Carnival Cavalcade Wrestling
CCW Chaos, episode #4: Aggression Through Regression
In the underneath locker room…
Tiffany Green, Melora O’Brien, Riley Slade, and Teresa Salazar are grouped around Cassie Rae, who is standing in front of her open locker in a white string bikini, her makeup much heavier than usual. She twists and turns, looking at the little mirror in her locker and at the other girls’ reactions.
CASSIE: “I know it’s been a couple pounds since I got into this but, I dunno, I think it still looks decent on me. (she looks around at the others) Thoughts? I can take it.”
Melora, in her street clothes, hands wringing, looks at Riley, who gives her the go ahead.
MELORA: “You look great. Uh, so sexy. Just…”
CASSIE: “Just…what?”
Melora and Riley exchange another look. Teresa, in her ring gear, rolls her eyes.
TERESA: “Cassie, why are you wearing that? Are you working in that tonight?”
CASSIE: “I am.”
TIFFANY (shrugging): “Girl, why? Your gear is so cute and…you.”
CASSIE: “This isn’t me, Tiff?”
TERESA: “No. It’s not. What’s going on Ca-”
The door opens and Sunny Austin — barefoot in her orange-and-white bikini, of course — walks in with a smile on her face that dies the second she sees Cassie.
Everyone else looks anywhere but at Cassie or Sunny.
Cassie greets Sunny with a smile.
CASSIE: “Hey, babe. (she strikes a little pose) What do you think?”
Sunny, one hand in her blonde mane, takes a step back.
SUNNY: “I think you look like someone I don’t know.”
In the arena…
Sarah Lawrence and Josie Myer are already in the ring for the opening match. Sarah runs her hands through her hair, shaking it and her hands out. She takes deep breaths, blowing them out slowly. Josie slips out of her black flip-flops and gets a little stretching in, her toned body and her attitude relaxed in equal measure. She rubs Sarah’s back.
JOSIE: “Relax, dude. No one expects us to win.”
SARAH: “Yeah, losing is fine. I just don’t want to die.”
JOSIE (smiling): “The pain is how you know you wrestled.”
Sarah looks at Josie like she’s from the Andromeda galaxy.
SARAH: “Yeah...”
JOSIE: “Do you want to start, or do you want to get pinned? I doubt they’ll give us more than one tag.”
SARAH: “I mean, you got pinned last week…”
JOSIE: “I’ll take it again if you want. (she pats Sarah’s back) Go ahead, see what you can do. I’ll be here when you need me.”
The Tale of the Tape
Underneath girl Sarah Lawrence is 21, 5’5”, 130lbs, with dyed blue hair and green eyes. She’s wrestling in a cut-off half tee-shirt, black, with a punk band on it, plaid-patterned, skin-tight pants that stop just below her knees, and black Doc Marten boots. Sarah’s record is 0-1. Josie Myer, an underneath girl with an 0-1 record, is 24, 5’6”, 125lbs, with a curly, borderline frizzy, mop of dark brown hair and brown eyes. She wrestles barefoot in a plain, black sports bra and cuffed, gray, low-rise sweatpants. All-American Amy Steel, a star, enters with a record of 11-3. She is 26, 5’8”, 160lbs, with dirty-blonde hair and blue eyes. She wrestles in a garish, patriotic-themed bra top with matching short shorts, knee pads, and boots. BRICKHOUSE, a brawling star, is 28, 5’9”, 160lbs, with dyed dark-red hair and green eyes. Her record is 15-4. She wrestles in a black, sleeveless bodysuit with a brick pattern down the front and red & black boots.
Jimmy Swift introduces two thirds of Commissioner Hollander’s Anti-Pack Task Force and they enter together, exchanging a few smiles and laughs as they come down the aisle.
They exchange a few more at the sight of their opponents.
SARAH: “Jesus Christ. Did you know we were wrestling these fucking monsters?”
JOSIE: “Of course. You never watch this show?”
SARAH: “I don’t think I can do this. They’re going to destroy us.”
JOSIE: “Dude, it’ll be quick. Easy money, (she shrugs) and maybe we’ll learn something.”
Sarah heaves one more sigh.
SARAH: “OK…”
Referee Randy Hickman calls for the bell.
All-American Amy Steel & BRICKHOUSE vs. Sarah Lawrence & Josie Myer
BRICKHOUSE and Sarah start. Sarah, hands up more defensively than anything, tries to circle away from the big brawler, but BRICKHOUSE easily tricks her into reversing direction with a lock-up feint. BRICKHOUSE grabs Sarah’s wrist, winds up, and blasts her with a short-arm clothesline. Sarah flops out on the mat, arms way up over her head, soft alterna-belly heaving.
