring the Weapons’ match. Now, we’re actually coming in at the end of this story mostly because I’d probably need a few more hours to fully document the bad blood between Swann and Goodheart. Suffice to say--”
“I gotta know, is understatement like, some weird turn-on for Lemarchand?” Zahn interrupted. “Because I swear you want these dopes to believe these chicks were just stamping around in a circle and pulling each other’s hair!”
The archivist sighed, though he did refrain from rolling his eyes. “Would you care to lurid it up for me a little, Lyssa?”
“I don’t even have to!” the Black Hat exclaimed. “I mean c’mon Allard, their problems started when Goodheart appears outta nowhere following one of Swann’s first indy appearances and lays her out with an Apron Piledriver! From there she pulls out the fork but rather than go to work with it she just taps it against Swanny’s forehead and giggles, ‘White’s a good color on you. But I think red’ll be even better!’ Of course Swann doesn’t take too kindly to this brazen affront and from then on it’s war between the two. They probably wrestled half a dozen times in three or four months, but those matches all ended in disqualifications or double count outs. The only exception was a Cage Match about three weeks prior to SOS that Swann ‘won’ because the referees determined that she crashed through the Announce Table about half an eyelash before Violyt. So yeah, DHW was looking for something emphatic to close out this blood feud and as is often the case with horror stories, they got a whole lot more than they bargained for. Roll the clip, please.”
********
AJ SWANN:
VIOLYT GOODHEART:
With the chairs set in their proper place, AJ Swann grit her teeth and set about peeling the psychotic bytch outta the dirt one last time. The sight of Goodheart’s bloodied nose and lower lip soothed her own suffering, albeit only slightly as it was extremely difficult to ignore her right eye was practically glued shut from a combination of swelling and the blood coming from a shallow, ragged cut just below her hairline. Still, the Hardcore Heartbreaker found a reason to smile once she dipped her head beneath Violyt’s left arm and secured the other blonde’s right wrist up between her shoulders in a Hammerlock.
Still woozy from the Kendo Stick assault that’d put left her kissing the dirt, Violyt huffed, “Huuuuhhhh…. hey AJ. Is it true your mother was a back-up singer for Pat BooWHOOAANNNNNGGGGHHHH!”
Swann dipped her knees and popped her hips to sling Goodheart up n’ over courtesy of a Release Northern Lights Suplex that THWHAM-BWANGED her down atop the seats of those two conveniently arranged chairs!
The hardware clattered to either side, leaving Swann’s path to her prey un-obscured. “Watch your mouth about my mom, sweetie.” AJ grunted as she collected Goodheart’s gams for a weary Back Press. “I’ll put you on crutches for that sort of shyt.”
The promise was fresh off her lips when the referee dove into action and slapped the dirt…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
Giggling in spite of the monstrous ache in her lower back, Violyt rolled to all fours and flipped a hank of sodden pink hair outta her eyes. “Oh, so Boone’s a sore spot, huh? I find that surprising, it’s definitely a step up from her days roadying for total rock n’ rollers like Glen Campbell and the Doodletown PipHHHHRRRRRRRGGGGHHHH!”
Swann swept up one of those dented chairs, ‘clanged’ it shut and brought the damned thing down on Violyt’s back with a loud BWAAANG! Goodheart hit the dirt again, so AJ dropped to her knees, shot the Half Nelson and rolled her over so she could straddle the bloodied blonde’s chest. Knees pressed in deep, Swann threw up stereo devil horns to properly undo Violyt’s sacrilege. Meanwhile the cool desert night echoed with the sound of several hundred fans tolling…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
Violyt caught a double handful of her opponent’s trunks and pulled while simultaneously bucking her hips as forcefully as she could.
Doing so forced AJ out of the mount with a whisper to spare, unfortunately for Violyt it also meant the Hardcore Heartbreaker returned to verticality in a fury exemplified by several merciless stomps to Goodheart’s belly. “Cuuuhhhh…crazy goddamned bytch.” Swann grunted after a nasty cramp in one thigh forced her to ease off the punishment. “I’m gonna teach you to keep my name out of your mouth once and for all.”
“But if I’m not talking about you, who will?” Violyt asked as she clambered to one knee. AJ didn’t answer, she’d caught sight of a fan in the front row holding an oversized placard with the missive ‘HEY AJ, USE MY SIGN!’
“That’s a pretty big sign.” she said after she’d limped over to the flimsy guardrail.
“Yes it is.” he replied. “Because Violyt’s a pretty big problem.”
“Touché.”
AJ took it from him, was surprised to realize it was either metal or heavy plastic that’d been snuggly wrapped in plain newsprint. Taking a moment to get used to the feel, she rounded on Violyt and had it raised high overhead by the time she’d closed on the wobbling psychopath. “Check it out, Vi!” Goodheart looked up and her eyes went wide half a heartbeat thereafter. Give the freak credit, she raised her arms faster than Swann would’ve believed possible, but it still wasn’t quick enough to keep the Hardcore Heartbreaker from bringing the sign down on her forehead with a resounding BWOOOONG!
Violyt shivered like a tuning fork and rocked back on her heels but didn’t go down, so AJ lifted the cumbersome bludgeon and brought it down a second time! The blonde crumpled to her knees with both hands limp in her lap and head tilted back to regard the former FAWN North American Champion with wide, glazed eyes.
AJ only noticed this in passing, her attention was focused on the shine of red showing through the small tear in the heavy paper. “What the hell IS this thing?” Setting it down only after she’d driven a blunt kick into Goodheart’s sternum, Swann hooked a hand into the ragged opening and peeeeeeeeeeeeled it all the way down. “You gotta be shytting me!” she AJ murmured, though she was grinning from ear to ear after she’d peeled the last of the wrapping off her ‘present’. Hoisting it in both hands, she ‘pwaaaked’ a kiss against the liberated STOP sign, then raised it high and shouted, “I LOVE THIS SIGN!”
“Thuuuuhhh… then why don’t you break out some Ace of Bass you poppy little poseurNNNNGGGHHH!”
AJ smote Violyt with another quick kick, caught her balance and hefted the weapon like an executioner’s axe. “I’m not gonna sing anything for you, bytch.” she huffed. “But I might say a few words at your funeAAARRRRRHH F*CK!”
Goodheart slipped that damned fork out of her boot only to plant it in AJ’s in the span between heartbeats. Thankfully the leather and lace of Swann’s footwear saved her from a night in the hospital, but those damned tines still felt like the worst bee-sting AJ had ever endured. Stumbling awkwardly, she dropped the STOP sign and ‘oooofhed’ in breathless surprise when Goodheart buried a Toe Kick in her navel. Swann doubled over, the bloodied blu-nette only vaguely aware of the metallic ‘pwonk’ of Violyt stepping across the fallen sign. Then she was caught in a Standing Headscissors and from there a pretty nice view of the stars once Violyt flipped her into the Powerbomb stall.
The ‘Superstitious’ crowd roared for Swann to fight free of the predicament and indeed she did land a few muzzy shots to Goodheart’s forehead. Unfortunately none of them stopped Violyt from dropping her spine-first atop a pair of cruelly raised knees! Crushed by the onslaught of Unicorns & Rainbows, AJ Swann tumbled across the dusty ground to come to a stop a few inches shy of the ring apron.
UNICORNS AND RAINBOWS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=zhc8Z10G94w
Mostly recovered from her sign-related hangover, Violyt Goodheart had every opportunity to scrape AJ out of the dirt and back into the squared circle, so of course the bloodied blonde collected Swann at wrist and ankle and draaaaaaaaaaaaaagged her all the way back to the center of the discarded STOP sign.
“Awful rude of you not to share such a lovely present.” Violyt huffed once she’d rolled AJ onto her stomach. “It *almost* makes me wanna not share my present with you… almost.”
Swann groaned, pulled at her captured left wrist, took a stomp to the back of her head for the trouble. Another stomp pacified the Hardcore Heartbreaker that much more, so Goodheart stretched that left arm out away from her torso and threaded her right leg across the back and dropped to a seat to Scissor it between her thighs at a most awkward angle. The unpleasant torque on her shoulder brought Swann around, the Hardcore Heartbreaker pulling her free arm tight against her chest to keep it out of Violyt’s gr--“NGH! NGH! NGH! NNNNGGGGHHH!”
Goodheart snatched a handful of hair, wrenched AJ’s head backward, then bounced it off the sign no less than half a dozen times! Wiping her palm clean on AJ’s back once she’d relinquished the hair-hold, Goodheart chirped, “Hand please!”
“Guuuhhhhh…. go to hell.” Swann huffed.
“Only if you walk me every step of the way, silly!” Violyt’s tone was cheerful, her eyes anything but. Fans from the front row all the way to the cheap seats booed their hearts when that damned fork made a return appearance. No working the boots this time, the pink-clad blonde caught a handful of hair and gave AJ’s noggin a hard shake before she started to draaaaaaaaaaaaag the tines across her prey’s forehead! AJ screamed and beat her boots against the dirt, but she stubbornly refused to use her right hand for defense.
