Carnival Cavalcade Wrestling
CCW Chaos, episode #14: Dawn of The New Era
In the arena…
With the entire roster, all in ring gear, surrounding the ring, Interim Commissioner Jules Moreno — flanked by senior referee Jack Blake and Special Assistant to the Interim Commissioner Sarah Lawrence — stands in the center, microphone in hand.
Ring announcer Jimmy Swift, Wink McLean, and the rest of the CCW corps of referees are lined up near the timekeeper’s table.
SWIFT: “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the interim commissioner of Carnival Cavalcade Wrestling, Jules Moreno!”
Most of the crowd cheers, though the boos of those old-school, hardliner fans of the old administration, and The Way Things Used to Be, can be heard on the fringes.
JULES: “Thank you very much, Jimmy. Welcome to the first show of a new era in CCW! The old regime was swept away last week, and I want you all to look forward to what’s to come. There will be some changes, but what will not change is the intense competition of professional wrestling in the best traditions of the sport. Indeed, tonight, the CCW champion, Betty Magnum, will take on the cunning Outlaw Annie Hook in a steel cage match!”
Big cheers for that. Jules shares a smile with Sarah.
JULES: “In the coming weeks, you’ll also see the Tri-County champion, Sizzlin’ Scarlett Jackson, and our tag-team champs, All-American Amy Steel & BRICKHOUSE, in action against new contenders. And speaking of new, I plan to institute a bit of a talent initiative, so expect to see some new stars…and some new underneath girls in this ring in the coming weeks.”
More cheers. Jules nods along.
JULES: “Finally, one word other about talent. I mentioned the underneath girls as part of the new talent initiative and that is because, especially over the last year, we have seen a lot of talent emerge from the underneath locker room. These young women sign with this company knowing their challenges will be enormous, and, this year, several of them have shown the heart and skill to not just compete with our stars but win some matches against them too.”
Some cheers for that, with the old-schoolers strengthening their boos.
JULES: “I hear some of you may not like that. But the fact is these are not the prop victims of a bygone era, they are professional wrestlers, and I intend to start giving them the opportunities they deserve…if they can earn them. And that includes against each other.”
Bigger cheers for that, and a groundswell Sun-ny Aus-tin chant breaks out.
JULES: “I hear that chant. I hear it. Don’t worry, we’ve noticed her, too.”
Cheers and the chant grow as Jules finds Sunny at ringside and favors her with a smile and nod. Blushing, Sunny gives the crowd a wave as Cassie Rae, laughing, slides an arm around Sunny’s waist and rubs her stomach.
JULES: “We have four matches for you tonight, including our big championship match. So, what do you say we end this speech and go to work? Zehra, Teresa Salazar, you’re up first. Everyone else, let’s clear the ring and start the show!”
Outside the commissioner’s office…
Hortense Nepperhan sits at her little desk outside the empty office, reading a magazine. The phone rings. She picks it up without putting the magazine down.
NEPPERHAN: “Carnival Cavalcade Wrestling. I’m sorry, he’s no longer with the company. Oh, Mr. Axelrod? Yes, Mr. Hollander called two weeks ago. You’re just getting back now? Mmm, aren’t we all. Well, as I said, he’s no longer…yes, I have a forwarding number. Just a moment.”
In the arena…
Teresa Salazar and Zehra are in the ring for the opening match.
The Tale of the Tape
Teresa Salazar is an underneath girl with an 4-7 record. She is 44, 5’8”, 135lbs, with brown hair and brown eyes. She’s wrestling in a new backless, blood-red singlet, cut high over her hips, to go with her black knee pads, and black boots with a blood-red flame pattern embroidered in them. 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 0-9.
As Jimmy Swift gives them their underneath-girl intros — which, with Hollander gone, aren’t quite as drab — Teresa bends and stretches in her corner. She looks completely calm, at ease, beautiful, showing the crowd how good 44 can look in a company of 20-somethings. Her announcement draws some whistles and calls from the crowd mixed in with the boos. She smiles, gaze on the mat.
Across the ring, Zehra is in full wild-woman mode. She paces, drops into an occasional crouch, sneering at Teresa. Her hair unkempt, her eyes fiery, this isn’t sexy, sensual Zehra so much as it is feral, determined Zehra.
Referee Roger Clayton calls for the bell.
Teresa Salazar vs. Zehra
This is Teresa’s 12th match in CCW. She’s lost seven of first 11. In most of those defeats, her opponents have gotten through her skill and cunning and found her weak spot; a midsection ravaged by a sloppy C section and the 20 years of age since. But Zehra isn’t Amy Steel or Hannah Hammer, and her punch, kick, and scratch offense isn’t anything Teresa can’t handle. Keeping her distance and picking her spots, Teresa frustrates and tires the aggressive Turk out.
By 2:53, Zehra is winded, flat-footed, and compliant. Teresa shoots her into the ropes and catches her on the rebound with a hard sidewalk slam. Zehra moans and writhes, a hand on her back as she struggles to roll away. Teresa grabs Zehra’s legs by the ankles, flips her onto her back, locks her into a sharpshooter, and turns her over.
Teresa angles herself to look into the hard camera as the referee drops down next to Zehra, who’s screaming in pain.
CLAYTON: “What do say, Zehra? You want to give it up?”
