As Quinn retreated to the confines of the dressing room
to get cleaned up and changed, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Whether it was my fiftieth match or my five
thousandth match, I’m pretty sure those few seconds between matches will always
feel like an eternity. But the ring crew
needed time to clean things up from the previous match. And if you’re working for a company with a
decent budget, they would usually rotate referees. Your smaller companies, you might be lucky if
they had two refs on hand, but the bigger indies liked to make sure no ref
worked multiple matches in a row as much as possible. They liked to be able to keep fresh eyes on
the action…
… well, as fresh as a ref’s eyes ever are.
Was that out loud?
No?
Good.
Through the low lights of the makeshift backstage, I
could see the sound guy press a button on his control panel, and then I heard
the optimistic strains and horns that preceded Brendan Urie’s vocals…
“Had to have high, high hopes for a living,
Shooting for the stars when I couldn’t make a killing,
Didn’t have a dime but I always had a vision,
Always had high, high hopes
Had to have high, high hopes for a living,
Didn’t know how but I always had a feeling,
I was gonna be that one in a million,
Always had high, high hopes”
Right on “Mama said,” I pushed open the curtain with both
hands and burst through them, shooting forward a couple of strides before pulling
back and taking in the scene. I can tell
some in the crowd were looking for context clues, trying to figure out how they
should react beyond the respectful applause that always greeted an unfamiliar
competitor. But I was enough of a local
girl that a few people recognized me, and they welcomed me warmly. The rest of the crowd picked up on that
quickly enough, and joined in.
I nodded, smiling in appreciation before I started down
the short walkway toward the ring, zig zagging from the left-hand railing to
the right in an effort not to miss any of the hands offered my way. Thankfully, once you’re at ringside, there’s
only one side to deal with, and I made my way along the railing continuing to
accept the support of the crowd. It was
Good Girl 101, sure, but I liked to do everything I could to make sure the fans
understood just how much I valued that support.
And I especially made it a point to stop for as long as I
could with any younger fan along the way, well aware that in, say, fifteen years’
time, with any luck they might be making the flustered introductions to me
backstage that I was making to Tamara Thomas a couple of hours ago.
Turning to the ring, I bounded up the steps, pausing long
enough to wipe the soles of my boot on the apron before slipping through the
ropes. I went to the corner just to my
left… I don’t know why, but I’ve always felt that was my
corner. No matter the building or the
ring, THAT corner was mine. And I
climbed onto the middle rope. After a
quick fist pump, I shouted to the crowd, “READY TO BE AMAZED?!?!”
They made sure to let me know they were.
Still smiling, I tapped a hand to my heart, then
fashioned both hands into a heart symbol before jumping down to the
canvas. Turning toward the corner, I
started to stretch and limber up as “High Hopes” began to fade…
Remember when I said your entrance music was more for the
audience than it was for you? Well,
sometimes the primary audience you intend for your entrance is an audience of
one: your opponent. And that was clearly
who Genesis had in mind with her choice, as the upbeat melody of Panic! at the
Disco was replaced by the discordant, ominous beats and harsh flow of Rico
Nasty’s “Smack a Bitch.”
Genesis stepped through the curtains right at the start
of the first verse, and there was no feeling out process with the crowd for
her. No, they reacted to her with the
venom you would expect for a woman who had made a career of leaving their
chosen favorites bruised and broken.
Sobbing and humiliated.
And conquered.
But there WAS one difference tonight. A difference noted by what could be seen in
the record books, and more importantly, denoted by what the crowd didn’t
see slung over Santiago’s shoulder. And
considering that this was the crowd’s first opportunity to see her since that
change had happened, once that initial burst of hostility from the audience
settled down, the jeers were replaced by a chant…
“WHERE’S YOUR
TI-TLE?”
*clap* *clap*
*clapclapclap*
“WHERE’S YOUR
TI-TLE?”
*clap* *clap*
*clapclapclap*
I had two choices.
Option One, I could let the smirk that wanted to form come out, and egg
the crowd on in their derision, in hopes of getting Genesis angrier than she
already was coming into this match. In
this business, anger is often a double-edged sword. It certainly can be a benefit
to you in the ring, but there’s a fine line between being able to channel that
fury effectively and that anger making you sloppy and more prone to making
mistakes.
