Tasha Jackson vs Sista A - A Storm Is Brewing

The backstabber wasn't that bad. Well, it was, but it still wasn't something that Tasha couldn't overcome. She just needed a moment to recover, just a brief opportunity to regain her composure...

But as she was lying on the mat, those thoughts couldn't repel the terror that had struck Tasha's mind just a moment ago. It had just been a single blow, but the rookie was experienced enough to know that matches often had tides. And right now she was having the distinct feeling, that the tide of this match had just turned against her favor...

But whatever feelings might have been prevailing, those were sharply planted aside as a new dominant feeling emerged. One of extreme pain, caused by Sista A's heel beginning its torture on the Southern Twister's hand.

"AAGH!!! GAHHH!!!" The sounds Tasha's vocal cords were producing could have even won razzies over the veteran idol's own award-winning performances. It was a terrible sight, and sound, for everyone, and it was needless to say that the rookie was going to do anything to escape the situation.

Unfortunately, that was surprisingly difficult. There was no way Tasha could have gotten her hand pulled free from beneath her foe's heel, and she couldn't twist her body enough to trip Sista A with her other.

Goodbye using that hand anymore in this match.

As soon as Sista A had dealt her damage, Tasha rolled herself around, and started crawling towards a ringside that was in the opposite direction than the one the Harlem Nightmare had just been facing....

....but was there someone by the ringside now facing her?

It was amazing how such a simple move was capable of changing the match. A moment ago, Tasha still ostensibly had the advantage, here. Yes, she was down, but she was still the younger, stronger woman, here. All she needed to do was get up and seize that advantage, and she could take this match back, reclaim her dominance.

Two stomps later and that was all out the window.

The audience went into a jeering fit as Tasha shrieked to high heavens, reaching a note that even Sista A would’ve been hard pressed to achieve. With good reason, too. Nothing was broken in that arm, she doubted it was that bad, but even so, it was going to be dead weight for the foreseeable future. Which meant that she just changed from Sista A’s opponent to Sista A’s glorified punching bag.

She didn’t press her advantage, though, not just yet. She simply strolled along Tasha’s side as her foe crawled along the mat, desperately pulling forward to the ropes. Towards Anesthesia.

The Dark Nightingale was standing at ringside, staring at her as she crawled forward, a look of mild amusement on her face. It was the same look one would’ve reserved for a mouse in a cage, watching as it went about its business, ran on the wheel, scurried from one side to other, endlessly searching for a way out.

Sista A just smile as she watched. Not saying anything. Not needing to say anything. She merely stepped over Tasha’s crawling form, reached down to grasp her by the hair, and lifted her head up as she dragged her forward. The Harlem Nightmare forced her opponent’s neck down on the bottom rope and buried her knee into her back, keeping her in place and choking the life out of her.

All while Anesthesia stared into the suffering wrestler’s eyes. And smiled.

True, the handling of Tasha's hand was probably not actually as terrible as it sounded like. But the screams of the rookie were not only communicating the pain. They were produced by a combination of the torture on her hand, the terror just experienced prior to the backstabber, and the trap and disadvantage she could guess herself being set up in for the following moments.

And absolutely everyone in the arena could see that things were not looking good for Tasha at the moment, as she was crawling towards the ringside. Her body language was already telling enough of that. Everyone could see her hand causing problems from now on in the match, but there was also another danger everyone else than Tasha had already seen...

As the rookie was slowly but surely crawling towards the ropes, at equal pace she was starting to comprehend that there was a woman looking at her. And smiling.

That smile had to mean that she was bad news. No one supporting her could have been smiling at this point.

Who was she, and what was she doing here?!?

Before Tasha could think of any answers to those questions, she started having graver concerns again. Sista A's hand grabbed a hefty bunch of her hair, forcing the Alabaman faster towards the ropes. Towards the unknown woman.

Turned out that the woman wasn't the thing Tasha should have been worried of. At least for now, it was the ropes. Sista A started pressing the Southern Twister's neck against them, starting to quickly choke her out of her precious air.

Tasha didn't really know what to think, what to do. Sista A's action was of grave concern, but there was little she could do to fight against that. The stranger smiling and staring into her eyes right in front of her was a scary detail too, but there was little Tasha could do to that fact either.

"W-whats happening...."

Now, this was getting into Sista A’s wheelhouse. Grinding a bitch under her heel, establishing the pecking order, making sure she knew who the boss? Her deal. She used to do it all the time when she was growing up on the streets, and just because she’d tradded in the sidewalks for the squared circle didn’t mean anything had changed.

”Aisha! Get her off the ropes!”

Okay, the referee was an irritating addition, but she had four whole seconds to hold this. Plenty of time to make Tasha’s life hell. More so when she had Anesthesia to help her teach the lesson.