Shaking her head, clawing the mat, the sexy Turk screams her defiance, refusing to quit.
Teresa smiles.
Making sure she has Zehra’s legs wrapped up tight, Teresa rocks way back, torquing Zehra’s back at a sharp angle. Crying out, waving her arms, her toes curled, Zehra doesn’t wait for the referee.
ZEHRA: “Submit! Submit! I submit!”
The referee calls for the bell at 3:35. Teresa, still smiling, glares into the camera as Zehra screams.
TERESA: “You hear her, Sunny? I’ll make you scream too. Stay out of my way.”
The decisive clean win makes two such victories for Teresa in a row. She improves to 5-7. For Zehra, another match leads to another defeat. She falls to 0-10.
The referee warns Teresa away from Zehra, who stays down on her belly, holding her back, feet pounding the mat. Teresa gets her hand raised and soaks up her mixed reaction while the referee helps the dispatched Zehra roll out under the bottom rope.
At the Sideshow Stage…
Wink McLean stands at eye level with The Iron Maiden, who’s already steaming, in front of the CCW backdrop.
MCLEAN: “Iron Maiden, you requested this time. What’s on your mind?”
MAIDEN: “Last week, this show started with Anna Konda saying she’s on the hunt for the CCW Championship. Well, I’ve been the CCW Champion, Anna Konda hasn’t. And all this company has done since Betty Magnum won that title is feed me underneath girls to destroy. And that was when The Pack wasn’t cattle prodding me, or doing some other bullshit the commissioner refused to stop.
“I’ve had my fill of underneath girls. Beating them means nothing. And since that pervy joke is out of the commissioner’s office, I’ll give Jules Moreno one chance to do the right thing. Make me the number one contender for the CCW championship, and not the Brazilian bimbo I buried the last time we wrestled.
“If you don’t, Jules Moreno, I might not think your ass is worth protecting next time.”
In the interim commissioner’s office…
Jules, at her desk, Sarah, standing alongside it, and bald, broad, mustachioed Duke Derringer, standing opposite it, watch the monitor, where The Iron Maiden glares at Wink McLean, then leaves the shot.
JULES: “Well, I thought I might make it through my first show without being threatened, but…”
SARAH: “She has a point; Commissioner Hollander had her in a holding pattern after Betty won the championship.”
JULES: “I’m not going to be bullied, Sarah.”
SARAH: “I’m just saying… (smiles) we have two big stars who want to be number one contender for our top title.”
Derringer smiles.
DERRINGER: “This young lady is a quick thinker, Ms. Moreno. I like it.”
JULES: “You’re just happy I re-hired you as security chief.”
DERRINGER: “I’m happy you kept your word, yes.”
JULES: “I’m happy you kept yours. Your testimony before the board of directors was key.”
DERRINGER: “Hollis was going too far, too often. Anyway, sounds to me like y’all have some matchmaking to discuss. I’ll get back to work. Ma’am. (nods at Jules) Miss. (nods at Sarah)”
He leaves, pulling the door closed behind him.
JULES: “Ma’am? I don’t want to be a ma’am.”
SARAH: “Well, you are older…”
JULES (glaring): “Go tell the crew to move Hortense Nepperhan’s desk over here. Let her be ma’am…”
In the underneath locker room…
Cassie Rae and Sunny Austin — the former in street clothes, the latter barefoot in her omnipresent bikini — talk, giggle, smile, and pet each other in the corner with the little metal chair in it.
Jessica Kelly and Melora O’Brien, both in ring gear, spar on the dirty mat near the far wall. Holds, reversals, escapes; both girls are grunting, sweating, talking through sequences, both their faces red.
Josie Myer, in her sweatpants and flip-flops with an “Eagles Gymnastics” sweatshirt on top, sits on the long bench away from the lockers, watching Jessica and Melora wrestle.
Gothica, in gear, taps her on the shoulder.
GOTHICA: “Hey…”
JOSIE: “Oh, hey.”
GOTHICA: “Can I talk to you for a second? In the hallway?”
Josie follows Gothica out the door, where crew members toting this here and that there are passing through.
GOTHICA: “Well, I guess, first, hey, I’m Gothica.”
JOSIE (giggles): “Josie.”
They shake.
GOTHICA: “Sorry that was weird, I should’ve introduced myself when I first got back.”
JOSIE: “I knew who you were. And I was glad to see you come back after that interview.”
GOTHICA: “Oh god, thank you. And I have like…so much fucking respect for you. The way you compete. And just…your mindset.”
JOSIE: “Thanks, though I wouldn’t mind winning a match at some point. Also, I suck at taking complements, so…”
GOTHICA: “Me too, thankfully I’m a total fuckup. Anyway, I’m wrestling Sunny tonight.”
JOSIE: “I saw.”
GOTHICA: “Did you see what Teresa said after she beat Zehra?”
JOSIE: “Yeah.”
GOTHICA: “You’ve been talking to Teresa lately. Do know if she’s trying for a Tri-County title shot?”
JOSIE: “You should really ask her, but I mean…judging by her actions, which include pinning me in, like, two seconds last week…”
GOTHICA: “Do you think, if I beat Sunny tonight, the office might consider me for that title shot?”
