Post by hawkeye on Dec 22, 2019 15:41:45 GMT
A fallen angel.
Such is Golden State Wrestling’s adorable ingenue Heaven Hughes. Not the kind that left God’s, or in this case, a small auditorium full of rabid wrestling fans’ grace. The babyfaced rookie from Santa Monica literally falls to earth courtesy a powerbomb from the middle ropes of a no longer not so nearby corner.
HEAVEN HUGHES
The ring rattles from the impact, GSW’s Sweet Seraph bouncing off the deck an inch or two along with the seated opponent providing her thrust. Both blondes settle to the canvas in silence, the crowd disheartened watching the arms of the blasted Hughes end in a wide ‘V’ over her motionless head and shoulders.
The lower limbs of the flaxen-haired cutie remain in possession of her fearsome foe, one very few of whom thought Heaven would be competitive. But indeed she had, very, startling the fans and the Neon Demon with whom she shared the ring and from whom she now is ready to be sent to hell with the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Against all odds and indeed everyone’s belief, Hughes shifts a shoulder off the deck, drawling a scowl from Drusilla Foster. The cold, heartless evil of the Demon turns her gaze toward the official. He raises two fingers while noticeably retreating several feet from the blue-gray eyes that burrow into his soul.
Dru shoves the tanned stems of GSW’s battling cherub to the side and rises. Foster though long and lean at 5’9” and 123 pounds, cast an oversized shadow with her unorthodox bearing. Living up to the Neon in her sobriquet, streaks of neon pink, green and orange course through her otherwise platinum mane. Her face is speckled with jewel-like multi-colored freckles placed on cheek, temple and forehead. Only her red and black latex two piece seem to conjure the demon-side of the equation, at least until she used actions much more powerful than words.
DRUSILLA FOSTER
( i.ebayimg.com/00/s/MTU2MFgxMjAw/z/P0MAAOSwuTta856X/$_3.jpg )
Dru straightens her rubberized miniskirt, letting her fingers trail down pale white gams toward black pads and boots below.
“Are you sure?” she hisses at the zebra.
“Yeh…yes…Miss Foster.”
The Demon turns her attention back to the slowly rising Hughes. Just short of shoulder-length, blonde locks are pushed over an ear by the absent-minded Heaven, Hughes not fully aware after the “Elevator to Hell’ from Drusilla. Clad in her customary pink-and-black zebra print tank top and boy-cut spandex, Hughes reaches one knee before Foster claims a handful of follicles.
“Up,” Dru insists, yanking the wincing Heaven to her feet. She towers over the 5’2” frame of the relative newbie, the Angelenos jeering at the continued assault.
Though Foster has length to spare on her foe, she’s far from a behemoth, so it might be surprising when she hair-tosses a squealing Hughes halfway across the ring. Heaven lands with a meaty thud and skids to a stop in a corner. The dazed cherub scoots to a seat, dark eyes half-lidded, chin to chest, spent.
Charging, the Neon Demon races toward her target and THUMPS a raised knee into Heaven’s forehead, snapping her cranium back with a wicked whiplash. Hughes’ glassy peepers stare blankly to the rafters as she leans into the buckles, head limply bobbling, arms limp at her sides.
Drusilla hovering over the semiconscious Hughes, draws a thumb across her throat without a hint of malice. It seems a simple statement where Heaven is headed like so many before her. Sinking her ruby nails into the Sweet Seraph’s scalp, the Demon yanks the rubbery Hughes to her feet and draws her in a stagger to center stage.
Dipping to her left, Dru wraps her arms around Heaven’s taut midriff with one arm, another around Hughes’ left leg. Showing an easy power, Foster hauls Heaven off the canvas, spinning her like a top so the crown of the blonde’s head is pointed to the ‘Bad Place’.
Drusilla secures a full double-barreled bearhug on the overturned Hughes before lifting to her tiptoes and dropping Heaven into the abyss with her ‘Straight to Hell’ piledriver.
( www.youtube.com/watch?v=-L9tH4DJM-Y ) @00:05
The THUMP of the thinly-sheathed plywood is gruesome as Heaven’s arms go limp a millisecond after, the babyfaced beachgoer lifeless in a spreadeagle below the sprawled Neon Demon.
Dru climbs atop the splayed motionless frame of the demolished cherub, crotch hovering over Heaven’s mug as Foster hooks a leg for show.
The groaning crowd watches with worry as the spirit of the comatose Hughes remains separated from her body for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THREEE!
A snide smirk barely creases what some considered the otherwise beatific features of the Demon. She tosses the purloined leg away with disdain and it’s hardly a surprise the GSW faithful when Drusilla leans back and covers Heaven’s features with her latex-encased, ivory-skinned backside.
The Neon Demon begins swishing her hips in increasingly sensual figure-8s, simultaneously preventing air from reaching Heaven’s lungs while humiliating the rookie as only the malevolent mistress of Disco Satan could.
The referee, having already called for the tolling bell and not wanting to test the Demon, insists the ring announcer make the result official but that hardly seems to matter to Dru. She rides her victim’s face with long deep strokes, lower lip finally giving a quiver. A roar from the crowd breaks the Demon’s concentration on her Heavenly conquest.
Racing to the ring, the long-time Face of the franchise, Colleen O’Neal takes on the role of cavalry for her protégé. Already in battle gear, the diminutive redheaded veteran dives in under the bottom rope, popping to her feet instantly.
COLLEEN O’NEAL
Gear: ( www.dollskill.com/halloween-sexy-wrestling-champ-costume-set-pink-turquoise.html?gclid=Cj0KCQiAt_PuBRDcARIsAMNlBdr_8wE5qC_kyeTo6lFLvIAIVfi-oFHrA_YlWbDRyxEebaPXuRlroFIaAmIzEALw_wcB without the ‘belt’ ) .
She surges toward a rising Dru and plants a dropkick on the chin of the Neon Demon. Foster remains vertical if staggered. She regains her balance just as GSW’s California Angel rises to her feet. The fans, on their feet, watch with concern as Foster swings a scythe-like clothesline toward the clavicle of their heroine, but O’Neal ducks under. Drusilla skids to a stop and turn after the swing-and-miss and Colleen steps to the bigger blonde, wrapping her arms around the chest of the Demon.
O’Neal shows the technical skill born of well more than a decade in the ring and heaves Drusilla up and over with a belly-to-belly suplex. Dru CRASHES to the canvas on her landing, spine bruised as she ends in a seated position, reaching for the base of her backbone.
Already on her feet GSW’s beloved legend races to Dru and THWACKS a soccer kick into Drusilla’s spinal column that gives Foster the momentum and, more importantly, the incentive to exit the ring under the ropes in front of her. Boots planting on the floor, she spins and retreats to the metal barricade behind her, staring lasers at the auburn-haired interloper, the Angelenos booming their approval.
O’Neal steps to the bottom rope and leans over.
“Get back in here if you’ve got the guts,” Colleen shouts.
The Demon takes a couple steps forward as if she’s going to accept the invitation but takes a right turn, having already done what she came to do, dispatching Heaven from her senses.
It’s clear Drusilla wants nothing to do with the California Angel as she moves around the outside of the ring, casting her evil eye at the inhabitants, O’Neal turns half of her attention to the groggy Hughes, dropping to one knee next to Heaven.
“Talk to me, kid,” O’Neal says, patting the babyfaced Hughes on her greasy cheek.
“Whuhh, where?”
The GSW legend motions for the EMTs for an assist and they respond without a moment’s hesitation, knowing her word is gold in this territory. As O’Neal hands off her friend to the two med techs, she calls for a microphone from the ring announcer and brings it to her lips with Dru is halfway up the ramp.
“Right now,” the Face of the franchise shouts after Foster. “You might be able to take advantage of a young girl like Heaven. But isn’t it time you show you can do it against the best the Golden State has to offer?”
Drusilla, brought to a halt by the sound of Colleen’s voice, turns her head to give the champion a side-eye.
“Soon,” is all she offers, then returns on her trek to backstage.
A frustrated O’Neal nods at the crowd’s boos.
“She’ll get hers. I can promise you that.”
The announcement puts the crowd back in high spirits, mostly ignoring the dilapidated Hughes, the blonde battler with an arm around the shoulders of an EMT on either side. She’s under a portion of her own power, it appearing as thought he Demon has done no long-term harm.
