Carnival Cavalcade Wrestling
CCW Chaos, episode #8: A First Time(s) for Everything
In the commissioner’s office…
Hollander is at his desk, sat up straight, hands folded. Deputy Commissioner Jules Moreno, security chief Duke Derringer, senior referee Jack Blake, Chloe Suzuki, and Cassie Rae, both in street clothes, are grouped opposite the desk.
HOLLANDER: “How the hell am I supposed to run a wrestling company when the wrestlers keep getting kidnapped? We just got this one back (he gestures at Chloe), we just got Sunny Austin back, and now another one gets swiped. (he points at Jules) This is a great way to lose money, Ms. Moreno. You’re supposed to be in charge of the roster around here.”
Jules, her power suit and heels red this week, folds her arms.
JULES: “I’m in charge of the contracts, so unless you think adding a no-kidnapping clause would help, I’m not sure how the hell this is my fault.”
Hollander cocks an eyebrow at Derringer.
HOLLANDER: “She’s got a point, Duke. This girl got taken from the trainer’s room, by the goddamn trainer, according to Ms. Suzuki. Where the hell were your guys?”
DERRINGER: “Look, folks, I’m not looking to pass the buck here, but my team and I were pretty…preoccupied last week (he glances at Cassie).”
The commissioner’s gaze follows the glance.
HOLLANDER: “That’s not a bad point either, Cassie Rae. We’ve spent an awful lot of time lately on your personal life. Which, by the way, (he points at Chloe) is what got that beautiful young lady and your current lover kidnapped. And now this other underneath wrestler is-”
CASSIE: “Commissioner Hollander, if I may be so bold, perhaps we blame the kidnapper for the kidnapping, we call Teresa Salazar by her fucking name, and we do something, anything other than dick around with each other in here to get her b-”
HOLLANDER (pointing, red-faced): You’re out of line, girlie. And you’ve been the source of a lot of trouble for this company considering you’ve been here ten years and done nothing but lose ma-”
The door bursts open, startling everyone.
Rick the Trainer, battered, bloodied, barely conscious, flies into the room and crumples onto the carpet in a face-down heap.
Now in a circle around the trashed trainer, Chloe standing partially behind Cassie, everyone looks from him to the door.
Teresa Salazar — still in her ring gear from last week with her ribs taped and a section of her singlet torn from around her navel — stands in the doorway, breathing heavy, lip bleeding.
TERESA: “You’re gonna want to fire him. And have him arrested. (she nods at Cassie) Hey, did you guys happen to put my bag anywhere?”
CASSIE: “In my locker…”
TERESA: “Awesome. Did we get Sunny back?”
CASSIE: “We did…
TERESA (flashes a thumbs-up): “Love it. I’ll be in the locker room. Might lay down for a little while.”
Teresa gives a lame wave and leaves. Everyone stares after her until the commissioner clears his throat.
HOLLANDER: “Duke, get this man off the floor and call the police. (He looks past Cassie’s shoulder) Ms. Suzuki, would you be a dear and identify Rick as the one who kidnapped you?”
Chloe nods as Derringer wrenches the moaning, woozy Rick up off the floor.
HOLLANDER: “Excellent. (he stands, hands clasped) All right, great meeting everyone. Is it all right if we put on a wrestling show now?”
JULES: Uh, Hollis… (she nods at Rick)
HOLLANDER: “Ah, yes. Thank you, Ms. Moreno.
“Rick, you’re fired. Get the hell out of my building.”
In the arena…
Both wrestlers for the opening match, Melora O’Brien and Zehra, are already in the ring.
The Tale of the Tape
Melora, an underneath girl, is 25, 5’5”, 155lbs with red hair and green eyes. She normally wrestles in a green floral old-school one-piece, white knee pads, and green boots…but not tonight. She is currently 2-5. Zehra is 25, 5’6”, 130lbs, with dark brown hair and green eyes. She wrestles barefoot in a beaded black bra top and black harem pants. She’s 0-6.
This is pre-Pack Zehra, reinvigorated. She paces in her corner, sneering, sensual, and sexy. Zehra crouches, grabs the ropes, stares across the ring, a determined, almost primal, opponent.
But all Melora can think about is how little she’s wearing. And all Melora can feel is the light and heat on her bare stomach and back. And all Melora can see is how pale and pink her body is, how soft her stomach is, and how the bikini, top and bottom, fit her.
But that’s just the thing. They fit her.
Not too small, not too tight; it’s not a string bikini or a thong. It’s a bikini, plain, green; almost the same shade as her boots. She’s got her white knee pads on, too. And as she looks down at herself, her body, under the bright lights, the bikini and her old gear almost…go?
And there were, what, cat calls, whistles when she got into the ring? Was that people, men, making fun of her? It had to be, right? She’s in the ring with her pale, round belly out. How could it be anything else?
Both wrestlers get male attention when they’re introduced. Zehra gets more, but Melora’s is of the same kind and intensity. She shakes her head, staring at the canvas.
Referee Jessie Motley wanders over, a smirk on her face.
MOTLEY: “Damn, girl. Looking hot.”
Motley moves to the center of the ring to get things started. Melora shaking her head, stares at the canvas.
MELORA: “What the baby Jesus is going on here?”
The referee calls for the bell.
Melora O’Brien vs. Zehra
Snarling, Zehra charges across the ring. Melora clears her head just late enough to allow Zehra in. Throwing forearms, fists, feet, and elbows, Zehra assaults Melora in her corner, leaving the Irish girl no room for anything be covering up and defense.
Motley appears at Zehra’s shoulder, trying to warn her away from Melora, but the wild Turkish girl, screaming her aggression, batters Melora with everything she has.
MOTLEY: “All right, Zehra, that’s enough. Get her out of the corner, let’s go!”
The referee starts the five-count toward a disqualification. At four, Zehra rakes her nails across Melora’s stomach and circles out of the corner to scream at the crowd.
Cradling her bare belly, Melora staggers out of the corner, dazed, her stomach red.
Charging back in, Zehra throws a flying knee into Melora’s chest, sending her back onto the corner, where she collapses.