All-American Amy Steel enters the ring, as BRICKHOUSE pulls Sarah up by the throat.
Josie hops through the ropes, trying to even the odds, and walks right into Steel’s grip around her throat.
BRICKHOUSE and Steel move their opponents to the center of the ring, setting them up for dual chokeslams. Sarah’s arms just dangle, her eyes swimmy, half closed. Josie struggles with both hands against Steel’s grip and drives a series of kicks to the All-American’s blocky abs, but they have no effect.
Without even a signal between them, Steel and BRICKHOUSE haul both girls up and bury them in the canvas with stereo chokeslams.
“GGGGuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhh,” is driven from both jackknifed girls’ souls before they settle out on their backs.
BRICKHOUSE plants her boot on Sarah’s little pillow stomach. Steel does the same on Josie’s chest and orders the referee to count them both down.
He does, and the commissioner’s enforcers win the match at 1:04.
With no real effort, Amy Steel moves to 12-3, BRICKHOUSE 16-4. Dispatched, Sarah and Josie both fall to 0-2.
BRICKHOUSE and Steel giggle over how easy that was. The big brawler kicks Sarah over onto her stomach, where she lands with one arm draped over Josie’s chest. The enforcers get their glory — largely in the form of boos — as referee Hickman raises their brawny arms.
On the mat, both vanquished girls stir and moan. Sarah pulls herself on her stomach to collapse with her chin on Josie’s chest.
SARAH: “Did you learn anything?”
Josie, hands on her forehead, fingers curled into her wild mop of tightly curled hair, pulls her feet up to rest flat on the canvas.
JOSIE: “Not that time, no.”
In the commissioner’s office…
Hollander is at his desk, grinning as the huge monitor on the wall replays his enforcers boot-pinning their outclassed opponents.
The door bursts open and Jules Moreno, her maroon power suit and heels perfectly tailored, stomps straight to the desk.
Hollander gets to his feet, pointing.
HOLLANDER: “You need to stop barging in h-”
JULES: “Cassie Rae is on her way to the ring wearing little more than the day she was born, escorted by two of the security guards. What the hell did you do to her?”
HOLLANDER: “Nothing, I-”
JULES: “Oh, please. What are you making her do?”
HOLLANDER: “If you listen to me for two sec-”
JULES: “This isn’t ten years ago, Hollis. I’m not having this fetish girl bullsh-”
HOLLANDER: “Hey! (Jules straightens) I am the commissioner of this organization, and you will respect me. Is that clear, Ms. Moreno?”
Jules crosses her arms.
JULES: “Why is Cassie Rae wearing th-”
HOLLANDER: “She and I have an arrangement, which she brought to me last week. (he points the finger anew) You hear that. She came to me.”
JULES: “What kind of arrangement would Cassie Rae ever make with you?”
HOLLANDER: “The kind that’s her business and mine. (he sits back down, hand up) And before you accuse me of anything else, it was her idea to wear that bikini tonight. I never said a word about it.”
Jules fixes the commissioner with a narrow glare.
JULES: “Cassie is smart, but why do I feel like this is going to benefit you a lot more than it does her?”
Grinning, Hollander shrugs.
In the arena…
There’s a definite buzz in the crowd from those who remember the days of CCW’s fetish girls and the sadistic humiliation they would endure. They whistle and catcall as the rest of the crowd murmurs.
The Tale of the Tape
Blonde is 20, 5’5”, 160lbs, with blonde hair and blue eyes. A member of The Pack, she has an 0-2 record. Blonde wrestles in a scant vinyl bikini and short, black boots. Cassie Rae is an underneath girl with a 3-15 record. She’s 34, 5’3”, and 130lbs, with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. She’s wrestling barefoot in, for the first time in a long time, a white string bikini.
Both women are already in the ring. Blonde has been eating what Gothica feeds her. She’s gained 15 pounds since being indoctrinated into The Pack, all of it in her stomach and ass. Sealing the deal, “Gothica’s Good Girl” is scrawled in black across Blonde’s pale, round stomach. But there’s not a trace on her face to suggest her new jiggly belly bothers her. As she does little bounces in her corner, hands on the second rope, Blonde stares across the ring, smiling, looking…hungry.
Cassie Rae stares right back at her opponent, looking hungrier. Her bikini tight across her hips, Cassie sits on the top turnbuckle, back arched, hands on the ropes, legs crossed, toes pointed. Her makeup, manicure, and pedicure flawless, Cassie radiates sex and sensuality in ways she never did when she was a CCW fetish girl. This is a version of Cassie Rae no one in the arena has ever seen.