And I’m not too proud to admit my chances tonight get
better and better the more mistakes Genesis might make.
Option Two was to just play it cool and not engage, and
hopefully keep this match as professional (as opposed to personal) as humanly
possible. Look, I was under no
illusions: I knew Genesis would make this personal at some
point. It’s just a question of when, and
to what extent.
Both options had positives. Both had drawbacks. But as Genesis climbed the steps, I elected
to stay in my lane and let the crowd have its fun, unbothered be me.
I’ll say this for Genesis: whatever she was feeling as
the fans taunted and teased her over the loss of her championship, she still
moved with the cold elegance of a clinical assassin as she slipped into the
ring. Her face did not betray any hint
of anger or annoyance, and that lack of response only encouraged the crowd to
try to goad her further.
But… I was close enough to see what they couldn’t: the
intense fury flickering in her hazel eyes.
Matt Weston stepped toward the center of the ring,
raising his microphone. “Your following
contest tonight is scheduled for one fall…”
Y’know, I’m not exactly sure when this became a thing,
but Matt was ready, extending the mic away from his face and overhead as the
crowd bellowed, “ONE FALL!”
Completely unphased and without missing a beat, he
continued, “… with a 15-minute time limit.
Your referee, Dalton Short.”
Dalton was almost the definition of “non-descript”: he
wasn’t tall, but you couldn’t say he was short, either. He wasn’t exactly skinny, but stocky also
felt like something of an overstatement.
His features were somewhat youthful, but there was definitely some grey
starting to inject its way into his close-cut hair and neatly trimmed beard.
Matt kept the introductions going. “Introducing first, hailing from Mishawaka,
Indiana…”
Matt was a true pro, and he hit that with the perfect
“give her the hometown welcome” note.
And sure enough, the hundred and thirty or so people (we had a few late
arrivals) erupted into a rousing ovation.
I grinned, trying not to blush as I tapped my heart a couple more times.
Weston let them settle down before resuming. “Weighing in at one hundred and twenty-two
pounds, she is… ‘Mazin’… Mags… McMillan!”
Matt made sure to give each part of the moniker its own
beat.
I stepped out of the corner, beaming, spinning a full 360
as I blew kisses to the crowd.
“And her opponent,” Matt said as I went back to my corner. “Hailing from El Segundo, California and
weighing in at one hundred and thirty-two pounds, she is… Genesis… Santiago!”
The crowd burst into a new round of jeers of boos, but
Genesis barely acknowledged any of it as she stepped forward, and pointedly
locked her gaze on me.
Let’s cut to the chase: sure, Genesis Santiago was a
ruthless, cold-blooded bitch. But she
was a gorgeous ruthless, cold-blooded bitch. Her full, dirty blonde hair spilled well down
her shoulders, descended as far as what I would guess was a 34C chest. (No, my 32B ass wasn’t jealous. Shut up!)
Her lips were full, her cheekbones flawless, those hazel eyes as well as
her bronzed skin betraying a mixed Polynesian heritage. While I had no doubt that the girl could rock
the fuck out of a two-piece ensemble, she instead went with a one piece. Might be a bit cliché for a bad girl to dress
in black, but it worked on her. Plus,
she accentuated the black with three sets of colored stripes that arose from between
her legs running north. The first two
stripes were royal blue and extended more or less in a straight vertical to her
bust, merging into the trim of her neckline.
The second set of stripes, mirroring to the left and right of the blues,
were purple, and veered a little more at an angle, terminating just beneath her
arms. The final set was pink, and
traveled at an even more severe angle, concluding just above her hips. Two straps matching those stripes
crisscrossed over her bosom, purple over pink, but did little to block the view
of her cleavage. She didn’t use elbow
pads (seriously, I’ll NEVER understand that) and there was pretty much no
separation between her black knee pads and black boots. But plenty of thicc, bronzed thigh was
on display.
I don’t think her preference for a one piece had anything
to do with any insecurities. Trust me,
bitch had NOTHING to be insecure about. (Look, yes, I tend to lean more toward guys…
but if I didn’t know this chick and she wanted to buy me a drink, I’d hear her
out.) If I had to play armchair
wrestling psychoanalyst, I’d say it was equal parts the result of liking an Old
School ethos, and also denying the fans any more of a look at her than she
wanted them to have.