JOSIE: “Maybe, but you don’t need me to tell you that. (tilts her head) What are you actually asking?”
GOTHICA (arms folded, gaze wandering the floor between them): “I’m just…really fucked in the head right now. Sorry, I shouldn’t have bothered you.”
JOSIE: “Hey… (blocks Gothica’s path back to the locker room) You can talk to me.”
GOTHICA: “Babe, I would, but I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I was so excited to get this third chance here, and, fuck, please believe me, I’m so grateful to get it. And I know I’m an underneath girl, I know what that means. But I feel like… (looks Josie in the eye) less than that? Like…”
JOSIE: “…like you’re not allowed to want beat Sunny, let alone want the Tri-County title?”
GOTHICA (wide-eyed, her body unclenchs): Yes. Christ. Cassie told me I have to give myself permission to win.”
JOSIE: “She’s right.”
GOTHICA: “Yeah, but how? It’s like…I’m not even there yet. Who the fuck am I to want a championship? Or, yeah, to think I can beat Sunny?”
Josie folds her arms, leans against the wall.
JOSIE: “You know Sunny still has a losing record, right? By a lot.”
GOTHICA: “I’m 0-16, dude.”
JOSIE: “Yeah, and I’m 0-8. Would you say I’m not allowed to want a title? Or to beat Sunny?”
GOTHICA (shaking her head): “Sunny is an awesome girl.”
JOSIE: “And awesome wrestler. But…?”
GOTHICA (meeting Josie’s gaze): “But beating her would feel so amazing.”
JOSIE: “Fuck yeah, it would.”
GOTHICA (shaking her head): “I want to win a match so bad. You have no idea…well, no, I guess you do.”
JOSIE: “Gothica, I don’t know everything you’ve been through, but I know it’s a lot. And the parts I don’t know, I can feel. But I also felt it when you said all you’ve ever wanted is to be a pro wrestler. (lays a hand on her own heart) That’s all I want now, too.”
GOTHICA (tearing up): “God, babe, I can’t beat Sunny. I don’t even know how I’d go about trying. What am I gonna do?”
JOSIE: “I’m gonna shoot you straight. Right now, no, you probably can’t beat Sunny. But you’re also not in the head space to beat anyone, and I doubt you ever have been.”
GOTHICA: “Great. So, I’m just fucked.”
JOSIE: “You are if you think you are.”
GOTHICA (grabbing her head, back to the wall): “I wanted this so bad. But being here, I feel lost. Again. Why did I think it would be different? Why did I think I could be different? (lets her arms drop to her sides, shakes her head at Josie) I’m so sorry. I’m such a mess. (slides down the wall into a crouch, head in her hands) So embarrassing.”
Josie considers Gothica with a tilted head and a puckered lower lip, then crouches next to her.
JOSIE: “So, I’m gonna say something that might be bullshit. Because what do I know? But, maybe, when you’re out there tonight, you just make sure Sunny has to beat you.”
GOTHICA: “What?”
JOSIE: “You can’t beat Sunny, not like this. So, when you’re in the ring tonight, make her beat you. Put all your effort into lasting as long as you can. If Sunny wants this win, you make her work her ass off to get it. Make that your goal. Take all the pressure off trying to win. (shrugs) Maybe it’ll reset your brain.”
Gothica looks over, teary, but not crying.
GOTHICA: “So I…plan to lose?”
JOSIE: “No, you accept that you’re gonna lose, but that doesn’t matter because winning isn’t your goal.”
GOTHICA: “So I wrestle…to not lose.”
JOSIE (nodding, smiling): “Teresa beat Zehra in like three minutes tonight. Had her screaming. Last week, she pinned me with some fucking high-school move in less than two minutes. (makes sure she has Gothica’s eye) What if it took Sunny 10 minutes to beat you?”
GOTHICA: “So, tonight, it’s just about…lasting.”
JOSIE: “Yes. We break it down to the most basic of basics. Tonight, keep the match going. That’s all you have to do.”
GOTHICA: “Fuck. I think I can do that.”
JOSIE (smiling, nodding, eyes ablaze): “I think you can too.”
In the arena…
Riley Slade and Shauna Carson are already in the ring for the next match. The rural girl next door, and curvy, voluptuous vixen.
Victims.
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 1-9 record, she wrestles in a tee-shirt knotted into a crop top, cutoff booty jean shorts, and white Skippy sneakers. Shauna Carson is 21, 5’5”, 145lbs, with blonde hair and blue eyes. She’s an underneath girl with a record of 0-6. Shauna wrestles barefoot in a cheetah-print singlet and black knee pads. The Coal Miner’s Daughters, a star team, have matching 8-3 records. Shannon is 25, 5’8”, 150lbs, with brown hair and hazel eyes. She wrestles in gray denim overalls, a red bra top, and black work boots. Brianna is 23, 5’8”, 150lbs, with brown hair and hazel eyes. She wrestles in gray denim overalls, a blue bra top, and black work boots.
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Both underneath girls are nervous, fidgety in their corner. Riley’s arms are stiff at her sides. Shauna leans against the turnbuckle, feet stacked, arms draped over the top rope. But her beautiful face betrays her nervous fear.
The crowd largely boos the Daughters for the first time in their careers. Ignoring the fans and their music, Shannon and Brianna climb into the ring and stare at their opponents, who wither in their corner, stepping closer to each other.