Pouncing, growling, Zehra grabs Melora’s ankles, drags her out of the corner, and drops a sharp elbow into her belly.
Melora jackknifes up, her mouth a big O, and then sprawls on the mat, her stomach sore, burning.
MELORA: “Oh fuck…”
Smiling, Zehra, throws herself across Melora’s chest and uses her arms and legs to pin the Irish girl’s arms out wide on the canvas.
Melora kicks her legs as the referee drops down.
MELORA: “No…god, no…”
1…
2…
Melora plants both boots on the mat and, with a guttural cry, shoves with her entire body, just barely getting her shoulders up.
Zehra bounces up to her feet, still angry, still ready.
Melora sits up, winded, hand on her belly. She coughs, wheezes a bit…
…and has just enough presence of mind to plough her fist into Zehra’s stomach when the ferocious Turk charges in again.
Zehra, doubled up, feet together, falls over like a dead penguin, her face betraying her breathlessness.
Melora, back on her feet, takes her time, measures Zehra, and drops a big elbow into her chest. With the wild girl on her back, writhing and gasping, Melora steps back, hand on the top rope, collecting her thoughts and her breath.
Zehra, still fighting, gets to her hands and knees, then to her feet. But Melora has her scouted and seizes Zehra around the waist from behind. Snarling, Zehra claws at the Irish girl’s wrists, but Melora cinches her up and takes her over backward in a German suplex. Zehra’s shoulders and neck crash hard to the canvas and she stays down, moaning, trying catch her breath.
The referee circles to be in position to count a pin, but Melora, keeping her momentum, pulls Zehra back to her feet by the wrist and whips her hard into the corner. Zehra, almost out on her feet, sags against turnbuckles, enabling Melora to get every bit of a Stinger Splash.
Melora steps back out of the corner and looks down at her mostly bare body. A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth.
Zehra, all the air and fight crushed out of her, staggers out of the corner and right into Melora’s waiting arms.
Carrying Zehra with ease, Melora walks to center ring and plants the breathless Turk on the canvas with a textbook Falcon Arrow.
Zehra is a ragdoll as Melora reclines across her chest and hooks her far leg. The referee tolls the 1-2-3 without any resistance from Zehra and calls for the bell at 2:23.
This is Melora’s first singles win. She improves to 3-5. Zehra, firmly back on the underneath-girl roster, drops to 0-7.
Melora rolls off Zehra and to her knees. She cries, arms across her chest, as ring announcer Jimmy Swift puts a little extra into the announcement.
SWIFT: “Here is your winner, Melora O’Briiiiii-ennn!”
Referee Jessie Motley raises Melora’s hand, then bends over next to her ear.
MOTLEY: “I’ve gotta make sure she’s OK, but congrats, babe.”
The referee crosses the ring and gets to one knee over Zehra as the crowd gives the crying Melora a warm, sustained hand.
In the commissioner’s office…
Derringer looks over Hollander’s shoulder as the commissioner watches Melora, smiling, give the crowd a little wave.
DERRINGER: “Surprised to see a girl like her in a bikini out there, but she wrestled a good match.”
HOLLANDER (eyes still on the monitor): “I made her wear the bikini in order to get the match. She’s gained weight since she signed here.”
DERRINGER: “Ah, so you were trying to embarrass her.”
HOLLANDER: “I thought I was. (his gaze narrows) Now I’m not so sure. Anyway, (he turns to Derringer, smiling) make sure Zehra is brought back here, then guard the door for a while, will you?”
In the underneath locker room…
Teresa, as promised, is in a deep sleep on the long bench away from the lockers, boots off, but still in the tattered remains of her singlet.
Jessica Kelly, in her ring gear, closes the door, locks the deadbolt out of newly-formed habit, then goes to the little, cracked monitor, where Cassie Rae, Tiffany Green, in gear, and Josie Myer — in street clothes; her gear with the flip-flops on — watch Melora hop out of the ring and head up the aisle.
CASSIE (pointing at the monitor): “Did you know about this?”
JESSICA: “About what?”
TIFFANY: “Melora just wrestled in that bikini Hollander made her wear. (big smile) And she won.”
JESSICA (huge smile): “Holy shit, that’s awesome!”
CASSIE (looking from one to the other and back): “You guys both knew about this?”
Jessica and Tiffany nod, then look at Josie, who raises her hand, a sheepish grin on her face.
JOSIE: “I think I’m the one who talked Melora into it.”
CASSIE (eyebrow cocked): “Oh, you were?”
JOSIE: “Yeah, I mean (she clasps her hands behind her back) she was really torn up over it, so I told her some things I thought might help, and… (she nods toward the monitor) maybe they did.”
CASSIE: “Well, she still might be a wreck inside; she was crying after the match. (she shows Josie a palm) Maybe you should be here a little longer before you start giving out advice.”
Josie dips her chin and wanders to the bench near the lockers.
Tiffany bumps Cassie with her hip.
TIFFANY: “Cass, Mel won. They were happy tears.”
Cassie glares at the back of Josie’s head.
CASSIE: “Maybe.”
JESSICA (clears her throat): “Uh, guys, we have a problem. Tiff, the office took me out of our tag match tonight. Moreno wants me to go with her to see Shauna again. She’s gonna sign her, and she wants me to give her another training session.”
Cassie and Tiffany exchange a look.
CASSIE: “Wow, ‘Blonde’ is going to be in here with us now? Jules is getting a little cynical, maybe.”
TIFFANY: “Did she say who’s replacing you, Jess?”
JESSICA: “She said we could figure it out. I don’t think she thinks it matters since we were going up against the new tag champs. (she shrugs) Underneath-girl life…”
Josie reappears.
JOSIE: “I’ll do it. I’ll be your partner, Tiff. (she shrugs, smiling, hand on her stomach) Maybe we can give them a match.”
Cassie glances at the floor, suppressing her smile, then back up at Josie.
CASSIE: “No, I’ll be Tiff’s partner. I have my gear in my locker. (she smiles at Tiffany) I’ll suit up and we’ll see what we can do.”
TIFFANY (smiling): Teamin’ with the girl who smashed The Pack? Shit, that’s fine by me, all day.”