”I’m serious, let her go!” The referee held up her hand and started ticking off fingers. ”1! 2!”

There wasn’t much time for Anesthesia to say any of the myriad thing she wanted to say to Tasha - like how she adored that fine body of hers or how much she was enjoying the agony on her face or how good of a pawn she would be. But there was enough time for a quick, simple message, so that was what she went for.

Anesthesia stood on her tiptoes, leaning over the apron, opened her mouth and ran her tongue along Tasha’s face, from chin to forehead. Long. Wet. Heavy. Leaving a glistening trail of saliva in her wake. She cooed as sweat and fear danced on her tastebuds. ”Delicious.”

The referee gave a look of revulsion, but illegal licking wasn’t enough to call the match, it seemed. She continued her count, however. ”3! 4!”

Right before the referee could hit five, Sista A stood up and yanked Tasha by the hair, dumping her hard on her back. She stepped away with her hands on hips, sneering down at the dark-skinned beauty. ”Who owns you, bitch? Let me fucking hear it!”

The rookie was in trouble. Tasha could identify four reasons for it. Three of them were pretty obvious. First, Sista A had managed to pummel her hand useless. Second, that same bitch was having her heel grinding against her upper back. Third, that heel was causing her throat to be choking against the ropes. Those three were pretty logical, pretty understandable. And even if her opponent was being evil and bending the rules as much as she could, she would eventually have to obey the referee's orders.

But the fourth one was incomprehensible. The mysterious woman in front of her, who was just smiling at looking at her being in peril, and -

A wave of astonishment and repulse ran through Tasha's body as the woman decided to run her tongue all the way through the Alabaman's face. Unluckily, there was nothing she could do to react to that, apart from giving a shocked gaze at the crazy woman in front of her.

"What the fuck... Who the fuck... Why the fuck...."

There was no time for Tasha to have any further thoughts before her hair was being pulled again, and her back slammed hard to the mat.

Apparently Sista A was deeming this match ready to get sealed into her favor. Tasha didn't agree.

Granted, at first the Southern Twister couldn't do anything but feebly squirm in despair at Sista A's feet. But she wouldn't be saying a word. Not to her. But there was another person now that she had just gotten a lot of things to say.

Hoping to catch Sista A off guard, the rookie decided to try quickly tripping the high-heeled idol off her feet with her legs and healthy hand. Provided that the attempt worked out well for her, she wanted to get back up and head for the ropes. Head for the mystery woman.

Reaching the ropes, Tasha had to resist the urge of getting out of the ring and attacking the woman. But she had to find out who she was, and what was she up to. "Who the heck do you think you are?"

Obviously, Tasha would then be having her back at Sista A again...

Anesthesia sighed as Tasha’s taste danced all over her tongue, giving her a small sample of the meal she would be devouring soon enough. Such a sharp flavor, filled with spice, enough to make her taste buds sizzle. She shivered at the flavor, and found herself craving more, much more, like a babe tasting chocolate for the first time.

She straightened up, sighed, forced calm to take hold. Soon. Soon. Good things came to those who wait.

For the moment, she had the sight of Sista A dismantling Tasha to enjoy, a sight that the Harlem Nightmare was all too eager to provide. She stalked over her fallen foe with hands on her hips, reveling in her dominance, wishing she could take a picture of this moment and just wallow in it forever.

Which made it all the more disappointing when Tasha once more proved to have far more life than she had expected, kicking out and tripping her in short order. Sista A flopped down on her back, stunned for a moment and raising her arms to ward of an expected attack. One that never came.

Instead, Tasha had chosen to turn all of her attention to Anesthesia, who was still standing outside of the ring with her arms folded and a smile on her face. She looked up at the young woman in her typical calm manner, not the least bit bothered by her tirade.

”Your new god.” She said that like it was the simplest thing in the world. The same cadence she would’ve used if Tasha asked her what time it was. ”But you can call me Anesthesia.”

That was all the answer Tasha was going to get for the moment, too, because Sista came rushing at her from behind in the next moment, one more taking advantage of her turned back. This time she went for a more direct attack, as she leaped in the air and struck the back of her opponent’s head with flying knee, looking to hammer her skull hard. Maybe that would knock some sense into the idiot’s brain.

Yes, Tasha knew that she shouldn't had just left Sista A behind her back. She knew that not paying attention to her was going to cost her in some form of another. But she had to find out who the lunatic by the ringside was. She had to. Everything else was secondary now.

The Southern Twister's plan worked flawlessly, as the high-heeled nuisance of an opponent was promptly tripped down. She knew it could have been wise to just attack her now, but that would have to wait for later. Right now she marched to the ropes, and had some words to say.