Riley slides her arm around Shauna’s waist and pats her rounded belly, whispering to her. Shauna nods and steps through the ropes to the apron.
Referee Randy Hickman calls for the bell.
The Coal Miner’s Daughters vs. Riley Slade & Shauna Carson
Riley has wrestled just long enough to know she and Shauna are in this match to be destroyed, as The Daughters’ new attitude and renewed drive makes it impossible for the underneath girls to hurt them or escape them.
But still, she tries.
Riley scores a perfect dropkick on Shannon to start, then another, but the downhome girl shakes them off and she drills Riley in the face with her black work boot. Riley sprawls on the mat, reeling, and makes the tag to Shauna.
Her jaw set, her fists clenched, Shauna comes in and takes a brutal kick to the stomach from Shannon, who pulls the breathless blonde to her corner by Shauna’s long hair and tags Brianna. Shauna, winded, stomach sore, can’t resist as Brianna whips her to the ropes and lays her out with a big spinebuster on the rebound.
Desperate, Riley charges in, screaming her determination. But Shannon cuts her off and blasts Riley with a Coal Miner’s Clothesline that turns her inside out before she settles out spread-eagle on the mat.
With the crowd still buzzing over the demolition, Shannon and Brianna take a moment to survey their groaning, splattered opponents, then put a boot on each of their heaving stomachs. The referee counts Riley and Shauna down with both hands and calls for the bell at :59.
Utter demolition. The former tag champs improve to 9-3. Riley and Shauna are dealt a humiliating loss, falling to 1-10 and 0-7, respectively.
The old-schoolers’ sadistic cheers and laughter pierce through the fresh wave of boos for Shannon and Brianna as the referee raises their hands. Shannon grabs Riley’s wrists and drapes her, belly-to-belly, across Shauna. The daughters each plant a boot on Riley’s back — forcing a long moan of surrender from Shauna — and call for the timekeeper to toss them a mic while the referee tries to warn them away.
SHANNON: “You see these girls beneath our boots? They’re right where they belong. The little slutty skank with her ass up, and the bloated bimbo on the bottom. These aren’t wrestlers, they’re low-life, disposable trash. They’re what’s wrong with this company, and my sister and I are going to leave’em for the garbage man.”
Shannon flips the mic to the angry referee, then she and Brianna bear down on Riley’s back and pose while the defeated underneath girls squeal and squirm on the mat.
In the interim commissioner’s office…
Jules, at her desk, stares at the monitor, chin on her hand, Sarah standing behind her.
JULES: “Well, that was pretty harsh.”
SARAH: “Yeah, poor Riley and Shauna.”
JULES: “Shannon and Brianna have really changed.”
SARAH: “You could warn them not to do that post-match stuff. Maybe even fine them?”
JULES (swivels to face Sarah): “No. I don’t love what they just did but — and I realize you might not like hearing this — but displays like that are part of what the underneath girls are here for.”
SARAH: “No, I get it. When I was teaming with Josie she was so…clear-headed about being in that locker room. She taught me a ton about that role in just a few matches. Made me realize it’s not for me.”
JULES: “I’ll be honest, I don’t know how any of those girls do it. I never have.”
SARAH: “You and I don’t have that…thing inside that makes us have to be wrestlers. All the girls in that locker room have that, I think.”
JULES (little bit a smirk): “Did anyone ever tell you about the night Hollander tried to make me wrestle a Rodeo Queen Challenge?”
SARAH (eyes wide): “Jesus, no.”
JULES: “Yuuuup. It was months ago. I was still a broadcaster here; I had Wink’s job. I found out some stuff Hollis didn’t want anyone to know so, to punish me, he had me team with Gothica — his slave at the time — against the Cowgirls, who, of course, always hogtied their opponents to win those matches.”
SARAH: “Oh god. I’m so sorry. That must have been so scary and humiliating.”
JULES (shakes her head): “I was never in the match. Just couldn’t face it. I ran away. Hollis fired me.”
SARAH: “Wow. So only Gothica got tied?”
JULES: “She did, poor girl, but Cassie Rae took my place. Voluntarily. So, she ended up hogtied too. For me.”
SARAH (shaking her head): “Cassie is one of the strongest people I’ve ever met.”
JULES: “As much as I don’t understand the underneath girls in general, Cassie astounds me.”
In the underneath locker room…
Jessica and Josie, now in gear, spar and grapple on the mat with Jessica on top. Melora watches them from the long bench.
Teresa Salazar sits at her open locker, still in her gear. Cassie sits on the bench next to her, facing the door.
CASSIE: “Hey.”
TERESA: “Hey…”
CASSIE: “We haven’t talked in a while. I’ve been busy.”
TERESA: “I noticed.”
CASSIE: “You’ve been busy too, sometimes with hardware.”
TERESA: “I’m doing what I have to do. Even if I have to do it to your girlfriend.”
CASSIE: “You know I know that. And listen, Sunny is still pissed at you for costing her that title shot. But I know this sport — and I know you — well enough to know why that happened. I came over to tell you that because I don’t want you to feel isolated in here.”
TERESA: “I’m fine where I am.”
CASSIE: “OK. Good win tonight, by the way.”
TERESA: “Eh, that girl’s no wrestler.”
