Last Chance

Roberta stopped at the door and was hesitant about knocking. She had a very bad feeling about being called to Pamela’s office. After six months in the Women’s Division of the UWF (Universal Wrestling Federation), she had a record of 17 losses and one win over a chubby no-hoper that Pam had called in at the last minute.

Pamela Trent was in charge of the Women’s Division, answering only to the UWF Commissioner and the owners. Sitting at her desk, she knew Roberta was in the hall by the shadowy outline that she could see through the door’s frosted-glass window. She could have called to Roberta and told her to come into the office, but Pam decided to give her a few minutes to get herself together. She could understand why Roberta was reluctant.

The first contract for any UWF wrestler was for only six months. In that time, he or she had to prove his/her worth to the company. The UWF was popular and growing, but it wasn’t ready to keep a lot of jobbers and borderline wrestlers on the payroll yet. If a wrestler couldn’t show something in six months, that wrestler wasn’t likely to have a job in the seventh month.

Roberta finally knocked so Pam could invite her in and have her sit down. The wrestler looked like a prisoner walking to the firing squad, no pun intended. Pam figured it would be best to do this fast. "I guess you know why I called you here."

"Don’t fire me, please! Being a wrestler is my dream!" There were tears forming in her eyes. "You said you needed a girl like me, and I know I can do better!"

This wasn’t going to be easy. Pam HAD hired Roberta not only for her high marks from her wrestling instructors but because she was 6’2" and somewhere between 170 and 180 pounds. Her height had distributed the weight into a very nice figure that was a little soft in places, but at Pamela’s suggestion, the big brunette had worked out religiously and built herself up to almost 190 pounds with bigger, toned arms, a flat stomach, and well-defined legs. Roberta wanted to be a "face" so Pam had made her "Big Bobbi-Jo," a kind-hearted, attractive, country girl in Daisy Dukes, a tied-off plaid shirt, and pigtails. Pam expected her to flatten everyone in her path. Instead, she was playing her "nice girl" ring-persona so well that her opponents were walking all over her.

"Roberta, I do like having someone with your size and power on the roster, but you’ve been over-playing your persona so much that everyone, especially the fans, thinks you’re a dope and a loser."

"Give me one more chance! I won’t hold back so much! I’ll even turn into a heel if you want it!"

Pamela shook her head. "I could give you one more match, Roberta. You have the time left on your contract, and Sugar has been bugging me to give her a singles match in the next show. I could put you two in a match. I just don’t think it would help! Even if you went out to the ring and ripped up Sugar like Godzilla tearing through Tokyo, it wouldn’t matter because there wouldn’t be an audience! As soon as they see Bobbi-Jo, they’re gonna take the opportunity to go to the rest rooms or snack bars." Pam took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. She really hated this and felt it was partially her own fault. Roberta worked harder to please than any three of the other girls combined, but it just wasn’t helping. "Roberta, it isn’t because you’ve been losing. Our "surfer girl," Bambi, hasn’t won a match in two years. It isn’t because fans have been booing. "Spider" Marlowe has never gotten one cheer in her entire career. But if I put either of them on a poster, I sell tickets. If I put you up on a poster, nothing happens. The fans just don’t care about you one way or the other." She put her glasses back on and could see that the big girl was definitely crying. "I know it hurts, but I can’t think of any way to change it, unfortunately. That idea about turning heel might have worked if we had thought of it three months ago. Even a new persona might have worked back then. Right now, you couldn’t get their attention unless you walked out there naked."

Roberta wasn’t ready to give up until she exhausted every possibility. "What if they didn’t know it was me? I could where some tights and a mask and play the heel. The fans wouldn’t be able to recognize me. Please, I just want one last chance to prove myself!"

It was an interesting idea. "What kind of tights and mask? What would you call yourself?"

Roberta floundered for a moment, unsure if she should get her hopes up. "I have some solid-black tights that I use for working out. They’re sleeveless tights, and I have some black boots and gloves for them. It would make a good heel outfit with a dark mask of some kind. I’ll cut my hair so it will fit underneath." She swallowed. Pamela was just sitting there. "Uh, a name. I could use my initials, I suppose. Roberta Iris Plant is R.I.P. That would work for a really dark bad girl, wouldn’t it?"

It would. "Go home, get those tights, and get back here. We’ll go by the costume shop and see what they can do with you. I like this idea, and I can give you this one chance to try it. I can’t give you any more. You’ve got to make this match count!"

Roberta almost tripped and fell getting out of the chair. "I understand! You won’t be sorry, I promise! I’ll be the best heel, I mean the worst… I mean…"

"I know what you mean. Go get the tights."

"This next match is a ladies’ match to one fall with a 15-minute time limit. In the corner to my left, she hails from parts unknown at 187 pounds! She is the Daughter of Death, R.I.P.!" Roberta walked out of the corner and did a short circuit to let everyone see her. She didn’t wave, of course, but she did move her arms outward a little to make her black cape billow out behind her. The costumers had added that, as well as a skull-faced black mask and some skull-and-bones temporary tattoos. The fans certainly didn’t know it was her, but as a "new" wrestler, their response was only the boos and jeers that were expected for the obvious heel of the match.

"Her opponent weighs in at a voluptuous 129 pounds and hails from Malibu, California! Accompanied to the ring by her partner Spice, she is SUGAR!" Sugar got a huge cheering ovation from the fans, but then, she always did. She was about 5’5" and had a real centerfold body with big round breasts and a great butt to go with her golden tan and long blonde hair. She wasn’t one of the UWF’s best female wrestlers; she had a roughly 50/50 record. Her partner, Spice was a dark-haired Brazilian babe, not quite as busty but just as gorgeous. She was a little taller than her partner and a better wrestler, but they were at their best when they teamed up. They even managed to hold the Women’s Tag Championship for a couple of months.