After all, bad girls gotta give the fans reasons to hate
‘em, don’t they?
Matt Weston left the ring, and Dalton Short called for
the bell. I stepped away from my corner,
raising my hands above my head as I started to circle toward Genesis. I might not be the cheerleader that Rowan and
Kendall were, but let’s face it, sometimes being a cheerleader IS part of the
good girl’s job. So, I started clapping,
establishing a tempo for the crowd to match, before leaving it entirely to
them.
Genesis just scoffed at me, a look of near total
disinterest on her face as she moved away from her corner, casually moving to
keep herself in front of me as paths drew us closer…
… and closer…
.. until we eventually tied up. We jockeyed for control for a few seconds,
but it wasn’t very long before I could feel myself giving ground, forced into a
backpedal, until I could feel the turnbuckles pressing into my back.
“Let her go, Genesis,” Dalton ordered. And apparently, he was aware enough of my
opponent’s reputation that he didn’t wait for Santiago to decide whether or not
she was gonna comply before he started counting. At four, she relinquished the lock up,
stepping back with her hands raised…
A clean break.
Wonder how many more of those I can expect tonight?
Now Genesis allowed herself a small, bitter smirk. But it didn’t last long, not when someone in
the crowd (the same person who got the “Where’s your title?” chant going? Who knows.) started another chant…
“MAG-GIE’S GONNA
KILL YOU!
MAG-GIE’S GONNA
KILL YOU!”
I’m gonna be honest, part of me wonders whether there
might be someone in the crowd that wants ME dead. I mean, look, it’s absolutely a fan’s right
to voice their sentiments. Within
reason. But THEY weren’t
the ones who were gonna have to deal with the consequences.
And yeah, the extent to which they were poking the bear
was starting to make me nervous.
Again, Santiago’s face morphed into that dispassionate
mask. All the while, that flame still
flickered in her eyes, as she beckoned me out of the corner with a flex of her
finger.
She still hadn’t deigned to speak a word to me. Guess I haven’t earned that yet.
Deciding to give her a taste of her own medicine, I only
answer with a nod before joining her mid-ring and locking up again.
It wasn’t some crazy, suicidal
approach. She’s NOT that
much bigger than me. There was NO reason
for me to think I couldn’t hold my own in a collar and elbow and find a way to
gain control. But, once again, Genesis
started forcing me backward in short order.
Again, I found my back pushed up against the buckles.
“Break, Genesis,” Dalton ordered once more, and again
didn’t hesitate in starting his count.
And once again, Santiago broke at four, beginning to
raise her hands in a show of innocence as she stepped back…
But then, her right hand swung forward, BLASTING my cheek
with a resounding open hand slap that left my ears ringing.
Again, Genesis wordlessly smirked, her eyes daring me to
do something.
So, I did something.
I shot out of the corner, rushing toward her.
Remember when I said anger in wrestling was a double-edged
sword? You don’t think I
forgot that, did you? No doubt Genesis
was expecting this dumb rookie she was sharing the ring with to let her temper
get the better of her. But that wasn’t
me. And as Genesis tensed to accept out
third lock up, I ducked and slipped behind her, wheeling around quickly to
nuzzle in and apply a tight waistlock. Since
she was already off balance and heading that way anyway, it didn’t take much
effort for my churning legs to drive Santiago toward the ropes. I heard her let out a small grunt as her
belly and boobs hit the ropes, and keeping my waistlock intact, I dropped to a
seat, pulling Genesis down with me, stacking her up on her shoulders as I came
out the other side seated atop her powerful thighs.
Bitch clearly fancies herself Old School. She oughta appreciate an old school O’Connor
Roll then, shouldn’t she?
Dalton slid into position, slapping the mat one time
before a powerful thrust of Santiago’s hips propelled me off her and broke up
the pin. Regaining my balance quickly, I
wheeled around just in time to lock eyes with Genesis as the dirty blonde
reached one knee, the veteran glaring at me as I curled a finger and called her
forward.
Genesis didn’t even give the pretense of taking the
bait. Calmly, with the regalness of an
uncrowned champion, she pushed back to her feet and approach. Once more, the two of us tied up, and…
Dammit, HOW is she doing this???