Violyt understood her reasoning without feeling the slightest shred of compassion, which was why she smiling when she said, “Gimme your hand, pretty girl.” she pulled the fork away from Swann’s forehead and tickled it down the blu-nette’s temple to her cheek. “You wouldn’t want the poor ol’ referee to stop the match because you couldn’t defend yourself, would--”
The Hardcore Heartbreaker’s right hand shot up and swatted Violyt’s best friend off into the night, however any joy she might’ve felt following such a victory died the instant the Sparkling Maniac snatched her wrist.
“Theeeeeeeere we go!” Goodheart tittered as she craaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaanked AJ’s right arm back at an angle not meant for the human anatomy. “Ready to say the magic word, friend o’ mine?” Violyt giggled. “Or do you wanna keep bleeding into the dirt while the pinwheel stars cheer me on?”
VIOLYT BEGETS VIOLYNCE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=a8x2W_DVOQ0
“F*CK OFF!” Swann bicycled her legs frantically, the white-clad warrior burning through everything she had left to escape the vile Armbar. “TWIST ME ALL YOU WANT, THESE PEOPLE STILL KNOW YOU’RE A GODDAMNED FREAAAWWW FAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHK SHHHHHIIIIIIIIT!”
Controlling Swann’s right wrist with her left hand, Violyt grabbed hold of that hand and yanked it down once, twice, three times. Then she hooked her left arm around AJ’s forearm and clamped down on her own right wrist while simultaneously leaaaaaaaaaaaaaning back on the hellacious trap. “Walk me to hell, won’t you Alexandra?” Goodheart murmured as she continued to wrench and pull on that trapped wrist. “Walk me up to the gates so I can cast them wide and toss you in, kicking and screaming. Don’t think you’ll be lonely, though. I’ll be right behind you with a smile on my face and a song in my--”
“SUBMIT!” AJ admitted with a miserable sob. “I SUBMIT, NOW LET ME GO!”
Violyt released at the clang of the bell, the weary battler ignoring the announcement of her victory to lean down over Swann to whisper--
The feed cut away without warning, not back Allard’s studio, but the standard FAWN logo that’d started the broadcast. It didn’t quite say ‘Technical Difficulties, please stand by’ yet the audio (which was coming through just fine) painted a clear enough picture.
“What the hell, Allard? Why’d it cut off, wasn’t she about to quote The Exorcist?”
There’s a beat of near silence, though if you listen close you can hear someone speaking from well off camera. When Kent replied he sounded distracted. “Yeah, it’s the demon’s ‘give us time’ bit.”
“So why the hell did you cut away?”
“Producer’s over there having a spaz, trying to get my attention. Said my phone’s been ringing for the last five minutes straight.”
“Who gives a shyt?” Zahn’s voice shifted slightly, it seemed like she was speaking to the unseen producer. “What kind of rinky-dink bullshyt is this? So the phone rings, you either let the damn thing go to voice mail, or you take a f*cking message!” “Oh, they hung up when you answered? Sweet Jesus, what a cluster--”
A shrill electronic trill interrupted Zahn’s tirade, a four note progression that repeated itself several times. Eventually Kent piped up, “Ummmmhhh, you gonna get that, Lyssa?”
Just then the feed cut back to studio, with Allard looking at Lyssa and Lyssa frowning down at her phone. The Archivist glanced around, realized the camera was on again and quickly cleared his throat. “Sorry about that folks, just a bit of confusion on our end because it looks like we’ve got our first caller. And I mean ever, because this is not a call-in show!”
Lyssa’s phone was sounding more and more insistent, so finally she reached down and pressed the glowing green button. “Boy did you dial a wrong number!” the Black Hat chirped pleasantly. “I don’t know how in thee f*ck you got this number, but I promise that your life is going to get a lot more unpleasant from this point forward. Speak up pleeb, you’re on speaker after all!”
There was nothing for a moment, so Zahn tapped a button to bring the volume up quite a bit. The folks at home couldn’t here much of anything, but the host’s expressions (Lyssa’s of irritation, Kent’s of puzzlement) suggested that something was on the other end of the line. “We know you’re there, ass-hat.” Lyssa grumbled. “We can hear you mouth-breath--”
“HI LYSSA! HI KENT!” said a cheery, effervescent voice from the other end of the line. “Long time lurker, first time caller! Just wanted to say that I’m a HUGE fan of the show, but I gotta say I’m pretty disappointed with the information presented during tonight’s show. Now I’m not suggesting you should FIRE anyone, but perhaps a stern lecture interspersed with a heavy beating? I’m sure a sock filled with ball bearings would reduce these sort of problems in the future.”
“Look, I’m all for beating the shyt out of a certain producer, but I’ll do that on my own time.” snapped Lyssa. “And by the way, who the f*ck is this and how did you get my number?”
A giggle from the phone, one that sounded remarkably familiar at this point. “Hypatia’s got a looooooong reach, Melissa… and you know f*cking well who this is.”
“Bullshyt.” Zahn snapped at once. “You’re just some troll looking for--”
“Hello Violyt.” Kent interrupted. “I’d be interested to know what errors you noted. After all I wouldn’t be much of an archivist if I was putting lies out there, would I?”
“No, no you would not.” the voice agreed. “In truth there’s been a lot of misinformation presented tonight but here are a few of the most egregious examples. First, Isabella Sato didn’t have a car accident, it was just a flat tire. The EMT’s ended up on scene because some idiot who never learned to parallel park rear-ended her while she was calling AAA.”
“I see. And how can you confirm the flat tire? I’d never heard that from anyone before now.”
“Because I put the nail there, silly! How ELSE was I gonna get a shot at Painkiller Swanson?”
“F*ck on outta here!” Lyssa scoffed. “You’re not Violyt Goodheart and you sure as hell didn’t--”
“Cinnamon was the first idea crossed my mind, but I didn’t use it.” the voice said. “Ultimately I went with Chastity because I mean, c’mon, that’s just funny, right? And it DID leave a scar, but sweet Randi’s become an expert with concealer since the last night we met.”
“I see.” Kent said with far too much credulity for Lyssa’s taste. “Anything else?”
“It’s a cake fork.”
“Excuse me?” asked Kent, confused.
“It’s a cake fork, not a salad fork. You two must’ve mentioned a salad fork a half a dozen times tonight, but I’ve NEVER used a salad fork because I don’t LIKE salads, but I LOVE cake.”
“What the hell does it even matter?” Zahn grumbled. “And for the record, I still don’t believe you’re Violyt Goodheart.”
“I could wax poetic on the differences for an hour or more, sweet Lyssa.” the phone giggled. “But telling sucks. Showing on the other hand, is great.”
“Ooooohhh, ominous.” Zahn rolled her eyes. “You’ve wasted enough of my time, asshole. So give me a reason to hang on or I’m hanging up in five, four, three, two--”
“A riddle before I go. What’s the difference between Slenderman, Jeff the Killer, the Rake and me?”
“Trick question, you’re all fakes, far as I’m concerned.”
The first-time caller replied with a pretty good imitation of a game show buzzer.
“Wrong answer, Lyssa. The difference is obvious for anyone that’s been paying attention… they don’t have your phone number. I do. Oh hey, I’ve just been yap, yap, yapping, I’m sure you guys have lots of other callers! So just let me say it’s been a pleasure talking to you and I’m looking forward to meeting both of you in person! I’m looking forward to meeting EVERYONE in FAWN.”
“And when can we look forward to the pleasure of your company, Violyt?” Kent asked quietly.
“Like I’d spoil the surprise!” Violyt laughed aloud. “But it’ll be a lot sooner than you think…. a lot sooner than you’d like. Byyyyyyyeeeee Kent! Byyyyyyyeeeee Lyssa! Happy Halloween! I hope there’s a razor blade in all your apples!”
The line went dead, leaving Kent and Lyssa to exchange a glance.
“That was… spooky.” the Archivist noted.
“It was bullshyt garbage is what it was.” Lyssa countered. “But I’ll change my passwords just to be safe.”
“I think I’ll change my locks.” Kent suppressed a shudder, then turned to the camera. “All right folks, that’s about all the time we have tonight. Happy Halloween from everyone here at the Allard Archive. I hope everyone has a fun time, just make sure to stay safe. After all, it seems as though there are monsters closer than we thought.”
“Frankly I don’t care if you stay safe or not.” Zahn added. “But if you do encounter a monster out there, have the common decency to get footage for the rest of us, ok? Now peace out, losers. You’re bothering me.”
Kent waved, Lyssa flipped the bird and the Theremin started in again to play everyone out while the shot faded back to the FAWN logo one last time.