BUT before the slow-moving threesome can make it to the back, a dark-haired flash of silver rockets out from behind the curtains and SPEARS THE HOLY HELL OUT OF HEAVEN.
Hughes is laid out on the steel grating, the EMTs staring in disbelief at the wreckage behind and below. On all fours above the demolished Hughes, GSK’s Venezuelan-born ‘Blonde Killer’ lives up to her name. In metallic silver tank, boy-cut trunks and boots, ‘Caracas Crazy’ hops to her feet and hovers, pointing down at the flaxen-haired victim then in the air above her, making a hash mark in the sky to put another blonde notch on her ‘belt’.
LUCIANA LOPEZ
As GSK officials surround the waylaid Hughes to prevent any further damage, Luciana Lopez heads for her main event with none other than the California Angel, Colleen’s jaw having dropped at the audacity of GSW’s resident phenom.
There’s no need to intervene for Colleen. She’s a dollar short on saving Heaven and Lopez is striding confidently to the ring, ready to claim O’Neal’s Golden State title.
The South American teen snatches a microphone on her way past the ring announcer’s table and climbs the steps, ready to talk smack before bringing it to the legendary O’Neal. As she steps through the cables, the Latina’s ready for her soliloquy. She flips her long- straight raven locks before lifting the stick.
“Hey there, grandma,” Luciana begins, less than graciously pointing out Colleen’s chronological advancement. The crowd lets Lopez have it for showing up their favorite, though there’s a faction that supports the youngster.
“We all know you’re on your last legs here at GSW. I’ve won ten Pay-Per-View matches before my 20th birthday. You didn’t claw your way out of podunk Virginia bingo halls and reach FAWN until you were almost 30 and you had one f’n Pay-Per-View appearance there…and what…in a tag match where Moira Kane put you under with a mandible claw?”
O’Neal brings her microphone up, but Lucy shuts her down.
“I’m not done yet. SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH!”
Most of the crowd rains boos down on the arrogant insurgent from Venezuela.
“Two years as some pretend goddess, Artemis, was it? Hell. At least Aphrodite became part of their biggest tag team ever, not that The Three would do shyt at Golden State. But you were in your 30s before you started even making an impact.
“And yeah, you’ve had a little success since coming west. And yeah, you’ve been the champ of Golden State three times in your seven years here and tag team champ three times.
“Guess what? It doesn’t matter. These people equate GSW with your name. These ignorant slobs. Guess what? It doesn’t matter! I’m the one that’s REALLY going to make your name. I’m going to go out of my way and change my moniker just for you on this very special occasion. Tonight only…I’m the ‘Redhead Killer’.
Luciana drops the mic, literally, but doesn’t head for her corner, instead chesting up against Colleen.
O’Neal holds her GSW gold high with her left hand, giving Lopez a great view, and draws as microphone to her lips with the other.
“Lucy. You’re going to be a great one long after I’m gone. But right now, in this ring tonight. There’s only one woman who’s golden in the Golden State and you’re looking at her.”
The crowd pops the roof off the LA Coliseum, cheering on the woman who’d reigned supreme through so much of the rise of the organization to the leading outfit west of the Mississippi, their California Angel.
The official separates Lopez and O’Neal, directing them back to their respective corners where Colleen hands over her prized possession. The ring announcer takes over, making the combatants official.
“Your next match is your main event and is for the Golden State Wrestling championship. First, from Caracas, Venezuela, the Silver Bullet, Luciana Lopez.”
Jeers echo throughout the bowl, quickly changing to cheers when the announcer continues.
“And from San Francisco, your California ANGEL, Colleen O’NEEEEAAAAAAL!”
The GSK galaxy of fans raises the roof on the old Coliseum, the decibels surely rivalling LAX. A dozen seconds go by before the roar finally recedes and the referee calls for the bell. There’s no playing around. Both champ and challenger stride to a collar-and-elbow tie-up center stage, the confident challenger gaining the leverage a few seconds in and backing O’Neal toward a corner before the redhead pivots and flips positions and it’s the Latina’s back against the buckles.
The official calls for the break, the smaller redhead raising her hands from Luciana, only for the Latina Sensation to flash a set of fingers across the baby blues of the face of GSW. Colleen howls in pain, turning and blindly staggering away from Lopez.
Most of the Angelenos filling the auditorium let Lucy know they don’t appreciate the underhanded tactics. To say she doesn’t care would be an understatement, Lopez follows behind, stalking then surrounding O’Neal’s midriff with a waistlock. Still trying to blink sight back into her peepers, Colleen throws an elbow behind her, but the Blonde Killer deftly ducks and uses the momentum to take Colleen up, back and down with a side suplex that splatters the fan’s favorite against the canvas. O’Neal arches in pain, reaching for the base of her spine with one hand while rubbing her azure eyes with the other.
Reaching a seated position, O’Neal suddenly feels her scalp burning as Luciana sinks her nails into the redhead’s scalp and tugs O’Neal off the deck before sending her THUMPING to the canvas with a hairpull mat slam. She drops a pointed elbow to the cleft of Colleen’s bosom for good measure, sending a convulsive shudder through the champ’s frame.
The arrogant teenager rises and places a boot on the location she’d just sent the elbow, raising her hands in triumph for…
ONE…
O’Neal pushes Lucy’s boot away and rolls to her chest, pushing up to all fours.
Lopez turns to the crowd, a fair minority praising her tactics and success.
“You want this old has-been as your champion?”
Luciana gets a substantial endorsement of the GSL icon then sends a nasty punt to the redhead’s right set of ribs and O’Neal is sent barrel rolling toward the ropes.
“Well it doesn’t matter because I’m going to make sure she spends the rest of what little time she has left in obscurity.”
Lopez returns her attention to O’Neal, reaching Colleen as she uses the ropes to pull herself up and lean heavily into the rubber-coated steel of the cables. Luciana bullies her deep into the ropes and Irish Whips the redhead across the canvas. She follows behind to center stage and waits for the rebounding O’Neal with a spinning leg lariat to the redhead’s collarbone that sends the champ rocketing to the deck, the back of O’Neal’s skull BANGING against the deck. Colleen cradles her braincase with both hands, boot soles pattering against the deck.
The phenom stands in a straddle over the splayed GSW legend and salsas her hips above the rocked redhead, a majority of the crowd letting Lucy know they do not approve. Lopez looks down at the dazed O’Neal.
“Puta. Maybe they’ll give you a gold brace instead of a watch.”
Luciana collects both of her foe’s legs, raising them. The Venezuelan steps between while crossing the lower limbs of the redhead. She forces forward and turn, spinning Colleen to her back and clamps on a feisty sharpshooter, Lopez looking to make short work of the title holder and complete a rocket-like ascent to GSW glory.
Sharpshooter ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=2QOQ9UzCf0Q ) @ 00:18
Lopez lowers into a crouch to only increase the pressure and a wincing Angel reaches desperately for the ropes, several feet removed from her. The official lowers to all fours and gets in Colleen’s face, asking if she wants to surrender the match and her title. O’Neal doesn’t waste her breath, shaking her head vigorously.
The veteran digs her digits into the canvas and drags the snarling Latina with her, an agonizing journey to the cables that takes a dozen seconds before she wraps a palm around the lowest rope and calls imploringly for a break. Lucy holds for four seconds, wringing every moment of torture on the legs she can before releasing. She backs away only a few steps at the ref’s insistence.
Meanwhile, Colleen curls into a ball, massaging her aching ivory stems. She uses the strands to pull to vertical and hobbles away from them when the official calls Lopez back into play.
Luciana turns Colleen to face her beloved fans and faces the redhead’s throat down on the top cable, choking the life from the seemingly overwhelmed champion. O’Neal’s flails her arms plaintively as the ref starts his count, the crowd showing their displeasure at her underhanded tactics. At four, Lopez releases again, stepping away and raising her hands high in innocence.
The official checks on a redfaced and gasping Colleen but the Latina doesn’t have time for that, snatching the blue-eyed battler’s long auburn locks. But as O’Neal is turned to face her challenger, she brings a heavy forearm that CRAAACKS into Lucy’s jaw, staggering the Venezuelan. O’Neal is loose and follows with another and another, Lopez on the back foot for the first time.