Tiffany and Cassie high-five. Josie starts to return to her locker.
Cassie grabs her arm.
CASSIE: “Hey. I’ll be Tiff’s partner; you stay here and wait for Melora. She might need you.”
Josie smiles, blushes.
JOSIE: “OK, I’ll do that.”
Cassie gives Josie a brief, tight, one-armed hug, then goes to her locker.
In the arena…
Sunny Austin is already in the ring for the next match. It’s been three weeks since she last wrestled and five since she wrestled her opponent for tonight. Both were, for reasons, quick, embarrassing defeats.
Then she spent two weeks kidnapped by her lover’s ex.
But none of that shows on Sunny’s face, and it definitely doesn’t show on her slim, lithe, shapely, athletic, bikinied body as she stands in her corner, forearms on the top rope, one foot on the bottom rope.
Her breathing is steady, even. Her beautiful blue eyes clear and determined, her big, blonde mane exactly how she wants it; this is as ready to wrestle a singles match — something she’s never won — as we’ve seen Sunny in the last two months.
The Tale of the Tape
Underneath girl Sunny Austin is 24, 5’11”, 140lbs, with blonde hair and blue eyes. Her current record is 4-13. She wrestles barefoot in an orange-and-white bikini. Hannah Hammer is a star with an 8-1 record. She is 23, 5’7”, 160lbs, with brown hair and hazel eyes. She wrestles in short denim overalls, a yellow tee, and brown work boots.
Jimmy Swift’s introduction for Hannah is big and bright, but Sunny’s afterthought, underneath-girl intro draws more and louder cheers from the crowd, a portion of which favors Sunny with a “Wel-come back” chant.
If she realizes the disparity, Hannah doesn’t show it. She still finds plenty of fans willing to shake her hand and wish her well as she smiles her way down the aisle. When she gets to the ring, though, the smile melts as she looks across the ring to Sunny.
HANNAH: “You OK?”
Sunny smiles, nods.
SUNNY: “I’m awesome. Ready for you, girl.”
Hannah, lower lip puckered, nods.
HANNAH: “I was gonna say I never catch you at your best, but I’ll be goddamned if you don’t look like a rasslin’ angel right now.”
Sunny laughs.
SUNNY: “Thanks?”
Referee Roger Clayton stands center ring.
CLAYTON: “Ready to get started, ladies?”
Two serious nods.
CLAYTON: “Then let’s go. Ring the bell!”
Hannah Hammer vs. Sunny Austin
Sunny moves out, circling on the balls of her feet, bouncing, hands out, looking for an opening.
Hannah, doing essentially the same, smiles.
HANNAH: “Yeah, this is Sunny I wanted the first time. This is the girl who took Scarlett Jackson to the limit. (she chuckles, nodding) I like this Sunny…”
Sunny throws a graceful, accurate roundhouse kick at Hannah’s hip, but the girl in the short overalls catches her leg under one arm.
HANNAH: …but I’m still gonna beat you.”
Hannah drives her other elbow into the side of Sunny’s knee.
Yowling, seeing stars, Sunny crashes to the mat on her hip, one hand on her knee, trying to drag herself away from Hannah on her other elbow.
The referee gets between them, drops to one knee.
CLAYTON: “Sunny, can you continue? You want to give it up?”
SUNNY: “No!”
She pulls herself to the ropes, then back to her feet, hobbling a bit as she circles, eyes locked on Hannah’s. Hannah makes a lunge for her and Sunny cartwheels out of range…careful to land only on the foot of her uninjured leg.
But Hannah had her tracked. She lays into Sunny’s thigh and calf with her work boot, numbing, knotting up Sunny’s already injured leg. Crying out, Sunny tries to maintain space between them, but Hannah persists, corralling Sunny in the corner and driving punches to her stomach and forearms to her chest.
The referee moves in, warning Hannah to get Sunny out of the corner, which she does with a sharp snapmare followed by a hard kick to Sunny’s spine.
Her back arched, her face a mask of anguish, Sunny doesn’t resist as Hannah pulls her back to her feet by her hair, then scoops her up and powers her back to the canvas with a stiff bodyslam.
Sunny twists and writhes on the mat. Hannah drops down and uses her blocky body to press the bikini girl’s shoulders to the mat. She hooks Sunny’s uninjured leg.
1…
2…
Sunny shoves with her hips and abs and gets her shoulder up, then snares Hannah’s head with both her legs and takes the big, strong girl to the mat with a tight headscissors.
Hannah grunts as Sunny yells, squeezing Hannah’s head between her muscular thighs. Ankles crossed, feet rigid, Sunny arches her back, both hands on the mat, and really torques Hannah’s neck.
SUNNY: “Ask her, ref! Ask her!”
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He does, and, though it’s a bit muffled, Hannah refuses to submit. She balls her fist and bangs it into Sunny’s injured thigh and calf, but the headscissors maintains its crushing grip on her.
But then she lands a shot to Sunny’s hurt knee and the bikini girl’s cry lets Hannah know she can power out of the hold, which she does.
Both back on their feet; Sunny unsteady, Hannah dizzy. Sunny risks a vault off her bad leg and throws a one-footed dropkick. She doesn’t get all of it, but she hits Hannah’s chest hard enough to send her tumbling backward to the mat.
Taking great care to set up properly, Sunny gets back to her feet, works another cartwheel, and drops her good leg hard across Hannah’s chest. She scrambles to get her body on top of the strong girl’s, but she can’t quite hook the leg and Hannah powers out of the pin at two.
One of her legs still sore, throbbing, Sunny uses adrenaline to get to the second rope, plant her feet, and jump, looking to crown Hannah with a flying ax handle…
…but she catches Hammer’s big fist in the belly instead and crumples to the canvas on her side, arms wrapped around her midsection.
Hannah wraps her arms around both of Sunny’s thighs and leverages the bikini blonde’s shoulders to the mat.
Referee Clayton, staying with the action, in right in position.
1…
2…
Screaming from somewhere deep inside, Sunny uses all her muscles to straighten her body, popping her shoulders off the canvas.