Seated on the far side of the table was the semi-official FAWN Historian and curator of this particular archive, Kent Allard. A tall, perpetually rumpled looking fellow in his mid-thirties, Allard wore his beard short and his hair long. His glasses had heavy black frames and though they showed no electrical tape anywhere, you wouldn’t have been surprised to find some holding the bows together. Tonight the archivist sported a faded ‘Clarissa Shivers: Queen of Halloween’ t-shirt along with his usual worn jeans and ancient flannel shirt. Greeting the camera with a small salute, he waited until the music faded to nothing before he said, “Hello boils and ghouls, and welcome to a very special Halloween edition of the Allard Archive. Tonight I’ll delve into a particularly odd, some would say frightening corner of the professional wrestling world and since those delvings require navigating the minefield that is the internet and social media, I’ve gone ahead and recruited a specialist in that area to help us pass through unharmed. Please allow me to introduce the Tweet Storm Trooper herself, Lyssa Zahn!”
LYSSA ZAHN:
The camera pulled back enough to reveal the Vine Vixen curled up in a chair next to the host, scrolling through something on her phone.
“Good to have you here tonight, Lys.” Allard prompted when the brunette didn’t look up after a few seconds.
“Course it is.” she still hadn’t looked up. “Booking me for this nerd-fest of yours is gonna double, if not triple the audience. You’re welcome, by the way.” Zahn tossed the gadget down, turned her attention to Kent. “Oh, how’s your girlfriend? That nosebleed I gave her in Tampa looked pretty nasty.”
“Doing just fine, thanks for asking.” he replied without missing a beat. “In fact she asked me to tell you your bottom lip looks much better now that the stitches are out.”
Lyssa smirked, though her dark eyes flashed at the memory of their match in Miami. “She knows we’re not done, right? In fact we’re just getting started.”
“Rest assured, she knows. But we’re getting off track! I didn’t ask you here to poke the Raven, no indeed. I asked you here because--”
“Because I like a good Creepy Pasta as much as anyone.” the Black Hat interrupted. “And because there’s no other woman on this roster that could parse the truth… or at least SOME of the truth, from the copious amounts of bullshyt concerning Violyt Goodheart.” Zahn paused for a moment to consider her words. “Or more accurately, the woman calling herself Violyt Goodheart.”
Allard murmured agreement. “Couldn’t have said it better myself. And for those of you scratching your head over the phrase ‘Creepy Pasta’, it’s simply--”
“Urban Legends for the YouTube generation.” Zahn sighed. “MOST of them are complete fakes and bad fakes at that, but occasionally you run across one that’s actually got some legit documentation. In the case of Violyt Goodheart there’s actually a metric f*ck ton of evidence assembled throughout the last five years or so. Only problem is…”
“Damned near none of it makes sense.” Kent finished for his guest-host when Lyssa trailed into silence.
After a moment she nodded. “Yeah, that’s as good an explanation as any.”
Turning his attention back to the camera, Allard went on, “By now I’m guessing a good number of you are practically shouting ‘So who the hell is Violyt Goodheart!?’ Fact is, I don’t know. Neither does Lyssa and neither does anyone else.”
“Hypatia might.” Zahn broke in. “Of course she’s also bat-shyt crazy and prone to lying.”
“Agreed on both counts, but you’re skipping ahead a few chapters. We’ll get to the GSPW incident sooner than later, but for now let’s start at what most folks agree is the beginning. October 2014, it’s Friday night in a northeastern Ohio town with the memorable name of Euclid. It’s about eight o’clock and approximately three hundred fans have packed themselves into an old warehouse down by the waterfront to watch Buckeye State Pro Wrestling, heretofore referred to as BSPW, put on their monthly card. One of the marquee matches was supposed to be BSPW Ladies Champion Isabella ‘the Body’ Sato defending the strap against ‘Painkiller’ Jade Swanson. Unfortunately for the promoters, Sato ended up in a minor car accident on her way to the show and while she was ultimately fine, the champ was still getting checked over by EMT’s when she was supposed to be stepping through the curtain. Enter an unknown blonde babyface who’d arrived at the show earlier that afternoon just in case a spot opened up. Well, ‘Violyt Goodheart’ was a nobody, but she was at least a local nobody with references from a wrestling school over in Cleveland. She sure wasn’t going to move any tickets, but she was blonde, bubbly and favored sparkly pink trunks, so brass figured she could at least get some sympathy cheers while Painkiller beat her from pillar to post. She came out to bubblegum pop and crickets, the crowd clearly disappointed by Sato’s absence. Little did they know they--”
“Shut up a second, would ya, glasses?” Lyssa chirped. “You’re glossing over some important details.”
Allard extended a hand, inviting the brunette to continue. “First off, no one at the Cleveland Finishing School had ever heard of anyone named Violyt Goodheart, and none of their students fit her description so we know that those credentials were forged. Second, she was billed as being from Peaksville Ohio, which is total bullshyt. Because there is no Peaksville Ohio, at least not in the good ol’ U.S. of A. There is however a Peaksville Ohio in the Twilight Zone, particularly the episode ‘It’s A Good Life’, where a little boy with freaky-ass mind powers terrorizes a whole town. The fact is, shyt was off-kilter from the very beginning, but nobody figured that out until… hmmmmmmhhh, how do I put this?”
“The salad fork made an appearance?” Allard suggested.
Zahn’s lips curled in a smile like charring paper as she leaned forward in her chair. “Pretty much. See, the match went how everyone expected it would. Swanson comes outta her corner like a juggernaut and proceeds to sling Goodheart around the ring for a good five minutes before she hooks her up for that Backpack Stunner she likes. She starts to parade the new meat around the ring and outta nowhere Violyt’s got a fork in hand and she jabs it into Painkiller’s forehead! Of course the ref’s outta position because Swanson loved to pile on whenever she could, only this time it backfires on her and the fork vanishes before the striped idiot ever knew it was there! Hell, even the fans aren’t quite sure what they saw, all they know is Violyt’s loose, Painkiller’s forehead is bleeding like crazy and then this frilly slice of blonde Bikini Meat has the big bad Destroyer down flat on her stomach, shrieking to the rafters in a Jim Breaks Special!”
“That’s a particularly nasty Double Armbar, for those that--”
“Don’t ever interrupt me, Allard.”
“Sorry Lyssa.”
“Anyhoo, Goodheart’s got her locked up tight in the middle of the ring, Swanson’s just squalling but even then the crowd’s expecting her to power out and put this no name brat through the wringer. So what does Goodheart do? She catches hold of Painkiller’s right pinkie and pulls it back like she’s gonna touch it to her elbow! Next thing you know Swanson’s bawling a submission and Violyt’s skipping around ringside slapping hands and chatting with the sub-humanoids! Now, we’ve got video footage that shows Goodheart produce the fork, but BSPW didn’t have a ‘tron, so they didn’t have instant replay, which meant that most of these dopes are cheering their heads off for a complete stranger that mauled one of their regulars! If you go back and listen to the tape you can hear at least one voice say something like ‘what the f*ck was with the fork?’ but everyone was so thrilled to see Painkiller get some comeuppance that they pretty much chalked it up to their imagination, at least until… well, you have the footage in question, right, glasses?”
Kent nodded and the screen was promptly filled with some rather unsteady phone footage of a petite blonde in her late twenties standing back-to the crowd at the top of a small stage. The woman’s two piece is gleaming pink with thin white trim, pads are an identical pink, her boots a spotless white. For a moment she’s motionless, then her shoulders start to rise and fall like she’s doing her best to stifle otherwise uncontrollable giggles. Then she looked over one shoulder and the amateur cameraman zoomed in just close enough to spot the small silver fork hanging from her mouth. A hand passed over her face and the fork vanished like a conjurer’s trick, as did Violyt Goodheart herself a heartbeat thereafter.
Cut back to the archive where Kent was shaking his head while Lyssa looked simultaneously disgusted and amused. Once he’d collected this thoughts, Allard went on. “Course it didn’t take long for everyone backstage to realize just what the hell had happened and half the roster, not to mention the promoter, went looking for their mysterious temp and do you know what they found, Lyssa?”
“Exactly Jack and Shyt.” Zahn replied. “Bytch had already lit out for the territories, didn’t even stick around to collect her paycheck. Good thing too, because Jade Swanson was pissed!”
“Yeah she was.” Kent agreed. “So fans, wrestlers and brass alike took to social media in search for any trace of the mystery blonde, but Goodheart might as well be a ghost. Not a hint of her on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, any of the usual platforms. Hell, they even combed MySpace and didn’t find a damned thing.”
“And there still isn’t.” Zahn took over when he paused for a moment. “Whenever she does show up on-line it’s either because she’s in a video produced by whatever promotion she’s working for at the time… or she hijacked one of her opponent’s accounts to send a message. Then there was Hypatia, who gave her feed over willingly while the two of ‘em were busy terrorizing New Jersey, but again, getting ahead of ourselves.”