The GSW icon’s troops let Colleen hear their support and she seems to take heed, thumping a toe kick deep into the tawny tummy of her foe. With Lopez doubled over, the veteran secures a front facelock and slips a limp left arm of her foe across the back of her neck. With her free hand, she grabs fingerfuls of spandex and whips Lopez over with a snap suplex. But the crafty California Angel doesn’t release and isn’t done. She tugs the teen up with her and repeats the process a second then a third time, kipping to her feet after the last, showing there’s still plenty of spring in the veteran’s step.
To her credit and her age, Lucy is up rather quickly, but the redhead is ready with another lightning flash of a boot to the belly. Colleen tugs the dipped Latina forward and into a front facelock then collects her left leg in a cradle. She violently spins clockwise, RIPPING Lopez off her feet with a spinning neckbreaker, PLANTING the suddenly stymied challenger to the deck in emphatic fashion.
Spinning neckbreaker ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=u6P2YWq3mVM ).
O’Neal scrambles to the splayed Lucy, diving atop the La-teena, hooking her far leg for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Lopez kicks free forcefully, not nearly ready to forgo her destiny.
Her name already forever made in GSW, Colleen remains focused despite the near-fall. Pushed to her haunches from the escape, O’Neal quickly lifts into a handstand next to the still horizontal Lopez. She turns in a 180 so her chest faces the splayed Lucy and drops both knees into the La-teena’s solar plexus. The Venezuelan Viper jackknifes around the impact, face etched in pain.
The Angel floats into a crossbody pin, again hooking a leg for…
ONE…
TWO…
Lucy squirms free, pushing a shoulder up and rolling to her side to the disappointment of the fans.
Again, the face of GSW doesn’t hesitate to reclaim her advantage, wrapping an arm around Luciana’s noggin and pulling the struggling challenger to her feet. With Lopez in tow, the vintage redhead surges across the canvas, ready to bulldog Lucy to the deck and continue show Lopez she’s not yet ready for the final step to the summit.
Luciana shows differently, getting her hands to the redhead’s hips and shoving, Lopez’s head popping loose of O’Neal’s grip and Colleen’s trip to the canvas is a solo, her tailbone THUMPING into the canvas as a wobbling Lucy remains upright. Still in a bit of a stupor, the La-teena’s nevertheless has the awareness to add injury to insult, for as a wincing California Angel massages her aching backside, Lopez sends a soccer kick SLAMMING into the lower spine of the title holder.
Colleen yelps in pain, her spine arching forward, chest thrust forward, lids pinching.
The Venezuelan Viper steps over each shoulder of the seated champion, clamping on a standing headscissors that uses more calves than thighs to provide the pressure. It’s not enough to stop O’Neal from slipping up to her knees, wrapping her arms around her foe’s golden thighs as the champ’s head slips further up Lucy’s stems and, with a loud grunt, the Angel reaches her feet, lifting a suddenly frantic Luciana into electric chair position high above the canvas.
Before Colleen can pull the appropriate facebuster from her arsenal and PLANT the La-teena to the thinly-sheathed plywood, the South American dips into her lucha playbook. She deftly spins atop the redhead’s shoulders so her crotch is in the face of the legend and rips O’Neal off her feet with a hurricarana that sends the GSWE icon flying then sliding across the ring.
The wincing champ uses the momentum to begin rising but before she gets fully to vertical, a charging Luciana lifts a knee and delivers it in violent fashion between the redhead’s baby blues. Colleen’s head buggywhips from the impact, the back of her skull thumping into the deck.
As the more aware in the crowd scream out “KINSHASA!”, Lopez dives atop the spread-eagled O’Neal in a lateral press and nods her head along with the slaps of the mat for the…
ONE…
TWO…
…and the Angel’s wings aren’t clipped just yet, Colleen kicking out of the pinning predicament with a spasm. From the glazed look in her baby blues, it’s clear she remains in deep trouble, the gold in danger of moving from GSW’s most veteran competitors to one of its youngest.
Lucy moves to a schoolgirl position across Collen’s midriff and sends both sets of fingers deep into the auburn locks of the champ. She pulls O’Neal’s head upper torso off the canvas and gives the title holder a violent rattle, shaking the marbles of the already gobsmacked grappler.
“Give up your spot, puta. Consider me the New Year’s baby come early.”
The enraged La-teena THUMPS a forearm shiver into O’Neal’s jaw, laying the champ out. But Lopez doesn’t go for the pin. Instead, she digs her nails into the thin layer of spandex covering Colleen’s gurls and drags the redhead to her feet by the dual breast claws. The Viper disengages her talons and delivers a head-turning bytch slap to the cheek of the Angel, spinning her in place and drawing the enmity from most of the crowd.
A chant of AYN-GEL slowly builds though a competing VI-PER response joins it as Lucy surrounds O’Neal’s tummy with a waistlock and bullies her smaller foe toward the ropes. The pair hit the cables chest-first but it’s only Lopez tumbling backwards after, the California Angel having hooked her arms under the top strand. As Lucy back somersaults to her feet, a wobbling Colleen turns to face her.
Already the youngster is charging, but O’Neal adroitly lunges to the side, pulling the top rope down as she does. Luciana flies over the top but latches onto the uppermost cable and keeps herself on the apron by the scantest of margins.
Seeing her foe stay off the floor, the face of GSW races to the opposite ropes and rebounds, sprinting at full speed toward her target only for the Viper to grab the middle ropes as she ducks and heaves herself through, SPEARING THE HOLY HELL OUT of the champ. Colleen is nearly run clean through by the La-teena. Instead her spandex-clad frame is folded around the gutting shoulder of Lopez.
Slingshot Spear ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=R8-8LhfAOhg )
The impact leaves Luciana jarred for a moment, but she quickly clears her head and lies atop the demolished, auburn-maned legend for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
Somehow, Colleen lifts a shoulder a few inches off the canvas with the official’s palm no more than a few inches off the deck. The South American phenom is beside herself in disbelief. She stares at the arbiter, dark eyes focused like lasers upon him. He shakes his head, mouthing ‘two’ to the flustered La-teena.
“I know you’re trying to keep this relic, champ,” Luciana accuses. “Don’t think it will do you any good.”
Lopez latches onto a wrist and shoulder and pulls the rubbery redhead to her feet. She dips and slips an arm between the quaking legs of the champ, ‘hupping’ her foe’s body across her shoulders in a fireman’s carry.
Tossing the title holder off right side, the Venezuelan lifts a knee into the face of the plummeting Angel, snapping the legend’s head back with a wicked Viper Strike.
Viper Strike ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=689HcTHyGYI ) @ 4:33
But as the flaccid body of O’Neal flops away from the impact, the veteran, through luck or skill, rolls out under the bottom rope, dropping to the floor. Stilled by the strike and in a starfish, Colleen lies motionless. Luciana could likely win with a count out, but the title’s on the line and she requires the deflated champ in the ring. Lopez climbs through the ropes, descends to the floor and scrapes a shellshocked O’Neal to her feet, leaning the loopy redhead against the apron.
The teen phenom takes a long lick of her palm, pivots 90 degrees and SMACKS a backhand chop into Colleen’s chest, the contact echoing through the arena, drawing the requisite ‘wooo’s. A beaming Lucy cups O’Neal’s chin and raises it to clear more ivory acreage to land another and a wicked backhand CRAAACKS against the upper end of the Angel’s cleavage. O’Neal’s arms pinwheel from the force of the attack, lids clenching over the icon’s baby blues.
It’s clear the Venezuelan Viper is having a ball and she loads the third-time charmer before sending the palm toward the reddening bullseye across Colleen’s clavicle. But this time the face of GSW blocks the blow. She grabs Lopez and switches positions with her challenger. Her ‘Irish’ up, the San Francisco native NAILS a left jab to a startled Luciana’s chin, snapping the head of the tawny grappler back with the blow.
The smaller sturdy redhead follows with another and another before bringing her balled right and kissing the knuckles. Firing away, Colleen clobbers the La-teena’s jaw with her heavy artillery, the head-spinning connection sends Lucy under the ropes when the raven-haired wrestler’s frame follows her braincase.