Hannah on her hands and knees, pounds the mat.
HANNAH: “Goddammit…”
Using the ropes to get to her feet, Sunny pads to the corner, but Hannah is already back up and charging. The strapping strong girl leaps, her shoulder ticketed for Sunny’s sternum.
Half falling, half diving, Sunny avoids the contact and Hannah crashes into the corner hard enough to shake the other three ring posts. Hannah staggers backward out of the corner and flops to the canvas, belly up and heaving.
Winded, tired, hurting, one eye on Hannah, Sunny climbs the corner. She bypasses the second rope and gets her feet under her on the top. Slowly but steadily — much of the crowd behind her — Sunny stands, raises her arms over her head, and leaps.
She knows it’s a mistake the moment her toes leave the ropes.
Hannah is up, perfectly angled to catch Sunny coming in under both arms, which she does, allowing Sunny’s weight and momentum to start the tilt-a-whirl motion that leads to the JackHammer, Hannah’s sidewalk-slam finisher.
Sunny, her arms flailing over Hannah’s beefy shoulder, uses everything she has left to contract her abs, bringing both her legs, feet together, up behind and over Hannah’s other shoulder. The momentum shifts, mid-move, and, instead of driving Sunny’s back into the canvas with all her weight behind it, Hannah is thrown off balance and Sunny wraps her thighs around Hannah’s head again, only this time with Sunny’s navel pressed to Hammer’s nose.
Arms around the back of Hannah’s head to keep her own balance, Sunny lets that and her abs go but squeezes Hannah’s head with her legs. Sunny’s weight and backward momentum take Hannah over forward and drives her, neck and shoulders, into the mat.
A perfect hurricanrana.
Hannah sprawls on the mat and Sunny, now straddling the strong girl’s head on her knees, reaches back and hooks Hannah’s leg with both arms. Sunny leans forward, her forehead practically touching the mat, and sobs as the referee, and the crowd, count the 1-2-3 to end the match at 5:12.
Sunny releases Hannah and sits on the mat, knees up, feet flat, hands buried in her hands, stomach heaving with emotion.
The ring announcer makes Sunny’s first singles win official.
SWIFT: “Here is your winner…Sunny Austin!”
Sunny, happy crying with abandon, pushes to her feet, and referee Clayton makes a bit of a show of raising her hand.
On the mat, Hannah rolls up to her knees, hands on her thighs. She catches Sunny’s eye, gives her quick, small nod, then rolls out under the bottom rope.
Finally notching her first singles win, Sunny moves to 5-13. Hannah suffers only her second loss. She’s now 8-2.
Sweaty, tired, breathing hard, leg sore, Sunny waves to the crowd — most of which cheer for her, some of which chant for her — and steps through the ropes.
In the commissioner’s office…
Zehra, still in her gear, sits back on Hollander’s desk, lengthwise, propped up on her hands, legs crossed at the ankles. She coos, flexing her feet and toes as the commissioner kisses her neck and chest.
Derringer, keeping his back to the desk, shakes his head as the big monitor shows Sunny making her way up the aisle, shaking the some hands and accepting a few hugs.
DERRINGER: “Goddamn, Hollis, that’s two underneath girls with wins. That gorgeous blonde in the bikini just beat Hannah Hammer.”
The commissioner looks up from Zehra’s cleavage.
HOLLANDER: “I heard. That’s her first singles win. Hmm.”
Derringer risks a look back over his shoulder.
DERRINGER: “Heh, wheels turnin’, Hollis?”
HOLLANDER: “Maybe. (he smiles at Zehra) How would like to wrestle Sunny Austin next week?”
She looks past his shoulder to the monitor.
ZEHRA: “Sunny is…I will lose probably.”
HOLLANDER (smiling, tracing the rim of her navel with his finger): “Maybe not. Plus, you lost tonight. Has that been so bad?”
ZEHRA: “Mmmm (she throws her head back) No, daddy.”
HOLLANDER: “There’s my good girl.”
The commissioner shares a smirking glance with Derringer, then wraps his mouth around Zehra’s throat as the security chief jerks his gaze back to the monitor.
Somewhere backstage…
Wink McLean — Has a tuxedo ever fit anyone better? — stands in front of a well-lit CCW backdrop.
MCLEAN: “Please welcome my guest at this time, to the new Sideshow Stage, the Carnival Cavalcade Wrestling Champion, Betty Magnum.”
Betty enters the shot, looking pissed, the still-defaced title belt over her shoulder.
BETTY: “You know, Wink, I don’t know what’s worse, that Outlaw Annie Hook and the Cowgirls have made a fool out of me twice in the last month, or that no one’s paying attention because they’d all rather watch Cassie Rae run around in a bikini and talk about her sex life.”
MCLEAN: “That might be an oversimplification, Betty. The Pack was-”
BETTY: “Yeah, I know The Pack was. The Pack beat the hell outta me more than once out there, and they were terrorizing everyone in the damn company. I’m glad they’re gone and, hell, I’m thankful to Cassie Rae for doin’ it. I like Cassie Rae. She’s a good person and she’s taken a lot of bullshit from this company. But Cassie Rae ain’t the CCW Champion. I am. And it’s high time that title, and the woman holding it, got the proper amount cameras pointed their way. That too much to ask, Wink?”
MCLEAN: “No, I woudn’t say it’s t-”
BETTY: “Good! Now listen up, Annie Hook, because this next bit is for you. I’m gonna give you seven days to think about it, then, right here next week, I want you to tell Johnny Brylcreem here the stipulation you want for our next match, which you better believe will be for the CCW Championship. (she smiles) Then we’ll sign the contract, all business-like, and can have things just the way you want them.”
MCLEAN: “Betty Magnum, you’re going to let Annie Hook, The Outlaw, one of the most devious wrestlers we have, pick the stipulation for your title match?”
BETTY: “I don’t think I stuttered, Wink, so yeah, I guess I did. (she looks right down the barrel of the camera) As for you, Annie Hook, I busted my ass to become the CCW Champion, and now…I’m gonna bust your ass to keep it.”
