Trixie Decker vs. ???

Warning: This is a hardcore match and contains a lot of violence and blood.





TRIXIE DECKER:







Trixie doodles in her journal, earbuds jammed into her ears and music filling her head. She fought the urge to sing along. Trixie had a bad voice and she knew it. In her whole adult life she only intentionally sang in front of two people and both of whom she’d had to profess her undying love to first, which gave her vague hopes they wouldn’t be chased off.



“Pleeeease don’t let me down,” she sang despite and to herself. “Please don’t let down, you better come around.”



A tap on her shoulder got her attention. Trixie turned her phone off and looked up to the three women in her life: Kanako Akiyama, Akira Yukimura, and Noah Liger.





KANAKO AKIYAMA:









AKIRA YUKIMURA:









NOAH LIGER:









Kanako smiled. “I told you guys. She gets so lost in her music before a match you’ve got to watch her. I’m surprised she’d never missed an entrance.”



Akira gave a disapproving look, but Trixie was used to the tallest of her honeys giving her stern looks, stoic glances and more than a couple of hard glares.



The last month had been, to put it politely, a bit of a whirlwind. In August Trixie took full advantage of her FAWN contract specifying she was not bound to working solely for her home promotion. She soon found herself signed into companies like DCA, SEA, and a few others. That had been exciting enough. But then she met Akira and took full advantage of a “not-exclusive” contract with Kanako… and again with Noah. Then Kanako met Akira… and Noah.



Things got comfortably weird immediately afterward. And Akira was now set to have a FAWN match in a future show. Noah, however, was just excited to be backstage at a different promotion.



“I get to see you throw someone around!” the younger grappler screams, her red braids flailing. “I’m so excited!”



“I’m so concerned,” Kanako added, hobbling closer to Trixie. Kanako was still only vaguely ambulatory after her match of the night. “They still haven’t told you who you’re facing or what kind of match it is.”



“This seems concerning,” Akira said coldly.



Trixie shrugged. “Well, that’s how it goes sometimes.”



“No, it’s really not,” Noah answered. She looked to Kanako and Akira. “I mean, it doesn’t, right?”



“It’s really not,” Kanako confirmed. “Trixie, you need to--”



The Japanese fighter’s words were cut off by a production assistant looking into Trixie’s dressing room. “Gorilla position, Decker. You’re about to be announced.”



“Thank you, gorilla position!” Trixie blurted, standing up and dropping her phone and sketchbook on the dresser. She rose but Kanako grabbed her wrist. Kanako pointed to the page in the book Trixie was doodling. “What’s that?”







Trixie looked down at the grotesquery on the page. “Oh, just something I’ve had a few dreams about.”



“Is that you?” Noah asked, unable to hide her horror.



“I gotta get going, ladies!” Trixie planted hard, fast kisses on Kanako, Akira and Noah. “After the match we meet up to take in Akira giving Taffy a beatdown?”



Kanako held onto Trixie a little longer, wearing her concern openly on her face. “Be careful, okay?”



Trixie smiled and gave Kanako finger guns as she walked backwards from the dressing room. “I promise to be as careful as you are in your matches!” She vanished around the corner.



Kanako stared for a minute. “Was… was that a shot at me?”



“A shot,” Akira said, “and a direct hit.”









The audience burbled and chattered in excitement. The pay-per-view, FAWNmania - the company’s biggest show of the year - was nearing the end, which means the big matches - those centered on belts, on amazing feuds, those with the biggest names were next. It had been a stellar night and it could only get better.



The lights dimmed, letting the audience know the next match was about to begin. Cheering began as people double-checked programs to see what was next. A single spotlight hit the entrance curtains and the French national anthem, La Marseillaise, began to play. At the ramp appeared a figure familiar to any long time fan of the company. Once one of the most hated villains, she’d long since moved up the ranks to hated Vice President of FAWN and former International Champion of the company, Anciline de Cyr.





ANCILINE DE CYR:









The fan reaction is, as usual, mixed at seeing this woman. Hated, but talented, many saw this as a rare treat. Others still remembered the deep hateful wounds she’d left on many fighters’ records and booed Anciline accordingly. The older woman merely smiled at this, looking straight ahead. She reached the ring, stomped up the steps, and snapped at referee Reginald Worthington III. The man stifled an irritated sight and walked over to the ropes, parting them for his boss to ender the ring.



She stepped to the center of the ring and withdrew a mic from her sportcoat pocket. “Bonsoir, loyal fans,” de Cyr began in her thick French accent. “I do so hope you are enjoying this fine spectacle we have presented for you.” Anciline gave the fake, hateful smile that earned her instant hate for the first decade of FAWN’s run, but many at least applauded because they were, in fact, most entertained.



“Bien, bien, I am most pleased to learn this,” she said. “Now, I am loathe to disrupt such frivolidad violenta but I am so pleased to afford you a spectacle FAWN has never before seen. As such, I fear the match you were expecting will be pushed back until the end of this surprise bout!”



The idea of an extra match for the price of admission is so enticing that even de Cyr finds herself being cheered, but she raises a hand. “Oh, no, dear friends. Please, save that gratitude. The best is yet to come. But before we get to the details if this contest, the first of its kind in the history of our esteemed organization, let us call our the key player in the drama yet to unfold; the subject, if you well. The rat for our maze.” She held up her hand to the production booth above the arena. “Do not worry, dear announcer. I will take over your duties for this event. Ladies and gentlemen, hailing from Flint, Michigan, standing at one hundred sixty Centimètres and fifty-three Kilogrammes. She is… TRIXIE ‘LA JINX’ DECKER!”





“GET JINXED” BY AGNETE KJøLSRUD









The opening chords of Trixie’s entrance music began to waft into the arena. At the lip of the entrance a familiar petite figure appeared, surrounded by swirling smoke and lights, but Anciline was having none of it.



“Non! Non!” de Cyr bellowed, waving her hand at the production booth. “We’ve no time for such things.” The music cut off as Trixie was just making her way down the aisle. The goth gave a confused look to the VP. “S'il vous plaît, iens me voir! Come forth!”



Trixie stared at Anciline. She’d interacted with this woman maybe five times since joining FAWN in 2014 and maybe exchange three forced pleasantries. Still, she was a boss. Trixie picked up the pace and ran to the ring. The FAWNatics grew disturbingly quiet, most murmuring about what was afoot.



“Tricky, tricky Trixie Decker,” de Cyr sneers as Trixie enters the ring. “You have been a busy girl!” Anciline looks to the fans. “Did you know our Trixie has been in Destiny Championship Wrestling and Sports Entertainment Alternative? In SEA she beat a long-reigning champ in a non-title match! And not just a pin, she put the woman down in a painful submission!” The fans erupt at this. Some are aware, some aren’t, but it gives them a bit of respect for Decker.



“If only you had as much interest in being in your home company, FAWN,” de Cyr spat. It was a record scratch and the whole arena fell quiet. Quickly, de Cyr raised a hand. “Oh, now, you haven’t violated your contract, obviously. You have no non-competition clause and FAWN never put upon you exclusivity.” The fake smile returns. “Because we assumed no one else would want you.”



Anciline’s eyes trail down to the new heart-puzzle pieces tattoo on Trixie’s sternum, proudly proclaiming the names Kanako, Akira, and Noah with the legend, “All of Me.” “Well, I guess even some of the top stars in our field,” her eyes return to Trixie’s, “enjoy dumpster diving now and again.”



In the history of FAWN the fans had a complicated relationship with Trixie. They didn’t hate her, per se, but she wasn’t a favorite. Her merch sold well, and she did have a dedicated fanbase but she was no Sammie or Miriam or Gretchen. So it was rare when she got the entire room cheering for her. It was more rare that they hated someone on her behalf. The jeers came in hot and heavy.



And Anciline could not have cared less.



“You know, I think you misunderstand how important you are to FAWN, Trixie. We sought you out in 2013. When you had your unfortunate… accident that delayed your arrival,” the fans who knew nothing about Trixie’s pre-FAWN career stared in confusion, the ones who knew began chanting “BITCH” at Anceline, “we held your contract while you recovered. We wanted you here. You’re very important to the structure of FAWN. You brought you into our ecosystem to make it thrive…” She steps closer to Trixie. “By making the good wrestlers look better.”



Trixie, to her credit, only stares.



“Don’t get me wrong. You’re not enhancement,” Anciline says. “You’re a mid-carder everyone knows will never have a belt, so we expect you to be too strong for our fresh talent but just enough of a challenge for our standard talent to help them rise and be appreciated. You can’t help OUR talent be appreciated if you’re off gallivanting around other promotions, playing with people who don’t bring dollars into our coffers.



“So you can see my predicament, Trixie,” Anciline says, turning and pacing. “I have talent on my roster that isn’t paying out well. Sure, you came to the ring to watch Alia pound on one of your little ‘friends,’ and you did bring both Kim Hart and Akira Yukimura to us to compete, amazing talent the fans love!” The fans agree with this and cheer wildly until the VP looks to Trixie and continues. “But now that we’ve gotten better talent, do we really need you?”



Trixie finally registered a reaction. Suddenly she knew why she was told to be here at the last minute. Why she wasn’t told details about her match. This was punishment from a petty woman. She folded her arms across her chest and waited for the shoe to drop.



“The way I see it, Trixie, is you’re depriving someone else of a spot. Someone who might want to be on our roster, or someone from development eager for a shot, or someone who was on the roster and deserves a second chance. Money that can go into elevating the FAWN Entertainment brand.” Anciline tilts her head. “Don’t you think that’s more fair?”



Trixie knew her answer wouldn’t affect anything so she just stared coldly. The fans began a chant of, “Bull-shit! Bull-shit!”



Undeterred, Anciline continued. “So, I have a special match for you, with special opponents.” Fans craned their necks to look up the entrance ramp but the executive corrected them. “No, no! Don’t look to the ramp.” She pointed to the screen above the ramp, which flickered from the FAWNamania logo a video feed of four women.



MUNE MUNE:







KETSU KETSU:







PAULETTE SEVERE:







SHANNEN DENNEHY:









Fans booed on sight when the ever sexy Usagi Twins (who were not actually twins but a married couple who fell in love with each other over how similar they looked) of LAW, Shannen Dennehy of FAWN’s past, and Paulette Severe, the Jungle’s perpetually “in development” dominatrix show up. The women seem equally confused why they were there, standing against what, to some, was familiar as a wall in the arena’s lower levels.



“Trixie, you don’t know these women, not personally. But I’m sure you know them by reputation. The Usagi Twins are burning their field of wrestling alive with not just their moves but their undeniable sexuality.” The women in fetish gear rabbit masks smile while fawning over each other. Anciline turns to Trixie. “You have a lot in common with them, except they are considered, how you say… desirable?”



Anciline points to Paulette. “And, of course, next we have Paulette Severe. Like me, she is a symbol of perfection: beautiful, strong, and most importantly, French!” Paulette, obviously flattered, fluffs up her hair and smiles. “Unlike me,” Anciline continues, her tone dipping, “she has only won one match guaranteeing her to languish in Jungle even longer.” The dominatrix frowns into the camera at these words. “Still, she is violent and volatile. Perhaps she just needs the correct encouragement.”



The VP looks up at the scowl of Shannen Dennehy. “And, of course, the legend of FAWN, Shannen Dennehy. A name feared in our company’s hallowed history. She defeated - ney, destroyed some of our top talent and has long since gone off on other adventures.” Dennehy does not look impressed with the accolades, waiting for the other shoe. “Maybe that’s why so few FAWN fans remember who she is.” Dennehy’s brow wrinkles with annoyance. “Of course, that could easily be remedied, oui?”



Anciline spun to Trixie. “And that is where vous comes in, no? For you see, mon petit imbécile, I have decided to give you a special fight. One unlike any FAWN has ever had. Something special so you will be remembered fondly after you’re gone.”



A chill ran down Trixie’s spine.



