Tasha Jackson vs Sista A - A Storm Is Brewing

Tasha was painfully aware of the crowds watching her every step. She had had a great opportunity to send Sista A flying, but she had lost it. Only because she had been too keen to bash her foe, just like the prick had started doing in the first place. All the bitch's hating had made Tasha hating too, and that had played directly into her foe's favor.

But what the rookie was unaware of, was the certain pair of eyes by the ringside carefully observing and evaluating her every step...

To be honest, there wasn't too much Tasha was aware of right now, with her face buried in her hands. Little details, such as Sista A approaching her, went unnoticed.

The Southern Twister was soon alarmed to the fact though, as the former idol's shoe dug deep into her knee. Tasha fell instantly to her knees, uncovering her face again. And what she saw was Sista A's figure right in front of her.

Perfect. Provided that an attack by her foe wasn't imminent, Tasha could try wrapping her arms behind Sista A's legs, and lift her up for a Double leg flapjack.

People always criticized Sista A for fighting in high heels, but that was because they couldn’t see the sense in it. To her, it was like bringing a weapon into the ring that she was allowed to use, and she was so accustomed to wrestling in the shoes that they never really bothered her. They were perfect for kicking and stomping, especially when you had good accuracy. Enough to send the sharp tip right into some unsuspecting bitch’s knee, for instance.

And it was so satisfying. Sending Tasha down. Putting her on the floor. Reveling in the moment, as the crowd booed louder and louder.

”Yeah, that’s right, bitch.” Sista A took a proud step forward, moving in for the kill. ”On your knees, where you fucking-”

Before Sista A could finish her taunt, those powerful arms reached out, wrapped around her leg, and took her for a involuntary ride. All she could do was flail about as Tasha lifted her high into the air, then brought her down hard, flat on her chest, leaving her to splat on the canvas.

Sista A might have loved her high heels. True enough, they had just given her a moment of reign by sending the rookie on her knees. But karma was a bitch. And that bitch was about to take this bitch down.

The high heels were surely not helping Sista A at all anymore, as Tasha started wrapping her arms behind her legs. But even with the balance provided by an alternative shoeing option, there was going to be no other direction for Sista A than up.

And then down. Trash talk might have backfired Tasha just moments ago, but the prick was dumb enough to fall for the same mistake. Not a surprise, really.

Based on the crowd's reaction though, the power behind Tasha's move was a surprise. Granted, the Alabaman knew it must have looked awesome. But it was also a sign that Tasha was finally getting to showcase her strength, and Sista A should be afraid of that. Very afraid.

It was a quick roll around, and Tasha could find herself on Sista A's back. The prick was perfectly positioned for a Camel Clutch. And Camel Clutch was the perfect position to finally rub it all in to the prick's face. Safe.

"So ya think you're so tough, huh? Think you're the queen? My lil' princess, you're going down...you're going down! Come on! Tap, princess, tap!"

Lucky. That was all it was. Sista A had let her guard down for a second, gotten to into the moment, and she wound up getting distracted. Not big deal. Shit happened.

Yes, Tasha’s crazy strength was starting to became a worry, but Sista A wouldn’t let it trouble her too much. She was a Rose. The Harlem Nightmare. The No. 1 Dancing Diva. There was no way some nappy bitch was going to get the better of her in the long run, right? Experience was all on her side.

Those thoughts were encouraging as Sista A rose, an encouragement that worked like a charm, all the way up to the moment where Tasha sat down on her back and started to pull her head upwards. After that, not so much.

”Get your fat ass off-” Her curse was cut short when Tasha yanked her neck back, secured her arms, and pulled her into the wrestling classic known as the camel clutch. Painful. Secure. Strong. Sista A kicked and squirmed and cursed as best she could, but there was little that she could do when Tasha locked this move in. It was either tap, wait for her to get tired, or wait for her to get bored. None of those options seemed all that likely.

Sista A did have an idea on how to escape, though. She just needed a few moments to hash the details out, and she spent that time furtively looking about.

Yass. This was right. This was good. This was ultimate control. This was how Tasha was finally going to teach the prick a lesson. Even if Sista A wasn't going to tap, she had to go through something much more important. She had to listen to what Tasha had to say.

"Fat ass, huh? This is wrestling, princess! Fat ass helps! I know how I've been tryna make mine... It's fat so I can wreck pricks like you!"

Tasha could let that sink in for a moment, while applying some more pressure on the camel clutch.

"You know what? It'll be so good to own you! Really! You think you're some great idol, come on! I'm gonna teach you some manners, princess! I'm gonna teach you some humility, and respect!"

Now that sounded good. Even Tasha was proud of herself.

But yeah. First she had to actually make Sista A admit that she owned her. And clearly, the camel clutch wasn't going to do it. Surely her words alone could have made Sista A snap already out of frustration, if that was to happen.

Then again, Tasha could still rub it all in for a moment with the audience as well.

"So, is this prick really some idol for you guys? Is she someone you admire and respect?!?"

It didn't really matter if anyone could hear her. Tasha was clearly the crowd favorite by now, and her point was being made to the Harlem Nightmare in any case.

At ringside, Anesthesia had a long, aggravated sigh at this display. While she loathed the idea that Sista A - her associate, her enforcer, her attack dog - was having trouble in the ring, there was no getting around the dominant display before her. The advantage of youth was no small one. Perhaps there was a time when the Harlem Nightmare would’ve had less trouble against such an opponent, but now? She seemed a tad outclassed. Slower, perhaps. Weaker. An inferior model. Still with her uses, but this just stressed the need for more talent on their side.

