"AND WE ARE ON THE AIR!"

Cue the pyrotechnics and sparkler flares, strobe lights coursing the arena in a time stopped motion. The ticket holders leaping to their feet, screaming at the top of their lungs to add to the already ambient noise of the arena. Signs plunge from the ocean of arms, beers, and open mouths. The cameras circled and panned, taking the time to discover the scale at which the Battling Ring Angels organization has grown.

From the seats to the front row, an ominous look at the arena of battle, the canvas covered and ropes bound square of elevated glory. Casting the errorless eye of the camera across the words and symbol of the BRA. The voices could be heard as the thoughts gathered in their minds. A final glimpse of the ring before coming to rest on the silhouetted figures behind the desk.

The lights sparked to life as the announcers came into view. Garry Grimmoire, a portly gentleman and to his left, an older woman with a charismatic smile. Garry took a moment to adjust his glasses, then looked to his notes while his partner leaned back. Something was going on between the two, but obviously the story wasn’t going to be told here.

"Go Ahead... say it."

He finally spoke, forcing his teeth to hold his bottom lip in check. His face spoke displeasure, even as his words tried to invoke a sense of professionalism.

"Oh, are you talking about security? It wasn’t that bad..."

"Did you put those dog biscuits in my suitcase?"

"What?"

"The dogs went nuts on my suitcase..."

"So?"

"So... I’ve been VIOLATED! Do you KNOW how many places they checked me for drugs? It’s illegal for them to look through my bags, but do you know how legal it is for them to...."

"Tooooo...?"

"Uhmmm, nevermind."

"But, I thought you’d been, Violated?"

"It’s... nothing."

"One or two fingers?"

"Two..."

Laughter ensues from the feminine half of the commentating duo, one hand over her mouth as she tries to hold it back. Quickly quaffing a sip of water, she maintains her composure through the breathing process.

"You did it! You sadistic bitch!"

"I did not! When would I have had a chance to get to your suitcase?"

"What is all this damn security for anyway? Do you know they had to issue me a badge before I got in here? I was almost late!"

"How many knuckles?"

"SHUDDUP!"

Another round of laughter from Sandra as Garry lets his head hit on the table. Someone is obviously not pleased. Sandra took another sip of her water and continues her giggles...

"The extra security was brought in to keep Bianca Dupree out. For those of you who have missed the last couple of weeks, we’ve had an unknown element among us. A star and former champion from another promotion has found time in her schedule to add a little chaos to our own program. While the fans took her in as always, the management is doing everything in their power to keep her away from the ring."

"She couldn’t have came in up my ASS!"

"I don’t know... that’s a lot of..."

"Finish that statement and you’re a dead woman."

"You’re not in a good mood are you?"

"Do you know what it’s like to hear the popping of that latex glove?"

"Glove, Hell? I’m sure it was more like a sleeve for you..."

"Sure, kick a man while he’s down. All I know, there was no way that damn Hellion could have gotten in here this week."

"Or if she did, she probably can’t sit."

"You’re not funny."

A harsh scowl at his cohort, and subsequent burst of laughter from Sandra Allistaire ended this round of verbal banter, although the fans knew to expect quite a bit of it throughout the night’s event. The pyrotechnics glittered the air again, the screams and whistles shattered the silence, and the animated attitude of the audience signaled the timing of the first match, what they knew to be a HardCore Rules Hell.

‘N-2-Together now’ by Limp Bizkit scrambles the air and brings a thunderous series of jeers from the crowd, who had seen nothing at all impressive from the woman who made her way down the aisle. Vanessa Corella, the self-professed extremist, had made her it her sole ambition to be hated by the fans. She had succeeded through personal insults and cheap comments. Taking her place in the corner, she raised her arms towards the fans and reveled in their hatred.

"Well, what do we expect out of this match? HardCore rules, one woman with a need to prove her name and her opponent who also comes off of a narrow loss last week. One would have to think someone is out to prove themselves, and the other should just go home."