“It’s cool, we’re closer now. So after Euclid the trail goes cold for more than six months and most everyone’s forgotten about the weird little blonde girl that made Painkiller Swanson tap out after shredding her forehead with a fork. Then comes a Polaris Pro Wrestling show in St. Paul, I believe it was mid-May. Tawdry McClane was a big heel on the Polaris roster at the time, running a twist on the old Rick Rude gimmick where she’d run down the ‘sweat hogs’ in the audience, then challenge any wife or girlfriend to defend the poor dope’s honor. That night she started running down this beanpole of a guy--”
“Kinda looked like a classier version of you, glasses.” Lyssa snickered.
“Thanks Zee.” he deadpanned. “So McClane’s just laying a verbal beatdown on this guy when all of a sudden this blonde materializes at his side and starts giving it back to Tawny!”
“Dude’s reaction is priceless.” Zahn noted. “Just look at his face, he has no idea who this chick is, but he certainly seemed to appreciate the defense. Tawny’s not having any of it, she calls the brat out, dares her to hop over the barricade and tell everyone her name so the cops can contact her next of kin.”
“The fans advise her against this, Tawny McClane’s as mean as the day is long, but the ‘girlfriend’ does as bade, slips into the ring and identifies herself as ‘Vikki Godspeed’. McClane has a good laugh at this, goes to pie-face the intruder only for ‘Vikki’ to catch a wrist and Irish Whip her into the corner. Tawny’s so startled she doesn’t manage to turn around before she goes chest-first into the buckles! Godspeed nails her with a pair of Double Knees that drops her to her knees, then follows it up with a second set of Double Knees that smashes her face against the middle turnbuckle!”
VIKKI GOODSPEED:
“By now the crowd’s going nuts.” Lyssa picked up. “Tawny’s bounced away from the corner, trying to get to her feet while this schlub from god knows where is climbing to the top rope like she’s done it a thousand times before. McClane makes it to vertical and immediately gets planted when the blonde comes outta the sky with a nasty Diving DDT. By now everyone’s starting to realize that this chick’s either a ringer or a plant and it only got more obvious when Vikki wrapped Tawny’s left arm around her left leg, then grabbed the brunette’s right wrist and wreeeeeeeeeenched that arm back until she could plant her right foot atop McClane’s hand. Tawny’s howling and cursing, but the fans have gone… not quiet, but they’re buzzing in that way crowds do when they realize something nasty’s about to happen.”
“Ultimately it wasn’t so much nasty as it was… creepy? I feel like I’m understating it.” Kent added.
“Creepy. Disquieting. Weird as f*ck. Whatever you call it, it was scary.” Lyssa agreed.
“So Godspeed’s got Tawny McClane all tied up and it’s at this point where the blonde clearly says ‘I could break your arm right now, but I’m not through having fun!’ Tawny tells her she can go to hell, then there’s a whole lot of shrieking and wailing because the blonde’s clawing at her face, twisting her nose, raking her eyes, whatever you can imagine, she’s probably do it. McClane’s blubbering after less than a minute, pleading with Godspeed to let her go, but the blonde just keeps working her over until someone finally had the bright idea to send a ref to the ring. That got Vikki out of the ring real fast and she hops over the barricade to rejoin the fans, albeit nowhere near her supposed ‘boyfriend’. Just like in Euclid she’s vanished in a matter of seconds, but one enterprising fan got a good clip of her strolling by. She must’ve appreciated the attention because she slows down, waves and blows the camera a little kiss. Then she says, well, you say it, Lyssa. You’re delivery’s better than mine.”
Zahn closed her eyes for a moment before honing in on the camera. “Sometimes I do bad things.” she said in an amused, slightly singsong tone, “But I promise, I’ve got a good heart.”
Allard chuckled even though the hair on the back of his neck was standing at attention. “That one line was enough to start folks poring over the Euclid footage again. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that Vikki Godspeed and Violyt Goodheart were one and the same. Now we’ve got two appearances in two different promotions, both ending with notable heels wrecked by someone who looked like Lisa Frank’s interpretation of Shea London. That’s how it went for the next couple years or so. She’d pop up at some indy show that was short a hand, put a rather brutal beatdown on whatever unsuspecting heel they threw her in with, then disappear for a couple of months before resurfacing somewhere new where the cycle could start all over again.”
“I started paying attention in the middle of 2016.” Lyssa added. “I’d signed with FAWN by then and had plenty of my own shyt to do, namely humiliating the Bloodwinds and Treymanes of the world, but the idea of some bloodthirsty renegade babyface was so out there I couldn’t leave it alone. And that fact that she had NO social media presence? That… I cannot tell you how unthinkable that is in this day and age. Yeah sure, there’s plenty of norms out there that can get by without it, but pro wrestling might as well be subtitled ‘Lookit me, bytch!’ and this girl entirely bypassed that aspect of the industry. She didn’t just not want people looking for her, she wanted them to believe she didn’t exist. That, more than anything else makes me believe Violyt Goodheart is one of the few genuine lunatics in this industry.” Zahn reached for a water bottle and took a sip.
Kent took the opportunity to continue. “Let’s fast forward a little more than a year. It’s December of 2017, you’re with FAWN, but you’ve got the weekend off so you’re visiting a friend who’s working for Steel City Sirens. You’re in the audience a few rows back when ‘Daddy’s Girl’ Larissa Adams gets on the mic and starts harping about an open challenge. What happened next?”
“What happened was that snippy little brat made brazen eye contact and I was about to teach her a lesson in respect. But then the sound system kicked into ‘Choke’ and Violyt freakin’ Goodheart skips out onto the stage. I’d always heard the management at Steel City were half-crazy, they pretty much proved it by giving Goodheart her first official contract.”
“Were you mad about her potentially poaching your shot at Adams?” Allard asked.
“Nah. I’m sure Bethany would’ve had choice words for me if I’d actually gone over the barricade. And honestly? I was as interested as everyone else to see the crazy bytch in action.”
“Ask and ye shall receive.” Kent replied. “The following footage comes from the fine folks over at Steel City Sirens, thanks guys!”
********
LARISSA ADAMS:
“Get her back!” Larissa Adams demanded, the rookie sensation pointing an accusing finger at the… freak… slowly walking her down. Working hard to keep the official between herself and the other blonde, Larissa added, “Cray bytch almost tore off my skirt!”
VIOLYT GOODHEART:
This was technically true, though anyone in the crowd would’ve quickly added that Goodheart only tore at the offending tartan after Larissa had repeatedly scrubbed the material across her opponent’s eyes and even forced it into her mouth a few times during the first ten minutes of the match. The tipping point came when Larissa mounted the other blonde in the turnbuckles and slipped the skirt over her head for a tawdry little bump ‘n grind before she unloaded a series of punches to the hooded battler’s pate. The crowd’s count was up to ‘SIX!’ when Violyt reached up with both hands, caught hold of Adams’ skirt and began to pull in opposite directions.
Startled by the dry ‘riiiiiiiip’ coming from behind, Larissa uttered a curse and went to hop clear only to find herself glued in place when Goodheart knotted her hands beneath the curve of opposing buttocks. “Bytch, you better let go right goddamned now!” Adams freed her foe’s head from the tartan prison so she could pull at her hair with eye-watering intensity. “You don’t know who you’re messing WHOOOAAANNGGHH!”
Violyt marched her outta the corner, went up on tiptoes and abruptly sank to one knee, all the better to THUMP Larissa’s crotch with an Inverted Atomic Drop! Adams went knock-kneed and pigeon-toed in the blink of an eye, yet ‘Daddy’s Girl’ showed off some veteran ring awareness by sending Goodheart back to the buckles with a huge two-handed shove! Didn’t buy her much time, but it was more than enough to let her take cover behind the zebra.
“I mean it!” Larissa added a fearful tremor to her voice that she really didn’t feel. “Keep her offa me! Bytch be cray!”
Violyt halted her advance, smoothed back her shoulder-length hair and smiled. “Now that’s just not true, Larissa!” she explained. “Doctor Cruz says I’m doing VERY well in group, I even have the discharge papers to prove it!” Goodheart trailed off, gave the other blonde a sly little smile. “I’m sorry, that’s a lie. They don’t even know I’m gone to--”
Larissa shoved her striped shield aside and lunged for Violyt, meaning to drive a Spear through her gut that’d take ‘em both back to the corner. In this she was only partly successful because Violyt hopped over neat as you please, thus forcing Adams to slam on the brakes to avoid a face-first collision with the middle buckle. Crisis averted, the black-clad battler hopped onto the second strand and launched herself off in a back-flip on the assumption that Goodheart was already careening down her back-trail. Alas, Violyt hadn’t followed her opponent to the corner, meaning she was still very much behind Larissa when the ingénue returned to the canvas with a crisp little ‘thwhump’ that was completely overshadowed by the THWHACK of Violyt’s striking the base of her skull! Adams’ knees gave out and she pitched forward into much the same position she’d occupied heartbeats prior, only now her arms were draped over the second rope and her forehead rested heavily against the middle buckle.
