Misery vs. Bethany Elliott
By Tainted Angel
[Fade in] “Good evening everyone, and welcome back to Ring Angels...”“You know, it’s official... Enough beer, and even Sherry could be beautiful”
“I’m Sandra, and to my left is a man who deserves no introduction...”
“Yeah, whatever. So, who’s the next meat for the slab?”
“Well, looks like we have the returning Misery, against the newcomer, Bethany Elliott. Should be a powerful matchup, these two women are the tallest within the promotion. Misery has at least one match under he belt here, a decisive loss to Lisa Dream. We have no information on Elliott, there has been no press releases and little publicity.”
“Silent and violent, just the way they should be! Who needs them to talk anyway?”
“Do you ever shut up?”
“No comment, but, I’ll make a deal with you... If your experienced, if you can call losing “experienced”, wrestler, Mystery can beat the Silent One... I won’t say another word for the remainder of the telecast. However, if my girl wins, you have to kiss my ass on the air! So, what’s it going to be? You’re a former wrestler and OH, so knowledgeable about everything that can happen in that ring? Can your veteran beat my quiet one? You know what they say about the quiet ones!”
“How in the hell did she become my Veteran? I didn’t... Oh, whatever! Can we get to this match already?”
“You all heard that, correct? Two lips, right on my ass... “
The venues were smaller than most, the beginning of something anew. The ring still held brand of the unused, hardly broken in the short time this place has held it’s own. The ropes snapped back and held firm from pillar to pillar, showing no signs of age. The audience itself held themselves with as much curiosity as excitement, wondering what new wonders would be unleashed upon them in only the second outing of the fledgling organization known as BRA.
The first to make her entrance, Sandra’s “Champion” as taken from Garry, slipped out of the back and towards the ring with little response from the surrounding crowd. There were no effects, no music, and no attitude born of this performer, just the simplest of arrangements. Garbed in a slinky, raven black cat suit with “Misery” teased in golden lettering across the seat and a sheer mesh above her chest, and around her stomach. She granted no favors to the audience, and they any to her... watching silently as she climbed into the ring.
“What kind of outfit is that? Sure, it’s tight... but you can’t see a damn thing!”
“It leaves it up to the imagination...”
“I don’t want to imagine! I want to see!”
Whispers and words, sounds sprouting from nowhere as the second made her way into view... stolen verses from The Hunger leading the way...
“Do you believe me?”
With head bent low, she stepped solemnly through the curtains to cast her gaze to all those present, with serious interest in the woman standing in the middle of the ring.
“Am I crazy?”
From one sound to another, Scorpions “Alien Nation” taking over from the fading music. The harsh sounds pound away at the ears, announcing an arrival. Some stride in arrogance, some in conceit, and others in belief. Bethany moved in conviction, not a care before her or within this place of hatred. As always before, there was no emotion riding upon her visage and no reaction to crowd. Their presence was not necessary. Wearing a black poet’s shirt over a pair of black spandex bike shorts and knee-high, padded, soft leather boots she quickly slid under the bottom rope, quickly standing to stare at her opponent, never once acknowledging the presence of anyone else. Her fingers tightened at her sides, furling for the impending combat. Stepping back, she assumed a stance and waited, never once removing her gaze from Misery.
“What is it with all these women actually wearing clothes? Bikinis! It should be in their contracts! There isn’t a man out there who is watching this for the wrestling value! We want breasts! To hell with this match, the best thing I could see would be a DDT.... BOR-ring.”
“Just when I thought you couldn’t stoop much lower, you go and say something like that. I heard that Vilet guy is hiring, all they do there is matches of perversion. Sides, I wouldn’t have to listen to your fat ass anymore!”
“I know, at night... you secretly lust after my body.”
“No, I don’t...”
“Just a little?”
“No, I don’t...”
“Not even....”
“No, I don’t... “
“SO, how bout this match-up?”
The sounding of the bell was the indicator and it took no time for the women to move towards each other, standing chest to chest and bearing down into the eyes of the other, searching for fear, for weakness, for any sign that could be used against their opponent. Misery began trying to talk, motoring her mouth in an attempt to step back into the mental warfare. It meant nothing as Bethany continued to stare back, waiting for Misery to take the first step.