Say it with me.
Once more, Genesis drove me into retreat. Only this time, she backed me into the ropes,
bodying into me as she took my wrist.
And finally, the bitch spoke, her voice barely above a whisper as she
muttered, “You’ve got attitude. We’ll
see if you beg with it.”
She sent me sprinting across the ring with an Irish whip,
and when I was sent hurtling back toward her, she rushed me, one arm raised to
take my head off with a clothesline. And
it might have, if she’d made contact, but I ducked underneath. I shot back off the opposite ropes as Genesis
was righting herself and turning around, and I leapt toward her, parting my
legs to straddle her broad hips, reining forearms to her face as I rode the
dirty blonde down to the mat with a Thesz Press.
The crowd was whooping and cheering, absolutely LOVING
seeing this young, hometown upstart giving the former 3M World champion
everything she can handle. And AS
the young, hometown upstart, I gotta say, this didn’t suck. But I wasn’t gonna win this match with a
Thesz Press, so I climbed off Genesis and dragged her up to her feet. And now I tried to send Santiago off with an
Irish whip, but I could feel her digging in her heels before she even started
the reversal. My mind was already trying
to formulate the right counter coming off the ropes whe…
“WHHHOOOOOUUUUUGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!”
Genesis didn’t send me into the ropes.
Oh, she reversed the whip, alright. But she reeled me right back in, pulling me
into an absolutely savage kneelift to my belly that instantly liquified my
legs. Coughing and gasping, I had no
choice but to sink to me knees. I was
even grateful when Genesis let go of my arm, allowing me to use it to hug my
gulping belly as my other hand dropped in front of me, to steady myself against
the mat.
Of course, this wasn’t a kindness on Santiago’s
part. There’s no such thing as kindness
coming from Genesis Santiago. She let my
arm go for one reason, and one reason only:
She needed both of her hands free to dig her nails in at
my shoulderblades, and slowly draaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaag them down my
back.
I cried out in pain, trying to arch my spine away from
her talons as I rose up on my knees and crawled toward the safety of the ropes. Or at least, that was the plan. As soon as I reached the ropes, Santiago brought
her hands to my shoulders and pushed down, forcing my throat down across the
middle rope. My hands grip the rope,
trying to push up against the bigger girl, but her leverage was too good.
At least I’ve got Dalton.
Again, his four count forced Genesis to relent. But she made no display of innocence this
time, instead reaching to grip the middle rope and, with a tug, sent me
tumbling back toward the center of the ring.
“Hoosiers, huh?” Santiago shouted at the crowd. “More like Hoothefuckisthisbitch!”
The crowd erupted into a fresh round of invective, and
Genesis injected a fresh amount of sass into her hip swish as she approached
me. I was sprawled on my back, a hand
rubbing at my throat, my blonde hair spilled out around my head.
Genesis stepped on my hair, and it didn’t take a rocket surgeon
to know what she was gonna do next. She
grabbed my wrists and yanked up on my arms, lifting me off the mat, at least as
far as my trapped locks would let me rise.
But when they stopped, she didn’t.
My feet drummed the mat as I howled in pain, my scalp on fire, no doubt
a couple of my roots giving up the fight.
But not enough to let Genesis yank me all the way up.
Another four count forced Santiago to let go, relief
flooding my body as I slumped back to the mat.
But, just to repeat: there’s no such thing as kindness in the ring
against Genesis Santiago. No sooner had
my back landed, Santiago jumped up, sliding her boots over my eyes before
stomping down.
I let out a shriek as her soles scuffed my eyes, blinding
me. I shot up to a seat on the mat, my
eyes blinking rapidly trying to clear the field of color swirls against a
blinding white backdrop. I could feel Santiago’s
hand plunge into my hair as she started pulling me up. She began to speak, but even in my blinded
state, I could tell she wasn’t speaking to me, but past
me, to the crowd. “Even if they hadn’t
told me where this bitch was from,” Genesis spat, “I’d know she was one of
you. She’s NOT a wrestler. She’s just the best this place could manage:
a cheap whore.”
I could feel Genesis spin me around and double me over,
her arms wrapping around my waist. Still
gasping for breath, I tried to formulate a plan as she hoisted me into the
air. But look, countering moves isn’t as
easy as we often make it look. And
countering blind is especially difficult.