O’Neal hops to the apron and turns to rally the crowd, the Angelenos responding with a roar that doesn’t last long. Lopez, showing the recoverability only a teen can muster, is vertical and advancing by the time the California Angel returns her attention to her challenger. Luciana delivers a side kick DEEP into O’Neal’s midriff, a large groan escaping Colleen’s lips. With her foe’s head drooping, Luciana captures O’Neal’s noggin a front facelock and pulls the champ between top and middles ropes.
The veteran’s toe tips catch on the rubber-coated steel of the middle cable and Lopez throws up her free hand.
“Time to send this stupid gringa out with more style than she deserves,” Lopez bellows.
Lucy lays out and SPIKES the crown of Colleen’s skull into the deck with a rope-assisted DDT. O’Neal’s cranium might as well be a lawn dart, the Golden State faithful groaning in sympathy at the sight and at the idea Luciana had just made her arrogance into rightful confidence, backing up her words with championship-winning actions.
Lopez shovels the lifeless carcass of the GSW’s best ever into history with the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOO!
O’Neal isn’t done yet, shifting a shoulder off the deck, if barely, most of the assembled delighted their beloved has at least delayed Lucy her reign. The Blonde Killer sits next to the softly stirring legend, Colleen learning Luciana is a lot more than hype if she didn’t know coming in and Lopez realizing the California Angel isn’t going to give up her position at the head of the company without her wings being fully clipped.
With the flagging veteran still splayed, the Viper strides to the nearest corner. She grabs the top ropes with both hands and springs to a split-second stance on the top rope with ease. Showing a hint of her luchability, the La-teena kicks her feet out, the pits of her knees landing on cables. She springboards through an accelerated backflip, rocketing toward a splashing conclusion across the open tummy of the titleholder with her split-legged moonsault finisher, the Caracas Catastrophe.
( www.youtube.com/watch?v=vkereA-1UIQ ) @ 8:28
But this time, the moniker is more apt for the challenger as the ever-resourceful Colleen pulls her knees into a tuck and it’s the bony points of her joints that meet the golden abdomen of the teenage sensation. A moaning Luciana rolls away from the aerial disaster, hugging her tummy as if she’s trying to keep her internal organs in place.
The auditorium explodes in excitement at what the Angel’s Army hopes is a fateful turning point. The many miles the redhead has ridden in the ring is showing as even with her Catastrophe being turned against her, it’s the phenom who’s up first, beating O’Neal by tick or two.
When Lucy latches onto a rising O’Neal’s auburn mane and pulls the champ toward her, Colleen’s hands shoot upward, cupping around the back of her foe’s braincase. The face of GSW presses the crown of her skull tight to Lucy’s chin and drops to her knees. The impact of the jawbreaker sends the Viper staggering away after a 180, dark eyes momentarily clouded, hand massaging her throbbing jaw.
With the Venezuelan’s back to the recharged veteran, O’Neal pushes to vertical and leaps at the dazed Lopez from behind. Her hands press into the napes of her foe’s neck as her legs fold into a tight tuck, Colleen’s knees pressing into her challenger’s shoulderblades. The trip to the canvas has an impactful ending, the Angel’s lungblower sending the La-teena bolting off the redhead’s knees, flopping to her chest, stilled by the Golden State legend.
Lungblower ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=XKyrNcjcmLc )
With the crowd in the palm of her hand, a glistening O’Neal pushes to her feet and heaves a huge sigh, the crowd chuckling at Colleen’s acknowledgment of trying to keep up with someone half her age. But with Lucy struggling to reach all fours, she’s clearly accomplishing it.
The auburn-haired grappler passes on the direct approach, striding past the slowly rising Lopez. Instead the champ heads for the nearest corner, climbing up the buckles and, once on top, turns to her target and waits for her moment.
Luciana wobbles as she turns to try and find her foe and find the legend she does, the Angel soaring. Colleen leads with her legs, shins SLAMMING into Lucy’s shoulders. The GSW icon rides the phenom to the canvas, THUMPING Lopez to the deck with a flashy meteora.
Meteora ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=5R7aL6k3Jp8 )
Still atop her foe, O’Neal captures one of the youngster’s matchbooked legs to secure the pin and the win with the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Luciana shoves out from under, keeping her hopes and those of her share of the fanbase alive. She pushes to her feet only a second behind the Bay Area native and backpedals into a corner to keep herself upright.
Colleen isn’t about to let her control go to waste, charging the challenger, dipping a shoulder to spear the South American through. But Lopez leaps out of the Angel’s flight path and O’Neal is left to ram her right shoulder into the steel ring post behind the buckles.
The worried groan from the faithful echoes through the auditorium and with O’Neal slumped atop the middle buckle, still pressed to the metal, a quick-thinking Luciana races to the opposite corner, speeds through a u-turn, and dropkicks Colleen’s backside, RAMMING the shoulder further into the post, O’Neal crying out in pain from the replay.
Lopez pops to vertical and tugs the wincing O’Neal out from the corner, the redhead’s right arm limp at her side. Sweeping an arm in a backhand grip across the throat of the wounded Angel, Lopez forces her foe into a backward arch, capturing the champ in a momentary dragon sleeper. But Lucy isn’t one for the slow burn and she quickly lays out, PLANTING the back of the redhead’s skull into the canvas with an inverted DDT.
O’Neal’s body spasms from the impact and the crowd comes to grip with what are likely Colleen’s last few seconds ever as GSW’s leader when Lopez drops across their heroine with a cross-body pin, hooking the limp far leg for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOO!
O’Neal shoves a shoulder off the canvas with the official’s hand inches away from ending what is likely her final reign. On her haunches next to the champ, Luciana, her jaw having dropped, stares pleadingly at the referee. He holds up two fingers and her digits rake through her raven locks in disbelief.
“You may not want to retire,” Lopez fumes, giving a wicked slap to the redhead’s abdomen that brings O’Neal further out of her stupor, but you don’t get to decide.”
Snatching the champ by her auburn locks, Lopez rips the shellshocked legend to her feet, stuffing O’Neal’s head between her thighs. Luciana collects one underhook then another, readying the lift to the facebuster that had become the rage of GSW over the previous year, lifting Lucy from unknown to top of the card.
Caribbean Facial ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=689HcTHyGYI&t=281s ) @ 10:28
But before the challenger can launch the California Angel heavenward to her ultimate elimination, Colleen wraps her left leg around the right of her foe, keeping herself planted to the canvas. The bigger grappler insists but the dogged redhead again blocks, this time breaking her arms free, wrapping them around the thighs of the Viper and lifting Lopez off the canvas, the raven-haired wrestler draping down the back of the icon.
Colleen drops to her haunches. Out of exhaustion or design, it sends the crown of Luciana’s noggin SPIKING into the deck, the crowd ‘ooohing’ from the brutal impact and the astounding turn of fortunes. A roar quickly grows as O’Neal wearily throws her sweat-soaked frame across the phenom for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOO!
The challenger shows her tenacity, eeking a shoulder off the deck at the last possible moment, the throng unable to contain their appreciation of the fight in the youngster.
But while the Angelenos show their approval, the veteran keeps her focus, surrounding the La-teena’s head in a scissors. The redhead rolls to hands and knees with her challenger still trapped in what’s quickly morphed into a figure-four version of the scissors the legend elevates. When Colleen reaches back, grabs her boot tips and uses her left leg as a lever to increase the pressure, the champ’s Golden Gate is closed.
Golden Gate ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=0jwwoUadYF0 ) @ 5:45
Luciana fights for a half-dozen seconds but everyone in the arena knows what’s coming and finally Lopez taps enthusiastically, the adoring crowd exploding in delight at the champ repulsing an incredibly strong challenge from the La-teena.
Colleen releases at the toll of the victory bell. She pushes to her feet, drained. Bowing, she remains bent, hands on knees for a long moment, showing her exhaustion but finally pushing back to full vertical and nodding to the crowd.
The official arrives with her hard-retained prize, handing the belt over as the ring announcer makes it official.
“Your winner and STILL Golden State Wrestling champion, the California Angel, Colleen O’Neal!”
The ref raises the redhead’s near arm and the celebration is in full gear as the softly stirring Luciana slowly rolls out of the ring, denied her destiny by the face of the organization.
O’Neal moves to the nearest corner and climbs to the top, lifting her gold high to the thunderous crowd.
Even if twilight is coming to the Angel, it seems Colleen is ready to make certain it features the most beautiful shade of triumphant red the Golden State fans have ever seen.