Of course, in order to get that talent, they needed to defeat Tasha. She caught a glance from Sista A as she struggled in the hold and struggled to keep her sanity in the midst of , and it told her all she needed to know: it was time to intervene.

Anesthesia perked up and whistled the referee’s way, drawing her attention for a moment, and only a moment. It was a small thing, requiring the bare minimum of effort on her part, just the way she preferred it. But it would serve a purpose.

That purpose being a distraction, one that caused the referee to look away for a moment.

A moment being enough time for Sista A to wiggle her head around, open her mouth, and attempt to give her foe a vicious bite, chomping down hard on her hand.

This was so enjoyable. The crowds were roaring, and Tasha was in control. This was what she had come hear for. Tasha had betted AFW would be the perfect place to make name for herself, and right now she was getting off to a damn good start with it. She had some self-proclaimed idol, some old news, trapped helplessly in her hold, and everyone was loving it.

Granted, Tasha couldn't really tell what they were actually answering her questions, whether they were backing her hundred percent, but she could hear the roar, she could hear the cheers.

She could even hear the whistles.

Then she could suddenly feel how angry Sista A was at the situation.

"GAAH!!!" the Alabaman shrieked out as she released her hold and jumped up, looking at Sista A and shocked at the latest turn of events. "You...! You....! How could you....?!?" Clearly not able to finish her sentence, the Southern Twister then realized that there was a person in the ring who should have been asking those questions instead.

Turning around to face the referee, Tasha raised her hand right in front of her face. "Look! Look! She bit me! You can't do that here, can you?!? Come on, please, pay some attention!!!"

And that, right there, was the difference between them. Tasha was young and she was dumb, and as such, she did young, dumb things. Like taking her eye off her opponent for any amount of time.

The distraction had worked exactly as Anesthesia intended, getting Tasha to immediately forget about her opponent and turn all her focus towards the bewildered referee. She smiled as the poor girl looked at her bitten hand and held up her hands in defense, not sure how to proceed. ”I-I didn’t see it, so-”

It took true effort not to laugh, and she only barely managed to raise her hand up in time to hide the giggle, watching the little spat from below. All the while her eyes shifted back to Sista A, as her surly companion rose to a knee and looked at Tasha from behind, pure hatred on her face, vengeance on her mind.

She wasted little time, as she rushed to her feet and lunged at her foe. Instead of simply tackling her to the ground, however, she tried for something a bit more effective - Sista A reached up to grab her foe’s shoulder, digging her sharp fingers in deep, while she lifted up her legs and placed her knees against the woman’s back in the same motion.

”Gotcha, bitch!”

From there, it was a simple matter of letting gravity do the work, as she fell backward and forced Tasha’s back to crash into her knees, hitting her with a backstabber.

It probably didn't appear to be a very wise move for Tasha to drop Sista A down, and start complaining to the ref. Partly she could realize it even herself. But then again, the bite gave the Alabaman an excuse to drop the camel clutch that was probably not going to be too effective in the long run anyway, and focus on something else instead. Like suplexing or slamming Sista A to the mat instead!

But first, obviously she had to complain to the ref. She had to let her know what had happened! She had to make the official aware that dirty play was taking place, and convince her that there was a bully in the ring! Granted, the ref could do nothing about it now afterwards, but now she would know that it was Sista A who she should be paying attention to!

Coincidentally, it was Sista A, who also Tasha should have been paying attention to. But she didn't, not until she could feel sharp fingers clawing into her shoulder...

As Tasha turned her head, she was already being set up for Sista A's next move. Seeing the taller girl's face above her head, the Harlem Nightmare could in turn see sheer horror on Tasha's face as the rookie was realizing what was going to happen.

Unfortunately for the Alabaman, the veteran idol proceeded to execute the backstabber flawlessly. Tasha's back crashed onto her foe's knees causing immediate and extreme pain. The Southern Twister's body slumping to the side and rolling around to her belly, she could only press her aching back with her arm, left compeletely vulnerable to the Harlem Nightmare's subsequent plans.

Sista A did, in fact, see the fear on Tasha’s face, when she found herself in the lovely moment where she realized what was about to happen, but was far too late to stop it. That sweet second where the bitch realized how utterly fucked she was. It was a look that would stay with her for years to come, no matter how well or poorly things went from this point forward, and she hoped to recapture that magic once or twice before they were done here.

The move did its job well, shutting Tasha down and laying her out on the mat. The Harlem Nightmare was quick to roll back to her feet and look Anesthesia’s way, knowing what would be waiting there for her. Sure enough, the naughty nurse had a Cheshire grin on her face, ensuring that she wouldn’t be hearing the end of this for weeks to come.

Irritating, but a price she was willing to pay for putting Tashan on her ass, and an opportunity she wouldn’t waste. The only question was how to best take advantage.

She rose up and looked down at Tasha like the roach she was, taking the time to look at those arms of hers. Those strong, destructive arms. The girl was strong, there was no getting around that, so it made sense for her to do something about that. Naturally.

With a cruel smirk on her face, she planted one of her high-heeled shoes on Tasha’s hand, pinning it the canvas underneath her weight. At the same time, she brought her other foot up and proceeded to reign down stomps all over it, looking to take her strength out of the fight altogether.