Not impossible, but difficult.
And especially difficult as Genesis kept me held upside down, the
combination of blindness and the blood rushing to my head mingling to kept me
further disoriented. Eventually, though,
Genesis swung me back down, my journey coming to an end when Santiago arranged
another brutal rendezvous between her knee and my belly.
By some minor miracle, Santiago’s gutwrench gutbuster didn’t
expel my lunch from the confines of my stomach. I’m not entirely sure how. It wasn’t a minor miracle that
kept the impact of the gutbuster from launching me off her knee and sending me
flopping to the mat. But that one I
could understand, as I felt her forearm pressing down against the small of my back,
holding me in place. I could only cough
and sputter, the wind knocked out of me, leaving me with barely enough strength
to kick my feet in the air.
Knowing she had as much time to toy with me as she
wanted, I could feel Genesis giving my upturned butt a possessive caress. “This girl’s only contribution to this
business isn’t kicking ass,” Santiago hissed,
contemptuously. “It’s showing
her ass.”
I could feel her fingers slip inside the waistband of my
bottoms, but I was powerless to stop her as she slowly peeled them down,
exposing the black G-string underneath.
Not to mention my tawny buns.
“Let’s give them all they care about, shall we?”
Without another word, Genesis went to town administering
swat after swat to my wriggling ass. The
more and more swats the landed, the harder it was to bite back the tears
welling in my eyes. But God dammit, I
managed to. Keeping my other
cheeks from flushing, on the other hand, was a futile battle. Look, I can admit there are circumstances
under which I could be enjoying this predicament. But in front of a hundred and thirty odd
strangers? And with a woman who had no
regard for my wellbeing as she did it?
Not one of them.
Don’t kink shame me.
Contrary to her taunt, though, the majority of the crowd didn’t
seem to want this. They booed her. The shouted insults at her. Most of them, anyway. But there are always some, in every
crowd. They may only be a handful, but
they exist. The ones who definitely
don’t mind it whenever the bad girls decide they wanna take some liberties.
And try as you might, you can ALWAYS hear
them.
“What the hell, Genesis?” Dalton scolded her. “You know how Kathy feels about…”
“I didn’t see Kathy in the back,” Santiago snapped back
at him. “Did you? And since I don’t know a single rule this is
breaking, kindly shut the fuck up!”
Finally, Genesis sent me spilling off her knee with a
shove, and my hands quickly moved to start pulling my bottoms back into their
correct alignment, unable to keep from wincing as the spandex fell across my
enflamed skin.
In this moment, I understood why Nikki had become so
emotional at the mention of Genesis last night.
Santiago took advantage of that preoccupation to pull me
up and stuff my head under her left arm, brushing my left arm away from my
briefs to nudge it up over her neck. Her
right hand found its own grip on my waistband, and she gave an unnecessary
boost to my efforts, some of the baby blue material sliding up into my crevice
as she yanked up and lifted me off my feet.
For a moment, it seemed like she was gonna deliver a
vertical suplex, but instead she brought me plummeting forward, until my
stomach landed across the top rope. As I
dangled in the air, folded over the rope, Genesis gave my ass another
possessive pat before she turned and raced toward the far ropes. Unlike me, Genesis wasn’t particularly known
as a high flyer. But she had enough
agility to rush back toward me and deliver a dropkick to my back, which sent me
tumbling off the rope and crashing to the mat below.
I was left sprawled and moaning softly as Genesis picked
herself off the mat. And the crowd
unleashed with another wave of boos and whistles as the former World champ
arrogantly placed a foot on my chest.
Dalton Short slapped the mat once.
And I slammed a hand into her ankle, pushing that boot
off me, breaking up the quote unquote cover.
Santiago grabbed another handful of my hair, yanking me
to my feet and dragging me into the nearest corner. Keeping that grip on my hair, she slammed my
face into the top turnbuckle three times in rapid succession, then turned my
back to buckles and pushed me in. She
pivoted toward the ropes, raising a leg and pressing the sole of her boot
against my windpipe. My hands rose up,
grasping at her ankle, trying to push her foot away as my feet kicked
frantically.