Looking like he wants to be anywhere else, referee Roger Clayton calls for the bell.
Cassie Rae vs. Blonde
Blonde saunters to the middle of the ring, making no effort to keep her stomach from spilling over her bikini bottom. Kicking her feet out and slinking to the mat, Cassie, her eyes smoldering, meets her Pack opponent in the center of the ring…and runs a fingertip down Blonde’s soft, bare arm, and takes her hand.
Cooing, Blonde interlaces her fingers with Cassie’s and presses her belly up against Cassie’s. Blonde reaches for Cassie’s other hand, takes it, and leans in, her open mouth approaching Cassie’s…
…Blonde squeals, dropping to one knee, then both knees, as Cassie cranks her wrists in a Greco-Roman knuckle lock, as old and as basic a wrestling hold as there is.
Yes, Cassie is 34. And, yes, she’s a little softer than when she last wore the white string bikini under very different circumstances. But the difference between the women in the ring is Blonde is a fetish girl now. Cassie hasn’t been one for years.
She’s a professional wrestler.
Cassie dismantles Blonde with wrestling holds, strikes, and strategy. Blonde has no answer for any of it and, by the 3:03 mark, is fully compliant, mind and body, with Cassie’s will.
Something Cassie has never felt in nearly 10 years of CCW.
Ten years near constant defeat, humiliation, and sadness. But not tonight.
At 4:15, Cassie pulls the bulky Blonde to her feet, shoots her into the ropes, and wraps the Pack girl up in a tight sleeper hold on the rebound.
Moaning, whining, and not struggling at all, Blonde surrenders in Cassie’s grip and goes nighty-night like a good girl.
Bypassing any arm check, the referee calls for the bell at 4:43.
Blonde drops to 0-3. Cassie Rae moves to 4-15, notching her first-ever win while wearing her CCW fetish-girl bikini.
Cassie lays Blonde down on her stomach, pulls a black marker from…somewhere, and writes something across Blonde’s back.
Referee Clayton, shaking his head, leaves the ring and heads up the aisle.
Cassie rolls Blonde onto her back, straddles her hips, and strikes a perfect cheesecake pose as Jimmy Swift announces her the winner.
Arms up over her head, back arched, Cassie does a split, her crotch slamming down onto Blonde’s bulging belly. The Pack girl stirs as Cassie lowers herself down onto Blonde — stomach to stomach, breasts to breasts — and kisses the sleeping girl.
And keeps kissing.
With Cassie lying on top of her, toes stroking the insides of her thighs, Blonde comes around, groaning, and kisses Cassie back.
Cassie sits up and knocks Blonde out with an elbow across the jaw.
Winding Blonde’s hair around her fist, Cassie wrenches the KO’d girl around so her back faces the hard camera, then yanks her up to a seated position, giving the camera good look at what she wrote on Blonde’s back.
“Cassie Kisses Better”
In the deputy commissioner’s office…
Jules and Wink McLean, tuxedoed and coiffed perfectly, watch the monitor, which replays Cassie Rae putting the jiggly Blonde to sleep, then making out with her, then knocking her out with an elbow.
MCLEAN: “What the hell was all that about?”
JULES: “Hollander says he has some arrangement with Cassie, but I think you should get her side of this. On camera.”
MCLEAN: “Right. (he adjusts his already perfect bow tie) On it.
He turns to go, then looks back over his shoulder.
MCLEAN: “And that other thing?”
JULES: “I’m looking into it. I think you might be right.”
In the underneath locker room…
Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
Cassie, still in the white string bikini, leaves her security escort in the hallway, where they assume posts to either side of the door. She walks straight past Melora — who’s showing Josie Myer her new locker — and Riley and Tiffany, talking quietly on the long bench.
Cassie gets down on her knees on the cold concrete in front of Sunny, who’s sitting on the little rusty chair in the corner, eyes wet, elbows on her shapely thighs, hand clasps tight, one leg bouncing on the ball of her bare foot.
Cassie does not touch her.
CASSIE: “Please let me explain. Please.”
Sunny’s eyes are teary, but her expression is even, her breathing controlled.
SUNNY: “I know…you would never hurt me. I know that’s not you. (she sits back on the chair) But this isn’t you either. I can’t look at you like this.”
CASSIE: “OK, I’ll change. I’ll change and then we’ll talk, OK?”
