Tasha Jackson vs Sista A - A Storm Is Brewing

Standard Match Ownership Match
Victory by Submission or Pinfall making the opponent state "You own me"


This was a big day for Tasha Jackson. She was about to have her debut match in AFW. And she was thrilled.

Having lost her hometown wrestling federation a while ago, the Southern Twister had been left without a home. A home where she could wrestle her heart out against tough opponents, showing off her power and skills in the ring. A home where she could engage in her passion.

Luckily, this Japanese wrestling organization, AFW, had some diligent and effective recruiters. Tasha had been soon approached by them, and suggested the prospect of travelling to Japan to fight against ladies from all corners of the globe. Of course she had accepted the offer!

Tasha Jackson - The Southern Twister:

Backstage, Tasha was as ready as she could ever be. She only knew her opponents name, Sista A, well, if that even was a name at all. Frankly, it just sounded daft. And potentially, an easy win. Granted, she had absolutely no justifiable expectations of her opponent. She could turn out to be absolutely anyone. But Tasha had a good feeling about this, and that was all that mattered.

As Ida Corr's Ride My Tempo blasted through the AFW arena, Tasha grabbed along her signature item, a bottle of sweet tea, and started cheerfully and energetically running towards the ring. Stopping by it to take a sip from the sweet tea, she then jumped up into the ring and all the way onto the turnbuckle to greet the audience with her other hand raised high up with the index finger pointing at the roof. Her other hand still holding the bottle of sweet tea, she then took a couple of sips from it again while repositioning to repeat her greeting on the opposite turnbuckle.

Returning to the center of the ring, the newcomer was promptly given a microphone. With a smile wide as ever, she then addressed the crowds.

"Heeey theeere AFW!!! I'm Tasha...Tasha Jackson! The Southern Twister! And I'm glaaad to see y'all!!" Taking in the cheering of the crowds, the Alabaman was feeling confident. And great.

"It's great to be fighting here...really! I was told that my opponent tonight is quite famous...Sista A? I guess...." she started with a more serious tone. "Well, I'm sorry Sista, But I haven't heard of ya..." she then ended bursting to laughter in the process. The laughter wasn't exactly mean, but served decently as a light smack talk. "Anyway, as I know that all you guys are here to see some action, I ain't gonna ramble any longer... I'll just say that Sista, you've just been issued a Tornado Warning!"

Sista A, as it so happened, had been hanging out around the gorilla position, watching Tasha’s pre-match promo. After it was done, she had a single, solitary thought, and she wasn’t afraid of voicing it to Anesthesia, the only other person in the vicinity.

”I am gonna kill that bitch.”

Sista A could not remember the last time she’d gone from calm - by her standards - to incredibly fucking pissed off. When she’d been told she was up against Tasha, she was initially a bit happy.  There were few ladies of color in the AFW, and the chance to wrestle with another, and someone who grew up a state over from her home? She could’ve been down for that.

But then the bitch had to go and make a joke out of it. Had to pretend like she didn’t know her name. She was Sista A, Aisha, world-famous. Sold out concerts, platinum records, Grammies on the shelf. And this bitch wanted to act like she didn’t know the name?

No. No. Fuck that.

Anesthesia just watched as Sista A paced back and forth, leaning on the wall with that know-it-all smirk of hers. ”Really dear,” She ran a few fingers over her chest, caressing herself like she was keen to do, some times. ”Far be it from me to be your better Angelo, but I would say you’re overreacting.”

”Overreacting?” She took a step towards Anesthesia, raised up on, but the woman remained unfazed. As usual. ”Bitch comes into my damn house, talks shit, and thinks she’s gonna walk out easy? Fuck. That. I’m beating that fake-ass weave out of her hair.”

Anesthesia chuckled at that, a little laugh. More of a giggle, really. ”That’s one option certainly.” She leaned forward and licked her lips. ”Allow me to suggest a more interesting one.”

A couple of minutes later, Sista A and Anesthesia came strolling out, getting even more hate than usual since they’d made the crowd wait. As her music blared out and gave the undeserving crowd a sample of her talent, she made slid inside the ring and popped to her feet, taking a moment to look over her challenger.

Fit. Cute.  Pretty girl. Reminded Sista A of herself when she was that age, which made her want o pumemel the bitch that much more.

”Well, look at you, Ms. Queen Shit.” She folded her arms and struttered around the edge of the ring, trying to take Tasha in from all sides. ”You really think you’re ready to take on the big leagues, baby girl? ‘Cause if you do, we can spice this up. I got the perfect match to just how wrong you are.”