Only Dalton’s count spared me. As she pulled her foot away, I began to sag
against the buckles. Genesis sped the
process along, using a couple of kicks to my stomach to put me on my ass. She then retreated across the ring, only to
pull an abrupt one eighty and start charging toward me. Santiago leapt into the air, swiveling again,
delivering a harsh hip attack that sandwiched my skull between the middle
buckle and her rump.
The impact sent her bouncing back toward center ring and
sent me melting into a heap in the corner.
“You’re not the only one with an ass, girl,” Genesis muttered, grabbing
my ankles and dragging me away from the ropes.
“But unlike you, that’s not ALL I’ve got.”
Santiago dropped down beside me, propping herself up on
her left elbow as she reclined across me, her right hand absently brushing
through her hair as Dalton slapped the mat once…
Twice…
I kicked out. Not
as emphatically as I would have liked.
But forcefully enough.
Genesis sat up, shaking her head. Mockingly.
“You really are a stupid bitch, aren’t you?” she sighed, picking herself
up. “I’m not usually this merciful.”
She pulled me off the mat, pushing me back into the
corner.
“So far, I’ve just embarrassed you.”
She bodied in, making a point of pressing her chest into
mine as she took my hand.
“Just wait until I start hurting you.”
With that, Genesis rocketed me across the ring with an
Irish whip. Now, sometimes, wrestling is
the art of damage control. I wasn’t able
to stop Santiago from launching me toward the opposite corner. And I knew I didn’t have enough wind in my sails
to try to jump onto the middle rope and springboard myself back toward
her. Not to mention I didn’t hear her
footsteps following me. With that in
mind, my two options were to try to whirl myself around, so that my back took
the impact with the buckles or run straight into them and take the collision
with my belly and bosom.
And my belly’s been through enough tonight.
So, I wheeled myself around. I hit the turnbuckles with enough force that
I took a small, faltering step forward before slumping backwards, letting out a
small grunt as my arms spilled over the top rope.
And that’s when I heard the footsteps. Genesis was charging toward me, her long,
luscious legs carrying her across the ring with considerable speed. I didn’t really have the time to consider
what she was planning. I only had the
time to grip the top rope and swing my feet up into the air.
Santiago rushed chest first into my boots. The crowd celebrated as the former champion
turned and staggered away, her arms crossing over her suddenly throbbing rack. I knew I’d only bought myself a short
reprieve, so it’s no shock when Genesis turned and started charging toward me
again. So again, I kicked my feet
up. Only this time, I swung my legs to
my right, sweeping them through the gap between the middle and top rope and
leaving the corner empty when Genesis arrived.
While I balanced myself, seated on the middle rope, she managed to get
her hands in front of her to prevent a truly awful impact with the buckles. Threading my right arm through Santiago’s
thicc thighs, I let go of the top rope with my left arm and dropped down,
rolling Genesis up in a schoolgirl pin.
And despite having been dominated for much of the match,
I suddenly found myself three seconds from victory! Allowing themselves to believe, the crowd
shot to their feet, shouting along with each slap of the mat from Dalton Short.
“ONE!”
“TWO!”
The crowd let out a collective groan as Genesis bucked
out of the ball she had been folded into.
I tumbled away from her, falling to all fours, but this brush with
victory had me suddenly recharged. Ready
to get back on the attack, I scrambled to my feet…
… and right into a WICKED clothesline from
a charging Genesis Santiago. My feet
flew out from underneath me, my body flipping through the air before I crashed
and burned, landing sprawled in a face down heap.
Fueled by rage over coming so close to having another ‘L’
hung on her, Genesis marched over to me and hauled me up. Lining me up with the corner that she’d first
launched me out of, the dirty blonde sent me off with another whip, this one
delivered so forcefully that she went down to one knee. I almost didn’t have a choice in the matter
this time, but I still managed to turn into the impact.
But this time, I struck the buckles with enough force
that I had to take a couple of shuddering steps away from the corner before I
fell to my knees, pitching forward and stretching a hand to soothe the throbbing
small of my back.
Santiago strode over to me with purpose. Dragging me up, she shoved my head under her
arm, grabbed my waistband, and muscled me up with a sharp snap suplex. She had barely landed on the mat before she
was back on her feet, once again pulling me up with a handful of my hair. She spun me away from her, locked her arms
around my waist, bridged back and ripped me off my feet with an emphatic German
suplex.