ENZU SUPER KICK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=ot4anUNmUUg
As for Goodheart, she turned around and sauntered to the other corner while offering a pageant wave to the crowd. Her smile and energy were genuinely infectious, which was why it was just to odd to hear her chirp, “I hate you all so, SO much! I may be fighting Larissa, but I’m thinking of each and every one of you!” She whipped around on one heel and raced straight for the penitent grappler, Violyt leaving her feet in a low-flying leap that ended with both knees THWHUMPING against Adams’ vulnerable shoulders.
SMILEY FACEBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=dioTSZKKP8M
World exploding in stars when her skull was driven against the roughly padded steel, Larissa offered nothing in the way of protest when Goodheart grabbed a handful of that tartan waistband and hauled her to boot-leather. “Not all outta mascara and lip gloss, are ya?” Violyt asked in the midst of dipping her head beneath the other blonde’s left arm. “Because I’d like to paint the top buckle too.”
With that she curled her left arm around Adams’ waist and braced her right hand against the rookie’s tush, all the better to power her up onto the point of her right shoulder. Most fans guessed in favor of a traditional Atomic Drop while a smaller section figured Violyt was setting for a Sheer-Drop Belly to Back Suplex. Turned out everyone was wrong because Goodheart simply swung her burden forward and down to BWUUUNG Larissa’s forehead offa the top turnbuckle!
Adams’ noggin snapped backward and the rest of her followed sluggishly after, the woozy blonde staggering away from the corner like someone who’d wandered away from a car accident. Not that she wandered far, mind you. She’d made it no more than half a dozen steps when Violyt spun her around, went in low and snugged her head under Larissa’s left arm. In the same instant she curled an arm around the back of Adams’ left thigh and muscled her into the air. Larissa made a game effort to lock her legs around Goodheart’s waist but the Scissors had no edge and the pink-clad enigma ignored them while she hooked her left arm over Adams’ right shoulder.
“I think Lissy’s losing her Happy Thoughts.” Violyt observed with genuine sadness as she walked Adams around the squared. “It’s ok though! I know exactly where she keeps them so--” Goodheart rocked up on her heels and laid out flat to THAWHONK Larissa’s already pounding skull into the deck with a Cradled Reverse STO. Bounced onto her back by the power of Violyt’s ‘Happy Thoughts’, Daddy’s Girl let out a soft groan as Violyt slithered over her chest in a Crossbody. She didn’t bother hooking the far leg, not that this lapse kept the ref from counting out…
HAPPY THOUGHTS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=_xVsCvgeD74
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
Goodheart grabbed hold of Larissa’s wrist and wrenched it off the mat at the last second, Violyt going so far as to jostle her foe’s wrist ‘no, no, no!’ to better sell Adams’ steely resolve! “Gosh, you ARE strong!” the blonde exclaimed with mock gravity as she pulled Larissa off the mat and into Standing Headscissors. “Guess I’ll have to dig down deep if I want that winner’s purse!”
Adams groaned some sort of denial that wasn’t nearly enough to keep Goodheart from cinching both arms around her waist. From there she bent her knees and flipped Larissa onto her shoulders, the black-clad blonde slumping forward ever so slightly. Those gathered for the evening’s festivities were thinking Powerbomb and for good reason, so they more than a little surprised when Violyt swung her burden forward while simultaneously dropping back and raising her knees to hip level, the Princess of Peaksville ensuring Adams THWHUMPED down spine-first atop those posted joints! Larissa bounced away in a nerveless sprawl, her usually bratty lights snuffed out by the power of Unicorns & Rainbows. Sidling into a Crossbody with no noticeable sense of urgency, Violyt cradled the far (right) leg and drew Adams’ knee up to within inches of her chin while the referee tolled…
UNICORNS & RAINBOWS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=MxrFuJNrKCQ
ONE…
TWO…
THREE!
Goodheart broke her cover at the sound of the bell, but instead of bounding to her feet she straddled the other blonde’s waist and wrapped both hands around her throat! “This is for all your dirty birdy tricks earlier.” Violyt explained as Larissa writhed and the bell sounded over and over again. “It’s what you get for--”
“Get off ‘er, Violyt!” the referee barked. “Don’t make me reverse my--”
Violyt fixed him with a look of such vicious amusement he took a few steps back to put some more distance between himself in the blonde. Just like that Goodheart’s hands unlocked and she bounced to verticality, one foot resting jauntily on Larissa’s fluttering chest.
Offering a wrist to the zebra, she batted her eyes and said, “Raise my hand or I’ll bite off your nose!”
********
Back in studio, Lyssa Zahn wore an expression that was either bemusement or disgust. “Raise my hand… or I’ll bite off your nose. What do you even say to that?”
“I’d say it’s about time we discussed Hypatia Masters’ role in all of this madness. In particular the--”
“Trenton Salad Fork Massacre?” Zahn interrupted. “’Bout goddamned time. I thought you’d never get around to it.”
“I wanted to establish a baseline for our subject for the evening.” Allard explained. “To make sure they understand--”
“Dude you can’t understand someone like Goodheart. To even try is to risk ending up as f*cking weird as she is!”
“Fine, fine. Since you’re so eager to get to the grue and gore, perhaps you’d like to give our viewers a crash course on one Hypatia Masters?”
“Gladly.” Lyssa consulted her phone for a moment, then tossed it down, leaned back in her chair and kicked both feet up on the desk. “Hypatia Masters is a ten year veteran of the Northeastern Indy scene, though she’s also had memorable runs in California, Georgia, England, Germany and Japan. Simultaneously loved and loathed in her native Garden State, she’s been nicknamed ’the Evil Eye’ and ‘the Jersey Devil’ and is reputed to be the only resident of that state that our very own Portia VanBuren wouldn’t dare use ‘the J-Word’ on, at least not to her face.”
“And why is that, Lyssa?”
Zahn grinned from ear to ear. “Because she’s an amoral lunatic, that’s why. Imagine someone with all the Old Money clout and ice queen bytchiness of POV, then make her as mercurial as Calliope. Oh, and she’s probably the most sadistic mat technician in the country today, even though Elise Winterrest would claim otherwise.”
“No one knows how Hypatia struck up a friendship with Violyt.” Kent chimed in. “But however it happened, the two went on a rampage through Northeast including a particularly vicious series with newcomers Randi Pike and Casey Newsome, a duo collectively known as the Jersey Angels. The Trenton Salad Fork Massacre took place at a GSPW show in a singles match between Masters and Pike. Violyt was at ringside because she had her ‘manager’s license’, but Hypatia had used her influence to make sure Casey Newsome was barred from ringside. The clip we’re about to run starts near the end of the match proper, but what we’re interested in happens after the bell. Roll it!”
********
RANDI PIKE:
The capacity crowd roared to shake the rafters as Randi Pike caught Hypatia Masters out of a flat run and THAWHAMMED her to the thinly-sheathed canvas with a Power Slam! Popping to her feet without so much as thinking of a cover, the sturdy blonde rookie busted out a double bicep flex and proclaimed, “THIS CHICK IS TOAST!”
HYPATIA MASTERS:
Down on the mat, Masters beat her heels against the deck and covered one eye with both hands and groaned, “My eye, ref! That tacky stripper bytch jammed a press-on nail in my eye!”
Give the ref credit, he tried to do his due diligence, but Randi shooed the man aside so she could haul the brunette to her feet with a double handful of hair. From there the green-clad blonde dipped a shoulder, slipped that arm through Masters’ legs and hoisted her onto her shoulders in a Fireman’s Carry that’d no doubt segue into her devastating ‘Jersey TurnPike’ finish. Violyt knew it too, which was why she hopped up on the apron directly behind the tangled pair and shouted, “Put her down ya big bully! You wanna fight? Pick on someone your own size!”
VIOLYT GOODHEART:
Pike, who had a good two or three inches on the little weirdo, spun to Goodheart and taunted, “Don’t worry baby, there’ll be plenty left for you when I’m doHEY! REF, WATCH HER HANDS!”
A sound warning indeed as Randi and the zebra could both see the flecks of glitter drifting from the blonde’s clenched fist. “Hey, you put that down, Violyt!” the ref ordered as he marched over to the interloper. “What did I tell you about glitter bombs?”
“That they’re fun for the whole family?”
“I most certainly did not! Hand it over. C’mon, give it!”
“Oooohhhh, all right.” Goodheart looked crestfallen despite the fact Hypatia was currently fighting free of the Fireman’s Carry by raaaaaaaaaaaaking her nails across Randi’s eyes. Pike’s wails combined with the outrage of the crowd to draw the official’s attention, but he didn’t even get the chance to turn his head before Violyt blew a huge puff of glitter directly into his face!