There was a pause. A long one. Usually people weren't too keen on heeding tornado warnings, but maybe this Sista A was from a different breed after all. Maybe she was sensible, and realized the newcomer would be too much for her to handle. Just maybe. But finally, a song erupted through the arena, marking the arrival of her so-called-famous opponent.

And OK. Tasha might have heard this song before. Back in the days, yeah, sure. Maybe it had been a trendy tune at some point. It was a bit familiar, but honestly, Tasha couldn't tell which year, and which "artist".

Based on the crowd's reaction, it had certainly won some awards though. But those had to be Razzies, not Grammies.

But were there two people walking out towards the ring? Was her eyes seeing correctly?

That didn't probably matter, as Tasha could eventually see only one girl sliding into the ring. And she could tell that girl had set her sights on her.

For a moment the two fighters only looked at each other, and Tasha had to admit there was something familiar about her opponent. Maybe she had seen her before. Most probably she had. But would she be revealing that? No way.

And based on how Sista was speaking, there was going to be no love between them. Obviously, it was best to keep up with the sassy attitude. And while Sista was apparently a bit taller, surely she would be nothing that Tasha couldn't handle.

"Oh, I'm the queen now? Already? Really? Well I guess you'll be my sweet little princess then and tell me about your little spices... Come on, don't be shy! Whatever you're gonna suggest, I'll be taking ya on!

Oh, and beat yo ass too!"

”Good Lord,” Anesthesia muttered to herself from the sidelines. ”They even sound alike.”

A casual observation from Anesthesia, but not an inaccurate one. Tasha and Sista A were cut from similar clothes, it seemed, the same Southern twang underneath their voices, the same bold swagger, the same braggadocious voice. To her eyes, it truly seemed like an older model meeting her younger, fresher counterpart. Sista A would never admit such a thing to anyone, but the Dark Nightingale wagered that was main thing ticking her off.

For her part, Sista A kept herself controlled, even as the mouthy bitch kept running her trap. It was so tempting to just march over there and start taking the screws to her, but she held back for now. Anesthesia had a plan, a good plan, and if they stuck to it,  it would pay dividends.

So far, Tasha was taking the bait. No small surprise.

”Yeah, all right.” She stopped and looked between Tasha and the referee, who was confused enough for the both of them ”Let’s make this an Ownership Match.”  She tapped her chin, thinking for a moment, before she realized that would need some explanation. Ownership matches were fairly rare in the AFW, and it was unlikely Tasha would know about them. Hell, to be fair, the only reason Sista A knew was because Anesthesia told her about them a few minutes ago.

’The winner gets to manage the loser. They fight the matches they pick, go where they want, train when they want - instead of being a bitch, you’ll be my bitch. Got it?” She snapped her fingers, as an added idea occurred to her. ”And tell you what? Just to make it even more fun. Winner has to make the loser admit it. First to say ‘You Own Me’ loses.”

Somewhere in the middle of all this, Sista A’s lips had taken on a cruel twist. Anesthesia approved.

Sista A was being a prick. So, there was no reason Tasha couldn't have been. Well, she probably wasn't as good at it, but attitude was paramount. And if she played it well enough, maybe she could lure the artist girl into some reckless attacks.

Well, that didn't happen. Instead, Sista started calmly explaining her idea.

"An ownership match? What's that?"

Tasha's reaction was somewhere in between curious, confused and, well, pricky.

But what she then heard was definitely something to think about. On the other hand it sounded exciting - but also inherently dangerous. It could potentially be a lot of fun, and accepting such terms would portray her as a very brave debutant. And all she had to do was just to never say the three words, right? But also, it was Sista A who was suggesting those stipulations, and she was probably confident enough in her own capabilities as well, making this somewhat high-risk possibility.

Then again, Tasha had just said she'd be taking on any suggestion. So basically, there was no other way out of this one.

"Now that's some strange rules you've got there Sista... But don't worry! I'm sweet enough to accept them... And I'll also be sweet enough to listen when you'll be begging to become my property!"

Putting on a brave face was the only viable choice. The Alabaman then approached her opponent, extending her hand when reaching her.

"So, we've got a deal? No hard feelings then okay, princess?"

Hook, line, sinker. Fucking dumbass.

To be fair, if the positions were reversed, Sista A would’ve gone for the ploy just have hard, if not harder. She and Tasha were cut from the same cloth, made from the same mold, and when someone stepped to you and made the challenge, you didn’t back down...even if you knew backing down was a really good idea.