Cassie risks wrapping her hands around Sunny’s. Sunny doesn’t pull away. She nods, looking past Cassie to the floor.
SUNNY: “OK.”
In the arena…
Teresa Salazar, looking sleek, sexy, and confident, is already in the ring for the next match. She does a little stretching and bending, but mostly she just stands in her corner, a sly smirk on her face, and waits.
Ring announcer Jimmy Swift, looking unusually dapper this evening, clears his throat away from the mic.
SWIFT: “The following contest is scheduled for the best two out of three falls…”
The Tale of the Tape
Teresa Salazar is an underneath girl with an 1-4 record. She is 44, 5’8”, 135lbs, with brown hair and brown eyes. She wrestles in a backless, blood-red singlet, cut high over her hips, black knee pads, and black boots with a blood-red flame pattern embroidered in them. Sizzlin’ Scarlett Jackson is a star with a 7-3 record. She is 26, 5’5”, 130lbs, with dyed bright-orange hair and light-brown eyes. She wrestles in a shiny orange & white bra top, shiny orange booty shorts, shiny white knee pads, and orange basketball sneakers with white highlights.
Sizzlin’ Scarlett Jackson’s music hits and she dances her way down the aisle as Swift announces her. She bears no sign of having been cheated out of a win last week, skipping up the steps and letting the ring lights play on her shiny orange-and-white gear.
Scarlett takes her white sunglasses off, whips them into the crowd, and shakes herself loose at the center of the ring, bidding Teresa to come join her.
Still smirking, Teresa sashays from her corner as referee Jessie Motley steps between the wrestlers.
MOTLEY: “All right, ladies, this is best two out of three. Great showcase for two great wrestlers. Let’s go.”
She calls for the bell.
Two Out of Three Falls Match
Sizzlin’ Scarlett Jackson vs. Teresa Salazar
Scarlett and Teresa circle, smiling and smirking at each other. Scarlett reaches for a tie-up, but Teresa blocks it and rakes Scarlett hard across the eyes.
MOTLEY: “Hey, come on, Salazar. What’re you doing?”
With Scarlett staggering, hands over her face, Teresa slides out, snatches Swift’s folding chair out from under him and slides back into the ring with it.
The referee is right on her.
MOTLEY: “Hey, what’re you doing, Teresa? Get that chair out.”
Teresa pushes past the referee and measures Scarlett with the chair.
MOTLEY: “Wait. Wait!”
Teresa crowns Scarlett with the chair. Scarlett crumples to the mat, flat on her back.
The referee rips the chair from Teresa’s grip and hands it and her decision to Swift.
SWIFT: “The winner of the first fall, as the result of a disqualification, Scarlett Jackson!”
The referee turns around to find Teresa pinning Scarlett with a tight leg hook, Scarlett’s shoulders leveraged to the canvas.
Shaking her head, Motley drops down.
1…
2…
Scarlett kicks her free leg, but Teresa stays in place.
3.
SWIFT: “The winner of the second fall is Teresa Salazar!”
Teresa rolls up off Scarlett and lets the referee move her back, smiling.
TERESA: “One-fall match now.”
MOTLEY: “Yeah, be real proud of that.”
The referee makes sure Scarlett is back on her feet.
MOTLEY: “All right, (she glares at Teresa) let’s wrestle.
Teresa gets an angle and runs the still unsteady Scarlett over with a big clothesline. She covers and hooks the leg again.
1…
2…
Scarlett powers out.
Both women scramble to their feet. Teresa charges again, but Scarlett turns her over with a perfect arm drag, followed by two more.
Teresa, reeling, falls over on her backside and begs off.
Grinning, shaking her head, Scarlett marches forward.
Teresa grabs the front of Scarlett’s booty shorts and leverages her forehead straight into the middle turnbuckle.
Scarlett, eyes hazy, falls backward onto the mat. Teresa cradles her, stacks the shoulders.
The referee drops down.
1…
Scarlett legs flail.
Teresa puts her boots up on the second rope, doubling the pressure on Scarlett’s shoulders.
2…
Scarlett, grunting, can’t move.
The referee’s arm is coming down for three, but Motley sees Teresa cheating and waves it off.
MOTLEY: “No pin! Get it down, Salazar, right now!”
Teresa releases Scarlett and gets in the referee’s face.
TERESA: “That was three, ref. I had her down for three!”
MOTLEY: “It’s not three if you cheat, Teresa. Now get back in there and wre-”
Scarlett schoolgirls Teresa from behind, rolls her up, and grabs a handful of her singlet for extra leverage.