“I debated a, how do you say Chaufferie… boiler room match, yes, that’s it,” Anciline began. “But that seemed so ennuyeuse and, with you suddenly being so populaire, I felt you needed something new. Something daring.” Anciline stepped up to Trixie, chest to chest, and glared down at her. “Something to put the period at the end of your sentence.” de Cyr spun about and walked away as she explained. “Instead of a simple room you are fighting to get out of, we have turned the arena’s basement into a… how do you say, ‘Labyrinthe’?... MAZE! That’s it!” She spun around to glare at Trixie. “A maze. No time limit. You go in, you have to come out.”



Anciline pointed to the women on the monitor, who still looked relatively confused at their part in all of this. “Meanwhile, these four beautés will try to stop you by any means necessary. Force brute, armes, tromperie.” Anciline looks to the fans. “Trickery, for those of you stuck in the gutter language.” She turns back to Decker. “You have to escape the room. They have to make you submit--” Anciline jabbed Trixie in the throat with a finger. “Verbalement! Verbally only! No slapping a leg or the floor. No knockouts. No count-outs.” Anciline looks up at the women on the monitor while pointing at Trixie. “You wil make her submit to you, with no means off limits!” She gives Trixie a Cheshire cat smile. “Or, perhaps, you will escape the maze. If you do, félicitation! You will have had a historic match on FAWNAMANIA! But should you lose,” Anciline points to the women on the monitor above the entrance ramp, “all four of these women will be signed into FAWN tonight. But don’t worry, you’ll get a prix… prize, too!” She returns to Trixie and grabs her by the front of her net shirt, yanking the goth forward. “You will get all the time in the world to wrestle anywhere else til your heart bursts… because you will no longer be on the FAWN roster.”



The fans erupted in rage. Even Reginald is rattled by this.



“Madame de Cyr, I protest!” the official blurted, stepping in front of Trixie.



“You will be collecting indemnités de chômage and looking for a new job if you speak out of turn again,” de Cyr warned as she spun Reginald around and gave him a swift boot to the back end. She returned her gaze to the four opponents, now all looking overjoyed and hungry for blood. “Are these terms acceptable?”



“Ouei,” said Paulette Severe, exchanging glances with the other three women.



“Excellente!” Anciline yelled. “The production team will arm and lead you to your places in the maze. See you at the fête!” The women vanished from the monitor and de Cyr looked back to Trixie. “And vous, Decker. Do you consent, or will you spare yourself blood and humiliation and just retire from our ranks now. No one will lose respect for you, I promise.” That joker smile grew so wide Trixie half expected it to take over Anciline’s full face. “No one respects you to begin with.”



“But to be fair, you should get a glimpse of what you’re looking at, what you must escape.” Anciline clapped and a map of the maze appeared on the screen for three seconds.









“Enough of that!” the VP yelled as the map vanished. De Cyr strode to the ropes. “Allow me to lead you to the maze.” She pointed to the sound booth. “Play the special entrance music I chose for Trixie!”





CHOPIN’S FUNERAL MARCH:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=R1gGyOSdnXw





Trixie felt the blood pounding in her ears. This is why no one told her what was going on. She should have known. You never announce a screwjob.



The two women, followed by camera crew, walked up the ramp to the curtained entrance. Fans screamed for de Cyr’s blood and, truthfully, it obviously fueled her fire. The women pushed through the curtain and into gorilla position. Production crew who normally cower and hide when Anciline is near openly glared at her. They pushed further down the hall where a swath of FAWN’s “good girl” roster had emptied into the halls to voice their anger. At the front of the throng was Akira, Kanako, and Noah. They were flanked by Aloisia Berge, Kelli Love, and Kim Hart.





Aloisia Berge:









KELLI LOVE:









Kim Hart:









Kanako thrust a finger in Anciline’s face, Noah holding the wounded woman up as best she could. “This is fucking bullshit, de Cyr, and you know it!”



“Mes mains are tied,” Anciline said gleefully.



“Your jaw is about to be wired--”



“HEY!” Trixie yelled, putting a hand on Kanako’s chest. She shook her head. “You’ve already had a fight tonight. There will be a time and place, but not here. Go rest in the dressing room.”



“It’s not fair,” Kelli says.



“It’s not meant to be, blondie,” Trixie says, grinning. She looks to Noah, on the verge of tears. “You can head home, sweetie. You don’t have--”



The young scrapper shook her head. “NO! I will be waiting for you after your match.” She glares at the VP. “After you win, Trixie.”



“We all will be,” Aloisia adds. “Typical FAWN nonsense.”



“Go back to the locker room,” Trixie begs her friends. She kisses Kanako, Akira, and Noah again. “I love you all.” She sees Akira glaring holes into Anciline’s skull and tilts the woman’s face towards her. “I’ll be fine.”



ALEJANDRA ALICEA:









J!NXX:







Trixie stopped by two familiar faces. “Aleja--!” He greeting was cut off by a crushing bearhug.



“Show ‘em, Trixie,” Alejandra. “Show ‘em all.”



“I will,” Trixie promised, not completely believing it. She gave J!nxx a pat on the shoulder. “But in case, you’ll have to be twice the J!nxx to make up for my absence.” J!nxx only offers a wear, sad smile in reply.





BUNNY COOPER:









Trixie turned and came face to face with Bunny Cooper, stone-faced. “Bunny! Hey!” Trixie nervously rubbed her arm. “Look, we only met in that one match and you were, justifiably, pissed off at me. I’m sorry for what I did. It was--”



Bunny held up a hand. “Shut up, Trixie,” she said. “Just hurry up and win this thing. We need a round two.” She offers a soft smile and shakes Trixie’s hand. “But for now, I’m rooting for you.”



“Ms. Decker, we are only postponing the inevitable,” Anciline pouted. “Come!”



Trixie nodded and turned. She took three steps before she felt arms around her.





EMERY COLERIDGE:









Trixie knew who it was by the perfume. “Hey, Emery.” It was uncomfortable and she could feel Kanako’s rage ten feet away. But Emery said nothing, just hugged her tightly. Trixie gave her hand a pat. “I’ll be fine.”



“You better be,” Emery whimpered.



Trixie felt the hug release and she followed Anciline to the elevator. De Cyr looked at a PA. “Tell them to cut to commentary.” She gestured to the camera crew. “You will not be necessary. I’ve tended to it.”



The elevator door opened and Anciline led Trixie in, hitting the B button and “Close Door.” As the door slammed shut, Trixie asked Anciline a simple question.



“Why?”



“Because I need to restore order,” de Cyr said, not even giving Trixie the dignity of looking her in the eye. “We can’t have talent running off to make money for others. You are ours.” She sneered. “Or were.”



“Still am,” Trixie corrected. “I haven’t lost the fight yet.”



“Eventuality, my dear,” de Cyr dismissed. “You will be both a message and a test for this idea. If it does well, it will be used again and again.”



“To get rid of unwanted burdens?”



Anciline only grinned. The doors opened to the entrance of the basement and, more importantly, the maze. The lights were all replaced with red bulbs. It was dim and terrifying. Trixie had heard, in FAWN’s early days, Miriam Gaiman had turned this level into her personal dungeon. She could see why.



“The maze is rigged with cameras. Your movements will be recorded and broadcast.” Anciline took a step towards Trixie. The goth could feel her boss’s hot breath coming down on her. “When you die, many people think you see flashes of your life pass before your eyes. Do you think, when your career dies, you might see flashes of all the failures that let you here?”







Trixie heard the elevator door slam shut behind her as she surveyed the deathtrap ahead. She turned to her right, then left, the right and walked down a hallway.



Trixie stared. “Cool, a dead end,” she grumbled. She’d been bad at mazes as a kid. Puzzle games, in general, were her bane. She hated them because they reminded her, while she was clever, she was not as smart as she’d like to be. She turned around, turned right, and started to turn left when an aluminum baseball bat decided to have words with her gut.



Trixie stumbled back, rubbing her abs. It wasn’t the hardest hit she’d taken. It wasn’t even the hardest in the past week. But she didn’t want to see how much harder the woman holding the bat could hit.



The tall Asian woman in bondage gear and a black rabbit masked gave Trixie a toothy smile. “Keep your head in the game, Trixie,” she cackled, “or you might lose it!” Trixie ducked the blow aimed for her temple. It was a sloppy swing but it still would have hurt if it had connected. Decker lunged at the woman - Trixie didn’t know if it was Ketsu Ketsu or Mune Mune and doubted it would make much of a different - and rammed her shoulder into the attacker’s midriff.



Rabbit One let out an oof as Trixie drove her back into the wall. The bat clanged to the floor and Trixie immediately became aware of how loud it was and likely how far the sound traveled. She kicked it backwards out of reach and, hopefully out of play. As she turned to make sure it was gone, the rabbit threw a rabbit punch into the back of Trixie’s skull. Decker stumbled forward, her vision flashing.



Rabbit one wrapped an arm under Trixie’s chin and started running, throwing Trixie’s head into the wall just outside the elevator. The flimsy drywall gave way. The framing stud, sadly, did not and Trixie felt the full force of the support ringing down to her jaw.



Rabbit One hit the elevator button. “Let me give you an out,”she snarked. The double doors of the elevator opened with a ding and the long-eared bully attempted to sling Trixie into the elevator. A black boot on the elevator frame stopped Trixie in place. The little carny threw an elbow back into Rabbit One's ribs, eliciting a yelp from her. Trixie reached back around the masked face and yanked the Playboy Bunny from Hell over in a snapmare. The woman landed in the elevator, bounding on her generous booty. To seal the deal, Trixie repaid the rabbit punch with a kick to the base of the skull.



As Rabbit One sat, dazed, Trixie reached into the elevator, hit every numbered button and then “Close Doors.” It wouldn't take her out of the match permanently, but Trixie would have one less person to worry about for a little while.



The elevator's doors slid closed, whisking its prisoner away on a magical journey away from Trixie, and the petite scrapper looked ahead. It was time to explore.



Straight forward. Left. Right almost immediately. Follow the path as it bends left, then right. Right again. Enter a constantly bending hallway.



Dead end.



Trixie sighed. She could feel her mental facilities screaming, “WE BECAME A WRESTLER TO HIT PEOPLE, NOT DO PUZZLES!”



Puzzles. Trixie rubbed the tattoo on her chest, a heart made of three puzzle pieces, each for a special woman in her life. They would be watching. They would be worrying. All the more reason for Trixie to get out of here as quickly as she could.



Trixie turned and went back the way she came to take a passage she'd skipped. But when she of to where that intersection was, she was instead met by a wall cutting her off. Disbelieving, she touched the wall. Yup, it was real. She knew the punch and wood beam to her head hadn't scrambled her brains so much that she simply forgot she could pass through walls. This hadn't been here previously.



They can move walls around, great, Trixie told herself. That was exactly what she didn't need. It was “funny” how Anciline forgot to mention this but Trixie doubted it was the last detail she'd neglected. Frankly, she'd be more shocked if half of FAWN's roster didn't end up in this maze after her with tranq guns.



She looked to her right, down a new passageway. She really had no other choice, so it was off to a new adventure.







In the locker room, Kanako watched the TV in horror, her hands cupped over her mouth, whispering, “No no no no no no,” over and over.



Kelli and Aloisia exchanged worried looks. Love pushed past her taller German friend and put an arm around Kanako’s heavily taped shoulders. “Hey, Trixie’s crafty. She’s a survivor. She’s come this far in life against, let’s be honest, shocking odds. She can beat this.”



Kanako spun to face Kelli, screaming, “She’s outnumbered! They have weapons! They can apparently change the maze around on her! And that’s just the things in their favor we know about!”



“She doesn’t have to beat them,” Aloisia states calmly. “She just has to find the exit. Of all of us, Trixie is probably the best suited for such an endeavor. She’s small, she’s quick, she knows how to get out of jams.” Aloisia thinks. “She has an absurd pain tolerance.”



“She doesn’t stay down,” Kelli adds, smiling.



“So, you think she’ll be okay? You think she’ll win?” Kanako asks nervously.



Kelli’s and Aloisia’s faces fell slightly.



“We hope so,” Aloisia comforted.