"Yeah, right? There has been no hype on this match. Vanessa goes unheard of forever, hell... they weren’t even sure if she was going to show up. Here she is... wake me when it’s over. The only thing extreme about this woman is her odor."

The arena lights faded dim shadows and violet auras as "No Exit" by Blondie filled the air with the timeless sounds of disco. The beat lifted, pounding faster and faster into a moment of building power. The shadowed form Mistress Catwoman appeared against a dimly lit background. Her fingers slowly traced the contour of her leg from the furthest reaches to the top of her hip. The lights remained low as the shadowy form slipped down the aisle, one hand furled in the other producing the sounds of hollowed snaps.

Vanessa continued her verbal assault on the crowd, paying little heed to the opponent making her way down the aisle. The form paused at ringside, shaking her head slowly while the crows paid little heed. She’d proven nothing in the weeks, before... why would they care?

"DESPITE ALL MY RAGE, I AM STILL JUST A RAT IN A CAAAAAAAAAAAAAGE"

Crackling with light, it all became obvious now as the form everyone thought was the CatWoman snatched a chair and tossed it into the ring, following it rapidly and ripping the purple mask from her face. The song lyric from "Bullets with ButterFly Wings" said it all, Bianca had made it past security and stood in the ring. These two were scheduled to face at another time, in another place for a title they both coveted. It was only fitting to make a statement here.

Vanessa came off the top with a double axe handle attempt, countered with a standing sidekick and staggering her back towards the corner. The HellRaiser backed away and shook her head, watching her opponent trying to gather her bearings. Rolling forward, Bianca came up and through the chair at the head of Vanessa, resulting in a loud clang of metal on bone. Security began to amass at the entrance ramp, preparing to go down in mass towards the woman who eluded them the week before.

Through the coercion of a handful of hair, Bianca brought the "Extremist" back to her feet. Slipping behind Vanessa, Bianca lifted her up again to the top rope and set her up... leaving her to sway gently in her delirium. Turning to offer a smile towards the guards, Bianca shrugged her opinion of the matter. Playfully, Bianca licked the tip of her finger and held it aloft, testing the wind conditions within the building while kicking a chair into place. She knew she didn’t have a great deal of time, but why make it completely dull?

"Where... HOW THE HELL DID SHE GET IN HERE?!"

"Oh my word, what the hell is she about to do..."

Bianca climbed the second rope and raised her hands, Vanessa stayed in her stupor. She knew nothing of extreme... A locking of the hands, a full nelson pressing the chin of the Extremist into her chest as Bianca shook harder to lock the grip tighter.

"This match is definitely getting better..."

"She’s not... not on the chair..."

But she did, Dragon Superplex from the Architect of Anarchy brought the neck and shoulders unprotected to the metallic surface of the chair, the pop was deafening and another career within their ranks was over. This was the third for the HellRaiser. Vanessa spasmed in the ring as Bianca rose from the canvas, lifting her arms to the approval of the deviants in the crowd. Security could wait no longer and charged towards the ringside area, hoping to save further humiliation. The damage had already been done.

Leaping to the top rope for an escape, Bianca dove into the audience for the awaiting wave of arms and escort to the aisleway. Security had abandoned most of their posts, she had a free run. The audience started the chants, pumping their fists for more.

"Out F’n Styled!"

They screamed, while she rode atop the sea. Security stopped in the ring, calling for medical attention for the injured Corella.

"What have we just seen?"

"Not only did she get past the enhanced security, she’s actually taken out one of our workers. What is her purpose for all of this? They’re really going to have to step it up for the PPV next week..."

"We’ve just got word from the back that Mistress Catwoman was locked in her dressing room and doesn’t at all seem pleased with this situation. At least nothing has happened to her."

"Well, we’ve got to go to commercial while the EMT’s help Miss Corella out. This looks serious..."

Winner. No Match.