AV 19 Hardcore Championship - Jessica Wright (c) vs. River Styx

Jessica felt a hand on her hair. It was a hand that had been there hundreds of times before, under much friendlier circumstances when her own hands might be grabbing the warm flesh of a thigh or the tender softness of a bedsheet. But her own hands could do neither of those things now, as the only succor she had against the bald woman was the cold of the concrete, which provided very little for her.

If she could have chosen a better place for them to be, it would have been at River's forearms so that she could pry her former lover off her. But as it was, Jessica's sluggishness did not allow for that. So the brain fuzz came to her in a major way the first time that her head was rammed against the turnbuckle. There was still a part of her that would not accept it though, and her arms slowly rose up from the ground to defend herself.

River was quicker, however, much to her dismay. Once again, her head was bashed into the turnbuckle. In the aftermath of this one, however, Jessica's hands would remain on the floor, palm up and near lifeless.

The finality of it was the most unsettling thing.

Styx knew she would either get the hardcore title one day or die trying. She’d always imagined it would be a glorious moment when she finally got what she wanted. The crowd would be booing her, cursing her name, and she’d have some stupid shitheel under her foot, holding the belt high for the whole world to see, rubbing it in their faces.

This wasn’t like that. Not like that at all.

When Styx rammed Jessica’s head into the steel and she went lifeless, her first instinct was to check on her. She could have a concussion, she could be hurt, it could be serious. For a moment, just one, she forgot what it meant to be a hardcore wrestler, and she stood there, stunned, as the world faded away.

It passed. Gritting her teeth, she fought away those feeling and pounced on her fallen prey, straddling her waste and pressed hands against her chest. The referee seemed confused, not sure whether to check on Jessica or start the count, but Styx help make the decision.

”Fucking count or I’ll kick your head off.”

That was all the prodding she needed. She dropped down and started slapping the canvas. ”1…!”

Jessica lay there. Every passing moment was an eternity. It was only but the grace of the wrestling gods that she was able to cling to the waking world, even if she could hardly move under her own steam. River had gotten her in the ring. The Violent Violet knew that it was not to help her up and ensure that they had a rousing rest of the match, but to pin her. There were two legs around her, and hands on her chest.

It would be so easy to just lie there. To take it. It was what she wanted after all. River had more than earned the belt, having put together an incredibly impressive display of violence that would be unmatched even in the Roman arenas of old. Jessica had come out tonight so that she would have the belt removed from her, and alongside that the terrible burden of having to commit heinous acts upon her fellow wrestlers to maintain what was little more than leather and gold. That was the old Jessica. The old Jessica could just die here and now, having already put on a performance that would have put any other woman in the hospital.

TWO!

So many things weighed heavy on Jessica. Her past with River. Her past with her family's legacy. Her past with all of the hours that she spent in the gym and in the ring, honing her craft until she was the most brutal lady in the entire world. As she lay there in the bright lights of the arena, she did everything that she could to gather as much strength as she could and concentrate them upwards to get out of it.

It was not lost on her that Jessica was calling on the parts of herself that she was trying to exorcise by losing the belt. The Violent Violet was tapping into her blinding rage, her mindless defiance, her brute strength.

But with all of those combined, she kicked out before the count of three. In doing so, she had no power other than to lie on the mat for a little longer, as she could not even get up, but after she had accomplished her Herculean feet, the look of pain on her face was replaced with a wry smile.

Styx wanted this match to be over more than anything in her entire life. Maybe even more than getting the belt itself. Hurting Jessica was like hurting a part of herself, and despite what some jackasses on the internet thought about her, she wasn’t into that self-harm shit. She was cutting out something that had been integral to her for, fuck, years now, and she had to do it in the worst way possible. It wasn’t like a breakup, those were quick. This was torture, and she wanted it to end.

She almost thought it was, too. Thought Jessica was out cold, that they could stop all of this. But no - she had to go and kick out.

Styx stared down at her, stunned, not believing what had just happened, and the referee seemed to share the look. Her count hadn’t been slow, hadn’t missed a beat. It was legit. Jessica was still alive.

”Fucking…” Styx groaned and reached down to grab her by the hair. ”Goddamn it, Jess.”

She lifted Jessica’s head up, just enough to give her a quick punch in the face, then marched over to the announcer’s desk. The crew started to scatter, and with good reason, as Styx started to clear off the desk without a word of warning. Cables and monitors were tossed aside, pens went flying, and she took a swig out of someone’s water bottle before flinging it into the audience.

Jessica rested. It was not a peaceful rest, as Jessica knew that the grumblings that hit her ears portended nothing but doom for her, which was a problem. But it wasn't as big of a problem as the one that she had just solved. It was fair to question Jessica's commitment to putting on a good fight after her promo, but now no one could challenge her on that topic. She had kicked out, recognizing that it meant only pain for her, recognizing that it just pissed River off even more, recognizing that she would be lucky if she left the arena under her own power.