CASSIE: “Maybe not, but Zehra would be a tough opponent for some of the other girls in here, me included. You handled her easily. (smiles) And you twisted the knife on Sunny a little after the bell.”
TERESA (turns to face Cassie): “What is this, Cass? You either get me, or you don’t. And if you don’t, I don’t really give a shit. I want my shot at the Tri-County strap and, as far as I’m concerned, Sunny is in my way.”
CASSIE: “I do get you. And despite what you might like, I still respect you. I think you’re a great wrestler and, on a good night, I think you could beat Sunny. I just wonder… (she gets up) if you do beat her, and then you beat Scarlett Jackson, with knucks on your fingers, how that will feel. (she shrugs) I wonder how your son would feel about it.”
In the arena…
Sunny Austin and Gothica are both already in the ring for the next match. Sunny — beautiful, the ring lights bathing her bikinied body — stretches and bends in her corner, drawing the usual whistles and catcalls and proposals of unsavory acts.
In her corner, Gothica breathes deep, slow, and even. She shakes her hands out, then her arms. She shrugs her shoulders, rotates them, gets them warm and loose. This is her second match back, her second match post-Pack, and she has one goal in mind.
The Tale of the Tape
Underneath girl Sunny Austin is 24, 5’11”, 140lbs, with blonde hair and blue eyes. Her current record is 7-14. She wrestles barefoot in an orange-and-white bikini. Entering with an 0-16 record, Gothica is 22, 5’4”, 135lbs, with dyed black hair and green eyes. She wrestles in a backless black singlet with a shear middle section and black knee pads. On her feet are black, strappy, knee-length gladiator sandals.
Referee Jessie Motley leans into Gothica’s corner as Jimmy Swift ascends the ring steps.
MOTLEY: “Hey, you good to go?”
GOTHICA (nodding): “Yes. Definitely.”
MOTLEY: “All right, girl. Just checking. Have a good match.”
GOTHICA: “You too.”
Swift’s intro for Sunny is borderline star-level, and the crowds eats it up. Sunny, staring across the ring, shifting her weight from foot to foot, acknowledges the fans with a quick wave. Gothica’s intro is pure underneath girl. Swift’s voice is flat, the fans mostly boo the former Pack girl, though a few cheers — from young girls — sneak through.
Gothica breaks her stare-down with Sunny and glances in the direction of one of those cheers. The little cherubic face behind it lights up. Gothica smiles against her will and gives the little girl a subtle wave before, deep breath, returning her attention to Sunny.
The referee calls for the bell.
Sunny Austin vs. Gothica
Gothica doesn’t try to avoid Sunny, but she doesn’t try any offense either. Sunny keeps her distance, landing a few probing kicks, then lunges for a lockup at 1:21 and forces Gothica into the corner with the strength in her long, strong legs. She gives the referee a clean break, then circles back, waiting for Gothica to commit to an attack.
But she doesn’t.
Another lockup at 2:12. Sunny grabs a side headlock and cranks it, but Gothica slips out the back door and cinches in a hammer lock. Sunny yelps in pain, then pulls Gothica to the ropes and hooks her free arm over the top, forcing a break from the referee. Gothica, obeying Motley, releases Sunny’s arm and backs off. Sunny shoots the referee a quizzical look, then circles to square-off with her opponent anew.
The cat-and-mouse continues for a while longer but Gothica, not nearly in the shape Sunny is, tires and Sunny takes over. At 4:52, she floors Gothica with a spinning back kick, whips her to the corner, works a perfect back handspring elbow, then catches Gothica staggering out of the corner and turns her over in a tight powerslam.
Back arched, Gothica moans and writhes. Sunny lays across her chest, her thigh resting on Gothica’s stomach, and pins her far arm to the mat at the wrist.
1…
2…
Crying out, Gothica forces her shoulder up.
Sunny pulls Gothica to her feet by her long, high ponytail, shoots her into the ropes, hits the opposite ropes, and blasts Gothica with both feet of a flying dropkick in the center of the ring. Gothica spawls, then flops out on the canvas, legs flat, hands pressed to her face. Sunny snatches up Gothica’s far leg and rolls her back onto the ex-Pack girl’s chest.
1…
2…
Screaming her protest, Gothica bucks hard, popping her shoulders off the mat and knocking Sunny onto her backside.
Gothica rolls to her side, panting, but Sunny yanks her onto her back, straddles her, and pins Gothica’s wrists to mat above her head. Sunny arches her back and flips her blonde mane out of her face as the referee drops back down.
1…
2…
Her sandaled feet planted, Gothica bellows something guttural from deep inside and bridges up, getting her shoulders up a fraction before Motley’s hand slaps the mat a third time.
Sunny ends up on her hands and knees above Gothica’s head. Eyes wide, she looks at the referee.
SUNNY: “Jessie, three?”
MOTLEY (on her knees, waving it off): “No pin! She got her shoulders up, Sunny.”
Shaking her head, Sunny gets back to her feet and pulls Gothica up after her. She keeps Gothica subdued with a quick knee to the gut, then takes her over with a perfect vertical suplex. Gothica’s back crashes to the canvas and she settles out spread-eagle, stomach pumping, mouth open, eyes closed. Sunny pounces, press her palms to Gothica’s chest, and bears down.