She walks out of the shot. McLean touches a few fingers to his slick coif.
MCLEAN: “Johnny Brylcreem…?”
In the underneath locker room…
Sunny bursts through the door, sweaty, makeup ruined, limping a bit, huge smile on her beautiful face.
There’s no one in the room except Josie, standing by the monitor.
JOSIE: “Hey…”
SUNNY (arms outstretched, looking around): “Hey. Where’s Cassie?”
JOSIE: “She’s getting ready for the next match. She replaced Jessica as Tiffany’s partner against Amy Steel and BRICKHOUSE.”
SUNNY (same pose): “What happened to Jess?”
JOSIE: “Deputy Commissioner Moreno took her to see Shauna. ‘Blonde.’ Sounds like the office is going to sign her and they want Jess to train her up a bit.”
SUNNY (arms drop to her sides): “I’m sure nothing will go wrong with that. (she points to an open locker) Melora?”
JOSIE (nodding): “She said she was going for something to eat. (she smiles) But I think she went to call her mom.”
SUNNY (shrugs): “Teresa?”
JOSIE: “She went home. Apparently, she was kidnapped by Rick the Trainer, last week — Rick also kidnapped Shauna and Chloe for The Pack, maybe you too — but Teresa beat the shit out of him and handed him over to Hollander, who fired him and had him arrested. (she nods) Chloe is with the police, giving a statement. In case you were gonna ask about her next.”
Sunny wanders past the lockers to Josie.
SUNNY: “So it’s just me and…(she points) I want to say, Joey?”
JOSIE: “Josie. Myer.”
SUNNY: “Have we ever talked before?”
JOSIE: “No. I believe the last time we were in this room together, we both got cattle-prodded by Tiana Miles. Alongside, y’know, pretty much everyone else you mentioned.”
SUNNY: “Yeah. That sucked, didn’t it?”
JOSIE (nodding, rocking back on her heels, hands in her pockets): “Yeah, sure did.”
Sunny puts her hands on her hips.
SUNNY: “So, uh, I heard you gave Hannah Hammer a hard time while I was gone.”
JOSIE: “Yeah, I mean, she beat me of course but…people said I did OK.”
Sunny points a thumb over her shoulder.
SUNNY: “I just beat her…my first…first singles win.”
JOSIE (smiling, bubbling): “I know. (she nods at the monitor) I saw.”
Sunny shifts her weight, smiling.
SUNNY: “Fuck it, can I just hug you?”
JOSIE (squealing, grinning): “Absolutely!”
They throw their arms around each other and squeeze, Josie up on her toes, their bellies pressed tight.
JOSIE: “Congratulations, I’m so happy for you.”
SUNNY: “Thank you.”
JOSIE: “Isn’t wrestling so fucking amazing?”
SUNNY (laughs): “It is. (her brow furrows) Did Mel work in a bikini tonight?”
JOSIE: “That was amazing too!”
In the arena…
Cassie Rae and Tiffany Green are already in the ring for the next match. It’s been some time since Cassie has worn her regular ring gear, but it shows her off as nicely as ever.
Tiffany, meanwhile, hasn’t wrestled in three weeks, so she is squared away. Abs and gear nice and tight, Tiffany throws some deadly shadow punches in their corner.
Some in the crowd react to the that, some react to Cassie’s ass. CCW: Something for everyone.
CASSIE: “Hey, how married are you to wrestling this match?”
TIFFANY (still shadowboxing): “What do you mean?”
CASSIE: “Well, we know we’re not gonna win, right?”
TIFFANY: “I dunno. (she smiles) I thought you might come up with something.”
CASSIE: “Well, these girls are monsters on a warpath, and they just won the tag titles, so what I came up with is one of us, probably me, gets pinned inside of two minutes and spends the rest of the night in the trainer’s room, where, apparently, people get abducted.”
TIFFANY (hands on her hips): “OK, so we’re gonna lose. Although it should be me that gets pinned, not you.”
CASSIE (smiling): “Anyone back home in Oakland know what a sweet girl you are?”
TIFFANY (smiling back): “My mother. And my first girlfriend. (back to shadowboxing) Didn’t pay to show anyone else.”
CASSIE: “Well, I appreciate how sweet you are, but I’ll keep your secret.
“Look, Jimmy’s about to announce them. You want to have some fun with this match? We’ll still lose, but neither one of us will get pinned.”
TIFFANY: “I don’t want to just walk away, Cassie. That ain’t me.”
CASSIE (fake frowning): “You think I don’t know you? No walking away. This’ll be all on me. Just follow my lead.”
TIFFANY: “What’re you gonna do?”
Jimmy Swift climbs into the ring.
CASSIE (grinning): “You’ll know it when you see it.”
The Tale of the Tape
Cassie Rae is an underneath girl with a 5-15 record. She’s 34, 5’3”, and 130lbs, with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. She wrestles barefoot in a half tee and low-rise cutoff jean shorts. Tiffany Green is 27, 5’7”, 140lbs, with black hair and brown eyes. She wrestles in a green-camo bra top, black athletic leggings with white stripes down the sides, and two-tone black & white boxing shoes. Tiffany is an underneath girl with an 1-7 record. They are the opponents for the new CCW Tag Team Champions. All-American Amy Steel, a star, enters with a record of 14-3. 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 18-4. She wrestles in a black, sleeveless bodysuit with a brick pattern down the front and red & black boots.
The ring announcer gives the new tag champs a big intro as they saunter down the aisle to Steel’s obnoxious, jingoist music. BRICKHOUSE climbs into the ring first, smirks at the underneath opponents, and crosses to her team’s corner, but the All-American monster can’t just leave it at a smirk.
STEEL: “Well, if it isn’t Trashy Rae, back in her Walmart gear. What happened, girl, (she pats her abs) bikini cramping you up? Too tight on those mama hips?”
Tiffany starts forward. Cassie lays a hand on her forearm.
CASSIE: “Ah’m just dressin’ for mah…womanly curves, Amy Steel. Ah don’t expect you know too much about that.”
Steel stares at Cassie.
STEEL: “You’re gonna end this match screaming.”
Cassie smiles as Steel walks to her corner.