Misery pushed Bethany against the ropes and smiled, almost daring her to step back into the confrontation. Beth stepped back up, shaking her head quietly. Misery tried for a second time, and it was on, Bethany quickly snatching her hands and delivering a headbutt to the opponent. Misery reeled back, holding her nose. She stood still, waiting for her opponent like a hunter teasing the prey... She stood open, but completely aware.
A lockup, a test of strength between the two women... fingers interlocked, shoulders straining as both pushed against the other, vying for a much coveted intimidation factor. A slight tilt, struggle then shoved to the mat goes the flailing Misery, once again to stare up at Bethany Elliott. Misery showed frustration, Bethany remained staid.
“I’m going to sleep, wake me when you have to kiss my ass.”
“Well, strength isn’t everything. It appears as though Bethany Elliott is just toying with this woman. I believe she’s vastly underestimating Misery, or perhaps the unknown nature of the British powerhouse kept her from training properly. Whatever it is, Misery has her work cut out for her.”
Misery, back on her feet, dropped back to the ropes and came off with an ineffective shoulder block, both women bouncing off of one another unhindered. A second, causing neither to fall and then finally a third producing the same results. Misery signed again for a lockup, only to be met with a boot from the taller Amazon. A quick knee lift sent Misery back to the ground as Bethany stepped over her, staring down at the fallen.
Misery threw a quick counter, delivering a low blow to her opponent and staggering her away, trying to walk out the pain. Misery climbed back to her feet and followed, snatching a handful of her opponent’s hair and sending her towards the turnbuckles and following in with a quick back elbow, rocking Beth against the corner.
Stepping out, Bethany quickly snapped Misery back and threw her into the corner, following with a sharp knee to the midsection, and a whip to the far end. Bethany tossed the tip of her braided tail harshly and waited, still never wavering on her control of her own emotions. Misery stepped up and dove, arm extended to try and take Beth from her feet. A quick movement from Bethany, and Misery crashed to the ground in a PowerSlam, the ring trembling under the pressure.
Bethany rose back to her feet, dragging an injured Misery with her. Wrenching her from the waist to rest upon her shoulder, Beth bounced Misery upon her shoulder, pressing her hard down across the powerful feature. Cries of pain escaped the lips of the woman known as Misery, stretched out before the eyes of all, then driven down face first to the cold canvas in an inverted PowerSlam.
“Things are not looking good...”
“ZZZZZZzzzzzzzz”
Beth twisted the legs of her opponent around her own, setting up for a beautiful inverted bow and arrow, but instead tucking the head of her opponent back in a form of stretched dragon sleeper. Pressing harder, the cries almost seemed to comfort the aggressor, if only it was her posture that sent the message. Releasing the hold, Misery crawled away for air and Bethany followed, waiting for her opponent to get back to her feet.
Beth climbed the ropes, seating herself upon the top as though a throne while Misery crawled into her clutches. One hand, then the other digging into the flesh at her neck tightening upon the already choking Misery. One effort drew Misery from her feet, dangling from the arms of her executioner who majestically stood atop the perch. Then they came crashing down; seated double handed Chokeslam removing the fight from Misery, who lay at the mercy of the Brit.
Yanking Misery back to her feet, it was only a matter of time... Beth slid one arm under her opponents and positioned herself behind, striking out and around with the other arm to clutch her own wrist, cutting the oxygen off from the already deprived opponent. The struggles were minor, and soon she fell under to “Divine Right” hanging limply in the arms of Bethany Elliott while the Referee watched her arm fall for the third time.
“Damnit! Misery should have spent more time in training and preparation for a fight like this, she was just never even in it. This isn’t right...”
“ZZzzzzz... Hmm, huh... What? Did I win?”
“Nope, you missed it... come from behind, you have to shut up for the remainder of the night!”
“Wait, no way! She won, look at her! That’s my girl! If only she would wear a little less... Well, pucker up! You lost!”
With a quick motion, Sandra placed a kiss on the cheek of Gary, looking to vomit as she slid away.
“Whoah... that’s not funny! I said my ass!”
“What’s the difference?”
Between the gags and the quiet rumbling of the audience, it marked the ending of another debut.
Winner By ChokeOut, Bethany Elliott