This right here?
This was rage, properly channeled.
Properly controlled. No wasted
efforts. No sloppiness.
I was in some serious trouble.
“How DARE you think you belong in MY
ring?” Genesis spat in my face as she dragged me up once more. Figuratively, thankfully. Turning me away from her, she pulled my arms
behind my back before threading hers underneath them. Then, with a harsh grunt, she hoisted me off
my feet, lifting me up in an elevated double chickenwing.
“You’re NOTHING, bitch!”
If I was nothing… why were my shoulder sockets in such excruciating
agony.
“SAY IT!” Genesis demanded.
I groaned, my feet trying to find her hips, in an effort
to ease some of the strain on my shoulders.
“YOU…”
I moaned, screwing my eyes shut against the agony.
“ARE…”
I choked back a sob.
“NOTHING!”
I shook my head.
I’d NEVER give her THAT satisfaction.
Finally, Santiago’s shoulder sockets started to balk at
the strain of holding up my weight. So,
she tossed me aside. But before she
could even think of pressing her advantage, Dalton stepped between her and
me. “Get a hold of yourself, Genesis,”
he told her.
It was about as polite a way of saying “wrap this up” as
he could, with me in earshot. Even if I
was too preoccupied with my own aches and anguishes to take offense.
Santiago just brushed past him. Not forcefully enough to earn herself a
disqualification, but enough to let him know she was unmoved. “Bitch knew what she signed up for,” the
ex-champ muttered, pulling me up. She
sent me off with another whip, this time toward the ropes. Once I was back within range, she scooped me
up. If I had to wager a guess, she was
probably intending to deliver a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker…
… only as she swung my legs upward, I managed to snake
them around her neck. And in her moment
of surprise, I was able to wrench my body free of her grasp. I threw myself under her left arm, across her
back, securing her right arm in my grasp.
And suddenly, the invincible Genesis Santiago found
herself locked in a headscissor octopus!
It took the crowd a heartbeat to realize what had
happened, but the more I cranked on Santiago’s right arm, the louder they
cheered. Just a moment ago, Dalton Short
had been tactfully asking Genesis to put me out of my misery. And now, he was asking her if she wanted to
submit.
She told him no.
In less than family friendly terms.
Genesis was a long way from the ropes, though. And the ropes seemed an even more far away
concern when the dirty blonde slowly sunk to one knee. The crowd roared louder, summoning a new
chant as I kept trying to crank up the pressure on her ensnared arm.
“TAP! TAP!
TAP!”
As much as she might not want to, tapping felt like an
inevitability… or at least it did, before Genesis started pushing herself up
from one knee. Frantically, I redoubled
my efforts working her arm. It was hard
not to believe that this was my last, best chance. That I was finished, if she managed to fight
her way out of this.
But damn, this bitch was strong. Her legs never quivered as she fought her way
back to her feet. Wrapping her free arm
around the small of my back, she positioned me just so and dropped down,
transforming my headscissor octopus into a modified sidewalk slam.
The impact of my back with the canvas broke my scissors instantly
and left me sprawled and spasming as Genesis gathered herself. Climbing back to her feet, she pulled me up,
locked my head under her left arm, and hoisted me aloft. There she kept me, suspended upside down, for
the space of a handful of seconds. Then she
laid out, dropping me right on the crown of my skull with a brainbuster.
Instinct told me to roll over to my stomach. So, she couldn’t pin me. And there I remained, both hands cradling my neck,
moaning softly. Of course, it didn’t really
stop Genesis from pinning me. All she
had to do was roll me over… only she didn’t.
I didn’t really realize this until later, but as I laid helpless on the
mat, she simply rested on one knee, watching with satisfaction as I tried to
push myself up to my hands and knees…
… and smirking when my arms and legs gave out.
Rising, she came to me, pulling me up to my knees. My head hung bowed as she took my arms,
holding them out in front of me by the wrists.
Then, roughly she pulled my arms toward her… and savagely thrust her
knee forward, driving it into my face.
She called this the Forbidden Fruit, and as I tasted it,
it probably meant my expulsion from the Paradise of 3M.