Such is Golden State Wrestling’s adorable ingenue Heaven Hughes. Not the kind that left God’s, or in this case, a small auditorium full of rabid wrestling fans’ grace. The babyfaced rookie from Santa Monica literally falls to earth courtesy a powerbomb from the middle ropes of a no longer not so nearby corner.
HEAVEN HUGHES
The ring rattles from the impact, GSW’s Sweet Seraph bouncing off the deck an inch or two along with the seated opponent providing her thrust. Both blondes settle to the canvas in silence, the crowd disheartened watching the arms of the blasted Hughes end in a wide ‘V’ over her motionless head and shoulders.
The lower limbs of the flaxen-haired cutie remain in possession of her fearsome foe, one very few of whom thought Heaven would be competitive. But indeed she had, very, startling the fans and the Neon Demon with whom she shared the ring and from whom she now is ready to be sent to hell with the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Against all odds and indeed everyone’s belief, Hughes shifts a shoulder off the deck, drawling a scowl from Drusilla Foster. The cold, heartless evil of the Demon turns her gaze toward the official. He raises two fingers while noticeably retreating several feet from the blue-gray eyes that burrow into his soul.
Dru shoves the tanned stems of GSW’s battling cherub to the side and rises. Foster though long and lean at 5’9” and 123 pounds, cast an oversized shadow with her unorthodox bearing. Living up to the Neon in her sobriquet, streaks of neon pink, green and orange course through her otherwise platinum mane. Her face is speckled with jewel-like multi-colored freckles placed on cheek, temple and forehead. Only her red and black latex two piece seem to conjure the demon-side of the equation, at least until she used actions much more powerful than words.
DRUSILLA FOSTER
( i.ebayimg.com/00/s/MTU2MFgxMjAw/z/P0MAAOSwuTta856X/$_3.jpg )
Dru straightens her rubberized miniskirt, letting her fingers trail down pale white gams toward black pads and boots below.
“Are you sure?” she hisses at the zebra.
“Yeh…yes…Miss Foster.”
The Demon turns her attention back to the slowly rising Hughes. Just short of shoulder-length, blonde locks are pushed over an ear by the absent-minded Heaven, Hughes not fully aware after the “Elevator to Hell’ from Drusilla. Clad in her customary pink-and-black zebra print tank top and boy-cut spandex, Hughes reaches one knee before Foster claims a handful of follicles.
“Up,” Dru insists, yanking the wincing Heaven to her feet. She towers over the 5’2” frame of the relative newbie, the Angelenos jeering at the continued assault.
Though Foster has length to spare on her foe, she’s far from a behemoth, so it might be surprising when she hair-tosses a squealing Hughes halfway across the ring. Heaven lands with a meaty thud and skids to a stop in a corner. The dazed cherub scoots to a seat, dark eyes half-lidded, chin to chest, spent.
Charging, the Neon Demon races toward her target and THUMPS a raised knee into Heaven’s forehead, snapping her cranium back with a wicked whiplash. Hughes’ glassy peepers stare blankly to the rafters as she leans into the buckles, head limply bobbling, arms limp at her sides.
Drusilla hovering over the semiconscious Hughes, draws a thumb across her throat without a hint of malice. It seems a simple statement where Heaven is headed like so many before her. Sinking her ruby nails into the Sweet Seraph’s scalp, the Demon yanks the rubbery Hughes to her feet and draws her in a stagger to center stage.
Dipping to her left, Dru wraps her arms around Heaven’s taut midriff with one arm, another around Hughes’ left leg. Showing an easy power, Foster hauls Heaven off the canvas, spinning her like a top so the crown of the blonde’s head is pointed to the ‘Bad Place’.
Drusilla secures a full double-barreled bearhug on the overturned Hughes before lifting to her tiptoes and dropping Heaven into the abyss with her ‘Straight to Hell’ piledriver.
( www.youtube.com/watch?v=-L9tH4DJM-Y ) @00:05
The THUMP of the thinly-sheathed plywood is gruesome as Heaven’s arms go limp a millisecond after, the babyfaced beachgoer lifeless in a spreadeagle below the sprawled Neon Demon.
Dru climbs atop the splayed motionless frame of the demolished cherub, crotch hovering over Heaven’s mug as Foster hooks a leg for show.
The groaning crowd watches with worry as the spirit of the comatose Hughes remains separated from her body for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THREEE!
A snide smirk barely creases what some considered the otherwise beatific features of the Demon. She tosses the purloined leg away with disdain and it’s hardly a surprise the GSW faithful when Drusilla leans back and covers Heaven’s features with her latex-encased, ivory-skinned backside.
The Neon Demon begins swishing her hips in increasingly sensual figure-8s, simultaneously preventing air from reaching Heaven’s lungs while humiliating the rookie as only the malevolent mistress of Disco Satan could.
The referee, having already called for the tolling bell and not wanting to test the Demon, insists the ring announcer make the result official but that hardly seems to matter to Dru. She rides her victim’s face with long deep strokes, lower lip finally giving a quiver. A roar from the crowd breaks the Demon’s concentration on her Heavenly conquest.
Racing to the ring, the long-time Face of the franchise, Colleen O’Neal takes on the role of cavalry for her protégé. Already in battle gear, the diminutive redheaded veteran dives in under the bottom rope, popping to her feet instantly.
COLLEEN O’NEAL
Gear: ( www.dollskill.com/halloween-sexy-wrestling-champ-costume-set-pink-turquoise.html?gclid=Cj0KCQiAt_PuBRDcARIsAMNlBdr_8wE5qC_kyeTo6lFLvIAIVfi-oFHrA_YlWbDRyxEebaPXuRlroFIaAmIzEALw_wcB without the ‘belt’ ) .
She surges toward a rising Dru and plants a dropkick on the chin of the Neon Demon. Foster remains vertical if staggered. She regains her balance just as GSW’s California Angel rises to her feet. The fans, on their feet, watch with concern as Foster swings a scythe-like clothesline toward the clavicle of their heroine, but O’Neal ducks under. Drusilla skids to a stop and turn after the swing-and-miss and Colleen steps to the bigger blonde, wrapping her arms around the chest of the Demon.
O’Neal shows the technical skill born of well more than a decade in the ring and heaves Drusilla up and over with a belly-to-belly suplex. Dru CRASHES to the canvas on her landing, spine bruised as she ends in a seated position, reaching for the base of her backbone.
Already on her feet GSW’s beloved legend races to Dru and THWACKS a soccer kick into Drusilla’s spinal column that gives Foster the momentum and, more importantly, the incentive to exit the ring under the ropes in front of her. Boots planting on the floor, she spins and retreats to the metal barricade behind her, staring lasers at the auburn-haired interloper, the Angelenos booming their approval.
O’Neal steps to the bottom rope and leans over.
“Get back in here if you’ve got the guts,” Colleen shouts.
The Demon takes a couple steps forward as if she’s going to accept the invitation but takes a right turn, having already done what she came to do, dispatching Heaven from her senses.
It’s clear Drusilla wants nothing to do with the California Angel as she moves around the outside of the ring, casting her evil eye at the inhabitants, O’Neal turns half of her attention to the groggy Hughes, dropping to one knee next to Heaven.
“Talk to me, kid,” O’Neal says, patting the babyfaced Hughes on her greasy cheek.
“Whuhh, where?”
The GSW legend motions for the EMTs for an assist and they respond without a moment’s hesitation, knowing her word is gold in this territory. As O’Neal hands off her friend to the two med techs, she calls for a microphone from the ring announcer and brings it to her lips with Dru is halfway up the ramp.
“Right now,” the Face of the franchise shouts after Foster. “You might be able to take advantage of a young girl like Heaven. But isn’t it time you show you can do it against the best the Golden State has to offer?”
Drusilla, brought to a halt by the sound of Colleen’s voice, turns her head to give the champion a side-eye.
“Soon,” is all she offers, then returns on her trek to backstage.
A frustrated O’Neal nods at the crowd’s boos.
“She’ll get hers. I can promise you that.”
The announcement puts the crowd back in high spirits, mostly ignoring the dilapidated Hughes, the blonde battler with an arm around the shoulders of an EMT on either side. She’s under a portion of her own power, it appearing as thought he Demon has done no long-term harm.