The referee sees Scarlett cheating, but — with Teresa screaming and kicking the whole time — counts the 1-2-3 and calls for the bell at 4:31.
Scarlett steals one back to move to 8-3. Teresa returns to her losing ways, falling to 1-5.
Scarlett bounces up, gives Teresa a Gotcha look, and hops onto the second rope to get her glory.
Sitting on the mat, Teresa stares the referee.
TERESA: “She had my gear.”
MOTLEY: “Did she? I must have missed it.”
The referee winks at Teresa and heads up the aisle.
Teresa gets to her feet, dusts her palms off, and confronts Scarlett as she drops back to the canvas.
TERESA: “That’s one each.”
Scarlett’s smile melts.
SCARLETT: “You want a third one? Any time.”
TERESA: “Good. Meet me in the commissioner’s office. After you shower.”
In a room somewhere backstage…
There’s nothing but an old, dusty wooden table in the dank room, lit by one overhead bulb.
Cassie — in street clothes, most of her makeup removed — and Sunny sit next to each other on the table, hands curled over the edge, legs dangling, ankles crossed.
CASSIE: “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what I was going to do…and what I was going to wear…tonight, but I needed to focus on doing it. And I knew it’s not something you would have wanted me to do. (she nudges Sunny’s arm with her shoulder) Me back in fetish-girl mode, I mean.”
Sunny stares at the floor beyond her toes.
SUNNY: “I didn’t like seeing you like that. At all. I worry about what that could do to you. (she glances at Cassie) And that’s not how I wanted to see you that naked for the first time.”
Cassie risks a sidelong smile.
CASSIE: “At least we’ve even now.”
Sunny shrugs.
SUNNY: “Everyone sees my body every week. It’s why I was hired.”
CASSIE: “Not everyone gets to touch you like I do though. That means everything to me.”
Sunny looks over.
SUNNY: “It’ll destroy me if you go too far down this road. I’m telling you that now. I can’t even describe what I feel for you…what you mean to me.”
CASSIE: “Oh god. Babe…”
Cassie hops off the table, steps between Sunny’s legs, and slides her arms around Sunny’s hips.
CASSIE: “I know I didn’t ask your permission before…”
SUNNY: “You don’t need my permission, Cass, I’m just afraid you’ll-”
CASSIE: “I didn’t ask your permission before, but I’m asking you now. (she stares up into Sunny’s eyes) I think my plan will work, but I need you to tell me you agree with what I’m doing. If you don’t, I’ll stop. (she strokes Sunny’s hips with her thumbs) None of this will be worth it if I don’t have you.”
Welling up a bit more, Sunny takes Cassie’s face in both hands.
SUNNY: “You don’t need my permission for anything. I don’t like the idea of that. (she kisses Cassie) But I believe in what you’re trying to do, I love you, and I trust you. I think that’s better than permission.”
Cassie’s smile reddens her cheeks.
CASSIE: “It’s perfect. (she pulls Sunny into a tight hug) Thank you so much.”
In the underneath locker room…
Sarah Lawrence, still walking a bit carefully, bag slung over her shoulder, follows Melora to her new locker, only few down from Josie, who, still in her gear, is moving stuff into hers.
Tiffany and Riley nod to the newcomers from the long bench.
Sarah thanks Melora, then eases her way onto the bench opposite her locker.
JOSIE: “I wasn’t sure you’d sign the contract.”
SARAH: “It was the only way in.”
JOSIE: “Hell of a way to study these women, become one of them. (she leans her forearms onto her thighs, arches her back) One of us.”
Josie smiles wide at Sarah, who shakes her head.
SARAH: “I could write my whole thesis on just you.”
In the arena…
Sunny Austin, Pequeno Tigre and Zehra are already in the ring for the next match.
The Pack girls, despite the group’s chaotic nature, look like an actual tag team. Both are in bra tops and harem pants — black for Zehra, tiger-print for Tigre. Both girls are barefoot, with two-time mother Tigre’s belly pushing out over her harem pants significantly more than Zehra’s, who’s thinner, but in only slightly better shape.
Meanwhile, Sunny strikes a pose, reclined across the top turnbuckle in her ever-present orange-and-white bikini. She tosses her gorgeous blonde hair under the ring lights, getting the positive reaction she wants from the crowd and the sneers and snarls she wants from her opponents.
Tigre crosses center ring. Referee Randy Hickman moves to urge her back.
TIGRE: “Sunny, we’ve been watching. You still don’t have a singles win. (she points a sharp, pointed nail at the bikini girl) Maybe you should live Pack…life.”
Sunny smiles down from the corner.