That was about the time Hypatia pulled free of the blonde’s clutches and slithered down her back. Reaching between her foe’s legs with her left hand, Masters snagged hold of Randi’s left wrist, then spun her around and secured a Fireman’s Carry of her own, albeit one of the Wrist-Clutch variety. The GSPW faithful jeered their hearts out because they knew what this meant, alas knowing didn’t make the inevitable any easier to endure and they booed all the louder when Hypatia went up on tiptoe and laid out on her right side to THWHAM Pike on the back of her head and shoulders courtesy of her ‘Masterwork’ Death Valley Bomb.
MASTERWORK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=QInIXGFu0pM
Pike bounced open in a glassy-eyed starfish, one that was partially obscured when the lithesome brunette swung a leg over and sat down directly atop her gaping face. Of course there was no count because the ref was trying to clear his eyes of a horrible rainbow, but Goodheart wasn’t about to let bad timing screw her friend out of a victory, so she peeled off the ref’s shirt, slipped it down over her head and dove in beside the action to count a totally legitimate, “ONE! TWO! THREE!”
The bell didn’t sound so Hypatia didn’t get up, rather she treated herself to a greedy handful of Randi’s bounty while she continued a slow grind atop the moaning blonde’s mug.
“Hey Hypatia?” Violyt asked after several more seconds.
“Yes, Vi?” Masters replied without slowing her pace.
“Is it true this doormat used to be a stripper?”
“Hmmmmmhhh? Oh yes. Probably bored the lunchtime crowd at some place with a name like Cheatahs or Knockerz. I’d imagine she was their star attraction because she’s the only one without a C-section scar.” Hypatia smirked, extended an index finger and proceeded to draaaaaaaaaag her index finger from the line of Pike’s green briefs all the way up to her navel and a little beyond.
“I’ve never actually been to a strip club.” Goodheart admitted. “Maybe sweet Randi could give us a little taste of her skills?”
“Skills is a generous term, Vi.” Hypatia noted. “Given her tepid efforts in tonight’s match, I’d expect her gyrations on the stage to be just as halfhearted. Besides, it’s not like we have a pole for the little tramp to work.”
“We’ve got a ring-post. And these…” Violyt finally got Hypatia’s attention when she spotted the handcuffs dangling from the blonde’s index finger.
“You know what, Vi? You’re right. Let’s go slumming.”
The Jersey Devil vacated her seat, buried both hands in Randi’s hair and hauled her up just enough to collect her in a snug Half Waistlock. Forgoing her traditional ‘Walk of Shame’ in favor of bustling Pike over to the corner, Hypatia grabbed the helpless grappler’s wrists and held them together so Goodheart could ‘snap’ the cuffs in place. Gifted with a sort of seamless cohesion that was genuinely disturbing considering how unpredictable they were in every other aspect, Masters and Goodheart got Pike through the ropes and onto the steel steps, whereupon they drew her arms over her head and hooked those cuffed wrists over the top of the ring-post.
“Hmmmmh, this isn’t working out like I’d hoped.” Hypatia said of the results. “Jiggles here is a little taller than I’d imag--”
Violyt hopped through the ropes to the floor, lined up beside the steps and kicked ‘em once, twice, three times! The last shot finally dislodged the top half and sent it skittering out from under the blonde’s feet leaving Randi Pike to drop to the wider, flatter, bottom step with her arms stretched awkwardly overhead.
“Rrrrrrrggggghhhhh!” Randi went up on tiptoe, the powerful but unfortunately outnumbered blonde searching for enough purchase to pull her hands clear of the ring-post. “You sick bytch.” she grunted at Hypatia. “You’re going to pay for--”
Masters reared back and CRAAACKED a huge slap against her opponent’s defenseless midriff. “Well OF COURSE we’re going to pay, silly.” Hypatia leaned down, slipped two fingers into her right boot and came out with a small roll of bills. “We wouldn’t dare dream of stiffing tonight’s entertainment. Now, how much for a lap--”
CASEY NEWSOME:
A blur of motion and a roar from the crowd drew Violyt and Hypatia’s attention to Randi’s tag team partner, the leggy and righteously pissed off Casey Newsome. Masters took a step back from the incoming brunette, Violyt however stepped directly into the line of fire and-- “AAAAARRRRGGGHHHHH!”
The second glitter bomb of the night caught Casey full in the face and sent her skidding into the guardrail before she could interrupt the private show. “Should’ve known this little trash heap wouldn’t have been far behind.” Hypatia sniffed. “I don’t suppose you brought--” the brunette’s lips curled up in an evil smile as Goodheart produced an identical set of handcuffs.
Ashen-faced over what these two psychopaths might do to her defenseless friend, Randi barked, “Leave her alone, dammit! It’s me you wanMMPPPPPHHHH!”
Hypatia stuffed a few small bills in the blonde’s mouth, then patted her cheek. “That’s where you’re wrong, pack-rat. We want BOTH of you.”
And alas, Masters and Goodheart weren’t to be denied.
In a matter of moments Casey was tied in place beside her partner, the brunette’s modicum of height advantage nullified by the flurry of Kneelifts Violyt THUMPED against her belly. “Excellent, really excellent!” Hypatia clapped her hands. “All right girls, my friend Violyt has never been to a strip club, so I want you to go all out. Make her smile and I’ll make it worth your while.” To prove this she tucked a C-note into the waistband of Randi’s trunks and the front of Casey’s jeans.
“Shove it, freak.” Newsome huffed. “You can’t make us do RRRRRGGGHHH!”
Masters wedged a hand between the other brunette’s thighs and squeezed until her knuckles showed white. “I can do whatever I want to your sorry asses.” Hypatia snarled. “Buy, sell or whip in whatever order I choose. Now are you going to dance or do I have to--”
The Jersey Devil drew back in genuine surprise when Casey shrieked in her face! Confused, she looked up and blinked when she realized Goodheart had snuck back into the ring, climbed the corner behind their captives and gone to work on Newsome’s forehead with a fork! “Vi, what are you doing?”
The tip of Violyt’s tongue peeked from one corner of her mouth as she continued to draaaaaaaaaaaaaag those tines across Casey’s head. “Carving her stripper name in a place where I won’t forget it. She looks like a ‘Cinnamon’ to me, what do you think?”
Straining against her bonds as the blood began to trickle down her friend’s face, Pike bellowed, “STAY AWAY FROM HER YOU BYTHAAARRRRHHHHHH STAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHP!”
Violyt shifted from Casey to Randi without missing a beat, Goodheart cupping her target’s chin in one hand to keep it steady while she did her wicked work. “The line is actually GET AWAY from her, you bytch.” she giggled. “It’s an easy mistake to make, especially when someone’s trying to leave a stripper name on your skull. Which reminds me, are you a Mercedes or an Ambrosia?”
Delighted by the carnage, Hypatia turned to the crowd and spread her arms wide. “C’mon you cheapskates, how are these unfortunates ever going to pay off their student loans with nothing but ones and fives? Here, I’ll get you started!” Masters produced a roll of C-notes from her other boot, turned around and proceeded to ‘make it rain’ on the squirming, bleeding frames of the Jersey Angels.
Hard-hearted though they were rumored to be, the GSPW faithful wanted nothing to do with this show of carnage, in fact the volume and magnitude of their disapproval grew by the second. Hypatia milked it to the end, the wicked smirking brunette occasionally tapping one ear in between stuffing more bills into the togs of her hapless prey. It wasn’t until she noticed a red rill heading south to Pike’s navel that she murmured, “Careful, Vi. We can’t have these two missing time from their day jobs at--”
Masters’ barb was cut off by a roar from the audience as every referee in the locker room bolted through the curtain on their way to the squared circle. “And so the fun grinds to a halt.”
Hypatia blew a kiss to the Angels, then hustled to the barricade and threw a handful of bills at the losers in the front row to keep them distracted while she melted into their midst. As for Goodheart, she tucked the fork into her elbow pad with a little flourish, then put her head between ‘em and giggled, “Those are gonna sting from time to time. Know why? It means I’m thinking about you! Don’t forget about me now!”
She mussed Casey’s hair and planted a kiss on Randi’s cheek before she dove out the far side of the ring and disappeared through the fans in the blink of an eye.
*********
Grimacing when the feed cut back to the studio, Kent Allard noted, “For those of you wondering, Randi Pike and Casey Newsome recovered from that attack with no significant downtime and they’ve continued to develop their reputation as one of the best new Tag Teams on the Independent scene.”
“But now you know why both of them wore bangs for almost six months after that match.” Lyssa added dryly. “I saw some of the shots before and after those chicks got stitches. They’re not for the faint of heart.”
“No they are not.” Allard agreed. “And neither is our finale for tonight’s tale of terror, wouldn’t you agree, Lyssa?”
“Absolutely…assuming we’re talking about that horror show with AJ Swann.”
“We most certainly are.”