BUT before the slow-moving threesome can make it to the back, a dark-haired flash of silver rockets out from behind the curtains and SPEARS THE HOLY HELL OUT OF HEAVEN.
Hughes is laid out on the steel grating, the EMTs staring in disbelief at the wreckage behind and below. On all fours above the demolished Hughes, GSK’s Venezuelan-born ‘Blonde Killer’ lives up to her name. In metallic silver tank, boy-cut trunks and boots, ‘Caracas Crazy’ hops to her feet and hovers, pointing down at the flaxen-haired victim then in the air above her, making a hash mark in the sky to put another blonde notch on her ‘belt’.
LUCIANA LOPEZ
As GSK officials surround the waylaid Hughes to prevent any further damage, Luciana Lopez heads for her main event with none other than the California Angel, Colleen’s jaw having dropped at the audacity of GSW’s resident phenom.
There’s no need to intervene for Colleen. She’s a dollar short on saving Heaven and Lopez is striding confidently to the ring, ready to claim O’Neal’s Golden State title.
The South American teen snatches a microphone on her way past the ring announcer’s table and climbs the steps, ready to talk smack before bringing it to the legendary O’Neal. As she steps through the cables, the Latina’s ready for her soliloquy. She flips her long- straight raven locks before lifting the stick.
“Hey there, grandma,” Luciana begins, less than graciously pointing out Colleen’s chronological advancement. The crowd lets Lopez have it for showing up their favorite, though there’s a faction that supports the youngster.
“We all know you’re on your last legs here at GSW. I’ve won ten Pay-Per-View matches before my 20th birthday. You didn’t claw your way out of podunk Virginia bingo halls and reach FAWN until you were almost 30 and you had one f’n Pay-Per-View appearance there…and what…in a tag match where Moira Kane put you under with a mandible claw?”
O’Neal brings her microphone up, but Lucy shuts her down.
“I’m not done yet. SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH!”
Most of the crowd rains boos down on the arrogant insurgent from Venezuela.
“Two years as some pretend goddess, Artemis, was it? Hell. At least Aphrodite became part of their biggest tag team ever, not that The Three would do shyt at Golden State. But you were in your 30s before you started even making an impact.
“And yeah, you’ve had a little success since coming west. And yeah, you’ve been the champ of Golden State three times in your seven years here and tag team champ three times.
“Guess what? It doesn’t matter. These people equate GSW with your name. These ignorant slobs. Guess what? It doesn’t matter! I’m the one that’s REALLY going to make your name. I’m going to go out of my way and change my moniker just for you on this very special occasion. Tonight only…I’m the ‘Redhead Killer’.
Luciana drops the mic, literally, but doesn’t head for her corner, instead chesting up against Colleen.
O’Neal holds her GSW gold high with her left hand, giving Lopez a great view, and draws as microphone to her lips with the other.
“Lucy. You’re going to be a great one long after I’m gone. But right now, in this ring tonight. There’s only one woman who’s golden in the Golden State and you’re looking at her.”
The crowd pops the roof off the LA Coliseum, cheering on the woman who’d reigned supreme through so much of the rise of the organization to the leading outfit west of the Mississippi, their California Angel.
The official separates Lopez and O’Neal, directing them back to their respective corners where Colleen hands over her prized possession. The ring announcer takes over, making the combatants official.
“Your next match is your main event and is for the Golden State Wrestling championship. First, from Caracas, Venezuela, the Silver Bullet, Luciana Lopez.”
Jeers echo throughout the bowl, quickly changing to cheers when the announcer continues.
“And from San Francisco, your California ANGEL, Colleen O’NEEEEAAAAAAL!”
The GSK galaxy of fans raises the roof on the old Coliseum, the decibels surely rivalling LAX. A dozen seconds go by before the roar finally recedes and the referee calls for the bell. There’s no playing around. Both champ and challenger stride to a collar-and-elbow tie-up center stage, the confident challenger gaining the leverage a few seconds in and backing O’Neal toward a corner before the redhead pivots and flips positions and it’s the Latina’s back against the buckles.
The official calls for the break, the smaller redhead raising her hands from Luciana, only for the Latina Sensation to flash a set of fingers across the baby blues of the face of GSW. Colleen howls in pain, turning and blindly staggering away from Lopez.
Most of the Angelenos filling the auditorium let Lucy know they don’t appreciate the underhanded tactics. To say she doesn’t care would be an understatement, Lopez follows behind, stalking then surrounding O’Neal’s midriff with a waistlock. Still trying to blink sight back into her peepers, Colleen throws an elbow behind her, but the Blonde Killer deftly ducks and uses the momentum to take Colleen up, back and down with a side suplex that splatters the fan’s favorite against the canvas. O’Neal arches in pain, reaching for the base of her spine with one hand while rubbing her azure eyes with the other.
Reaching a seated position, O’Neal suddenly feels her scalp burning as Luciana sinks her nails into the redhead’s scalp and tugs O’Neal off the deck before sending her THUMPING to the canvas with a hairpull mat slam. She drops a pointed elbow to the cleft of Colleen’s bosom for good measure, sending a convulsive shudder through the champ’s frame.
The arrogant teenager rises and places a boot on the location she’d just sent the elbow, raising her hands in triumph for…
ONE…
O’Neal pushes Lucy’s boot away and rolls to her chest, pushing up to all fours.
Lopez turns to the crowd, a fair minority praising her tactics and success.
“You want this old has-been as your champion?”
Luciana gets a substantial endorsement of the GSL icon then sends a nasty punt to the redhead’s right set of ribs and O’Neal is sent barrel rolling toward the ropes.
“Well it doesn’t matter because I’m going to make sure she spends the rest of what little time she has left in obscurity.”
Lopez returns her attention to O’Neal, reaching Colleen as she uses the ropes to pull herself up and lean heavily into the rubber-coated steel of the cables. Luciana bullies her deep into the ropes and Irish Whips the redhead across the canvas. She follows behind to center stage and waits for the rebounding O’Neal with a spinning leg lariat to the redhead’s collarbone that sends the champ rocketing to the deck, the back of O’Neal’s skull BANGING against the deck. Colleen cradles her braincase with both hands, boot soles pattering against the deck.
The phenom stands in a straddle over the splayed GSW legend and salsas her hips above the rocked redhead, a majority of the crowd letting Lucy know they do not approve. Lopez looks down at the dazed O’Neal.
“Puta. Maybe they’ll give you a gold brace instead of a watch.”
Luciana collects both of her foe’s legs, raising them. The Venezuelan steps between while crossing the lower limbs of the redhead. She forces forward and turn, spinning Colleen to her back and clamps on a feisty sharpshooter, Lopez looking to make short work of the title holder and complete a rocket-like ascent to GSW glory.
Sharpshooter ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=2QOQ9UzCf0Q ) @ 00:18
Lopez lowers into a crouch to only increase the pressure and a wincing Angel reaches desperately for the ropes, several feet removed from her. The official lowers to all fours and gets in Colleen’s face, asking if she wants to surrender the match and her title. O’Neal doesn’t waste her breath, shaking her head vigorously.
The veteran digs her digits into the canvas and drags the snarling Latina with her, an agonizing journey to the cables that takes a dozen seconds before she wraps a palm around the lowest rope and calls imploringly for a break. Lucy holds for four seconds, wringing every moment of torture on the legs she can before releasing. She backs away only a few steps at the ref’s insistence.
Meanwhile, Colleen curls into a ball, massaging her aching ivory stems. She uses the strands to pull to vertical and hobbles away from them when the official calls Lopez back into play.
Luciana turns Colleen to face her beloved fans and faces the redhead’s throat down on the top cable, choking the life from the seemingly overwhelmed champion. O’Neal’s flails her arms plaintively as the ref starts his count, the crowd showing their displeasure at her underhanded tactics. At four, Lopez releases again, stepping away and raising her hands high in innocence.
The official checks on a redfaced and gasping Colleen but the Latina doesn’t have time for that, snatching the blue-eyed battler’s long auburn locks. But as O’Neal is turned to face her challenger, she brings a heavy forearm that CRAAACKS into Lucy’s jaw, staggering the Venezuelan. O’Neal is loose and follows with another and another, Lopez on the back foot for the first time.