The Modern Day Ronin ran her hand through her hair, gritting her teeth. “Holy shit, is this what it’s like for Trixie when she watches my matches?”



“One hundred percent,” Kelli replies without thinking.



“Absolutely,” Aloisia blurts.



“Kanako, please don’t take this the wrong way because I’m not trying to make you feel worse,” Kelli starts, “but I assume she feels this way when you’re just going to the store to get milk.”



“You know, she could potentially really destroy this whole thing,” Aloisia ponders. “If she got a bit meaner.”



“Trixie’s not mean,” Kelli replies. “Trixie adopts elderly dogs so they don’t die in shelters. She brings you soup when you’re sick. She sends thank you notes.”



“Everyone has evil in them,” Aloisia says. “Even her. She just has to let it flourish. This is the perfect situation and, let’s be honest, Trixie should probably be meaner in general. She’s too trusting, too nice, too busy making jokes.” Aloisia glances to her company. “Imagine how much further she’d be in her career if she… just stopped caring?”



“Then she wouldn’t be Trixie,” Kanako said horrified.



“Right now, maybe not being her is the best thing she can choose to be,” Aloisia analyzed. “Being herself will get her crushed. She needs to have some darkness in her heart.”



Kanako looked back at the monitor and murmured, “But I love the light in her heart.”







What especially pissed Trixie off about all this was how the makeshift maze walls went straight up to the ceiling. She tested them to see if they could be pushed over. No luck. They seemed well braced and she'd need something more than her bare hands to know them over. Anciline, to Trixie's irritation, had planned this well.



As she walked, far behind her Trixie heard a “ding.” She frowned. Rabbit One was back in play. Hopefully she'd put enough distance between her and--



Trixie stopped and stared just in time to see a wall ahead swing forward, blocking off her path. She could hear a click as it locked in place

That answered that.



Her nervousness beginning to grow more apparent, Trixie turned and walked back the way she came. It was a long hallway… that was suddenly less long as a wall ahead swung in front of her to block her path.

She was trapped in an L shaped hallway. Trixie slowly spun about to weigh her options.



That's when Paulette punched her in the mouth. Trixie toppled backwards. Unlike Rabbit One, the blonde dominatrix knew how to land a hit. An unyielding tile floor broke Trixie's fall while the French woman towered over her, unraveling a whip. In a corset, silk gloves and panties, stockings and garter belt, and ankle boots, Trixie would normally be thrilled to turn around and see someone like Paulette waiting. But she was relatively certain safe words were not a part of her enemy's vocabulary.



“Vous pouvez me supplier de pitié,” Paulette casually offered as she brought the whip down on Trixie's thigh. The impact stung. Unlike Bunny One, this broad knew her tool.



“I don't know what you just said to me,” Trixie replied as she rolled backwards and up to her feet. “But I'm guessing my answers are, 'no,' and 'choke on my clit.'”



The whip's flail bit into Trixie's cheek, opening a cut. Trixie felt warm blood trickling. Another crack came from Paulette but Trixie expected it, stepping to the side and snagging the thong as it sailed towards her. Trixie yanked Paulette forward, something the haughty blonde obviously hadn't even considered as a possibility. A raised boot slammed into Paulette's crotch, pulling a yell from her.



Paulette had twenty pounds and three inches on Trixie, but Trixie had more experience fighting dirty. She grabbed the whip by the cracker and thong and twirled it around Paulette's throat. Stepping behind the blonde, Trixie began a merciless choke that would have caught her charges anywhere outside a FAWN match. Paulette gagged and sputtered through the choke.



Despite the move, and knowing this woman wouldn't give Trixie's safety a second thought, Trixie tried hard to make sure she wasn't actually in danger of permanent damage. She wanted to get out of this match with her perfect record of never halting someone else's career intact.



As Paulette's movements became more spastic, more panicked, Trixie got a sickening “being watched” feeling. She suddenly remembered the bend of the L was behind her and she couldn't see if anyone was coming around the corner. On cue, Trixie's back was wracked with pain as something collided with her spine at full force. Trixie was thrown forward, colliding into her prey and releasing the whip. Trixie rolled onto her back to see Shannen Dennehy's outline, tapping a pipe wrench against the palm of her hand. Trixie's eyes widened at the tool – easily sixty inches in length, Trixie was barely taller than it.



Shannen, standing bathed in red light from above like a demon, grabbed the monstrosity of a weapon with her second and adjusted placement for better swinging. The amazon raised the wrench above her head like a barbarian with a bastard sword and brought it down. Both Trixie and Paulette barely rolled away from its impact, sending out a clang.



“Merde!” Paulette screamed. “We're on the same side, Shannen!”



Dennehy merely shrugged before taking a second swing at Trixie, this time hitting the wall as the petite goth rolled again. Dennehy was older and less active than she was in her prime, but the wound she left in the wall told Trixie, without question, the five foot nine inch, one hundred fifty pound woman was stronger than her. Getting caught with that wrench would be incapacitating, but not match ending.



Mostly because everyone knew Shannen loved to torture her opponents.



Trixie took advantage of Shannen's occupied hands and ran at her, a tactic the FAWN legend obviously didn't expect. She also didn't expect the missle dropkick and, being bent over and her hands full, she wasn't in the best balance or position to fend the attack off. Trixie's boots rammed into Dennehy's chest. The larger woman was thrown backwards, losing grip of the wrench in the process. Trixie landed on her in a perfect pin before bucking her legs up and driving her knees into Shannon's gut. Dennehy howled as Trixie hopped off and ran around the bend.



Trixie stumbled on something, hearing a crack under her heel. She looked down and saw an Iphone, its screen spiderwebbed by Trixie’s carelessness. If she’d had more time to consider why it was there she might have picked it up and gone through the device. Instead, Trixie bolted forward through the hallway towards a re-opened entrance.



Trixie could hear the two blondes clanging to their feet behind her, arguing over whose fault it was Trixie escaped. Ahead she saw three possible exits and she tried to think which might get her closer to the exit. But as she weighed her options, Trixie felt the floor beneath her get slick and he jolted forward uncontrollably. Trixie found herself rocketing forward six feet before her neck was snared by several chords of barbwire across her path. She fell back, screaming in pain and cracking her head on the unforgiving tile, and slid forward a good three more feet before all she saw was a red light above. Two rabbit-eared figured suddenly looked down over her, giggling. One held up an empty bottle of floor polish.



“Oops,” said Rabbit Two. “I forgot to put up the ‘Wet Floor’ sign.”



“So careless,” Rabbit One replied, clucking her tongue. “Let’s help her out. I’ll get her legs.”



Rabbit One disappeared from view but the sudden ache on Trixie’s legs told her where she was. Trixie knew the distinct pain of a figure four leglock and even the sensation of Rabbit two crushing Trixie’s neck, barbwire and all, under her boot didn’t distract her from it. Trixie gagged, grabbing the offending boot and trying to dislodge it first. Rabbit Two braced herself on the wall before looking nervously down the hall behind Trixie. Suddenly she released and ran from view. Likewise, Trixie felt the figure four release. It was confusing at first until Trixie heard feet padding towards her.



Trixie tried to push herself up but a sliding Paulette slammed into her, sending them both forth in a jumble. Trixie found herself further along, entwined with one of her opponents, and dazed. But not too dazed to recognize Shannen standing above her, both arms raised up and behind her head. Trixie knew exactly what was in those hands even before Shannen brought the giant wrench down towards her face.







July 31, 2011:

Flint, Michigan



Kezia Decker took a long drag from her cigarette while rolling her eyes at her eighteen year old daughter. “You got hit with a wrench. That’s nothing to be proud of.”



“That’s not what I’m proud of,” Trixie said, holding up the belt. “I want a championship belt! I’m a hardcore champ!”



“Hardcore chump,” her mother replied. “Look at you. You’re covered in bruises, cuts, and bandages. You look uglier than normal somehow. And for what?” Kezia ashed at the belt. “You can’t even hock that trash. What is the buckle made of?”



“Cast iron,” Trixie replied.



“Goddamnit, Trixie!” Kezie rose from the table and wandered to the fridge for her third morning beer. “Look, I’ve never had a lot of hope for you but still you let me down. You’re out there in someone’s backyard pretending to be a wrestler when you should have a normal day job and be helping me get a lawyer so I can get custody back of your brother and sister!” The woman popped the beer tab and swallowed a third of it down. “’Sides, you’re not a fighter.”



“The hell I’m not!” the young woman replied.



“A cheap belt doesn’t make you shit,” Kezia yelled back. She pointed to the sleeping lump in the couch that was Trixie’s father. “Your dad got in a fist-fight last week and won three hundred dollars for us. He’s a fighter. I’m a fighter. You? You’re tiny. You’ve got no murder in you!” Kezia shook her head in disgust. “Look, you’re now an adult, you want adventure. Go be a stripper and get a shitty tattoo. Get pregnant and have an abortion. Y’know, make some memories before you find a steady job and make some grand-mistakes for me to roll my eyes at.”



Trixie glared. “I don’t even know where to start with all of that.”



“You never do,” her mother replied. “Believe it or not, this comes from a place of love. This ‘career’ you’ve chosen? It’s a dead end. No one wants to watch someone as tiny as you get in the ring unless you’re covered in baby oil and giggling like a bimbo. You’ll never get into anything big and, if you do, you’ll only be there to be fed to bigger girls.” She sighed sadly. “You’re bleeding for a dream that’s impossible.”



“Thanks for the support,” Trixie grunted, slinging the belt over her shoulder. “See ya around.”



“Hey, before you go,” her mom said, snuffing the cigarette out. “Got twenty bucks?”



Trixie stared at her mom.



“Nothin’, huh?” Kezia shook her head. “Fucking useless.”



Trixie turned and headed for the door. “Well, I had to inherit something from you.”



Trixie didn’t even get to the door before a ceramic ashtray slammed into the back of her head.





Trixie’s eyes focused. She was sitting up in a chair, a rope around her. Nearby she heard petty squabbling.



“What kind of dominatrix doesn’t know how to tie knots?” Shannen brayed.



“The kind that uses handcuffs and locks!” Paulette snapped back, pointing a finger. “Don’t tell me how to do my job. I don’t correct you on your dick sucking methods.”



The four women were hurriedly scrambling through some boxes of what Trixie assumed were weapons. She could hear clattering. She was in some sort of alcove. She didn’t want to look around too much and draw attention to herself. The fact barbwire was wrapped tightly around her neck was another incentive to not go too crazy. She kept her eyes closed and remained still.



“They couldn’t organize this bullshit for us?” Shannen griped. “Just dump it in a box, huh? Like we might not want some order.”



“Hearing you talk about order is hil--” Bunny Two started but stopped. “Ketsu. Ketsu?” Frustration built in Bunny Two’s voice. “KETSU! Take the earbuds out of your ears!”



“Sorry,” Bunny One replied, fumbling.



“Those phones are so Anciline could tell us where Trixie was, not for listening to music!” Paulette chided.



“What do you have there?” Bunny Two asked.



“Handcuffs,” Bunny One replied.



“We’ve been looking for those!” Shannen cried.



“But I can’t find the key,” Bunny One explained. “How would we unlock her?”



There was a tense pause. “I don’t give two fucks how the janitor takes out the trash. I just wanna make trash for him to take out!” Trixie heard Shannen grab something and shove someone. “Idiots. I’m glad this is the last time I’ll have to work with you.”



Trixie felt Shannen walking towards her, the presence of the brute standing behind her in the chair. She felt large hands grab her right wrist and cold metal slip over it. Before the cuff could be snapped shut, Trixie threw herself up and blasted the top of her crown into Shannen’s forehead.



“Jesus fuck, how are you up?!” the defacto leader snarled. “You shouldn’t ev--” The rest of Shannen’s tirade was cut off as Trixie picked up the chair, closed it, and whacked it across Dennehy’s jaw. As Shannen stumbled Trixie threw the opening of the folding chair over her head and around her neck. Trixie twisted, sending Shannen flying into the three other fighters. Boxes of weapons and torture devices spilled to the floor.