TIFFANY: “Whatever you’re gonna do, it better be quick.”
Cassie gives her a wink.
Referee Randy Hickman calls for the bell.
Non-Title Match
All-American Amy Steel & BRICKHOUSE vs. Cassie Rae & Tiffany Green
BRICKHOUSE is out to start, circling, smirking.
Cassie walks up to the referee and kicks him right in the balls. Legs and feet together, eyes bulging, he falls over like the last bowling pin.
HICKMAN: “Awwwgoddammit, ring the bell, ring the bell!”
Cassie and Tiffany are disqualified at :06, giving the match to the tag champs.
Before Swift can even make the announcement, Cassie and Tiffany are out of the ring, holding hands, and skipping up the aisle with Amy Steel bellowing at them from the ring.
In an undisclosed location…
In the neat chain-hotel room we saw earlier this week on CCWUniverse.com, Shauna, barefoot in tight jeans and a blousy white tee-shirt, sits on one end of the couch, Jules sits at the other, a folder in her lap, and Jessica, in street clothes, sits on the arm behind Jules.
Shauna is grinning from ear-to-ear, her beautiful face lit up.
SHAUNA: “Omygod, Ms. Moreno, thank you so, so much. I am so excited about this, and I swear to God, I will do everything I can to make you proud of me.”
Jules and Jessica share a quick glance.
JULES: “That’s very nice to hear, Shauna, but I’m not sure I’m the one you should be-”
SHAUNA: “No, I know, I just want you guys to know, I’m going to try so hard to be a good wrestler and honor all the traditions of the sport. (she shrinks a little) I’ve been reading.”
Jules looks to Jessica, who smiles, nods.
JESSICA: “Listen, Shauna, I love the sport as much as anyone in the company, and, like you, I want to do it, and myself, proud when I wrestle.”
SHAUNA: “God, that’s so awesome. I have, like, so much respect for you.”
JESSICA: “I…thank you. Before Ms. Moreno gives you the underneath-girl contract to sign, there’s something we think it’s only fair you know.”
SHAUNA (patting the air between them): No, I totally get it. I’m gonna lose. A lot. Get my ass kicked. I talked about it with Wink…Mr. McLean when he interviewed me and I thought about it after. I’m really excited about experiencing this as me (she giggles) Or at least the me I choose.”
JULES: “Shauna, I’m going to be very blunt with you, but I want you to know it’s because I think you’re a smart young woman with a good heart and you’ve already been through a lot.”
SHAUNA (her smile wilting): “OK…”
JULES: “I don’t really care how you feel about losing matches. Once you sign this contract, you’ll be a CCW underneath girl. CCW underneath girls almost always lose. Some never win. It’ll be up to you if you ever do anything else but, I’ll warn you, Commissioner Hollander can be a cruel booker and, frankly, from a business standpoint, I’m offering you this contract because you have a look most of our audience is going love to see get humiliated in the ring.”
SHAUNA (holds Jules’ gaze): I know. I’m the dumb, blonde fat girl. The clueless college co-ed who ends up pissing herself in the ring. I know, Ms. Moreno. I literally know.”
JESSICA: “Shauna, we’re not trying to make you feel bad or discourage you. And I know from talking to you privately, you do know what you’re getting yourself into. I respect it.”
SHAUNA: “Thank you.”
JESSICA: “But Shauna, the office is looking to sign Gothica to a new contract too.”
SHAUNA (pulls her feet up onto the couch next to her): “Oh.”
JULES: “I’m sorry, sweetheart, maybe I was too blunt. Yes, we wanted you to know Gothica might be rejoining the company as an underneath girl. We didn’t want you to make this commitment without telling you that.”
SHAUNA: “No, I get it. It means a lot that you told me.”
JULES: “Of course.”
SHAUNA: “Jess, would Gothica be, like…with us?”
JESSICA: “In the locker room? Yes. But there’s lot of great girls in there right now. I can tell you I feel so supported and loved when I’m with them. But, yes, you would definitely see Gothica. And, while I’m going to guess you probably won’t have to wrestle her, you’ll get teamed with her at some point, for sure.”
JULES: “I can leave the contract here, and if you decide to sign it you c-”
SHAUNA: “No. I’ll sign it now. I want this.”
Jules and Jessica share a quick glance.
JULES: “Well, OK. (she holds up the folder) Welcome to CCW.”
In the underneath locker room…
Cassie and Tiffany head in just as Riley Slade, in her gear, is headed out. Cassie stops her with a hand on her tight little bare belly.
CASSIE: “Hey, baby. Glad I caught you.”
Cassie sends Tiffany into the room, where Sunny, Melora, and Josie await the tale of her tag-team DQ with Cassie, big smiles on their faces.
Cassie moves Riley to lean against the wall near the door.
CASSIE: “Nervous?”
RILEY: “Yeah. I mean…it’s Tiana. She beat me in my first match, and that was before all this other stuff.”
CASSIE: “Do you think you can give her a match? Make your case to win?”
RILEY (eyes rolling, lip quivering): “I really don’t want to let you down, but…”
CASSIE: “Hey. Hey. (she pulls Riley into a hug) You don’t let me down. Ever.”
RILEY (leaning back against the wall): “I just know…I don’t think I’m good enough to beat Tiana and I know that’s what you want.”
Cassie lays her hand on Riley’s stomach, rubs it in little circles.
CASSIE: “Riley, you don’t need to beat Tiana for me to love you, or think you’re a good wrestler, or that you’re a fucking incredible young woman. You’ve got all things now.”
RILEY (tearing up): “I love you too.”
CASSIE: “Listen to me, everything that’s between me and Tiana, in the past and now, is between me and Tiana. I don’t want you feeling it’s up to you to bear any of that weight. OK?”
RILEY (nodding, sniffling): “OK.”
CASSIE: (smiling all sly): “Of course, I also know there’s some fire in this belly that’s carrying so much tension right now. (she pats Riley’s stomach) Is there?”