Since they were in agreement, Kent turned his attention to the camera and went on. “The horror show in question took place at Desert Heat Wrestling’s annual ‘In the Shadow of Superstition’, a card that is, as far as I know, unique in that it takes place in an honest to God ghost town. It bears a passing resemblance to our own All Hallows Evil, but the outdoor venue lends an atmosphere and a…presence, all it’s own. The match in question took place at SOS just last year, in fact it was the headliner pitting former FAWN North American champion AJ Swann going to war with Violyt Goodheart in DHW’s first ever ‘Fans Bring the Weapons’ match. Now, we’re actually coming in at the end of this story mostly because I’d probably need a few more hours to fully document the bad blood between Swann and Goodheart. Suffice to say--”
“I gotta know, is understatement like, some weird turn-on for Lemarchand?” Zahn interrupted. “Because I swear you want these dopes to believe these chicks were just stamping around in a circle and pulling each other’s hair!”
The archivist sighed, though he did refrain from rolling his eyes. “Would you care to lurid it up for me a little, Lyssa?”
“I don’t even have to!” the Black Hat exclaimed. “I mean c’mon Allard, their problems started when Goodheart appears outta nowhere following one of Swann’s first indy appearances and lays her out with an Apron Piledriver! From there she pulls out the fork but rather than go to work with it she just taps it against Swanny’s forehead and giggles, ‘White’s a good color on you. But I think red’ll be even better!’ Of course Swann doesn’t take too kindly to this brazen affront and from then on it’s war between the two. They probably wrestled half a dozen times in three or four months, but those matches all ended in disqualifications or double count outs. The only exception was a Cage Match about three weeks prior to SOS that Swann ‘won’ because the referees determined that she crashed through the Announce Table about half an eyelash before Violyt. So yeah, DHW was looking for something emphatic to close out this blood feud and as is often the case with horror stories, they got a whole lot more than they bargained for. Roll the clip, please.”
********
AJ SWANN:
VIOLYT GOODHEART:
With the chairs set in their proper place, AJ Swann grit her teeth and set about peeling the psychotic bytch outta the dirt one last time. The sight of Goodheart’s bloodied nose and lower lip soothed her own suffering, albeit only slightly as it was extremely difficult to ignore her right eye was practically glued shut from a combination of swelling and the blood coming from a shallow, ragged cut just below her hairline. Still, the Hardcore Heartbreaker found a reason to smile once she dipped her head beneath Violyt’s left arm and secured the other blonde’s right wrist up between her shoulders in a Hammerlock.
Still woozy from the Kendo Stick assault that’d put left her kissing the dirt, Violyt huffed, “Huuuuhhhh…. hey AJ. Is it true your mother was a back-up singer for Pat BooWHOOAANNNNNGGGGHHHH!”
Swann dipped her knees and popped her hips to sling Goodheart up n’ over courtesy of a Release Northern Lights Suplex that THWHAM-BWANGED her down atop the seats of those two conveniently arranged chairs!
The hardware clattered to either side, leaving Swann’s path to her prey un-obscured. “Watch your mouth about my mom, sweetie.” AJ grunted as she collected Goodheart’s gams for a weary Back Press. “I’ll put you on crutches for that sort of shyt.”
The promise was fresh off her lips when the referee dove into action and slapped the dirt…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
Giggling in spite of the monstrous ache in her lower back, Violyt rolled to all fours and flipped a hank of sodden pink hair outta her eyes. “Oh, so Boone’s a sore spot, huh? I find that surprising, it’s definitely a step up from her days roadying for total rock n’ rollers like Glen Campbell and the Doodletown PipHHHHRRRRRRRGGGGHHHH!”
Swann swept up one of those dented chairs, ‘clanged’ it shut and brought the damned thing down on Violyt’s back with a loud BWAAANG! Goodheart hit the dirt again, so AJ dropped to her knees, shot the Half Nelson and rolled her over so she could straddle the bloodied blonde’s chest. Knees pressed in deep, Swann threw up stereo devil horns to properly undo Violyt’s sacrilege. Meanwhile the cool desert night echoed with the sound of several hundred fans tolling…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!
Violyt caught a double handful of her opponent’s trunks and pulled while simultaneously bucking her hips as forcefully as she could.
Doing so forced AJ out of the mount with a whisper to spare, unfortunately for Violyt it also meant the Hardcore Heartbreaker returned to verticality in a fury exemplified by several merciless stomps to Goodheart’s belly. “Cuuuhhhh…crazy goddamned bytch.” Swann grunted after a nasty cramp in one thigh forced her to ease off the punishment. “I’m gonna teach you to keep my name out of your mouth once and for all.”
“But if I’m not talking about you, who will?” Violyt asked as she clambered to one knee. AJ didn’t answer, she’d caught sight of a fan in the front row holding an oversized placard with the missive ‘HEY AJ, USE MY SIGN!’
“That’s a pretty big sign.” she said after she’d limped over to the flimsy guardrail.
“Yes it is.” he replied. “Because Violyt’s a pretty big problem.”
“Touché.”
AJ took it from him, was surprised to realize it was either metal or heavy plastic that’d been snuggly wrapped in plain newsprint. Taking a moment to get used to the feel, she rounded on Violyt and had it raised high overhead by the time she’d closed on the wobbling psychopath. “Check it out, Vi!” Goodheart looked up and her eyes went wide half a heartbeat thereafter. Give the freak credit, she raised her arms faster than Swann would’ve believed possible, but it still wasn’t quick enough to keep the Hardcore Heartbreaker from bringing the sign down on her forehead with a resounding BWOOOONG!
Violyt shivered like a tuning fork and rocked back on her heels but didn’t go down, so AJ lifted the cumbersome bludgeon and brought it down a second time! The blonde crumpled to her knees with both hands limp in her lap and head tilted back to regard the former FAWN North American Champion with wide, glazed eyes.
AJ only noticed this in passing, her attention was focused on the shine of red showing through the small tear in the heavy paper. “What the hell IS this thing?” Setting it down only after she’d driven a blunt kick into Goodheart’s sternum, Swann hooked a hand into the ragged opening and peeeeeeeeeeeeled it all the way down. “You gotta be shytting me!” she AJ murmured, though she was grinning from ear to ear after she’d peeled the last of the wrapping off her ‘present’. Hoisting it in both hands, she ‘pwaaaked’ a kiss against the liberated STOP sign, then raised it high and shouted, “I LOVE THIS SIGN!”
“Thuuuuhhh… then why don’t you break out some Ace of Bass you poppy little poseurNNNNGGGHHH!”
AJ smote Violyt with another quick kick, caught her balance and hefted the weapon like an executioner’s axe. “I’m not gonna sing anything for you, bytch.” she huffed. “But I might say a few words at your funeAAARRRRRHH F*CK!”
Goodheart slipped that damned fork out of her boot only to plant it in AJ’s in the span between heartbeats. Thankfully the leather and lace of Swann’s footwear saved her from a night in the hospital, but those damned tines still felt like the worst bee-sting AJ had ever endured. Stumbling awkwardly, she dropped the STOP sign and ‘oooofhed’ in breathless surprise when Goodheart buried a Toe Kick in her navel. Swann doubled over, the bloodied blu-nette only vaguely aware of the metallic ‘pwonk’ of Violyt stepping across the fallen sign. Then she was caught in a Standing Headscissors and from there a pretty nice view of the stars once Violyt flipped her into the Powerbomb stall.
The ‘Superstitious’ crowd roared for Swann to fight free of the predicament and indeed she did land a few muzzy shots to Goodheart’s forehead. Unfortunately none of them stopped Violyt from dropping her spine-first atop a pair of cruelly raised knees! Crushed by the onslaught of Unicorns & Rainbows, AJ Swann tumbled across the dusty ground to come to a stop a few inches shy of the ring apron.
UNICORNS AND RAINBOWS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=zhc8Z10G94w
Mostly recovered from her sign-related hangover, Violyt Goodheart had every opportunity to scrape AJ out of the dirt and back into the squared circle, so of course the bloodied blonde collected Swann at wrist and ankle and draaaaaaaaaaaaaagged her all the way back to the center of the discarded STOP sign.
“Awful rude of you not to share such a lovely present.” Violyt huffed once she’d rolled AJ onto her stomach. “It *almost* makes me wanna not share my present with you… almost.”
Swann groaned, pulled at her captured left wrist, took a stomp to the back of her head for the trouble. Another stomp pacified the Hardcore Heartbreaker that much more, so Goodheart stretched that left arm out away from her torso and threaded her right leg across the back and dropped to a seat to Scissor it between her thighs at a most awkward angle. The unpleasant torque on her shoulder brought Swann around, the Hardcore Heartbreaker pulling her free arm tight against her chest to keep it out of Violyt’s gr--“NGH! NGH! NGH! NNNNGGGGHHH!”
Goodheart snatched a handful of hair, wrenched AJ’s head backward, then bounced it off the sign no less than half a dozen times! Wiping her palm clean on AJ’s back once she’d relinquished the hair-hold, Goodheart chirped, “Hand please!”
“Guuuhhhhh…. go to hell.” Swann huffed.