1…
2…
Gothica wrenches her hips into a twist that pops her shoulder off the mat.
Red-faced, snarling, Sunny scoops both Gothica’s legs and cradles her, leveraging her shoulders to the mat and putting the Gothica’s black pedicure on display. Motley counts, and Gothica, screaming, uses her whole body to get a shoulder up between two and three.
Sunny pounds the mat with both fists.
SUNNY: “Goddammit!”
Panting, Gothica crawls toward the corner, drooling, desperate for distance.
GOTHICA: “No…no…”
Sunny, back on her feet, stalks her prey. She grabs Gothica’s ponytail, wrenches her backward onto the mat, and wraps her thighs around the breathless girl’s neck. Sunny locks her ankles and, feet rigid, bears down on Gothica with a head scissors at 6:03 that reddens the ex-Pack girl’s face immediately. The referee drops to her knees.
MOTLEY: “Come on, Gothica, you want to give it up? Let me know.”
GOTHICA (sputtering, drooling, clawing at Sunny’s thigh): “No…never…”
Sunny, pressing both hands to the mat, throws her head back and, screaming, arches her back, torquing Gothica’s neck, adding pressure.
MOTLEY (hands pleading): “Let me ring it, Gothica, come on! That’s enough.”
The referee lowers her ear to Gothica’s mouth.
GOTHICA: “can’t…lose…”
But her eyelids flutter, her teeth grit, and her hands and feet spasm. Gothica’s fingers relax and slip from Sunny’s thigh. The soles of her sandals slide along the mat until she’s toes up and Gothica goes limp, eyes closed, belly rising and falling in a slow, deep rhythm.
The referee springs up and calls for the bell at 7:15, then gets in Sunny’s face, hands waving.
MOTLEY: “That’s it, Sunny, she’s out. Turn her loose now.”
With a final squeeze of her muscular thighs, Sunny releases Gothica and rolls to her feet. Winded and sweaty herself, he stares down at the sleeping Gothica as the referee raises her hand, and Swift announces her the winner. Hands on her hips, Sunny stands over her defeated opponent and watches her breathe.
MOTLEY: “Come on, Sunny, she’s done. No more.”
Sunny worked for the win, improving to 8-14. Gothica remains winless. She’s 0-17.
Sunny reaches down, wipes some wayward strands of hair off the unconscious Gothica’s wet, red face, then heads up the aisle, slapping the occasional hand as the crowd cheers her on.
At the Sideshow Stage…
Wink McLean stands in front of the CCW backdrop and between The Coal Miner’s Daughters, his face twisted with consternation.
MCLEAN: “Shannon, Brianna, we heard what you had to say after you piled up your defeated opponents earlier tonight but, I have to ask, what is going on with you? What message are you sending, and to whom?”
BRIANNA: “McLean, Shannon and I come from a good family. Our daddy taught us to respect our elders, our bodies, and the good lord above.”
MCLEAN: “Those must be nice memories for you, Brianna, but what has that got to do with-”
SHANNON: “One thing our daddy didn’t teach us was to interrupt people. We had to learn that on our own. Because, when it comes to CCW, it’s not enough to be a great wrestler from a great family, like we are. No. It’s not enough to be a champion wrestler, like we are. No.”
MCLEAN: “Like you were.”
The Daughters glare the microphone of out his hand. Shannon takes it.
SHANNON: “No, in CCW, no one pays you no mind unless you’re Sunny Austin runnin’ around in your underwear. Or you’re some big freak like The Iron Maiden. What the hell is her deal anyway, Bri?”
BRIANNA: “I surely do not know.”
SHANNON: “No one pays you no mind in CCW unless you’re some amoral harlot, like Gothica. How many times is she gonna traipse through this company anyway, Bri?”
BRIANNA: “Lord help us, Shan.”
SHANNON: “Well, the lord helps those who help themselves. That’s what our daddy taught us. So, tonight, Bri I helped ourselves to those two gutter skanks they sent in there to wrestle us. Next time, we’ll help ourselves to two more. And before you know it, all these godless whores will be gone from CCW, and Brianna and I will be back on top.”
Shannon shoves the mic into McLean’s chest, and The Daughters stalk off.
McLean smooths his hair and adjusts his tuxedo jacket.
MCLEAN: “Well, my daddy taught me never to play over the water when you can lay up for birdie, but that doesn’t make me morally inferior, fans. We’ll be right back.”
In the underneath locker room…
Jessica and Melora are back at on the mat for more holds, reversals, and escapes.
Teresa watches them, arms folded, standing at the corner of the mat.
On the far end of the long bench, Zehra, still in her gear, lies on her belly, hands stacked under her forehead, an ice pack on the small of her back.
On the near end of the bench, Riley and Shauna, both still in gear, sit side-by-side, slouched. Riley has clearly been crying. Shauna's eyes are dry, but her face is red, arms wrapped around her middle.
Cassie gets up from a crouch next to them. She pulls Riley’s head and shoulder into a brief, tight hug against her chest, then checks with both girls before sidling up next to Teresa.
TERESA: “How’re they doing?”
CASSIE: “Eh, Riley’s shaken up by the post-match stuff. It got to her. Embarrassed her. I think it scared her a little, too.”