So there was no question on whether or not Tasha would accept the challenge. She would. The only open  issue was how she’d accept. And, wouldn’t you know, she did so in the worst way.

Sista A needed a great deal of control to restrain herself from bursting out laughing when Tasha came over and extended her hand, clearly not knowing exactly who she was dealing with. The audience tried to warn her, but by the time their cries reached the ring, Sista A was already smiling and accepting the shake.

”That’s ‘queen’ to you, bitch.”

That was the only warning she gave before she tightened her grip, threw her body forward, and slammed their skulls together with a vicious headbutt.

Could someone just come into a wrestling promotion, lay down their own terms and accept only challenges along those lines? Tasha didn't really think so. It was, obviously, the newcomers who had to play by the rules of the promotion, rules of the veterans there, and it was their own job to become successful then. And Tasha was ready to work her way to the top. Even if it meant some strange stipulations set by her opponents.

She was game enough for it. And what could be a better way to prove that than a hand shake.

"Ha, well-...AAGH!"

Yeah, Tasha clearly hadn't seen that one coming. Covering her forehead with her hands, she turned immediately away from her foe, stumbling a few steps forwards in the aftershocks of the headbutt.

This Sista A was turning out to be, quite literally, a head ache.

But was the Southern Twister going to be dieing down in the face of such sneaky moves? No way. She was going to show this prick that those kind of cheap tricks wouldn't be getting her far.

After a moment of recovery, Tasha then turned towards Sista A. And suddenly, the newcomer would start rushing towards her, hoping to down her evil foe with a quick Clothesline!

God, Sista A loved the look in Tasha’s face after they cracked skulls. The surprise. The shock. The utter look of WTF. Granted, her own vison was a little blurry from the impact, so she couldn't make out too much, but what she could see was satisfying enough. ”Yeah, bitch!” She straightened up and shook her head, getting the cobwebs clear. ”That’s what your dumbass gets, think you can just come up in her and-”

Her diatribe was cut short when Tasha came at her with a stiff clothesline, moving faster and fiercer than she’d expected. She was expecting retaliation, just not so damn soon, and the sheer alacrity was enough to take her off guard

The blow dropped her flat on the canvas and knocked the wind out of her, hitting with an impressive energy. Sista A was no weakling, but it was clear right away who had the strength edge between them. Tasha hit like a truck. A tea-drinking truck.

Determined and undeterred, Sista A rolled to her feet and made a momentary retreat. Momentary.

Sometimes newcomers were treated in a special way. To give them a nice welcome, make sure they liked being there, you know.

No such luck for Tasha. She had obviously been put against an annoying bitch.

Well, that only meant she had to fight a little harder. No problem with that. And as Sista A was already being such prick, it was easy for Tasha to want to tear her apart as soon as possible. Despite the pain in her head, the Alabaman was all too eager to down her with a Clothesline.

Honestly, its success was a bit of a miracle. Tasha still had slight difficulties with seeing straight, but she could see straight enough to aim at Sista A. She got a sweet revenge right away, and her arrogant foe got a good reminder not to underestimate the newcomer.

"What's wrong, princess? Can't outrun the storm?"

Sista A was clearly attempting to do that though, as she was already making a retreat. Tasha considered that to be a smart move, because there was more coming at her.

Closing in again on her opponent, the rookie wasn't about to give the veteran any break. Instead, she decided to try taking hold of Sista A's arm, and twisting it behind her back. If that worked out, Tasha could then try aiming a punch at the pop idol's belly from behind her, hoping to knock some more wind out of her.

Sista A was going to beat Tasha’s ass. She was going to kick her up the ramp, then roll her back down, then kick her back up again for the hell of it. She was going to stomp her so hard in the corner that an imprint of her heels would forever be left in that thick skull of hers. She was going to pull that hair of hers until it came out at the goddamn roots.

All fine, good thoughts. Making them come to fruition, however, was more than a little tricky.

Tasha wasn’t as dumb as her silly outfit suggested. She gave Sista damn near zero time to recover, getting on her before she could make a full retreat back and snagging her in the hammerlock before she knew what was happening. ”Get the fuck-”

Her protests were cut short by a strong blow into her gut from behind, knocking the wind out of her. It would’ve brought the Harlem Nightmare to her knees if the hold wasn’t supporting her, and it left her sagging and gasping. Not the best start.

From the ringside, though, Anesthesia looked on and smiled, not showing any worry. What a promising prospect...