As her head was lifted up, her arms moved out of some primeval instinct of self preservation. Her effort was not enough to protect her face, as they were moving to slowly to halt the progress of the fist towards her face. The blow guaranteed that no more serious attempts to defend herself could be made, and as such Jessica was conveyed to the announcer's table. Everything there was removed the way that one might make a bed before laying the body of a dead loved one in a casket.

Styx grumbled and cursed as she threw the parts aside, clearing off the table in a raw fury. It was a little thing, just clear a table, but something about it was taking far longer than she wanted. She was ready for this match to be done. She was ready for the belt to be hers. She didn’t want Jessica gone, she didn’t want the woman out of her life, but the longer it took to do this, the more she wanted it over. It was like ripping an arm off - the sooner it happened, the less pain she would have to endure.

”Come the fuck on, come on-” Moving Jessica around was the easiest of things when she was fully conscious - she’d had a few drunks nights with the woman, enough to know that. It wasn’t any easier now, however. Styx tried to get her up by the waist and failed on the first attempt, only succeeding when she dipped down and used her legs for an extra boost. Determined, she rolled her on top and joined her up the, standing tall about the Violent Violet.

One more move. Just one more.

Reaching down, she grabbed her by those beautiful, purple strands and yanked her head between her legs, locking her in place between her thigh. Styx leaned over and wrapped her arms around that muscular waist from above, took one, final breath, then dedicated herself to the move. Gritting her teeth, she lifted Jessica up on her shoulder, stood on her tiptoes for an extra bit of height, then kick out of her leg and brought her opponent down on the table, driving her into it with their combined weight for a devastating sit-out powerbomb. One for the ages.

Jessica was being moved. River's hands, which had been on her body so many times before, were pawing her one more time. If Jessica were capable of forming coherent thoughts, she would have wondered if that was the last time that River would ever touch her, for good or bad. But she couldn't. And even if she could, she would not have spent what little brainpower she had remaining in her mind on nostalgia, but rather trying to come up with a plan to get River off her. Unfortunately for the Violent Violet, Jessica was not able to. Her head went between River's legs. For a long time, for too long, she had struggled to win the belt, and soon it would be over. Jessica just hoped that the end would not be with more pain than she already felt.

As soon as her back blessed the announcer's table, her eyes closed. She lay, unmoving.

Everything was quiet.

To Styx.

She was fairly certain that the entire audience hadn’t just collectively decided to shut the fuck up out of respect, that they were screaming their eyeballs out, cursing her name, throwing all sorts of insults her way. Maybe she was just so used to that noise that her brain had learned to ferret it out most of the time, or maybe she was in some kind of weird headspace that even the den of the crowd couldn't pierce.

Didn’t matter. This was her time. This was the end of something beautiful, but the beginning of something amazing. She was going tos savor it.

She sat there with Jessica between her legs amidst the debris and carnage, taking slow and steady breaths as her heart rate came down. Sweat ran across her forehead, threatening to slip over her eyes, and she shook her head to keep them clear. Thinking, contemplating, remembering every step that came before this.

Then, and only then, did she reach over and place a hand on Jessica’s chest, pressing her down against the floor and starting up the count.

”1…!”

Jessica hated looking back. Even at the best of times, when she was playing the role of a hellion like she was born for it, she thought that looking back was for fools whose glory days were behind them. Now, when she was trying to put all of her negative past behind her, she had an even harder time doing that. Some of it was due to the fact that she was ashamed of her actions, but some of it was because she was not that person any more. The Violent Violet had always been someone who was chained to the past in so many ways, often without her realizing it. She was unconscious now. Somewhere the wrestling gods were looking down on her, and she could be alongside them with her laptop later. But that would be in the future, looking back.

TWO!

Jessica was lifeless, nothing more than a pretty corpse, with splinters in her back that she didn't even know were there yet.

”3…!”

It was over.

Styx had been waiting for this moment for so long, had pictured it in her dreams. Winning the hardcore belt. Becoming the champion she was destined to be. Righting all the wrongs that had been cast on her through the years, taking her place. This was supposed to feel like the universe settling into its proper order, like all the stars lining up. River Styx, the real hardcore champion, finally putting all the doubters and naysayers in their place.

Instead, Styx just felt hollow. Empty. Something had been taken out of her, and while she had the hardcore belt to replace it with, it would be a while before it fit in place. If it ever did.

The referee moved in and grabbed Styx’s wrist, hoisting her arm up high, but it wasn’t there for long before she snatched it back. ”Get the fuck off me.” She pushed the referee away as she rose, nearly knocking the skinny bitch off her feet. Stepping over Jessica’s lifeless body, she made a beeline for the hardcore title and snatched it away from the timekeeper, pulling it close and holding it in her hands. For a moment, just a few seconds, she stood there and looked down at it. Absorbing the surrealness. A reward years in the making, something she’d fought for and broken bones for, and it just felt so hollow. All that work for a leather strap. And all she had to do was lose pretty much the only friend she had.

Fuck.

She needed to go home. She needed a bath. She needed to sleep. More than anything, she needed to be out of this arena, and that was a top priority. Without a word, she stormed past the referee, made her way around the ring, and went up the ramp to exit behind the curtains, all without even looking towards the seething crowd.