SUNNY: “The Pack is a dead end, Lyssa. Even with this freak you’ve got leading you now.”
TIGRE (snarling): “Don’t call me that.”
Zehra appears at Tigre’s shoulder.
ZEHRA: “Who’s your partner, Sunny?”
Sunny hops down, reclines in her corner, ankles crossed.
SUNNY (grinning): “I think you both know.”
The referee moves The Pack girls back to their corner to make way for Jimmy Swift.
SWIFT: “The following tag-team contest is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, from the golden shores of the west coast, Sunny Austin!”
Sunny gets her increasingly large, less sex-based, reaction from the crowd, but there are still plenty of catcalls and gross comments. Sunny smiles and waves through them.
SWIFT: “And, ladies and gentlemen, her partner…please welcome home…Jessica Kelly!”
A little bit of pyro goes off, and some generic rock music hits the sound system as Jessica, who’s never had any kind of entrance, runs down the aisle, sort of squandering it.
But Jessica is a young woman possessed. Though all the writing The Pack scrawled on her has been scrubbed away, the cuts, bites, and scratches all over her body — many put there by her opponents tonight — from the excommunication beating they gave her are still healing.
And the bizarre Pack symbol burned into Jessica’s lower stomach by who-knows-what means will be there forever without surgical intervention. Her singlet covers the symbol in the ring, but the body under it is not just scarred, scabbed, and healing, it’s also a bit more muscular and toned, too.
Jimmy Swift and her opponents bail as Jessica hits the ring like a wild animal, blood in her eyes. It’s all Sunny can do to corral her into their corner, where she hugs Jessica, and gets one back.
The Tale of the Tape
Underneath girl Sunny Austin is 24, 5’11”, 140lbs, with blonde hair and blue eyes. Her current record is 3-12. She wrestles barefoot in an orange-and-white bikini. Jessica Kelly is 23, 5’4”, 125lbs, with light brown hair and blue eyes. She wrestles in a backless blue singlet, blue knee pads, and white boots. She is currently 0-8. Former Pack leader Pequeno Tigre enters with an 0-14 record. She is 25, 5’2”, 135lbs with dark brown hair and light brown eyes. She wrestles barefoot in a tiger-print bra top and tiger-print harem pants. Her makeup is heavy, exotic, and feline. Zehra is 25, 5’6”, 130lbs, with dark brown hair and green eyes. A member of The Pack, she wrestles barefoot in a beaded black bra top and black harem pants. She’s 0-5.
Tigre and Zehra slowly climb onto the apron in their corner, and the referee calls for the bell.
Sunny Austin & Jessica Kelly vs. Pequeno Tigre & Zehra
The Pack girls don’t have near the fire in their soft bellies or the wrestling knowledge in their heads to have any chance of winning this match. They’re wild, clumsy brawlers, with Tigre’s claws the team’s only real weapon.
But Jessica, a solid technician even before joining The Pack, takes care of that at the 2:02 mark, putting both of Tigre’s hands on the canvas and stomping them with both boots, breaking several of The Pack girl’s sharpened, shaped claws.
Tigre falls back on her rear end, screaming.
By 3:00, The Pack girls are winded and flat-footed. Weak, desperate swipes and kicks are all they have left. Sunny puts Zehra on the mat with a standing side kick under the chin. The Pack girl settles out, spread-eagle, belly heaving. She’d be an easy pin, but Sunny goes to her corner.
SUNNY: “Which one do you want?”
Jessica’s stare is deadly.
JESSICA: “Tigre.”
SUNNY: “You got her, babe.”
Zehra has managed to roll to her stomach. Sunny grabs her up by the hair and harem pants and tosses her into her corner. Zehra takes the tag.
So does Sunny.
Jessica meets Tigre at the center of the ring. She ducks two awkward swipes, then a wild clothesline. Jessica drives a boot to Tigre’s squishy stomach and shoots her into the ropes. She catches The Pack girl on the rebound with a perfect spinebuster, splattering Tigre out on the canvas, breathless.
Jessica straddles Tigre’s hips, drops to her knees, and presses both hands to The Pack girl’s face.
Tigre offers nothing but a helpless groan as referee Hickman tolls the 1-2-3 at 3:42.
Jessica springs up, teary, and celebrates her first CCW win with a hug from Sunny as the crowd cheers them on.
Indeed, Jessica is now 1-8, with Sunny moving to 4-12. Tigre and Zehra remain wholly defeated, falling to 0-15 and 0-6 respectively.