The GSW icon’s troops let Colleen hear their support and she seems to take heed, thumping a toe kick deep into the tawny tummy of her foe. With Lopez doubled over, the veteran secures a front facelock and slips a limp left arm of her foe across the back of her neck. With her free hand, she grabs fingerfuls of spandex and whips Lopez over with a snap suplex. But the crafty California Angel doesn’t release and isn’t done. She tugs the teen up with her and repeats the process a second then a third time, kipping to her feet after the last, showing there’s still plenty of spring in the veteran’s step.
To her credit and her age, Lucy is up rather quickly, but the redhead is ready with another lightning flash of a boot to the belly. Colleen tugs the dipped Latina forward and into a front facelock then collects her left leg in a cradle. She violently spins clockwise, RIPPING Lopez off her feet with a spinning neckbreaker, PLANTING the suddenly stymied challenger to the deck in emphatic fashion.
Spinning neckbreaker ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=u6P2YWq3mVM ).
O’Neal scrambles to the splayed Lucy, diving atop the La-teena, hooking her far leg for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Lopez kicks free forcefully, not nearly ready to forgo her destiny.
Her name already forever made in GSW, Colleen remains focused despite the near-fall. Pushed to her haunches from the escape, O’Neal quickly lifts into a handstand next to the still horizontal Lopez. She turns in a 180 so her chest faces the splayed Lucy and drops both knees into the La-teena’s solar plexus. The Venezuelan Viper jackknifes around the impact, face etched in pain.
The Angel floats into a crossbody pin, again hooking a leg for…
ONE…
TWO…
Lucy squirms free, pushing a shoulder up and rolling to her side to the disappointment of the fans.
Again, the face of GSW doesn’t hesitate to reclaim her advantage, wrapping an arm around Luciana’s noggin and pulling the struggling challenger to her feet. With Lopez in tow, the vintage redhead surges across the canvas, ready to bulldog Lucy to the deck and continue show Lopez she’s not yet ready for the final step to the summit.
Luciana shows differently, getting her hands to the redhead’s hips and shoving, Lopez’s head popping loose of O’Neal’s grip and Colleen’s trip to the canvas is a solo, her tailbone THUMPING into the canvas as a wobbling Lucy remains upright. Still in a bit of a stupor, the La-teena’s nevertheless has the awareness to add injury to insult, for as a wincing California Angel massages her aching backside, Lopez sends a soccer kick SLAMMING into the lower spine of the title holder.
Colleen yelps in pain, her spine arching forward, chest thrust forward, lids pinching.
The Venezuelan Viper steps over each shoulder of the seated champion, clamping on a standing headscissors that uses more calves than thighs to provide the pressure. It’s not enough to stop O’Neal from slipping up to her knees, wrapping her arms around her foe’s golden thighs as the champ’s head slips further up Lucy’s stems and, with a loud grunt, the Angel reaches her feet, lifting a suddenly frantic Luciana into electric chair position high above the canvas.
Before Colleen can pull the appropriate facebuster from her arsenal and PLANT the La-teena to the thinly-sheathed plywood, the South American dips into her lucha playbook. She deftly spins atop the redhead’s shoulders so her crotch is in the face of the legend and rips O’Neal off her feet with a hurricarana that sends the GSWE icon flying then sliding across the ring.
The wincing champ uses the momentum to begin rising but before she gets fully to vertical, a charging Luciana lifts a knee and delivers it in violent fashion between the redhead’s baby blues. Colleen’s head buggywhips from the impact, the back of her skull thumping into the deck.
As the more aware in the crowd scream out “KINSHASA!”, Lopez dives atop the spread-eagled O’Neal in a lateral press and nods her head along with the slaps of the mat for the…
ONE…
TWO…
…and the Angel’s wings aren’t clipped just yet, Colleen kicking out of the pinning predicament with a spasm. From the glazed look in her baby blues, it’s clear she remains in deep trouble, the gold in danger of moving from GSW’s most veteran competitors to one of its youngest.
Lucy moves to a schoolgirl position across Collen’s midriff and sends both sets of fingers deep into the auburn locks of the champ. She pulls O’Neal’s head upper torso off the canvas and gives the title holder a violent rattle, shaking the marbles of the already gobsmacked grappler.
“Give up your spot, puta. Consider me the New Year’s baby come early.”
The enraged La-teena THUMPS a forearm shiver into O’Neal’s jaw, laying the champ out. But Lopez doesn’t go for the pin. Instead, she digs her nails into the thin layer of spandex covering Colleen’s gurls and drags the redhead to her feet by the dual breast claws. The Viper disengages her talons and delivers a head-turning bytch slap to the cheek of the Angel, spinning her in place and drawing the enmity from most of the crowd.
A chant of AYN-GEL slowly builds though a competing VI-PER response joins it as Lucy surrounds O’Neal’s tummy with a waistlock and bullies her smaller foe toward the ropes. The pair hit the cables chest-first but it’s only Lopez tumbling backwards after, the California Angel having hooked her arms under the top strand. As Lucy back somersaults to her feet, a wobbling Colleen turns to face her.
Already the youngster is charging, but O’Neal adroitly lunges to the side, pulling the top rope down as she does. Luciana flies over the top but latches onto the uppermost cable and keeps herself on the apron by the scantest of margins.
Seeing her foe stay off the floor, the face of GSW races to the opposite ropes and rebounds, sprinting at full speed toward her target only for the Viper to grab the middle ropes as she ducks and heaves herself through, SPEARING THE HOLY HELL OUT of the champ. Colleen is nearly run clean through by the La-teena. Instead her spandex-clad frame is folded around the gutting shoulder of Lopez.
Slingshot Spear ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=R8-8LhfAOhg )
The impact leaves Luciana jarred for a moment, but she quickly clears her head and lies atop the demolished, auburn-maned legend for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
Somehow, Colleen lifts a shoulder a few inches off the canvas with the official’s palm no more than a few inches off the deck. The South American phenom is beside herself in disbelief. She stares at the arbiter, dark eyes focused like lasers upon him. He shakes his head, mouthing ‘two’ to the flustered La-teena.
“I know you’re trying to keep this relic, champ,” Luciana accuses. “Don’t think it will do you any good.”
Lopez latches onto a wrist and shoulder and pulls the rubbery redhead to her feet. She dips and slips an arm between the quaking legs of the champ, ‘hupping’ her foe’s body across her shoulders in a fireman’s carry.
Tossing the title holder off right side, the Venezuelan lifts a knee into the face of the plummeting Angel, snapping the legend’s head back with a wicked Viper Strike.
Viper Strike ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=689HcTHyGYI ) @ 4:33
But as the flaccid body of O’Neal flops away from the impact, the veteran, through luck or skill, rolls out under the bottom rope, dropping to the floor. Stilled by the strike and in a starfish, Colleen lies motionless. Luciana could likely win with a count out, but the title’s on the line and she requires the deflated champ in the ring. Lopez climbs through the ropes, descends to the floor and scrapes a shellshocked O’Neal to her feet, leaning the loopy redhead against the apron.
The teen phenom takes a long lick of her palm, pivots 90 degrees and SMACKS a backhand chop into Colleen’s chest, the contact echoing through the arena, drawing the requisite ‘wooo’s. A beaming Lucy cups O’Neal’s chin and raises it to clear more ivory acreage to land another and a wicked backhand CRAAACKS against the upper end of the Angel’s cleavage. O’Neal’s arms pinwheel from the force of the attack, lids clenching over the icon’s baby blues.
It’s clear the Venezuelan Viper is having a ball and she loads the third-time charmer before sending the palm toward the reddening bullseye across Colleen’s clavicle. But this time the face of GSW blocks the blow. She grabs Lopez and switches positions with her challenger. Her ‘Irish’ up, the San Francisco native NAILS a left jab to a startled Luciana’s chin, snapping the head of the tawny grappler back with the blow.
The smaller sturdy redhead follows with another and another before bringing her balled right and kissing the knuckles. Firing away, Colleen clobbers the La-teena’s jaw with her heavy artillery, the head-spinning connection sends Lucy under the ropes when the raven-haired wrestler’s frame follows her braincase.