I was all but out as my back his the mat. My eyes might have been closed, but I wasn’t completely
unconscious. I could feel Genesis still holding my left
wrist, at least for a moment. But then,
she let my arm fall limp. I could feel
the tremor of the mat, first as she dropped down beside me, and then as Dalton
joined us to count the one…
Two…
But no three?
No three.
I kicked out…
Only I didn’t.
I couldn’t.
I didn’t have the strength.
And the crowd… booed?
Why would they be booing, if I kicked out?
“What the hell, Genesis?” Dalton admonished her.
She’d pulled me up.
She wasn’t done with me.
Not yet.
“Gotta make sure the bitch doesn’t come out of this
thinking she deserves another chance,” Genesis hissed, pulling me up and once
stuffing my head under her left arm. She
muscled me up, delivering a swift vertical suplex. But then she rolled through, climbing back to
her feet with me once again in toe, my left arm still flopped over her neck,
and my head still trapped under her left arm.
She hit a second vertical suplex, then rolled through it
again. No matter who used this, it was
always known as the same thing: the Three Amigos. And as she got me up onto trembling legs, I
knew what was coming…
… and I knew it was now, or never.
I hooked her leg, blocking the last of the suplex. But it wasn’t enough, just to block. My legs barely had the strength left to keep
me up. So, I stopped fighting what they
wanted to do, and I fell to the mat, pulling Genesis down with me. “You are fucking kidding me,” she snarled as
I rolled her into a small package, pouring every ounce of strength left in my
spent, exhausted body to cinch down on it.
The crowd shot to their feet one more time, perhaps praying that the
louder they counted along, the tighter I could hold the package.
“ONE!”
“No,” Genesis spat, determined, writhing my grasp.
“TWO!”
“Nooooo,” Genesis hissed again, still writhing. Only this time, I could hear something else
in her voice, besides determination:
Desperation.
“THREE!”
The moment I heard the bell sound, I let go of the small
package, and a burst of adrenaline gave me the strength to roll out of the
ring. I didn’t feel my feet hit the
floor, or even my back hit the railing.
No, the first thing I felt were the hands of fans as they slapped my
shoulder and back along the guardrail.
Then I felt Dalton Short raise my arm.
I couldn’t see Matt Weston, but I heard his voice over
the speakers. “Ladies and gentlemen,
your winner… via pinfall… ‘Mazin’… Mags… McMillan!”
Dalton lowered my arm over her shoulder, allowing me to
slump against him. I was utterly spent.
I’d gone till I collapsed.
Fortunately for me, Genesis was stunned into
paralysis. She remained on her knees in
the ring, staring ahead in wide eyed incredulity.
“Come on, Mags,” Dalton whispered to me, helping me
towards the curtain, clearly not willing to see how long that paralysis would
last. As we got through the curtains, he
passed me over to Quinn (who was now in her civvies) and Nikki. Nikki’s match was in the on-deck spot: not
the very next one on, but the one after, so she was in her ring gear of a white
blouse, black tie and plaid miniskirt over red bottoms, with white pads and
boots, her dark hair pulled into pigtails.
“Oh my God, Mags,” Nikki gushed. “You actually fucking DID it!”
Together, they quickly ushered me back into our dressing
room. Quinn stayed at my side, but Nikki
stayed in the hall, so Nicoma and Jaz came over to help me. Since she was wrestling a Street Fight in the
semi-main event against her archrival, “the Hardcore Angel” Angel Ramirez,
Jazmin was in something of a cross between ring gear and civvies, decked out in
tight denim blue jeans a short sleeved white tee, tied off below her bust,
black knee pads over those jeans, as well as black pads on her elbows.
“Never doubted you, babe,” Quinn said softly, pulling me
into a gentle hug, mindful not to squeeze me too tight in my current
condition. She then let Jaz lead me over
to the bench, where my bag was resting on the floor.
“You really ARE amazing,” Jazmin assured
me. “You know that, right?”
I nodded, dumbly, my still-clouded brain struggling to
process everything. Did that really just
happen? Did I really just
pin the woman who, up until two months ago was the invincible scourge of this
company???
And, perhaps more importantly… what was gonna happen for
me, now that I could say I had beaten Genesis fucking Santiago?