In the underneath locker room…
Melora, Tiffany, Riley, Sarah, and Josie watch the monitor as the replay shows Jessica dominate Tigre for the easy three-count. There are smiles and high-fives exchanged all around, except for Sarah, who sort of fakes her reaction.
MELORA: “It’s amazing to see two of ours take it to The Pack like that. Makes me so happy.”
JOSIE: “I love watching Sunny wrestle. She gets stronger, more fluid all the time.”
Melora, Tiffany, and Riley exchange looks.
RILEY: “You been comin’ to the shows, or…?”
JOISE: “A couple. (hands behind her back, she sweeps her flip-flop across the floor) Mostly on TV though. I’m local.”
RILEY: “That’s awesome. I’m from down south and, I swear, I still feel like I just got off the bus from home.”
MELORA: “So you’re a fan of Sunny’s, Joise? (she smiles at the others) I think we all are.”
Josie shifts her hips, eyes on the floor, but her voice is even.
JOSIE: “I’m a fan of everyone who dresses in this room.”
Sarah looks at the way the others are looking at Josie.
SARAH: “Yeah, me too.”
The door opens and little pop of tension fills the room, but it’s Teresa, still in her gear. Melora goes to her.
MELORA: “Cassie’s not back yet, but she told me what you were gonna ask the commissioner. How’d that go?”
TERESA (smiling): “Booked for next week. Me versus Scarlett, one more time, winner is number-one contender for the Tri-County Championship.”
Melora smiles. Josie appears at her shoulder; hand extended to Teresa.
JOSIE (smiling): “Hi, I’m Josie. Just signed my underneath contract. Lost two matches already.”
Teresa shakes Josie’s hand, smirking.
TERESA: “I see you haven’t really read the room yet.”
Outside the deputy commissioner’s office…
Cassie, in her street clothes, pulls the door to Jules Moreno’s office closed. The two security guards to either side of the door snap to, but Cassie waves them to ease as Wink McLean rushes up.
MCLEAN: “Cassie Rae, you’ve just come from a meeting with Deputy Commissioner Jules Moreno. What was that meeting about?”
CASSIE: “Can’t give you much on that, Wink, but I’m glad you’re here.”
MCLEAN: “You are?”
CASSIE: “Yeah, I want use this camera (she looks into the lens) to send a message to my old friend Gothica.”
MCLEAN: “Go ahead.”
Cassie levels her gaze right into the camera, a sexy smirk on her face, and pulls her tight tank top off, revealing the white string bikini top she wrestled in earlier.
CASSIE: “Hey, Aubrey. Blonde is mine now. I claimed her. I kissed her. She kissed me. I really love what you’ve done to her body, I’m going to enjoy it…but I love what you’ve done with your body more.
“So, I have an idea. You and I wrestle next week, the winner gets Blonde. You wear what you’ve been wearing, and I’ll let you put your hands all over…fetish girl Cassie. And if you can pin me, mmmm, maybe I’ll even join The Pack.
“Think of it, sick, sexy Gothica. You can have your buxom Blonde…(she frowns, performing) and this helpless little fetish girl…all for youself. Just remember (she smiles, all sly) Cassie kisses better.”
In the arena…
With the crowd buzzing over what it just saw Cassie say and do on the CarniTron, Jimmy Swift, his forehead beaded with sweat, fires up the mic for the main event.
SWIFT: The following non-title contest is scheduled for one fall…
The Tale of the Tape
Betty Magnum, the CCW Champion, is 32, 5’7”, 145lbs, with blonde hair and blue eyes. She wrestles in a denim-patterned bra top, denim-patterned athletic leggings, and cowboy-style wrestling boots. She is currently 12-3. Back from suspension, Outlaw Annie Hook is a star with a 9-1 record. She is 35, 5’7”, 150lbs, with dirty-blonde hair and blue eyes. She wrestles in a black singlet, black knee pads, and cowboy-style boots with red highlights. She also wears a black cowboy hat and black leather vest as entrance gear.
Only the old-school sadists in the crowd cheer as Outlaw Annie Hook sneers and cackles her way down the aisle. For the rest of the fans, the image of Hook whipping Chloe Suzuki with a cat o’ nine tails is still seared in their collective memory. Her black hat and vest in place over her gear, but no weapons in hand, Hook struts up the ring steps and soaks up the negativity from the crowd with a big smile on her face.
Everything switches when Betty Magnum’s music hits, and the CCW Champion makes her way to the ring. Carrying the title over her shoulder, Betty looks squared away. She never plays to the crowd so much as appreciates them. Betty hands the championship off to referee Jack Blake and glares at Hook, who gives it right back to her.