O’Neal hops to the apron and turns to rally the crowd, the Angelenos responding with a roar that doesn’t last long. Lopez, showing the recoverability only a teen can muster, is vertical and advancing by the time the California Angel returns her attention to her challenger. Luciana delivers a side kick DEEP into O’Neal’s midriff, a large groan escaping Colleen’s lips. With her foe’s head drooping, Luciana captures O’Neal’s noggin a front facelock and pulls the champ between top and middles ropes.
The veteran’s toe tips catch on the rubber-coated steel of the middle cable and Lopez throws up her free hand.
“Time to send this stupid gringa out with more style than she deserves,” Lopez bellows.
Lucy lays out and SPIKES the crown of Colleen’s skull into the deck with a rope-assisted DDT. O’Neal’s cranium might as well be a lawn dart, the Golden State faithful groaning in sympathy at the sight and at the idea Luciana had just made her arrogance into rightful confidence, backing up her words with championship-winning actions.
Lopez shovels the lifeless carcass of the GSW’s best ever into history with the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOO!
O’Neal isn’t done yet, shifting a shoulder off the deck, if barely, most of the assembled delighted their beloved has at least delayed Lucy her reign. The Blonde Killer sits next to the softly stirring legend, Colleen learning Luciana is a lot more than hype if she didn’t know coming in and Lopez realizing the California Angel isn’t going to give up her position at the head of the company without her wings being fully clipped.
With the flagging veteran still splayed, the Viper strides to the nearest corner. She grabs the top ropes with both hands and springs to a split-second stance on the top rope with ease. Showing a hint of her luchability, the La-teena kicks her feet out, the pits of her knees landing on cables. She springboards through an accelerated backflip, rocketing toward a splashing conclusion across the open tummy of the titleholder with her split-legged moonsault finisher, the Caracas Catastrophe.
( www.youtube.com/watch?v=vkereA-1UIQ ) @ 8:28
But this time, the moniker is more apt for the challenger as the ever-resourceful Colleen pulls her knees into a tuck and it’s the bony points of her joints that meet the golden abdomen of the teenage sensation. A moaning Luciana rolls away from the aerial disaster, hugging her tummy as if she’s trying to keep her internal organs in place.
The auditorium explodes in excitement at what the Angel’s Army hopes is a fateful turning point. The many miles the redhead has ridden in the ring is showing as even with her Catastrophe being turned against her, it’s the phenom who’s up first, beating O’Neal by tick or two.
When Lucy latches onto a rising O’Neal’s auburn mane and pulls the champ toward her, Colleen’s hands shoot upward, cupping around the back of her foe’s braincase. The face of GSW presses the crown of her skull tight to Lucy’s chin and drops to her knees. The impact of the jawbreaker sends the Viper staggering away after a 180, dark eyes momentarily clouded, hand massaging her throbbing jaw.
With the Venezuelan’s back to the recharged veteran, O’Neal pushes to vertical and leaps at the dazed Lopez from behind. Her hands press into the napes of her foe’s neck as her legs fold into a tight tuck, Colleen’s knees pressing into her challenger’s shoulderblades. The trip to the canvas has an impactful ending, the Angel’s lungblower sending the La-teena bolting off the redhead’s knees, flopping to her chest, stilled by the Golden State legend.
Lungblower ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=XKyrNcjcmLc )
With the crowd in the palm of her hand, a glistening O’Neal pushes to her feet and heaves a huge sigh, the crowd chuckling at Colleen’s acknowledgment of trying to keep up with someone half her age. But with Lucy struggling to reach all fours, she’s clearly accomplishing it.
The auburn-haired grappler passes on the direct approach, striding past the slowly rising Lopez. Instead the champ heads for the nearest corner, climbing up the buckles and, once on top, turns to her target and waits for her moment.
Luciana wobbles as she turns to try and find her foe and find the legend she does, the Angel soaring. Colleen leads with her legs, shins SLAMMING into Lucy’s shoulders. The GSW icon rides the phenom to the canvas, THUMPING Lopez to the deck with a flashy meteora.
Meteora ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=5R7aL6k3Jp8 )
Still atop her foe, O’Neal captures one of the youngster’s matchbooked legs to secure the pin and the win with the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Luciana shoves out from under, keeping her hopes and those of her share of the fanbase alive. She pushes to her feet only a second behind the Bay Area native and backpedals into a corner to keep herself upright.
Colleen isn’t about to let her control go to waste, charging the challenger, dipping a shoulder to spear the South American through. But Lopez leaps out of the Angel’s flight path and O’Neal is left to ram her right shoulder into the steel ring post behind the buckles.
The worried groan from the faithful echoes through the auditorium and with O’Neal slumped atop the middle buckle, still pressed to the metal, a quick-thinking Luciana races to the opposite corner, speeds through a u-turn, and dropkicks Colleen’s backside, RAMMING the shoulder further into the post, O’Neal crying out in pain from the replay.
Lopez pops to vertical and tugs the wincing O’Neal out from the corner, the redhead’s right arm limp at her side. Sweeping an arm in a backhand grip across the throat of the wounded Angel, Lopez forces her foe into a backward arch, capturing the champ in a momentary dragon sleeper. But Lucy isn’t one for the slow burn and she quickly lays out, PLANTING the back of the redhead’s skull into the canvas with an inverted DDT.
O’Neal’s body spasms from the impact and the crowd comes to grip with what are likely Colleen’s last few seconds ever as GSW’s leader when Lopez drops across their heroine with a cross-body pin, hooking the limp far leg for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOO!
O’Neal shoves a shoulder off the canvas with the official’s hand inches away from ending what is likely her final reign. On her haunches next to the champ, Luciana, her jaw having dropped, stares pleadingly at the referee. He holds up two fingers and her digits rake through her raven locks in disbelief.
“You may not want to retire,” Lopez fumes, giving a wicked slap to the redhead’s abdomen that brings O’Neal further out of her stupor, but you don’t get to decide.”
Snatching the champ by her auburn locks, Lopez rips the shellshocked legend to her feet, stuffing O’Neal’s head between her thighs. Luciana collects one underhook then another, readying the lift to the facebuster that had become the rage of GSW over the previous year, lifting Lucy from unknown to top of the card.
Caribbean Facial ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=689HcTHyGYI&t=281s ) @ 10:28
But before the challenger can launch the California Angel heavenward to her ultimate elimination, Colleen wraps her left leg around the right of her foe, keeping herself planted to the canvas. The bigger grappler insists but the dogged redhead again blocks, this time breaking her arms free, wrapping them around the thighs of the Viper and lifting Lopez off the canvas, the raven-haired wrestler draping down the back of the icon.
Colleen drops to her haunches. Out of exhaustion or design, it sends the crown of Luciana’s noggin SPIKING into the deck, the crowd ‘ooohing’ from the brutal impact and the astounding turn of fortunes. A roar quickly grows as O’Neal wearily throws her sweat-soaked frame across the phenom for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOO!
The challenger shows her tenacity, eeking a shoulder off the deck at the last possible moment, the throng unable to contain their appreciation of the fight in the youngster.
But while the Angelenos show their approval, the veteran keeps her focus, surrounding the La-teena’s head in a scissors. The redhead rolls to hands and knees with her challenger still trapped in what’s quickly morphed into a figure-four version of the scissors the legend elevates. When Colleen reaches back, grabs her boot tips and uses her left leg as a lever to increase the pressure, the champ’s Golden Gate is closed.
Golden Gate ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=0jwwoUadYF0 ) @ 5:45
Luciana fights for a half-dozen seconds but everyone in the arena knows what’s coming and finally Lopez taps enthusiastically, the adoring crowd exploding in delight at the champ repulsing an incredibly strong challenge from the La-teena.
Colleen releases at the toll of the victory bell. She pushes to her feet, drained. Bowing, she remains bent, hands on knees for a long moment, showing her exhaustion but finally pushing back to full vertical and nodding to the crowd.
The official arrives with her hard-retained prize, handing the belt over as the ring announcer makes it official.
“Your winner and STILL Golden State Wrestling champion, the California Angel, Colleen O’Neal!”
The ref raises the redhead’s near arm and the celebration is in full gear as the softly stirring Luciana slowly rolls out of the ring, denied her destiny by the face of the organization.
O’Neal moves to the nearest corner and climbs to the top, lifting her gold high to the thunderous crowd.
Even if twilight is coming to the Angel, it seems Colleen is ready to make certain it features the most beautiful shade of triumphant red the Golden State fans have ever seen.