RILEY: (little smile) Yeah. Always. But you said-”
CASSIE: “I did. Babe, seriously, no one expects you to beat Tiana. It’s OK if you lose. And if you do, I’ll stay here with you all night and we will get through it. I promise. (another sly smile) But what if I said you could win the match without beating her?”
In the commissioner’s office…
Zehra, her neck and chest covered in bite marks, sits on Hollander’s desk. He sits at it, absently playing with her foot. Zehra nods at the monitor.
ZEHRA: “What match is next?”
HOLLANDER (in a hazy, euphoric state): Next, my beautiful dancer, you’re gonna see Tiana Miles take every drop of rage she has in her and pour it all over Cassie Rae’s little pet.”
ZEHRA: “I like it when you call me beautiful. (she slides her foot up his thigh) Makes me want to wrestle for you, maybe beat Sunny Austin for you.”
The commissioner looks from Zehra’s face, to her toes, to the monitor, and back.
HOLLANDER: “I’m not sure I’ve ever been this happy.”
In the arena…
Riley Slade is already in the ring for the next match. Looking cute, sexy, and vulnerable in her basic gear. Her posture and demeanor suggest she wants to be anywhere else.
The Tale of the Tape
The youngest wrestler on the roster, Riley Slade is 19, 5’4”, 115lbs, with light brown hair and hazel eyes. An underneath girl with an 0-7 record, she wrestles in a tee-shirt knotted into a crop top, cutoff booty jean shorts, and white skippy sneakers. Tiana Miles is 24, 5’5”, 135lbs, with black hair and dark brown eyes. She wrestles in a neon purple bra top, neon purple short shorts, neon purple knee pads, and black Chuck Taylor sneakers. A star, Tiana enters at 11-7.
This is Tiana’s first match in two months. She lost decisively to Hannah Hammer before her confession to Jules Moreno led to her suspension. She has the same music she had before, but she ignores it and strides to the ring, jaw set, gaze focused. Once in the ring, Tiana stares a hole through Riley’s face as referee Clark Sierra calls for the bell.
Tiana Miles vs. Riley Slade
As much as Riley has learned new moves and improved her confidence in the ring, she is an inferior wrestler to Tiana in every way. Tiana is stronger, faster, fitter, more agile, more athletic, more technically skilled…and has a vicious killer instinct.
Reminding everyone in the arena what a wrestling machine she is, Tiana dismantles Riley in less than a minute, the young southern girl spread-eagle at her feet, eyes closed, mouth open, little belly heaving while she moans…
…and moans…
…and moans.
Riley cries out and writhes on the canvas, arms and legs twisting in serpentine agony, pain and humiliation all over her body.
RILEY: “Oh god…Tiana, please…I can’t…”
Riley convulses on the mat; arms wrapped around her bare belly.
Tiana stands, staring at her victim, mouth open, watering.
The referee looks quizzically from Riley to Tiana.
SIERRA: “Let’s go, Miles. She’s done. You gonna put her away?”
Tiana shakes her head hard, then pulls Riley up off the mat by her hair.
The helpless, defeated girl collapses against her superior, her head on Tiana’s shoulder, her hot breath heaving against the side of Tiana’s neck.
RILEY: “Tiana please…oh God…please pin me…you hurt me so bad…”
Tiana backs away from Riley, letting her crumple back to the mat. Tiana’s breath catches in her throat. She runs a hand across her cut abs, low.
The crowd buzzes, murmuring. Referee Sierra gets between Tiana and Riley.
SIERRA: “Tiana, you in there? What’re you doing? Pin this poor kid, you’ve got her beat.”
Nodding, Tiana pushes past the referee and pulls Riley to her feet again. The young girl’s head lolls back, exposing her throat and chest as she moans…harder, faster.
RILEY: “No…can’t lose like this…you’re making me…oh God, you’re gonna make me…”
Tiana slides her arm around Riley’s back and brings her mouth the powerless girl’s neck.
TIANA: “I’m here, baby, you can let g-”
Riley snares Tiana in an inside cradle, rolling her shoulders onto the mat. Tiana kicks, screams, grunts, and struggles, but Riley has just enough recovered strength to keep her wrapped up for the 1-2-3, and the referee signals the timekeeper at 3:14.
Riley releases Tiana and is halfway up the aisle in an adrenaline-fueled sprint by the time Jimmy Swift makes it official.
SWIFT: “Here is your winner…Riley Slade!”
Up on her knees, Tiana sobs with rage. Screaming, she smashes the referee with a sloppy clothesline, then rolls out of the ring and starts grabbing and clawing at anything and anyone she can find. Tiana overturns the timekeeper’s table, raging, as the rest of the CCW corps of referees surrounds her.
TIANA: “Cassieeeeeeeee!”
In the commissioner’s office…
Derringer, standing opposite the commissioner’s desk, looks from the monitor to Hollander.
DERRINGER: “Another one. That’s three underneath girls who’ve won tonight. Is that a record?”
Hollander, in his chair with Zehra on his lap, watches the referees herd Tiana Miles up the aisle.
HOLLANDER: “Feels like it has to be. And this last little girl had never won a match before in her life. (he gives Zehra his hand to play with) I think maybe it’s time to push a contract for that new star we scouted across Moreno’s desk. Sunny Austin is going to be something, soon, and we need to have control of that, but I don’t want too many of these weeds to sprout up out of that locker room.”
DERRINGER: “Well, that one we scouted would be a hell of a weed whacker.”
They chuckle. Zehra looks at Hollander quizzically.
ZEHRA: “If Sunny beats me, you will kiss her instead of me?”
HOLLANDER: “No. If Sunny beats you, I will still kiss you but listen to me (he wraps his hand around her jaw) I want to see you give everything you have to beat Sunny next week. She needs to earn her way out of that locker room.”
Zehra take his hand, kisses his palm, his wrist, then looks at him sidelong.
ZEHRA: “If I beat Sunny, will you kiss her instead of me?”
He caresses her face.
HOLLANDER: “If you beat Sunny Austin, it would make me very proud.”
Zehra, squealing and waving her feet in delight, wraps her arms around Hollander’s neck and squeezes. He hugs her back, but looks over her shoulder at Derringer, a big smirk on his face, and mouths “So easy.”