Trixie stumbled to the wall, catching herself. She attempted to get the barbwire from around her neck but it was wrapped tightly and would take a while to undo without anything to cut through it, and Shannen was already almost on her feet. Trixie pushed from the wall and ran through the nearest doorway, praying it didn’t lead to a dead end.



Trixie was only seven feet into the hallway before Shannen slid in, colliding with a wall clumsily. “You made me bite my tongue!” Shannen fumed. “You’re fucking dead, Decker!” The amazon corrected and charged Trixie, leaping for her with arms outstretched. Trixie ducked, letting Shannen sail over her and face-planting to the floor. Trixie bolted ahead, stepping on and jumping off Shannen’s upturned ass. She soared ahead towards a T intersection.



And that’s when the aluminum bat returned, striking Trixie in the sternum.



Trixie sailed backwards, landing in a heap. One of the Rabbits, she assumed One, titled as she came into view. She tapped the bat on the tile floor while shaking a finger in a “no no” gesture. The Wonderland Reject raised the bat and slammed it down perfectly, had Trixie not been quicker the bat would have easily slammed into, and likely cracked, her left kneecap.



They’re trying to cripple me, Trixie thought to herself as she realized the goal wasn’t just to get her out of FAWN but wrestling as a whole. She pushes herself up to wobbly feet only to catch the bat in the left shoulder. Trixie rocks to the wall, yelping. She’s unable to react before an arm is under her jaw and bracing her head. Trixie tries to break free but Shannen is a wall of muscle and, more importantly, still fresh. Dennehy doesn’t even seem to mind that the barbwire is not biting into her arm as she holds the sleeper in place.



The bat swung again, connecting with Trixie’s gut. Air rushed from her lungs as her eyes turned to saucers. She struggled to free herself but Rabbit One pulled back once more unleashed the bat. Again, she hit a perfect home run against Trixie’s stomach. All the trapped woman could do was emit a cry of pain and frustration mixed.



“Awww, hear that, y’all?” Shannen laughed, admiring the blood pooling from her arm and Trixie’s neck. “I think she just realized she’s lost!”



Rabbit One slams the bat against Trixie’s left hip. “Don’t submit yet, toy. We’re not done breaking you.”



Two and Paulette casually walk up to the scene, laughing cruelly. “The look on your face, Trixie,” Paulette says, pointing. “Like… you’re heartbroken and want to die, but you’re also scared to!”



Two pulled out the phone hanging from her bottoms. “I think we need a selfie!”



“Definitely,” Shannen cooed.She bent down so she and Trixie were on their knees, allowing her shorter companions to gather around. Two raised the camera up and Trixie saw her face, bloodied and pale, surrounded by the gargoylish grins of the women bent on ending her, all looking like they’d already done the deed.



“One three, everyone say, ‘die, bitch!’” Two said. “Ready? One… two… THREE!”



“DIE, BITCH!” cried out the gleeful chorus as Shannen tightened the arm on Trixie’s barbwire wrapped neck. The phone clicked a picture.











February 6th, 2012:

Mobile, Alabama, at the Hellfire and Grindstone Gym



The phone clicked a picture. “Oh, this is perfect,” the ring vet said. “Like, this is it, Trixie. This is what you need to wear to the ring.”



“I dunno, Hse,” the young woman hemmed and hawed as she looking at herself in the mirror. The bondage top, the tight, ripped latex pants.The steel spiky crown. The blue facepaint of a hand on her face, with a single blue eye in its palm and on Trixie’s forehead. “Like, what is this s’posed to be?”



“You are the Evil Eye,” Hse says, her voice full of excitement. “The Queen of the damned. Part soothsayer. Part vampire.”



“Part vampire?” Trixie turned to Hse Han. “A dhampir? How the fuck do you know what a dhampir is?”



The older woman pointed to a bench where a pile of books on Roma and Balkan folklore sat. “I decided to go through your background--”



“My dad’s,” Trixie interjected. “Shit, my mom’s Irish. Why not also paint shamrocks on my tits and my finisher can be shitting a pot of gold in the ring.”



“The Irish thing is done to death,” Hse said. “We’re going for something threatening, something scary.”



“Cool, ethnic shit,” Trixie added. “Ethnic, spooky shit.”



“You are tiny,” Hse Han blurted. She put the camera down and placed a hand on Trixie’s shoulder. “You’re a great worker, okay? You go harder than any student I’ve had. You are fearless to the point of stupidity. You’re creative as fuck in the ring, doing things no one else even considers. But,” Hse raised a finger, “you are cute and little and no one is going to take you seriously. This industry is full of cute and little and, fair or not, you won’t stand out.”



“Why did you even train me then?” Trixie sighed.



“Because, I think you can be more than you,” Hse said. “Trixie Decker is… nice. Trixie Decker bakes cupcakes for people. Trixie Decker sends ‘good morning’ texts and checks in on friends who’ve seemed down on Facebook. Trixie Decker stops to check on stray animals in the summer to make sure they have water to drink.”



“You’re framing all of this like it’s bad,” the goth said, her face screwing up in displeasure.



“Out there?” Hse pointed to the window. “Out there, that’s amazing. That makes you a gem in a sea of gravel. But in there?” she points to the practice ring. “It makes you weak. It makes you exploitable. And no matter how creative you are, no matter how much insane stuff you seem to somehow rise back up from, it will crush your career if you are nice.” Hse put her hands on her student’s shoulders. “Trixie, you have to be evil to live.”



“And I’m not evil,” Trixie admitted, crestfallen that was even a need.



Hse turned Trixie back to the mirror, leaning over her shoulder. “You can be. Look at these two women. One is young, brimming with possibilities, the taste for blood and destruction within her grasp. The other is at the end of her ring career, as it is. One belt ever, in PLIW for two months in 1998. She tried to be good. She tried to be kind. And all it’s gotten her is a gym to try to make other people champions.” The sadness was there and heavy in the mentor’s voice. “I don’t want you to end up like me, Trixie. I don’t want you to have to settle for back-up dreams. But that means you need to walk a better path than me.”



Hse squeezed Trixie’s shoulders. “I’m trying to look out for you, kiddo.I think you can succeed, but not as yourself. As Trixie, there’s too much - size, personality … everything - to work against. But!” She pointed to the mirror. “As the Queen of the Mullo--”



Trixie’s eyes narrowed. “I thought I was a dhampir.”



Hse waved it off. “Whatever, same thing.”



“A dhampir is the child of a vampire and a human,” Trixie began. She pointed to the steel crown. “They drive steel spikes into the hearts of mullo to destroy them. And mullo are vampires who wear all white, not black latex fetish night at the club gear. And, honestly, they’re just petty fucks who harass people they hated when they were alive.” Trixie waved her hands. “This is all over the place and confused.”



“Why do you know so much about mullo?” Hse asked.



“Reasons,” Trixie blurted. “And what’s with the evil eye painted on my forehead? Those don’t attract evil. They ward it off.” Trixie shook her head. “No, I’m sorry, Hse. This isn’t me. It’s a jumble. And I’m not evil. I can’t pretend to be it, I can’t become it.” She shrugged. “I’m Trixie.”



Hse’s face fell. “Then I can’t teach you anymore. I’m sorry, Trixie, but I’m tired of mentoring losers.” She placed a hand on the petite brunette’s shoulder. “I’d love you to prove me wrong, but… you won’t.” She gestured to the locker room. “You should probably pack up your stuff.”



Trixie stared in shock, fighting back tears, before walking to get her things. She stopped when she heard Hse call after her, “You let me down today, Trixie.”



Trixie clenched her fists, trying not to break down.



“But, you really let yourself down tomorrow,” Hse added as she sat down and put her head in her hands.





“Just two more shots,” Paulette said. The Usagis thrust bunny ears behind Trixie for the last shot. As Severe lowered the camera, she spun around and buried a punch in Trixie’s gut. Each Usagi slammed a fist into her ribs. Exhausted and wounded, Trixie couldn’t even vocalize the pain.



“She’s almost out,” Paulette pouted. “We don’t win if she knocks out, Shannen.”



Dennehy laughed. “Oh, we’ve basically already won. But how many times will we get a little toy like this, with no time limit, and a chance to show all the rejects watching us how vicious we can be when we don’t have pesky rules chaining us to a wall?” She yanked Trixie’s nearly limp body side to side, burying the barbwire deeper into the goth’s throat and her own arm. “Who wants to see if we can make her cry?”

All three women raised their hands.



Shannen dropped to her butt, bringing Trixie to the floor. The rabbits sat on either side of Trixie, grabbing her arms and planting their feet on each shoulder and each armpit, yanking and twisting their captured limbs like they were hoping to pull Trixie’s arms all the way off. Paulette raised both of Trixie’s legs and began stomping on her crotch, grinding the heel of her boot in and sometimes scraping it against her thight. And Shannen kept the sleeper hold on her, digging her fingers into Trixie’s eyes.



Trixie gritted her teeth, trying to weather the pain. She struggled but they were too much for her. Even two of them would have been too much.



“Come on, Trixie,” Shannen teased. “Sing us a fucking song.”



“Do… Rae…. Mi… Fuck you,” Trixie spat.



Shannen nodded to the other women who, somehow, managed to twists, pull, gouge and kick their respective areas harder… over and over… until Trixie couldn’t hold it back anymore. She shrieked loud and long.



“There it is,” Shannen said. “That’s a chart topper.”





“Where are you going?” Akira demanded.



“To help Trixie,” Kanako said, steadying herself on Noah. Akira grabbed her arm.



“No, you aren’t,” Akira stated. “This is her fight.”



“This isn’t a fight, this is a slaughter!” Kanako yelled as she pulled her arm away. “Look what they’re doing to her! They’re pulling her apart because they know they can get away with it.”



Akira stared at Kanako, saying nothing.



“You can’t be okay with this!” Kanako shouted.



Akira placed a hand on Kanako’s shoulder. “No one is okay with this.”



“Then we need to go help her,” Noah cried.



“You’ll get her fired for sure,” Aloisia added from across the room. “And probably yourself, Kanako. Noah, you’re not FAWN so you’ll get arrested.”



“Why are you all acting so fucking calm?!” Kanako screamed. “Do you not see this?”



Kelli jolted up. “Yes, we see it! And we hate every fucking second of it, okay? We hate watching this and we’re all scared for her! And we also know Trixie would never forgive any of us jumped in!” Kelli motioned to everyone in the room. “We all want to run in there right now!”



“All of us,” Bunny assured Kanako.



“But we can’t,” Kelli continued. “Trixie agreed to this. We have to let her fight this as best she can!”



“No, this is stupid!” Kanako demanded.



“But rushing in while you’re barely able to hold yourself up is smart?” Aloisia asked. “You’re wounded.”



“And you’re cowards!” Kanako screamed. Everyone stared at her.



“So, you’re allowed to run in and stop this because it’s all insane and she’s going to end up crippled for life?” Kelli asked.



“Yes!” Kanako replied.



“So, Trixie’s allowed to stop your fights then,” Love followed up.



Kanako paused. “That’s not fair.”



Akira pulled Kanako towards her. “Nothing about tonight is fair. If Trixie calls for us, we will run.”



“All of us,” Kelli promised.



“Every single one of us,” Kim added.



Akira looked at Kanako and then Noah. “Until then, we will be brave for her. We will wait for her.”



Bunn stepped forward. “And we’ll cheer her the fuck on.”



Kanako took in a deep breath. “Okay. I’m… I’m sorry, everyone.”



“Don’t be,” Kelli comforted. “We’re all there.”



Kanako laid her head on Akira’s chest. “Yeah, but she’s in there with them. What if she doesn’t come out?”



Akira put an arm around Kanako but said nothing else.





When Trixie came to, she was being dragged by her feet. She saw the red lights passing over head, felt the barbwire collar keeping its wounds tender. And, faintly, she heard the unmistakable sounds of Jpop in front of her.



“Ketsu Ketsu?” Rabbit Two said. “Ket--”



“Ow!” Rabbit One replied. “Why are you jabbing me in the side?”