TERESA: “Did you remind her of the time Amy Steel made me submit in Spanish? Or about the first nine years of your career?”
CASSIE: “She’s 19. And she’s a good girl. She doesn’t understand The Daughters are using us to climb the card.”
TERESA: “Maybe, but I think they believe what they’re saying, too. Imagine what they must think of the cheating Latina… (she spares Cassie a glance) or the ex-fetish girl.”
CASSIE: “I have feeling I might find out before you do.”
On the dingy mat, Jessica and Melora disengage and come to their knees, both matted with sweat, Jessica breathing heavy, Melora panting.
JESSICA (running both hands through her hair): “Cass…did Sunny beat Gothica?”
CASSIE: “Yes, but Gothica did not go quietly at all. Took Sunny like eight minutes to beat her.”
MELORA: “Wow. What did Sunny use to finish her?”
CASSIE: “One of the tightest head scissors I’ve ever seen. (she smiles) And definitely the hottest.”
Jessica and Melora laugh.
JESSICA: “I’m really surprised Gothica lasted that long. I wonder what got into her.”
In the trainer’s room…
Josie, her sweatshirt and flip-flops back on, eases into the room, the door in both hands.
JOSIE: “Can I see her for a sec, Brit?”
The pretty, blonde assistant trainer, her hair in a pixie do, nods and waves Josie in.
BRIT: “I’m just finishing up.”
Josie crosses to one of the exam tables, where Gothia is lying on her back, neck supported, hands folded on her chest, sandals on the floor. She moves her eyes, not her head, toward Josie.
GOTHICA: “Hey…”
Josie lays her hand on Gothica’s arm.
JOSIE: “Hey, babe. (looks to Brit) How is she?”
BRIT: “Considering what happened to her out there, pretty good. She doesn’t have a concussion. Her vision is good. But Sunny did a number on her neck, so I want her to rest here for a while and then we’ll make sure there’s no damage there.”
JOSIE: “OK.”
BRIT: “I gave her an anti-inflammatory and a pain killer with a little juice to it, so she might be a bit… (makes a woozy face only Josie can see)”
JOSIE: “OK, awesome. Thanks, Brit.”
BRIT: “Of course.”
The assistant trainer, pulling her rubber gloves off, goes into the back room. Josie watches her go, then moves her hand to rest over Gothica’s.
JOSIE: “I am so fucking proud of you.”
GOTHICA: “How long?”
JOSIE: “Almost eight minutes.”
GOTHICA (lips twisted): “Fuck…”
JOSIE: “Hey… (squeezes Gothica’s hands) I’m not gonna let you do that. You did exactly what we talked about. Not only did you make Sunny bust her ass to beat you, she had to knock you out to do it. She couldn’t pin you. She couldn’t make you submit. (tilts her head, smiling) That’s badass, girl.”
Josie realizes her hand is on the lower swell of Gothica’s soft belly, rubbing in little circles. She pulls it away, eyes wide.
JOSIE: “Uh, I should go. (smiles at Gothica) Since you’re not concussed, it’s safe to sleep. You should nap for a bit, then, if you’re up to it, I’ll take you out, OK? I’ll tell you what happens in the cage match.”
She gives Gothica’s hands a little squeeze, then turns to go.
GOTHICA: “Hey.”
Josie turns.
JOSIE: “What’s up?”
GOTHICA: “My real name’s Aubrey. I’m sure you know. But I think I’d like it if you called me that.”
JOSIE: “I, uh, I thought only Cassie calls you Aubrey around here.”
GOTHICA: “She does. But I want you to call me Aubrey too.”
JOSIE (beaming): “Then I will. Get some rest, Aubrey. I’ll see you later.”
In the arena…
The buzz from the hype video on the CarniTron is still going when the lights come up and the steel cage is surrounding the ring. The buzz becomes cheers.
Senior referee Jack Blake enters the cage through the door, which is manned by referee Roger Clayton.
Jimmy Swift stands but stays at his chair near the timekeeper’s table.
SWIFT: “The following contest is a no-disqualification steel-cage match scheduled for one fall…and it is for the Carnival Cavalcade Wresting Championship!”
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 16-4. Outlaw Annie Hook is a star, currently 11-3. 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.
The ring announcer makes the intros once both wrestlers are in the ring. The boos for The Outlaw are loud. The cheers for Betty are louder.
Betty removes the CCW Championship belt and holds it out for the referee, but Hook runs around Blake’s back and clobbers Betty from the side. The belt goes flying, but only as far as the cage, which keeps it in the ring.
The referee calls for the bell.
Steel Cage Match for the Carnival Cavalcade Wrestling Championship
Betty Magnum [c] vs. Outlaw Annie Hook
Hook’s assault on Betty is relentless, with punches, kicks, elbows, knees, and spit raining down on the champion’s back and shoulders and stomach. The Outlaw steps back and catches Betty flush on the temple with the sole of her boot. Betty falls back, flailing, and crashes to mat.
She’s not moving.
Hook, wiping drool away with the back of her hand, drops down lays across Magnum’s chest.
1…
2…
With no force behind it at all, Betty lifts her arm off the canvas just ahead of the three-count. Blake waves it off to the timekeeper.
BLAKE: “She was up. She got the shoulder up.”