In the arena…
The crowd is still buzzing over the bizarre spectacle and explosive aftermath of the last match, but it turns anticipatory when Jimmy Swift and referee Jack Blake climb into the ring.
SWIFT: “The following contest is scheduled for one fall…and it is for the Tri-County Championship!”
The Tale of the Tape
Sizzlin’ Scarlett Jackson, the challenger, is a star with a 10-3 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. Anna Konda, the current Tri-County Champion, enters this match at 19-1. She is 32, 5’7”, 138lbs, with golden brown hair and light brown eyes. She wrestles in a snake-print bodysuit and ballet flats laced up her calves.
Swift introduces Scarlett, who makes her way to the ring with purpose but maintains her positive, upbeat persona, slapping hands and psyching herself up. Scarlett bounces into the ring, hits the second rope in the corner, and gets her glory from most of the fans. The ring lights playing and bouncing off her shiny gear.
Anna Konda walks the center of the aisle, where no one can touch her. She’s not wearing her ornate robe for this match. Instead, her title belt sits low on her swiveling hips as the beautiful Brazilian makes her way through the ropes and into the ring.
As Scarlett continues to bounce and hype-up in her corner, Konda stands still, stoic, her breathing deep and steady from her belly. Her bodysuit hugs her curves perfectly. Konda whips her golden-brown hair over one shoulder and smirks across the ring.
KONDA: “You look ready.”
SCARLETT (bouncing, smiling): You wouldn’t want it any other way.”
Referee Blake calls for the bell.
Tri-County Championship Match
Anna Konda [c] vs. Sizzlin’ Scarlett Jackson
This is a war.
The last time these wrestlers met for this title, Konda put Scarlett out with her signature sleeperhold while The Pack interfered with the show’s TV feed. This time, having fought through Teresa Salazar to get another shot at the Tri-County title, Scarlett is sharper, faster, more determined, more aggressive.
So, when Anna Konda wraps her up in the sleeper at the 1:23 mark, Scarlett has more than enough left, mentally and physically, to make it to the ropes and force a break from the referee.
Neither wrestler attempts a pin or a finish for the next 20 minutes.
Instead, holds are established and countered, strikes are scored and blocked. Twice, the action spills to the outside and both wrestlers must scramble back into the ring to beat the referee’s 10-count. Scarlett’s high flying is countered and neutralized by Konda’s submission ground game at every turn. But Scarlett’s speed keeps her from being down or still long enough to get caught in the one of the submission assassin’s limb-twisting traps.
By the 30:00-mark, champion and challenger are winded, but no less set on winning the match and proving herself superior.
At 32:23, Konda and Scarlett rebound off opposite ropes, and both attempt a crossbody block. Their midsections collide and both wrestlers crash to the mat in a tangled heap. They extricate their limbs and roll to their backs near their original corners, both gasping for air.
Referee Jack Blake stands center ring and begins the 10-count that will end the match in a draw if no one gets to her feet.
1…
2…
Scarlett sits up, her abs heaving.
3…
Konda rolls to her belly and slithers to the ropes.
4…
5…
Scarlet, on her knees, paws the middle rope, then the top one, and pulls herself to her feet.
BLAKE (pointing): “She’s up!”
Konda is up too and, locking eyes, the combatants charge each other.
Scarlett winds up and goes for broke, but Konda ducks her clothesline and slaps the sleeper on Scarlett faster than a trap kills a mouse.
Scarlett, arms flailing, lurches forward, trying to make the ropes, but Konda pulls her back.
The champion looks to dig her hooks in and bring the challenger to the mat, but Scarlett leans forward, keeping Konda’s heels away from her hips.
Scarlett staggers, her knees starting to buckle, her arms starting to get heavy, her world starting to dim.
Konda, eyes wide, slips her arm deeper around Scarlett’s neck and cinches the hold on tighter.
With just enough oxygen left in her brain for the calculation, Scarlett throws her feet out toward the bottom turnbuckle, finds it, then, using the buckles like steppingstones, runs up them and uses her abs to throw her legs up and over backward toward the center of the ring.
Her opponent’s weight, and her own determination to maintain the sleeper, lands Konda flat on her back. She’s still got Scarlett in the sleeper, but now the challenger is folded over her, the toes of her basketball sneakers on the canvas.
Konda catches the referee dropping down out of the corner of her eye and it hits her: Her shoulders are down. She tries to release the sleeper, but Scarlett is now holding the champion’s arms in place, rather than trying to wrench them from around her neck.
Konda: “No! Nooooo!”
The beautiful Brazilian pounds her feet into the canvas, but it’s too late. The referee completes the three-count and calls for the bell at 34:43.
Scarlett lets go of Konda’s arms and flops over onto her side as the referee retrieves the title belt from the corner.
SWIFT: “Here is your winner…and the new Tri-County Champion…Sizzlin’ Scarrrrlett Jackson!”
The win gives Scarlett her first CCW title and moves her to 11-3. Anna Konda loses for only the second time, but it’s a big one. She’s now 19-2.
Referee Blake wraps the belt around Scarlett’s waist as she stands, fists pressed to her forehead, crying and smiling.
On the mat, Anna Konda sits up, knees up, feet flat, and watches.
The referee raises Scarlett’s hand, then she jumps to the second rope in the corner and shares her victory with an appreciative crowd.
Konda slides out of the ring and heads up the aisle as Scarlett drops back to the canvas and signals for a mic, which the timekeeper tosses her.
SCARLETT (near breathless): “Oh my god…I just want to say…thank y’all so much for supporting me and cheering me on. That means everything.”
The crowd showers her with another wave of love and support.
SCARLETT: “One other thing I want to say. I would not have been in a place to get my ass in gear and really go for this title, if it wasn’t for a match I had two months ago with one hell of a wrestler. So, Sunny Austin, I don’t care what locker room you dress in. (she holds up the belt) You get the first shot!”
In the underneath locker room…
At the little, cracked monitor, Cassie, Melora, Riley, Tiffany, and Josie all stare at Sunny, who stares at the screen.
SUNNY: “Holy shit.”
Fade Out