“Take the earbuds out! This isn't the time to listen to music! We've got work to do!”



“I can listen to music and dissect a corpse, babe,” Rabbit One whined.



“You know how you get!” Two complained. “You get so into the music you get distracted! Nothing can go wrong tonight! This is a big get for us!”



“You don't have to talk to me like I'm stupid!” One pouted.



“I'm not – ugh, just pay attention.” They turned a corner. Trixie slightly raised her head. Two was looking at her phone, following a map of the maze. Decker slowly unwound the barbwire from her neck. “Ms. De Cry wants us to break Trixie right in front of the exit. She says it'll be more dramatic.”



“Dramatic is stupid,” One said. “She's out. That should be enough.” She dropped Trixie's leg and stretched for a yawn.



“Tired?” Trixie asked.



“Long da-” One started, then looked back in time for Trixie's free leg to stomp in the back of her knee. As one toppled, Trixie sat up, looped the barbwire around Two's forearm and ripped it down. The competent rabbit shrieked, letting Trixie's other foot free as she flailed.



Decker stumbled up, all her joints aching and her body demanding rest but she know this wasn’t the place for it. Trixie heard a beep and her eye went to the phone in Two’s hand. “DECKER IS UP, USAGIS NEED HELP!” read a text from Anciline. Of course she was helping them through phones. In the distance Trixie heard swearing and two sets of footsteps thundering. Minimal time. De Cyr would be watching her through the cameras, wherever they were, so she needed to book and book fast.



One righted herself up and swung her bat at Trixie. Trixie was tired but survival instincts helped her pull away in time. She slashed the barbwire across One’s mouth and the pretty bunny squeaked, dropping the bat to cover her mouth. Trixie didn’t even let the bat touch the ground, snagging its handle with her right hand and whacking One in the back. As that rabbit fell, Trixie looked at Two, holding her arm. Trixie brought the bat down on her hands, causing her to drop the phone she was barely holding onto and hearing it break. The bat swung down and made sure it wasn’t usable anymore. She looked back at one and ripped the phone from her thong and pried the buds from her ears.



“Those are mine!” One protested



“So are your thumbs,” Trixie said, kicking her in the gut. “Be glad I’m not taking those, too!” Movement caught Trixie’s eye and she sidestepped as Two went for a tackle. Watching one rabbit topple into another, Trixie beat a hasty retreat and glanced at the map on the phone.



In her mind she counted the number of phones disabled. She had one’s. Two’s was broken. She’d stomped on someone else’s. Only one left in play. She glanced down at the phone and map. Thankfully it wasn’t broadcasting where she was in the maze but it also wasn’t keeping tabs on the others. But not far ahead was a highlighted section. She could hear the other two fighters in the distance, currently moving away from her. Might as well check it out. She needed a place to possibly rest and regroup.



Trixie wasn’t giving up this fight and she was determined to either leave this maze on her own two feet or a stretcher.





Anciline glared at the camera footage on her Ipad. Decker was getting away. She opened a chat window to tell the rest where to find her but, before she even typed the first letter, a hand slammed down on the device. De Cyr watched in horror as her tool of communicating with her hit squad cracked on the floor. A heel slammed on the screen, spiderwebbing it and making it go black. The VP looked up to scream at whoever would dare but her blood went cold.



BETHANY CHRISTIAN:







The CEO of FAWN stared into Anciline’s eyes. “Oops. Did I interrupt your game? A shame.”



“Bethany,” Anciline said with a nervous smile. “I didn’t expect to see you--”



“I’m sure you didn’t,” Christian cut in. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have snuck a secret match into our biggest show of the year with stipulations that directly affect our talent roster.”



“Bethany, mon ami, let me explain-”



“You explained well enough in the ring,” Christian said, shoving Anciline. “You have no business pulling this stunt without even a hint of my consent. You’ve well stepped beyond your role as vice president, punishing a wrestler for a crime that doesn’t exist.”



Anciline straighted up. “Decker has been wrestling other places--”



“For over a year,” Bethany said. “I’ve been loaning her out to indie companies to foster good will and build connections. Her wrestling in other places helps expand our brand. Her doing well makes people interested in where she came from and they look at our product if they haven’t seen it already.” Bethany crept closer. “And you… punished… her.”



“Obviously I … forgot myself,” Anciline said. The more nervous she became the thicker her French accent became. But a bit of arrogance rose up in her. “Mayhaps I should end the whole thing. Announce to the FAWN fans the match they’re so invested in is called off because vous do not believe Trixie can compete and complete. I’m most positive they will understand and be forgiving. Ouei?”



Christian grew angrier but straightened up. “Obviously, we both know that’s impossible. It’s begun, we will continue and let the chips lay where they fall. But, the match will be as you promised in the ring.” She pointed to the shattered Ipad. “No helping Trixie’s opponents. No stipulation changes. No extra talent added if Trixie wounds someone.”



“I would never--”



Bethany raised a hand. “I met your four backup fighters, cut them checks, and sent them home.”



Anciline pouted. “Merde. Very well, Bethany. We will let this play out.” She smiled at Bethany and waited.



“Oh, I’m not going anywhere,” Bethany explained. “We’re watching this together. It will give us time to discuss.”



“De quoi allons-nous discuter?” Anciline asked.



Bethany leaned into her face. “Consequences, Anciline. We will be discussing… consequences.”





“Well, shit,” Trixie muttered as she re-emerged in the alcove with boxes where she woke earlier. The chair was still here, as was the rope and boxes of weapons. She put the phone on the chair and crouched. “Think, think, think,” she grumbled to herself. “You need weapons.” She looked over at the boxes. “Let’s see what Auntie Ancie left us.”



She strode over to the piles of weapons and carefully sorted through them, trying hard not to make too much noise. Most of it was standard fair. There were brass knuckles, chains, boxes of thumb tacks. There was also weirdest stuff, like a pizza cutter, a belt, and a shock collar. Underneath the piles of weapons were old ring gear, some looking like it had been never worn. Trixie held up a ragged keyhole top with a spiked collar. The edges were ripped and frayed so it wouldn’t properly close, guaranteeing boob flashes. Not uncommon as is in FAWN, but it was generally seen as something people wanted to work towards as opposed to opening with nipples.



She sorted through everything and found sounding of interest at the bottom - a five foot long pry bar. She carefully slid it, trying to avoid any unnecessary sounds. She stood and moved closer to the chair. She swung the pry bar around like a majorette with her baton. “Yeah, this will do,” she muttered. “This has some kick.”



As if summoned, a boot’s toe flew up between Trixie’s leg, slamming into her holiest of holy holes. Trixie stumbled forward and felt the pry bar yanked from her grasp. She looked behind her to see a smiling, proud Paulette.

“Aww, did we get lost?” Paulette asks. “Let me help you find your way out.” Paulette rushed Trixie, clotheslining her. Decker fell on her back and Paulette set upon her. She pulled Trixie’s arm through her legs and yanked back, administering a cross armbreaker.





CROSS ARMBREAKER:







Trixie’s body was rocked by the pain and Paulette loved it. She pushed the goth’s wrist backward. “This arm must still hurt from the the Usagis, no?” Severe giggled. “Good. Now, submit to me and maybe your torment will end!”

Trixie shook her head violently. Paulette raked her boot across Trixie’s face.



“Fine with me, little one,” the dominatrix sang. “The others are all the way across the maze looking for you, so you’re my toy to break!” She raised her boot and drummed it into Trixie’s mouth, busting a lip. “And I will break you into so many--” Trixie reached up Paulette’s thigh and raked her nails down them, digging in deep. It wasn’t a polished maneuver but damned if it didn’t get a hold break. Trixie got up and ran to Paulette, slugging her in the stomach. As the blonde bent, Trixie wrapped her arms around her and threw Paulette up and backwards in an inverted gutwrench suplex.





INVERTED GUTWRENCH SUPLEX:









Paulette landed on the pry bar but held in the yell. She didn’t want to alert the others. Ending the welp was her plum and hers alone. She rolled over just in time for Trixie to drive her knee into the small of her back. Decker grabbed two handfuls of blonde hair and slammed her head into the floor. Paulette cradled her forehead but, with her free hand grabbed Trixie’s leg and yanked it up and away.



Decker fell backwards, her vision momentarily blanking. When she shook it off, Paulette had lifted her to her feet, bent her to the side and twined a leg with hers for an abdominal stretch. Her body groaned as Paulette used the precarious situation to beat her in the ribs, pounding away. They hurt much more than they should and it wasn’t until the third hit Trixie realized why. She looked at the hand punching her and saw a brassy glint. Those damned knuckles.



A fourth punch and Trixie had to swallow a scream. Luckily for her, Paulette was bored and shoved Trixie down to all fours. “Oh, Trixie! The cuts on your neck are closing up. Let me help you with that.” Paulette’s sharp talons reached in and raked the sounds, reopening more than a few. Fresh blood poured down Trixie’s collarbone and this time the pain pulled tears from her eyes.



Paulette’s smile grew. “Am I the first person in FAWN to make you cry?” she asked merrily. “Yes, yes, I do believe I am. Is it the pain, Trixie? Or knowing we’re at the end?”

Trixie said nothing.



Paulette grabbed Trixie’s legs and pulled her up to a handstand. She slipped her arms between Trixie’s legs as she straddled her and stepped forward, putting Trixie in a Texas Cloverleaf.





TEXAS CLOVERLEAF:









“Submit,” Paulette demanded. “Submit or I will break your back.”



Trixie pounded the floors, biting her lips so hard it bled. She placed her face to the floor and let out a muffled scream, but at no point did she submit. Instead, she took the full force of the hold until, finally, her body went slack.



“Are you kidding me?!” Paulette snapped as she dropped Trixie’s legs. “Ugh, no! You have to be awake to submit!” The domme rolled Trixie onto her back and reached down for her, but Trixie’s eyes opened. She grabbed Paulette by the jawline and pulled her, headfirst, to the hard floor. Paulette rolled over, swearing a streak in French.



Trixie attempted to get up but her legs failed. They were weak. They needed rest, if only for a few minutes. But she knew that wouldn’t come. She crawled to the pry bar and used it to pull herself up. She heard movement and whirled to face a furious Paulette.



“You insufferable little slut!” Paulette growled. “I’m going to--” As Paulette neared Trixie the pry bar slammed into the flat side of her head. She scrambled backwards, falling to her ass, rubbing the tender point of impact. For some reason, Trixie had chosen not to use the more dangerous curved end. She snorted. Even now, Decker was too soft. Paulette crawled backwards feeling for something, anything, until she yanked her finger back to her mouth. Something had cut it. She looked behind her.



Trixie stumbled forwards, holding the pry bar up defensively. Paulette stood, too, holding something behind her back. The French woman darted forward, slashing her hand at Trixie’s wrist. The brunette yelped as she felt a sting. Another slash at her left upper arm, then across her stomach. Trixie felt the wounds seeping. She looked up at Paulette as she fell back.



Severe twirled the pizza cutter in her hand. “You know, Trixie, a few more permanent scars and you might almost be tolerable to look at.







April 11th, 2012:

Monroe, Louisiana

U-Sav Motel



Trixie admired her stitches in the mirror. “This is going to leave a cool scar.”



“The only cool scar,” Lucia called from the bathroom, “is the scar you give to someone else instead of getting it yourself.”



“Well, if you know of a way to do a hardcore tag match without getting cut open, I'd like to hear it.”



Lucia walked out of the restroom in her nightgown. “First off, don't stop fighting in a hardcore match to pet a dog.”



“It was a good boy!” Trixie protested. “'Sides, we won.”



Trixie's tag partner and girlfriend sat on the bed. “We won. You took more of a beating than me and yet, somehow, you were the one to get someone with almost a foot and over a hundred pounds on you to submit.”



“The secret is remembering how to spit a mouthful of thumbtacks into someone else's mouth without swallowing any,” the tiny woman said, adding finger guns.



Lucia laughed a weak laugh, shaking her head. “This has to stop.”