With the title belt safely in the hands of the timekeeper, the referee calls for the bell.
Non-Title Match
Betty Magnum vs. Outlaw Annie Hook
If ever there was a way to represent a quintessential movie western in the CCW ring, these are the women to do it. Betty is as close to a real hero as CCW has ever had. While Hook looks not only like a classic western villain, but like the contemptuous, evil version of Betty herself.
Or maybe, in CCW, Betty is the good version of Annie Hook.
With all this dichotomy, it’s no wonder the first five minutes of this match go by quickly and smoothly, with neither wrestler gaining much of an advantage. Betty uses her technical skills to keep Hook’s brawling in check, while The Outlaw keeps Betty from building too much momentum with the odd eye rake or stomp to the knee.
But at 5:42, Hook catches Betty in the abs with a stiff boot and turns her over with a crisp gut-wrench suplex. Hook covers and gets two from referee Blake before Betty kicks out.
Back on their feet, they face-off anew, Betty a bit more wary, Hook a little more confident.
The Cowgirl Sisters hit the ring from opposite corners! Wearing black versions of their usually pink gear, Diamond and Platinum double-team Betty with forearms and boots as the referee calls for the bell, disqualifying The Outlaw at 6:34.
With the Cowgirls getting their kick on all over Magnum on the mat, Hook slides out, grabs the CCW title belt from the timekeeper’s table, and, with a familiar smirk on her face, slides back in.
HOOK: “Get her up!”
Taking the order, Diamond and Platinum haul the dazed, bruised Betty to her feet and hold her by the arms.
Despite referee Blake’s warnings, The Outlaw waffles Betty in the forehead with the CCW Championship belt, busting her open.
The Cowgirls let the KO’d , bleeding Magnum collapse to the mat, helpless on her back. The Outlaw shoves the referee aside, plants her boot on Betty’s chest, and holds the CCW title aloft as the crowd showers her and the Cowgirls with boos.
And some garbage.
The disqualification gives Betty the win, she’s now 13-3. With the loss, Outlaw Annie Hook is now 9-2, but it hardly seems to matter. Laughing, Hook wipes blood from Betty’s forehead and smears it across the championship belt.
The Outlaw and the Cowgirls get a few last kicks in on the defenseless champion as the rest of CCW’s referees swarm the ring and move them away.
Hook, Diamond, and Platinum cackle all the way up the aisle. The Outlaw holds the kidnapped, blood-smeared CCW title belt up for all to see.
In the deputy commissioner’s office…
Jules Moreno is at her desk. Cassie Rae, her tank top back on, is standing next to it.
JULES: “Bring her in.”
The door opens and two security guards, led by referee Jessie Motley, lead Blonde, still in her wrestling gear, into the room. The guards guide Blonde to a chair opposite Moreno’s desk, where she sits, slouched, hands in her lap, belly touching her thighs. “Gothica’s Good Girl” is still on her stomach. “Cassie Kisses Better” is still on her back.
Cassie thanks Motley. The referee and guards leave, pulling the door closed behind them.
Blonde looks up at Cassie, eyes glassy, lower lip quivering.
BLONDE: “I…I’m yours now?”
Cassie shares a quick, pained look with Jules, then looks down at Blonde.
CASSIE: “No, baby.”
Cassie kneels in front of Blonde, lays her hands on the girl’s knees.
CASSIE: “What’s your name, sweetheart? Your real name.”
Tears well in Blonde’s eyes.
BLONDE: Shauna...
Cassie opens her hands on Shauna’s lap. The girl takes them, squeezing.
CASSIE: “Shauna, the lady behind me is Jules Moreno, she’s the deputy commissioner of CCW. Regardless of what you heard me say to Gothica about a match next week, you don’t belong to anyone anymore. Ms. Moreno is going to take you to a hotel, and you can decide what you want to do from there, OK?”
Gripping Cassie’s hands for dear life, Shauna sobs.
SHAUNA: “I want to go home. School sucked. I took that fifty bucks. (she shakes her head) And now…oh god. I’m so fat…and I’m so scared. (she looks from Cassie to Jules and back, plaintive) I want to see my mom. Can I please go home and see my mom?”
CASSIE: “Yes, we’ll get you home.”
Cassie gets to one knee and wraps her arms around Shauna.
CASSIE: “No more Pack. It’s gonna be OK.”
Shauna leans into Cassie’s chest and cries. Cassie winces at the sight of her own writing on the girl’s back, then turns to Jules, her eyes steel.
CASSIE: “No more Pack.”
Fade Out