Hook grabs the CCW title, walks through the referee’s warning, and whips it hard across Betty’s back as she struggles to get up. Betty, wailing, collapses back to the mat on her stomach.
Sneering, Hook taunts the booing crowd, shoves the referee aside with one arm, and whips the wide belt’s inside across Betty’s shoulders. Betty screams, a red welt already forming across her back from the first lash.
Hook parades around the ring, holding the belt high overhead.
HOOK: “This is mine now. Y’all hear me? Mine!”
The booing crowd erupts in cheers as The Outlaw turns right into Betty’s thunderous spear from across the ring. The CCW Championship goes flying again as Betty pounces on Hook and cradles her far leg.
1…
2…
The Outlaw spasms out of the pin, landing on her side, arms wrapped around her middle. Betty bounds to her feet — yelling, hyping the crowd — then catches sight of her title lying in the corner. The crowd surges with every step Betty takes toward it. Then they scream as Hook charges in behind Betty, going for a huge ax-handle smash.
But Betty turns, belt in hand, and uses the big center plate as a shield, blocking Hook’s attack. With referee Blake begging her to stop, Betty rams the belt into The Outlaw’s gut, then smashes her over the head with it. Betty tosses the belt away, flips Hook onto her back with both arms, and lays across her chest, grinding her forearm into the side of The Outlaw’s jaw.
Hook, crying out her defiance, shoves her shoulder off the mat at two and four fifths.
Calm, breathing heavy but steady, Betty pulls Hook to her feet by the hair and looks to whip her into the corner, but The Outlaw reverses, redirects, and sends Betty headlong into the side of the cage.
“OOooooohhhhhhh!!!!” from the crowd as Betty sprawls backward to the canvas, her forehead covered in blood.
The Outlaw goes to the cage door and orders it open, but referee Roger Clayton won’t unlock it.
CLAYTON: “In the cage, Hook. Gotta win it in the cage.”
The Outlaw spits at Clayton, then tries to force the door with kicks and shaking. No dice.
Blake dashes over from checking on Betty and gets in Hook’s face.
BLAKE: “It’s pinfall or submission in the cage, Annie, he’s not opening the door until it’s over.”
The Outlaw, bellowing, shoves Blake to the mat and eats a flying forearm from bloody Betty, who collapses down on top of her. The crowd screams and pleads with the referee, who, shaking out the cobwebs, crawls to make the count.
Hook kicks out at two.
With both wrestlers and the referee down and stirring on the mat, Cowgirl Diamond runs down the aisle with two security guards in hot pursuit. Faster, smaller, more agile, Diamond dashes around to the far side of the ring, shoves the outside referee into the guards’ path and keeps going. The guards crash into Clayton at full speed and they end up in a tangled pile on the concrete.
Opposite the timekeeper’s table, Diamond fishes something from under the ring, and slides it to The Outlaw through the cage. The Cowgirl takes off back up the aisle, the guards limping after her, as Hook gets back to her feet with the object in hand.
It’s her branding iron.
The tool of intimidation and humiliation she used to press her initials into the bellies and backs of defeated opponents is high aloft. The Outlaw, in her glory, cackles as the crowd boos. She turns to Betty, who’s just getting to her feet, her back to Hook. The Outlaw cocks the branding iron like a baseball bat and swings…
…Betty gets the CCW title belt up just in time to deflect it.
Screaming, drooling, raging, Hook swings the branding iron again and again, but Betty uses the CCW tile to block and parry every attack, first holding her ground, then stepping forward, driving The Outlaw back.
Tired, drenched in sweat, murder in her eyes, Hook’s gaze narrows on the referee, finally getting back to his feet. She swings the branding iron at his head, going for broke.
BETTY: “Jaaack!”
The official ducks just in time for the metal rod to slice the air over his head.
Hook’s momentum spins her around. Betty drops the title belt, seizes The Outlaw around the waist with both arms, pops her hips, and drives Hook hard into the canvas with her belly-to-belly suplex.
The Outlaw sprawls, breathless, helpless. Grunting, desperate, she paws the canvas for the branding iron…but it’s just beyond her fingers.
Betty snares The Outlaw’s leg and rolls her back to press tight to Hook’s chest. Arms spread, palms up, nothing left, Hook closes her eyes and listens to the referee count her CCW Championship dream away in three beats. Blake calls for the bell at 7:24.
The crowd erupts as Betty rolls off The Outlaw, blood in her eyes, lying on her back next to her defeated opponent.
SWIFT: “Here is your winner and still the Carnival Cavalcade Wrestling Champion…Bettyyyy Maaaaaagnuuuuum!”
Betty retains her title and moves to 17-4. The Outlaw, soundly defeated for maybe the first time, drops to 11-4.
Hook is still splattered on the mat as the referee hands battered, bloody Betty her battered, dented belt. She raises it overhead with both hands, then wipes the blood from her face and, smiling, crying, puts her boot on Annie Hook’s heaving stomach and strikes one more pose for the appreciative, happy crowd.
In the star locker room…
The Iron Maiden and Anna Konda stand in front of the monitor, both in wide stances, both with arms folded. They watch Betty — smiling, laughing through her crimson mask — sitting on the top of the cage, holding the CCW title belt aloft for the fans, then turn to each other…
…and stare.
Fade Out