Trixie turned around. “Hey, I'm happy to stop doing this extreme shit. It lost some of the fun the night I got hit by a car.” Trixie held up two fingers. “Twice.”



The woman on the bed thought. “That's not what I mean. I mean… this.” She motioned to Trixie and herself. “This has to stop.”



The goth felt her stomach twisting. “We're a good team.”



“We're a goddamn amazing team!” Lucia laughed. “Shit, Trix-Bunny, we're two of the baddest bitches around. Our tag record is fucking perfect. We've got the tag belts for three promotions.” She sighed. “Three podunk, nowhere promotions. And I love being with you, Trix-Bunny. It's amazing. Every part of it… except the fact we can't break through.”



“We just gotta keep trying. Most wrestlers it takes like a decade--” Trixie started but Lucia waved her off.



“That's not the issue. The issue is I tag with a tiny, admittedly scrappy sweetheart who always has a smile and a joke and,” she rested her forehead in her palm, “so many promoters tell me how far they could take me but not with you.” Lucia wiped her eyes. “I… you're great. You make me laugh. You make me feel beautiful I know, no matter what, you care about me, but—”



“It's not enough,” Trixie said under her breath.



“I want a career in wrestling. I am seen as this fierce force of nature. I am big. I am strong. People dread being in the ring with me and then you… just… make jokes and everyone laughs.” Lucia sank backwards. “And you can't help it. It's who you are. Shit, it's why I fell for you but, Bun, it's bad for business. I'm tired of getting maybe fifty bucks to bleed everywhere. I gotta--”



“Cut dead weight,” the shrinking woman continued. “I'm guessing you don't just mean us as a team.”



Lucia's gaze returned to Trixie. “I'm sorry. Everything that makes you an ideal love just makes you the worst tag partner. And I don't think you know how to have fire in you and I don't think you could just be my girlfriend. And I don't think I could come home to you after this. That's on me.”



Trixie nodded. “Sure, I get it.”



“I didn't mean to hurt you,” Lucia pleaded. “You're a great person. You're a talented wrestler. But you're just too fucking happy. Maybe if you could be sorta mysterious or--”



“No, I get it,” Trixie nodded. “And, y'know, you've got a great chance, y'know. We both know you're the person the big companies are going to go for. I don't wanna hold you back.” Trixie moved over and picked up her bag.



“Look, let's just have one good last night together, okay?” Lucia said.



Trixie smiled but shook her head. “Naw, I.. I got places to go.”



Lucia frowns. “Where, Trix-Bunny? Where do you have to go?”



Trixie slung the bag over her shoulder and moved to the door. “I dunno,” she said. “But it's never stopped me before.” She looked back at Lucia, blew one last kiss, and quietly walked out.







Paulette took another slash, getting Trixie in the cheek. “I feel like I’m painting on a canvas. I’m turning something blank and useless into art!” To more swipes Trixie barely fended off and Paulette laughed. “Come, Trixie, be my masterpiece. ‘Portrait of a Broken Fool!’” She took another swipe, this time getting Trixie across the breast and ripping into her top.



Trixie was so concerned about the sharp blade she didn’t notice Paulette kicking at the pry bar Trixie had been leaning too much on. Trixie stumbled forward into a knee lift to the sternum, followed by a double-axe handle. Trixie fell to all fours. Paulette stomped the back of her head, driving her face into the floor.



Paulette straddled Trixie’s back and cupped her chin, cranking her back in a camel clutch. “Oh, you annoyed little tart,” Paulette sighed. “Aren’t you tired of fighting? Of not fitting in?” She bounced her weight on Trixie’s back. “You don’t belong here, Trixie. Just say the word so you can go home and be Kanako’s housewife. Enjoy your time cleaning the home and raising cats or whatever. Sure, she’ll cheat on you because you’ll be boring and scarred but at least she’ll support you.”



Trixie merely gulped, desperately thinking of any way to slip from this tortuous hold.



“And of the four of us, I’m the one most likely to let you to escape this without major reconstructive surgery,” Paulette said, again scratching at the cuts on Trixie’s neck. “The other three are salivating at literally shattering you to pieces. Now, ease Kanako’s pain for watching you bleed and suffer. Tell me you submit.”



Trixie remained silent.



“Idiot,” Paulette said. “That’s why you’ll never be a champion here. That’s why your career is doomed. Do you know what I have that you don’t?”



“A… near,” Trixie began, “perfect loss streak?”



In a swift motion Paulette raised her foot and stomped where Trixie’s back was bent backwards. Decker gurgled in pain. Severe released the hold and fumed. “Fine! You want to bleed more? I want you to bleed more!” She kicked Trixie in the mouth. She dropped her weight onto Decker’s neck, pulling the battered fighter’s face into her crotch for a headscissor hold. Trapped, Trixie could only take the stream of face punches that followed.



“GIVE UP!” Paulette hissed. “GIVE UP! You are impeding my greatness! I JUST NEED YOU TO QUIT!”



Even if Trixie had wanted to say something she couldn’t have. She was becoming punch drunk. Finally Paulette released the hold and rolled over. She punched at the floor, infuriated at this blithering twit who couldn’t accept she was beaten.



“Why won’t you let me have what I want?” whimpered Paulette. “I’ve been drowning in Jungle for years! I’ve tried everything to get out and nothing works! Everything, Trixie!”



Decker rolled onto her side, eyeing the brass knuckles a few feet away. “Except… winning… matches,” she said.



Paulette snapped, throwing herself onto Trixie. She began choking the beaten woman. “Aren’t you funny! Aren’t you clever!” Paulette blurted. “But clever isn’t smart! And taking a beating and not giving in isn’t smart! You are worthless! You think just because you have some freakish pain tolerance you belong here but you don’t! You’re a coward, Trixie!” Paulette spit in Trixie face. “A cute, tiny, worthless coward afraid to do what it takes to win.”



And that was when something changed.



Trixie’s pupils narrowed. “I am so… tired.. of being told that.”



Paulette leaned down. “Then do someth--” That’s as far as she got before Trixie sunk her fingers into her eyes. Paulette reeled off her prey, cursing her dirty tactics. She felt Trixie pull from underneath her. Severe reached around, trying to grab for a leg or anything but only came up with more floor.



Then the earth-shattering klang came. Stars replaced the darkness and Paulette was knocked onto her back. She knew what hit her. Being punched by brass knuckles is unmistakable. “You hit me!” Paulette whined. “I can’t even see to--” Another strike across Paulette’s jaw silenced her.



The boot clamped down on Paulette’s neck. “Stop… talking,” Trixie growled. Another punch fell into Paulette’s face. Then, Paulette felt the weight. Trixie was smaller but one hundred seventeen pounds still felt like a lot on her throat. “I’m so tired of women like you who think I’m just this little pixie who somehow lucked into being able to take a beating.” Paulette felt blood dropping from Trixie’s mouth onto her face, into her eyes. “I paid for my pain tolerance. I’ve been taking beatings my… whole… life. My body is covered with scars that date back from before I made memories, and those are just the physical ones. I endured things before the age of ten that would have snapped your mind, you long-winded, overdone jackass. You think this smile is weakness? You think the jokes are cowardly.” Another strike to the temple, harder than all the others. Paulette felt her head spin.



“Paulette, that smile is all that’s kept me from going crazy and taking many, many victims with me. But, no, no one will let me just have that, will they? Not you. Not Anciline. No one. You all want the anger I hold. You want me to stop being this loving, laughing girl.” Paulette now felt hot breath on her face as Trixie crouched. “Fine, Paulette. That’s what I’ll give you.” Another strike. And another. And another.



Paulette felt woozy. She cried, “Please… no more.”



“Oh, I’m so sorry, Paulette,” Trixie said as she pulled the knuckles back once more. “But that’s the problem with wishes. They don’t get ungranted.”



And the knuckles came down.











October 4th, 2013:

Atlanta, Georgia

Piedmont Atlanta Hospital



Trixie's eyes opened lazily. She saw a figure at the end of her bed. She lolled her head to the side, her eyes trying to focus on the hospital room's clock but having no luck.



“It's half past three in the morning,” came an all-too-familiar and all-too-unwelcome voice. Trixie tried to sit up but Jet held up a hand.



“Not here to fight,” the tall woman said, looking delighted. “Although, let's be honest, it wouldn't be a fight. I gotta say, I kind of like you better this way.” Trixie could feel Jet admiring the wires hanging over her lips. “I hear they're unwiring it soon. A shame. You're probably more fun deathly quiet.”



Jet leaned over the bed. “Oh, and in case you're curious, all charges on myself and Chardonnay have been dropped. See, I found another fed that wants both of us. Apparently signing the woman who turned on her fiancé with her secret girlfriend and beat her up so badly in a locker room she got hospitalized makes you a draw in some places.” She chuckled. “I mean, it's not FAWN, I guess, but they sprang for a lawyer who got everything dropped so, two months without you and already my career's picking up.”



The intruder looked around the room. “Huh. Two months, yet I don't see a single card. No flowers. Nothing.” She looked back at Trixie, almost pitying her. “Have you even had a single visitor? I know your parents haven't. There's no bottle they can crawl into that connects to Hartsfield-Jackson.” Jet waited for a reply but, beyond heavy, tired breathing, Trixie offered none. “Does that hurt, Trixie? All the love you give to people. All the time you've made for other wrestlers over the years, dropping everything to help people when they were in need, hurt, or just lonely. Not a single one thought about you while you're in here.” She gripped the guards on either side of the bed as she leaned over the foot. “The only person to come see you is the bitch who broke your jaw.”



Jet straightened up. “Well, I wish you'd learned this lesson sooner so none of this would have been necessary, but maybe you see now. This is why you need a killer instinct. This is why you put people down like fucking dogs, Trixie. Because, when you need them, none of your pleases and thank yous will draw them out. Every late night phone call you accepted from someone crying is just time you wasted. It gets you nothing. But fear? Grinding people into the dirt?” Jet placed a hand on her chest. “It gets shit done. It gets you a name. It gets you contracts and an upgrade of a girlfriend.”



The woman fished in her pocket. “I hope this puts hate in your heart, Trixie. I really do. Not because I want you to be miserable.” She stopped and looked at the woman in the bed. “But, because on some stupid level I kind of care about you. I guess pretending it long enough made it sorta real. And I want you to have a chance to succeed in spite of yourself.” She pulled an MP3 player and earbuds from her pocket. “Because I won't be the last person who tries to put an end to your career. And, next time, I hope you beat them to the punch.”



She walked to Trixie. “I made you a gift. It's only got one song in it and it's on repeat, and it's a song you fucking hate. But maybe listening to it until whenever the nurses check on you will get the message through your head.” Jet put the earbuds in Trixie's ears and immediately the opening strains of Temposhark's “Don't Mess With Me” began. Jet kissed Trixie gently on the forehead.



“Learn to destroy, sweet,” Jet cooed. “Learn to destroy.”





When Paulette came to she founder herself tied to the folding chair. She struggled against the ropes despite every movement triggering the pain in her bruised skull but to no avail.



From the shadows a voice spoke. “Unlike you, I can tie knots.”



“Trixie, let me go!” Paulette growled.



“If she were here,” the voice said, “she probably wouldn’t. But I’m here and I definitely won’t.”



“Stop trying to sound like a scary monster,” the blonde warned. “No one is impressed, Trixie.”



A pause came from the darkness. “I don’t think I’m a Trixie anymore. It’s a… cute name. But Beatrix? Beatrix is an old name full of ancient rage. It sounds regal, don’t you think? Like a conqueror, like a vampire come from the past to get revenge. A mullo.”



Paulette looked confused. “What are you talking…” Her words trailed off as her enemy stepped into the red light.







Somehow it wasn’t the new top, its bottom secured by an old belt and its collar studded. It wasn’t even the pry bar she wielded as a scepter or the crown of barbwire. What first drew Paulette’s eyes was the bloody handprint on Trixie’s face with what looked like an eye in it.



“What in the hell are you?” Paulette asked.