Honestly, it was almost like seeing a ghost. Seeing Anesthesia's figure there and how she behaved was just so unreal. First of all, who she thought she was to come there disturbing their match like that? Who she was to behave in the way she had just done to Tasha? Why was she so damn calm and smiling, as if her being there was the most natural thing in the world? Frankly, Tasha might have started believing in ghosts just from the sight of her, if her own face hadn't been still wet from the ghost's saliva...

"God." Goddamnit that woman was no God. More like a devil, if anything.

But before Tasha could express those thoughts, the woman introduced herself as Anesthesia. "Anesthesia?!? What kind of a -"

Tasha could never finish her question, before Sista A decided to introduce her to some anesthetic of her own. Her knee hit the back of Tasha's head perfectly, which was likely evidenced by Anesthesia seeing the twisting of her face. The rookie dropped down instantly from the knee strike, laying on the mat and holding the back of her head.

So many questions, so few chances of getting answers.

Anesthesia merely sighed as Sista A came in to take advantage of the obvious opening, laying out poor Tasha and making her pay for her impudence. The girl was a bit too rash for her own good, lacked proper focus, but that wasn’t something that couldn’t be fixed with time and the proper training, which the Souther Twister was gauranteed to receive. Whether she wanted it or not.

Sista A, in the meantime, was much less impressed by it all. In fact, she was well and truly pissed, tired of her opponent blatantly and constantly ignoring her, a mistake that she was determined to make her regret.

When Tasha came down this time, there was no gloating from Sista A, no taking her time, and she didn’t bother to strut and revel in the moment. This time she was all about the pain, and she decided to serve up a good helping of it in brutal fashion.

”Turn your back on me, huh?” She threw a hard kick into Tasha’s ribs.

”Tired of your dumbass shit!” A stomp this time, one that hit right in Tasha’s stomach.

”Better give up, bitch! I’m done playing!” Another stomach, and she held it this time, pressing hard Tasha’s stomach. She leaned in and used eher weight to really hammer the point of her heel into the younger wrestler’s flesh, even twisting it around for maximum pain. Sista A wanted her to feel this pain when she went to sleep for weeks, to be thinking about her every time she tried to sleep.

In the AFW ring, Tasha was still a complete rookie. It would have been enough for the debutant to deal with her actual opponent, Sista A, who was clearly in need of some punishment.

Unfortunately, things were not made as easy as that for her tonight. Instead, she had somehow been provided with two targets, ones that required splitting her attention. And it was turning out that it was just too much for the rookie to handle.

Sure, some could have said that Tasha was just subjected to be a victim of a devious plot. But the Alabaman couldn't draw that connection just yet. No, she only had questions and confusement filling her head.

Oh, and pain too. Having the rookie's body laid out in front of her was apparently not nearly enough for Sista A. Instead, she had decided to punish her side with a hard kick. Not to mention the punishing effect of her words... Which were hurting Tasha only because they were absolutely true. She had been the one to constantly turn her back on the prick. She had been the one to bring this all down to herself. And it was deeply hurting to acknowledge that fact...

Indeed, deeply hurting Tasha was clearly on the Harlem Nightmare's agenda. She started stomping on her stomach, digging her heel deep into her belly, and the resulting pain was excruciating.

"GAAHH!!! AAAGHH!!!" It was obvious from the rookie's screams that Sista A's goal of Tasha remembering this pain for weeks would get achieved.

A submission though? It was a tempting choice. It could have been a way to just escape this situation.

But the said situation was just too confusing and threatening for Tasha to give into it. She wanted to hang on to the thread of hope she had on gaining control of it. And the only way the Alabaman could attempt to achieve that was by trying to push Sista A's leg away from her belly....with one hand.

Sista A hated to admit, but some of Anesthesia was rubbing off on her. There was a time when she would’ve felt bad, had real pity, for the women beneath her heel. A time when those screams would’ve chilled her blood and forced her to take a step away, where she would’ve worried if she’d gone too far, if she’d crossed some unseen line.

No more. Now she wondered about more pertinent questions, like if she was doing enough damage, if she was hitting the right spots, and how hard she had to push Tasha before the bitch finally saw reason and gave up. No much longer, she wagered.

”You know what your problem is, T?” She heel a nice, deep twist, real screwing into the tender flesh. ”You think you’re tough, all big and bad ass ‘cause you won’t give up. Newsflash: you’re not tough, bitch. You’re just too stupid to know you’ve already lost.”

Sista A kicked away the hand that was feebly pawing at her leg, but she didn’t stop there. She used her heel to pin that arm down, keeping it steady as she lowered to the floor and crouched right above Tasha’s pretty little head.

”Don’t worry, though.” She reared her fist back, and a crazed grin formed along her face. ”I’ll knock some sense into you.”

And down came the fist, a hard, merciless strike to Tasha’s unprotected face. Another one, just as hard, would come after that, then another on top. Three cruel blows, hammering the young wrestler’s face, pounding it into the canvas.