“Only if you walk me every step of the way, silly!” Violyt’s tone was cheerful, her eyes anything but. Fans from the front row all the way to the cheap seats booed their hearts when that damned fork made a return appearance. No working the boots this time, the pink-clad blonde caught a handful of hair and gave AJ’s noggin a hard shake before she started to draaaaaaaaaaaaag the tines across her prey’s forehead! AJ screamed and beat her boots against the dirt, but she stubbornly refused to use her right hand for defense.
Violyt understood her reasoning without feeling the slightest shred of compassion, which was why she smiling when she said, “Gimme your hand, pretty girl.” she pulled the fork away from Swann’s forehead and tickled it down the blu-nette’s temple to her cheek. “You wouldn’t want the poor ol’ referee to stop the match because you couldn’t defend yourself, would--”
The Hardcore Heartbreaker’s right hand shot up and swatted Violyt’s best friend off into the night, however any joy she might’ve felt following such a victory died the instant the Sparkling Maniac snatched her wrist.
“Theeeeeeeere we go!” Goodheart tittered as she craaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaanked AJ’s right arm back at an angle not meant for the human anatomy. “Ready to say the magic word, friend o’ mine?” Violyt giggled. “Or do you wanna keep bleeding into the dirt while the pinwheel stars cheer me on?”
VIOLYT BEGETS VIOLYNCE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=a8x2W_DVOQ0
“F*CK OFF!” Swann bicycled her legs frantically, the white-clad warrior burning through everything she had left to escape the vile Armbar. “TWIST ME ALL YOU WANT, THESE PEOPLE STILL KNOW YOU’RE A GODDAMNED FREAAAWWW FAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHK SHHHHHIIIIIIIIT!”
Controlling Swann’s right wrist with her left hand, Violyt grabbed hold of that hand and yanked it down once, twice, three times. Then she hooked her left arm around AJ’s forearm and clamped down on her own right wrist while simultaneously leaaaaaaaaaaaaaning back on the hellacious trap. “Walk me to hell, won’t you Alexandra?” Goodheart murmured as she continued to wrench and pull on that trapped wrist. “Walk me up to the gates so I can cast them wide and toss you in, kicking and screaming. Don’t think you’ll be lonely, though. I’ll be right behind you with a smile on my face and a song in my--”
“SUBMIT!” AJ admitted with a miserable sob. “I SUBMIT, NOW LET ME GO!”
Violyt released at the clang of the bell, the weary battler ignoring the announcement of her victory to lean down over Swann to whisper--
The feed cut away without warning, not back Allard’s studio, but the standard FAWN logo that’d started the broadcast. It didn’t quite say ‘Technical Difficulties, please stand by’ yet the audio (which was coming through just fine) painted a clear enough picture.
“What the hell, Allard? Why’d it cut off, wasn’t she about to quote The Exorcist?”
There’s a beat of near silence, though if you listen close you can hear someone speaking from well off camera. When Kent replied he sounded distracted. “Yeah, it’s the demon’s ‘give us time’ bit.”
“So why the hell did you cut away?”
“Producer’s over there having a spaz, trying to get my attention. Said my phone’s been ringing for the last five minutes straight.”
“Who gives a shyt?” Zahn’s voice shifted slightly, it seemed like she was speaking to the unseen producer. “What kind of rinky-dink bullshyt is this? So the phone rings, you either let the damn thing go to voice mail, or you take a f*cking message!” “Oh, they hung up when you answered? Sweet Jesus, what a cluster--”
A shrill electronic trill interrupted Zahn’s tirade, a four note progression that repeated itself several times. Eventually Kent piped up, “Ummmmhhh, you gonna get that, Lyssa?”
Just then the feed cut back to studio, with Allard looking at Lyssa and Lyssa frowning down at her phone. The Archivist glanced around, realized the camera was on again and quickly cleared his throat. “Sorry about that folks, just a bit of confusion on our end because it looks like we’ve got our first caller. And I mean ever, because this is not a call-in show!”
Lyssa’s phone was sounding more and more insistent, so finally she reached down and pressed the glowing green button. “Boy did you dial a wrong number!” the Black Hat chirped pleasantly. “I don’t know how in thee f*ck you got this number, but I promise that your life is going to get a lot more unpleasant from this point forward. Speak up pleeb, you’re on speaker after all!”
There was nothing for a moment, so Zahn tapped a button to bring the volume up quite a bit. The folks at home couldn’t here much of anything, but the host’s expressions (Lyssa’s of irritation, Kent’s of puzzlement) suggested that something was on the other end of the line. “We know you’re there, ass-hat.” Lyssa grumbled. “We can hear you mouth-breath--”
“HI LYSSA! HI KENT!” said a cheery, effervescent voice from the other end of the line. “Long time lurker, first time caller! Just wanted to say that I’m a HUGE fan of the show, but I gotta say I’m pretty disappointed with the information presented during tonight’s show. Now I’m not suggesting you should FIRE anyone, but perhaps a stern lecture interspersed with a heavy beating? I’m sure a sock filled with ball bearings would reduce these sort of problems in the future.”
“Look, I’m all for beating the shyt out of a certain producer, but I’ll do that on my own time.” snapped Lyssa. “And by the way, who the f*ck is this and how did you get my number?”
A giggle from the phone, one that sounded remarkably familiar at this point. “Hypatia’s got a looooooong reach, Melissa… and you know f*cking well who this is.”
“Bullshyt.” Zahn snapped at once. “You’re just some troll looking for--”
“Hello Violyt.” Kent interrupted. “I’d be interested to know what errors you noted. After all I wouldn’t be much of an archivist if I was putting lies out there, would I?”
“No, no you would not.” the voice agreed. “In truth there’s been a lot of misinformation presented tonight but here are a few of the most egregious examples. First, Isabella Sato didn’t have a car accident, it was just a flat tire. The EMT’s ended up on scene because some idiot who never learned to parallel park rear-ended her while she was calling AAA.”
“I see. And how can you confirm the flat tire? I’d never heard that from anyone before now.”
“Because I put the nail there, silly! How ELSE was I gonna get a shot at Painkiller Swanson?”
“F*ck on outta here!” Lyssa scoffed. “You’re not Violyt Goodheart and you sure as hell didn’t--”
“Cinnamon was the first idea crossed my mind, but I didn’t use it.” the voice said. “Ultimately I went with Chastity because I mean, c’mon, that’s just funny, right? And it DID leave a scar, but sweet Randi’s become an expert with concealer since the last night we met.”
“I see.” Kent said with far too much credulity for Lyssa’s taste. “Anything else?”
“It’s a cake fork.”
“Excuse me?” asked Kent, confused.
“It’s a cake fork, not a salad fork. You two must’ve mentioned a salad fork a half a dozen times tonight, but I’ve NEVER used a salad fork because I don’t LIKE salads, but I LOVE cake.”
“What the hell does it even matter?” Zahn grumbled. “And for the record, I still don’t believe you’re Violyt Goodheart.”
“I could wax poetic on the differences for an hour or more, sweet Lyssa.” the phone giggled. “But telling sucks. Showing on the other hand, is great.”
“Ooooohhh, ominous.” Zahn rolled her eyes. “You’ve wasted enough of my time, asshole. So give me a reason to hang on or I’m hanging up in five, four, three, two--”
“A riddle before I go. What’s the difference between Slenderman, Jeff the Killer, the Rake and me?”
“Trick question, you’re all fakes, far as I’m concerned.”
The first-time caller replied with a pretty good imitation of a game show buzzer.
“Wrong answer, Lyssa. The difference is obvious for anyone that’s been paying attention… they don’t have your phone number. I do. Oh hey, I’ve just been yap, yap, yapping, I’m sure you guys have lots of other callers! So just let me say it’s been a pleasure talking to you and I’m looking forward to meeting both of you in person! I’m looking forward to meeting EVERYONE in FAWN.”
“And when can we look forward to the pleasure of your company, Violyt?” Kent asked quietly.
“Like I’d spoil the surprise!” Violyt laughed aloud. “But it’ll be a lot sooner than you think…. a lot sooner than you’d like. Byyyyyyyeeeee Kent! Byyyyyyyeeeee Lyssa! Happy Halloween! I hope there’s a razor blade in all your apples!”
The line went dead, leaving Kent and Lyssa to exchange a glance.
“That was… spooky.” the Archivist noted.
“It was bullshyt garbage is what it was.” Lyssa countered. “But I’ll change my passwords just to be safe.”
“I think I’ll change my locks.” Kent suppressed a shudder, then turned to the camera. “All right folks, that’s about all the time we have tonight. Happy Halloween from everyone here at the Allard Archive. I hope everyone has a fun time, just make sure to stay safe. After all, it seems as though there are monsters closer than we thought.”
“Frankly I don’t care if you stay safe or not.” Zahn added. “But if you do encounter a monster out there, have the common decency to get footage for the rest of us, ok? Now peace out, losers. You’re bothering me.”
Kent waved, Lyssa flipped the bird and the Theremin started in again to play everyone out while the shot faded back to the FAWN logo one last time.