“Everything everyone wants me to be,” Beatrix replied. She bent down, looking Paulette in the eyes. “I’m going to hurt you. I’m going to fundamentally change who you are as a person. I’m going to leave you with scars so deep no doctor will ever find them but, when you close your eyes, they’ll sing of me and your soul will quake.” She ran her fingers gently down Paulette’s face. “No one is leaving this maze unchanged. But, you will be the last. Because I want you to hear your friends screaming and begging while you think of everything I’m going to do to you.” She cupped Paulette’s chin and raised her face. “But just know, whatever you think I’m going to do to you, it’s going to be much, much worse.”



Beatrix leaned in. Her lips were still bleeding from Paulette’s earlier bleeding. “Now, favor your queen with a kiss for fortune.” Trixie pressed her mouth to Paulette’s, letting spit and blood fill her mouth, before pulling away. She picked up the phone and earbuds as she walked from the alcove, listening to Paulette scream.



“Usagis! Shannen! She’s lost her mind!”



“That… is… TRUE!” Beatrix yelled as she slipped the earbuds in. She opened the phone, found Spotify, and logged into her account. “You all should head to the exit! I will meet you there!”



In the distance, Trixie heard the padding of feet. She knew where they were going. She cued up the song she wanted, pausing it. This massacre would have a theme song.





In the dressing room everyone stared silently at the monitor.



Noah was the first to speak. “No…” she whispered. The fighter looked to Kanako and Akira. “This… this is an act, right? She’s… that’s not our Trixie.”



Behind them, Bunny uttered a worried, “Damnit, Decker, no.”



“We’re… we’re going to go wait for Trixie at the exit,” Alejandra said, clearing her throat. She grabbed J!nxx’s hand and led her from the room nervously.



Kanako looked to Noah, unsure what to say. She looked at Akira, who stared at the monitor. Akira’s mouth opened as if she was going to say something but closed again. Kanako took both of their hands and looked back to the screen. In her own head, an all-too-familiar and unwanted voice cried out warnings. Warnings she desperately tried to ignore.



“Come back to us, Trixie,” was all she could say.





At the exit, Rabbit One and Two flanked Shannen.



“Come on, Trixie,” Dennehy bellowed. “Let’s get this over. This should have ended twenty, maybe thirty minutes ago.”



A form emerged from a doorway, not quite stepping into the light.



Shannen held up her mega-wrench. “About time, Trixie. Submit now and we’ll only give you a major concussion.”



“A counter-offer,” the form said. “Kneel.”



“Excuse you?” the Amazon laughed.



The form stepped into the light, letting the trio take in her bloody regalness. The red lights glinted and sparkled off her wire crown. “Kneel before your queen. Repent and I will give you the quickest possible… corrections.”

“What the hell are you?” Rabbit Two demanded.



The bloody queen stared at her. “Everything you all wanted me to be. I am become Destruction.



“Is that poetry?” Rabbit One asked. “Is she reciting poetry?”



Beatrix aimed the pry bar at the three. “I am a weapon. The safety of my humor is off and I am aimed at you. Where you take the bullet is your choice, but it will be fired.” She stepped forward. “A new day is upon.you. My reign will be red and my feast will be tears, pain, and the marrow of those who didn’t move quickly enough from my sight.” She surveyed the women. “And I am ready to feed.”



“Fuck this,” Shannen grunted, raising her wrench. “She can submit just as easily without a mouth full of teeth.”



Beatrix smiled as she tapped the phone in the hip of her bottoms. “Let the music begin. Come, players, it’s time to dance,” she crooned.





“DON’T MESS WITH ME” BY TEMPOSHARK:







“How it all began, if truth be told,” Beatrix sang, “had a master plan. Now I rule the world.”



“Shut UP!” Shannen howled as she brought the wrench down. Her target easily side-stepped it and it cracked a tile in the floor. She started to yell but Beatrix shoved the end of the pry bar into her mouth, shoving it as far back as the cavity would allow. When the pry bar hit Shannen’s through, Beatrix rammed harder, thrusting the woman back towards the exit, spilling into stairs.



The Usagis bolted at Beatrix, One swinging her bat, Two wielding Paulette’s whip. Beatrix slammed the handle in to One’s chest, getting a hollow thumb and a cry. The thong of the whip wrapped around the bar but Beatrxi thrust that end towards Two, the hook biting into her side. The rabbit shrieked and released the whip, holding the wound. It was just on the surface but that was more blood than Two was used to bleeding. She retreated to let her wife take all of Beatrix’s attention.



The bloody queen looked at the bat. “Knee splitter,” she said.



“I still will!” One warned. “You’ll pay for--” The claw of the pry bar tripped the rabbit and a heel slammed down on her chest. Beatrix kicked the Usagi under the jaw, stunning her. She grabbed the bat and tossed it behind her before stepping off of One.



One attempted to get up but a kick to her ribs left her in complete agony. Beatrix readied another strike but she could feel Shannen running at her. She stepped back in time to let the wrench miss her skull, watching it instead soar down to One’s upper chest. A quake of pain shot through the rabbit. Beatrix brought the pry bar down into the rabbit’s forehead, then slapped it up across Dennehy’s face.



Shannen ate the hit and glowered back. A ferocious backhand sent the bloody creature back several feet.



“You’re spooky but I’m strong!” Shannen roared. “Guess what matters most, Li’l Ms. Craft!” She walked over to the fallen, tiny woman and clapped her hands on the barbwire headgear, ignoring the pain just to inflict more on the little ghoul. “Cry for me, Trixie!” Shannen demanded. “Tell me you regret coming here!”



The form shuddered in pain. “I… regret…” Hateful eyes looked up. “Not coming out sooner.” She spat a jet of blood into Shannen’s eyes. The momentary distraction allowed the Bloody Queen to headbutt Shannen in the mouth, grounded the sharp barbs into her lips.



Shannen pulls away, shocked, but her attack will have none of it. Beatrix kicks the bottom of the mega-wrench hanging from the Texan’s hand. The tool swung at an angle between Shannen’s legs as she stepped back, knocking her off balance and tripping her. As Dennehy toppled, Beatrix kicked up into the back of her head. Shannen’s eyes flashed as she crumpled to the floor.



Beatrix surveyed the destruction. Shannen was dazed. One was effectively out for a little bit. Two was cowering in a corner. Beatrix looked at the exit. She picked up the wrench and walked towards the exit. Looking up she saw Anciline peering down. The VP gasped at the sight. The queen lobbed the wrench up the stairwell, sending to to Anciline’s feet, before returning to the mess.



“You can walk out,” Two pleaded. “You’ll win.”



“But you won’t learn,” Beatrix answered. She walked over to Two and raised the pry bar, slamming it into the woman’s face. There was a sickening crack and Two screamed. She felt her face and, relieved, realized it was the mask with a deep wound, not her perfect visage. Her celebration was cut short by two hands grabbing her long ponytail and hauling her up.



Beatrix swung, slamming Two into a wall. She then pivoted and swung the other way, sending the rabbit skittering to the ground. She wouldn’t let the rabbit push up, planting a boot on her head. Again, she grabbed the ponytail and pulled up, only to stomp down again and crash Two’s face to the floor. Beatrix repeated this, like a machine, while Two wailed and cried.



The Queen might have continued this process if an arm didn’t wrap around her throat and yank her off. Shannen slipped a sleeper on the small woman and dragged her back. Two pushed up, wiping tears from her eyes. Her mask was spiderweb. She lunged up and at the captive, laying punch after punch into Beatrix’s ribs.



“Y’know, if I snap your neck,” Shannen hollers, “that’ll still open your spot on the roster. Can’t wrestler if you’re paralyzed!”



Two hauled back for a devastating hit but the caught queen pulled her body to the side. Instead, Two punched Dennehy in the tit. Beatrix followed up by yanking on the arms around her head, pulling Shannen’s face towards the barbs. Shannen shrieked and released.



“You psycho!” the cowgirl stammered. “You could have done permanent damage to my eyes!”



Beatrix whipped around, frothing with hate. “GOOD!”



Shannen stared, unsure how to reply.



Beatrix advanced on her. “You want to threaten me with permanent injury and something be exempt. You want to humiliate others but avoid any chance of it yourself. That’s not how this works, Shannen. Either play the game by the rules or forfeit. Stop being a sniveling coward!”



Shannen threw a punch into Beatrix’s face that knocked her into Two’s arms. The rabbit put a full nelson on the woman while Shannen cracked her knuckles.



“No one,” Dennehy demanded, “calls me a coward.”



Beatrix stared back. “Well, I’ve been called no one more than once.”



Shannen because beating Beatrix’s face and body, savagely working her over in an attempt to work her over. But when Shannon threw a definite knockout punch, Beatrix bent over and pulled the Usagi with her. Shannen’s fist slammed into the rabbit’s crown and the woman flopped to the floor, out cold.



Any other person might have been concerned but the Usagis, to Shannen, were a means to an end and nothing more. Shannen started to say a snarky quip but Beatrix lept onto her, grabbing her by the jaw. The bloody queen raised her legs and let gravity pull herself and Shannen down. Dennehy’s eyes filled with panic as she was forced to follow, spilling forward.



She yanked away from Beatrix. “You could have broken my jaw!”



“And made jewelry from the bits,” the bloody ghoul growled. “Y’know, a broken jaw isn’t the worst thing. You get a lot of time to think. Would you like time to think, Shannen?” That’s when Dennehy realized Beatrix was holding One’s bat.

The blonde raised her hands. “Okay, you’ve snapped,” she said, suddenly realizing there was a real danger here. “Go ahead and go. There will be other fights for me and these three.”



“No,” Beatrix said, pointing the bat at Shannen. “I don’t think I’ll allow that.”



Shannen gulped. “What does that mean?”



“Worse than what you’re scared it means,” Beatrix assured.



Shannen was used to facing people she called crazy but it was rare she actually faced someone she legitimately thought was insane. Maybe when she was younger she’d have been more courageous. Maybe if her kin were here, too. But panic seized her and she turned to run.



Beatrix threw the bat like a spear, nailing Shannen in the back of the neck. The giantess fumbled forward, unaware Beatrix was rushing at her. The smaller woman jumped onto Shannen and wrapped an arm around her head, using momentum to slam her down, face first, into the floor with a bulldog.



Beatrix rose and rolled Shannen over. She was out. She looked to Two. She was out. She looked at One.



Stirring.



Beatrix snagged the bat and stomped towards her. The First Usagi finally snapped to attention in time to realize the little monster was beelining for her and, worse yet, she was in a corner. One held up a hand, begging. “YOU WIN! YOU WIN!” JUST--”



The bat came down, barely but intentionally missing a kneecap. One screamed. “DON’T!”



Beatrix glared. “You were going to do it to me but you expect mercy.”



“I was wrong!” One wept. “Just… leave me alone!”



The bloody woman tilted her head, then slammed the bat down on the opposite side of the knee. One pulled into a ball. Beatrix tapped her knees with the bat. “Two for one,” she muttered, raising the bat.





“NO!” Kanako screamed. “TRIXIE, NO!” She ran her hands through her hair. “Please don’t do this. Please don’t become this.”



Noah silently wept, burying her face into Kanako’s chest. Akira glared at what she was seeing. The rest of the locker room watched in disbelief.



“You don’t have to do this,” Kanako whispered, just hoping Trixie could hear her.





Beatrix glared at the sobbing woman. All it would take is one snap and--



She paused. Snap. She remembered a match with a snap. Kanako’s ankle.It seemed like a lifetime ago, but she remembered the anguish on Kanako’s face, how Trixie didn’t want to pin her and only did so out of duress. Going to the hospital to be with this woman, her opponent, to comfort her.



Beatrix stared through the Usagi.



She thought of all the times since, making Kanako smile. Making her laugh. And Kanako supporting her, listening to her, holding her close. If she hadn’t been that person, things would be so different.



Beatrix took a step closer.



She thought of Kelli, a woman who came to FAWN confused and uneasy. About caring for her, listening to her, training with her, befriending her. About all the late night talks, the roadtrips, being there for her constantly.



Beatrix began to lower the bat, then raised it again.



She thought of Noah, full of life and laughter. About how lovingly she looked at her when she tending to the younger fighter’s bruises and cuts after matches. She thought of Akira, stone-faced and seemingly emotionless, trying hard to be open, to care.



Because Trixie cared for her.



Beatrix looked at the weapon in her hands.



Yes, many had had connections with her before and left her. These people could still vanish from her life. A year’s time from now, they might all be gone to others and she might be left to pick up the pieces. But, could she honestly say she regretted any of the time with them? Or that what brought them close to her was being the smiling, joking little fool who dropped everything to care for them? Could she handle this all driving them away?



Suddenly, the woman missed who she’d been only ten or fifteen minutes ago.



Trixie lowered the bat. “No, she said. “This is not me, and it's never going to be me.” She turned, dragging the bat with her, and headed towards the maze's exit.



Ketsu Ketsu pushed herself up, wiping tears. “You little shit!” she spat. “How fucking dare you! You're dead! You're--!” The rabbit-masked woman threw herself to her feet and lunged at her. Trixie tossed the bat onto the ground, letting her one-time tormentor step on it. The Usagi immediately slipped forward, just in time for Trixie to turn and slam an uppercut into Ketsu's gut. The masked woman lifted off her feet, landed on her knees, and folded up into a whimpering ball.







Trixie looked down at her. “Give everyone in LAW kisses for me. I've gotta go remind an asshole that she's not rid of me.” With that, the last woman standing glanced down at the phone and flipped through her playlist, choosing the theme for her last lap.



“LET ME DOWN” BY OLIVER TREE









“Please don't let me down,” Trixie sang to herself, “Please don't let me down, you better come around. Trixie walked through the exit to the stairs that led to the level above. “You save yourself, I'll save myself this time around.”



Anciline watched the form of the blood-covered goth stomping up the stairs, hate fuming in her eyes. Anciline felt her stomach dropping at the sight. Instinctively, she reached for the door to the exit – if Trixie couldn't open the door, she couldn't win the match! But a hand grabbed her wrist.



Bethany pulled Anciline back from the door. “Now, now, Anci. Let's give the victor a little space,” the CEO laughed. Anciline could feel the FAWN camera's pointed at her but she was still too horrified to make a quip or play it all down.

Then, slowly, Trixie emerged from the stairs. Seeing what Decker had become – her barbwire crown, her makeshift replacement gear, the mask painted of blood, de Cyr felt like she was staring in the eyes of a different woman, feral and wrathful. And all that wrath was aimed at her.



“Laaaaaadies and gentlemen!” the announcer boomed over the sound system as Trixie broke into a run at Anciline. “Your winner of the first Alone in the Dark Match – TRIIIIIIIIXIE DECKER!” To add the exclamation point to his sentence, Trixie landed a right hook across Ancilin'e jaw. The VP fell to the floor.



Trixie loomed over Anciline. “I win!” She thrust a bloody finger into Anciline's face. “FUCK YOU!”



“And now cut away,” Bethany said into a headset to the production cred. She lifted her phone and opened a message window, typing to the head of merchandising, “New Trixie shirt design – 'Fuck You, I Win.' Get to production by week's end.”





In the dressing room it was complete pandemonium. Kanako and Noah hugged each other and Akira, trading kisses and laughs. Akira, for her part, seemed to untense. Kim and Kelli bounced, shrieking with glee, while Bunny popped Emery's champagne and Aloisia got glasses.



“She did it she did it she did it she did it she did it!” Noah cried, joyful tears flooding her eyes.



“More importantly, she didn't do that!” Kanako laughed.



Akira looked down at her. “There was any doubt?”



Kanako returned a cocked eyebrow. “I saw how you reacted when Trixie looked like she was about to take a lucky rabbit's foot.”



Akira silently considered this, only nodding.



Bunny started to distribute the champagne. “Shoot!” she blurted. “I shoulda waited for her to get back!”



“Trixie doesn't drink,” Kelli replied. “She won't care.”



Bunny shook her head but smiled. “Then we'll all have to get twice as drunk for her.”



Kim raised her glass. “To our tiny, goofy friend who's not going anywhere!”



Glasses were raised. “Now for her to just get in here!” Kanako laughed, sipping hers.







“YOU DID IT!” Alejandra chortled, pulling Trixie into a bearhug and lifting her up.



“Ribs,” Trixie grunted. “Pretty sure I've got a hairline fracture at the least.”



The muscular woman sat Trixie down, carefully removing the barbwire crown. “Sorry to deny you your royalty, but this thing is making me nervous!”



J!nxx ran up to Trixie, latching on. “No Jinxy deficits in FAWN!” she laughed. She pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the bloody mask from Trixie’s face.



“Naw, you're stuck with me,” Trixie said softly, enjoying the attention.



“Maybe you should drop the 'Jinx' nickname,” Alejandra told Trixie. “You seem less Jinxed and more Undying.”



Decker only shrugged, for once being too tired to offer a quip. She felt a warm hand on her shoulder. She looked back to see Bethany Christian, all smiles.



“Good job, Decker,” the CEO said. “You did FAWN proud today.”



“I'm… not used to you being happy,” Trixie admitted.



“I'm not used to being given a reason to be,” Bethany added. “But you rose to a challenge that was,” she glared to where Anciline was scrambling to her feet, “obviously stacked against you.” She looked back at Trixie. “Go to your ladies. We'll be talking later.”



Trixie nodded. “Yeah, I might need help getting back there.”



“Let me fucking help!” boomed a voice. Before anyone could react, a figure slammed into the group with a broom longways, bowling all four to the ground. The figure, a hoodie up, grabbed Trixie by the hair and ripped her up, running to a nearby exit. The woman threw it open and pushed Trixie outside, following her and slamming the door shut.



It took Bethany, J!nxx, and Alejandra a moment to realize what happened. The CEO glared at Anciline. “This is too far!”



FAWN’s VP threw up her hands in protest. “Non! I had nothing to do with this!” The fear and confusion in Anciline’s eyes made Bethany believe her.



“Then who was that?” Christian asked.



Alejandra went over to the door and yanked it. Locked… something on the other side was holding it in place. She looked to Bethany. “Where’s the closest exist that can get me to this lot?”



Bethany looked up at the sign above them. S-7. She frowned. “S-4 is on the far side of dressing rooms. It should be unlocked, it’s where a lot of you par--” Alejandra didn’t wait for the rest.



The Latina looked to her love. “Stay here and listen for me! I’ll yell what I find!”



J!nxx started to yell for her to be careful but Alejandra had already disappeared around a corner.







Trixie pushed herself up, slowly, from the parking lot asphalt. Hitting it has reopened a few wounds. She looked up to see her attacker chaining the door handles, locking them with a padlock. The woman turned around, pulling her hood back.



KATE GRIMM:







“Hey, Decker, great match,” the woman said. “Sorry you gotta pay for your bitch’s sins.” Kate kicked Trixie across the jaw, sending her rolling. “You probably don’t even know who I am, do you?”



Trixie pushed herself up again. “Kate Grimm, midweight. Barely. Two matches in FAWN, one against Thorn, one against Kanako. Record is oh and two.” Trixie spat some blood. “I guess we can add ‘scavenger who picks at the pieces’ to your resume.”



“That right,” a kick to the ribs sends Trixie sprawling, “I forgot you like to run your mouth there for a second. No worries, though. I’ll fix that.” She stalks her prey, bending down to pick up a strategically placed two by four. “Nothing personal against you, Decker.” The Grimm Reaper takes an overhead swing with the lumber, striking Trixie square between her shoulder blades as if she were trying to drive a railroad spike through her, “But I need to send a message to that psycho girlfriend of yours!” A Doc Marten boot plants Trixie’s face into the asphalt.



“What’s the matter?” Trixie says, spitting out some gravel, “Did she make fun of your shitty tattoos after she kicked your ass?” Kate shuts her up, at least temporarily, with another boot to the face.



“Cute,” Kate deadpans as she pulls the semiconscious goth up to her feet by the hair, “That sawed-off psycho cost me almost a year of my career! Came that close to breaking my damn neck!” The enraged former cage fighter then thrusts Trixie’s head in between her thighs, “I figure I’ll get my pound of flesh from her, at least the start of it, by tearing you apart!” with that, she then flips Jinx up and brings her crashing down, powerbombing her on the hood of the nearest car.



Trixie’s body seemed to deflate. Dried blood flaked from her body as she left a dent in someone’s hood. She gasped and gurgled, eyes wide, and laid motionless. Kate loomed over her.



“Already?” Grimm chuckled. “I expected a little more scratch from this kitty after all I’ve seen you pull.”



Trixie’s arm shot out, ripped one of the car’s wipers off, and slashed it across Kate’s cheek. Grimm stumbled back in shock, clutching the wound. Red seeped through her fingers. Trixie sat up.



“Meow,” she droned before leaping from the car, slamming into Kate. Grimm, still in shock that Trixie had more energy, was knocked down. Trixie reached over and grabbed the two-by-four, driving the edge of it into Kate’s forehead. “Sounds like a you problem, Katy!” Trixie yelled between whacks. “But now you’ve decided to make me a you problem, too!” Trixie rose and hauled the board back like a golf club. “TWO-BY-FORE!” she yelled as she swung. That was enough of a warning for the hurt but still relatively fresh Kate to roll out of harm’s way and lash out with her legs to take Trixie down once more.



“My name ain’t Johnny,” the Grimm Reaper quipped, “but I do know ta sweep the leg!” she then hauls Trixie up by the scruff of her neck, “Gotta say, you surprise me, Decker. After all that you’ve gone through tonight, plus me jumping ya like this, ya still got some fight in ya! I’d almost respect you, if you weren’t such a mouthy little shit! And as for that fight you still got, let me take care of that for you!” With that, Kate palmed the back of Trixie’s skull and slammed it through the car’s rear driver-side window. Now totally spent and bleeding anew from the broken glass, Trixie is a mess, groaning in agony and sprawled out on the ground. Incapacitated as her prey is, Kate takes a moment to light up a cigarette. After taking a few drags, she pulls her up to seated by her collar and eyes the tattoo on her chest signifying the three loves of her life. “Heh. Nice ink, bitch.” she snorted. “I don’t know who these other bitches are, but this one…” she then puts the cigarette out directly over Kanako’s name, “...when Kanako comes to see you in the hospital, you tell her that this is only the beginning. And the worst…” she then opens the car door and shoves Trixie’s head inside, “...is yet to come!” With that, she slams the car door onto Trixie’s head and neck and the goth slumps over, completely out.



Just then, a black Dodge Charger squealed up beside them. Kate sneers at the unconscious Decker before hauling ass to get in the passenger seat and then make her getaway. The Charger pealed out of the parking garage just as Alejandra Alicea dashed across the way with security in tow.



A voice from the car cried out window as it passed Alejandra. “Hey, Steroids! Lookin’ good!”



Alejandra glared but continued to the limp form in front of her. Bloodied and out, Trixie remained deathly still. The strong woman put fingers to Trixie’s neck. There was a pulse. She looked at the door and screamed, “Ms. Christian! We need an ambulance!”



“I’ll send our med-” Bethany started through the door.



“An ambulance!” Alejandra repeated. “It’s bad! Real bad! Kate--” Alejandra noticed the cigarette burn on Trixie’s chest tattoo, the crushed cigarette still smoking and felt a hate deep inside she wasn’t used to.



“Gata!” Alejandra yelled. “Go to the dressing room! Tell Kanako and the rest Trixie’s been attacked by Kate! Tell them it’s bad!”



“On it!” replied a familiar voice.



Alejandra lifted Trixie’s head into her lap and stroked her hair. “It’s okay, friend,” she whispered. “It will all be okay.” The night wind blew and, for a split second, Orlando seemed calm and peaceful. “Rest, you fought hard.”



Trixie didn’t reply or stir, she just laid in her friends lap. A faint smile rolled at the corner of her mouth as her mind traveled to peaceful places, of warm loving arms, of finally proving something, if only to herself.