Spice wasn’t dressed for a match. Normally, she wrestled in a shiny red one-piece and boots, but she came out tonight in tight red leather jeans and a tank top with high heels. Sugar had on her usual wrestling outfit, a white, T-back one-piece with nude hose and short white wrestling boots. As fan favorites, Sugar and Spice took their time getting to the ring so they could touch hands or give kisses to the people climbing over each other to see them.

R.I.P. removed her cape and hung it on the ring post as Sugar and Spice climbed into the ring through the ropes. She just watched as they danced around to work up the fans, but she got involved when they both got up on the second turnbuckles on one side of the ring. Roberta had four days to prepare for this, her new role. She never did anything by halves. If they thought she was too sweet and dopey as the "friendly country girl," they’d get a serious shock when the saw the "Daughter of Death."

Sugar was on the turnbuckle looking out and waving to the fans when her hair was grabbed, and she was yanked off of the turnbuckle and slammed down on her spine. She got one look at the skull-mask above her before her vision was blocked by a big, black boot stomping down on her forehead. The beautiful blonde’s legs kicked into the air with each stomp to her forehead, but after the first one, she was too dazed to get out of the way or grab R.I.P.’s leg to counter the attack. She took at least a half-dozen shots before R.I.P. stopped, and that was only because Spice tried to come to her partner’s rescue. Spice took a swing with her right hand but was blocked, and she took a big right hand to her temple that staggered her back. Her high heels were no good for fighting, and she was too busy trying not to fall to protect herself from a second big right hand that sent her hanging over the top rope. R.I.P. displayed a little of her power by putting one hand between Spice’s legs and tossing her over the top to land on her head on the thinly-matted floor. Spice was left rolling around on the floor holding her head, definitely not a threat for a while.

While her opponent was occupied with Spice, Sugar had managed to roll over and get to her hands and knees, but three heel-stomps to the back of her head put her face-down on the canvas. A foot stepped down on the back of her neck, and two strong hands took hold of her long hair and pulled until her scalp felt like it was on fire. She shrieked as the ref started a ten-count on the hair-pull. Sugar felt a flood of relief when her hair was let go, but it was grabbed again an instant later. The foot came off of her neck, and she was yanked to her feet by the hair and dragged to the corner. Before she could get her feet under control, Sugar had her head slammed into the top turnbuckle twice and fell to her knees holding her head. A boot went to the back of her neck again, this time forcing her throat against the middle rope to choke the blonde.

R.I.P. took a 9-count on the choke before pulling away her foot and then resumed the choke for another nine. She was actually starting to enjoy this. After so many defeats for holding back and playing nice, letting loose on this woman felt good. When R.I.P. released the choke the second time, Sugar sagged back until her scantily-clad butt was resting on her heels, gasping and coughing as she rubbed her throat. She never saw the black boot coming before it slammed into her temple and crushed her skull against the middle turnbuckle.

The woman in black grabbed another handful of hair to pull her opponent up and smash her spine back into the corner. Driving a hard forearm into Sugar’s windpipe to keep her in place, R.I.P. buried five knee-lifts into Sugar’s soft belly faster than the referee could count her out on the choke-hold. Then she used another hair-pull to yank Sugar out of the corner and scooped Sugar up onto her shoulder. R.I.P. paraded the blonde around for everyone to see and then power-slammed Sugar in the middle of the ring. A guillotine leg-drop came next, getting a convulsive leg-kick into the air from the blonde. R.I.P. casually turned herself around so she was draped over Sugar’s ample chest in an easy pin. The referee slapped his hand on the canvas twice and would have gotten the third, but the big woman pulled up Sugar’s left shoulder and broke the pin. She was really starting to like this and wasn’t done yet.

Spice was up and leaning on the ring apron, looking mussed up and holding her aching head. She was also screaming at the referee to do something as R.I.P. straddled Sugar’s chest and unloaded three hard lefts into the blonde’s head. It was because they were such close friends that Sugar-and-Spice was a great tag team. Roberta knew that and planned to use it in a way that she never could in her "sweetheart" role.

Sugar was pulled up again by the hair and swayed on her feet in the big woman’s grasp. Her eyes were glassy and her arms hung at her sides. She was out of this match and at R.I.P.’s mercy. The woman in black easily lifted Sugar like she was going for a body-slam, but instead, she charged into her own corner and crushed the blonde into the turnbuckles. Keeping Sugar in place, R.I.P. hooked the blonde’s legs and let her hang upside-down in the corner. Two devastating knee-lifts tenderized Sugar’s belly and set her up for a standing drop-kick to the gut. Sugar was gagging and drooling as the ref forced R.I.P. to back off and worked to free the blonde.

With the ref occupied, it was time to get Spice into the match. Sugar and Spice both knew that Roberta was under the skull-mask, but they were totally unprepared for the day-and-night change in her ring-style. R.I.P. watched the Brazilian out of the corner of her eye as she bent down and slipped something out of her boot. It was a tiny cocktail fork, and R.I.P. knew her plan was going to work when she saw Spice’s expression change. R.I.P. hid the fork in her hand and stood as Spice scrambled up onto the ring apron. Playing into R.I.P.’s plan, Spice rolled under the ropes at the same moment that the big woman got the referee’s attention and informed him of the illegal person in the ring. Spice collided with him and struggled to get at R.I.P. She was so off-balance that she’d forgotten one of the most basic rules from tag matches, never distract the ref when your partner’s in trouble.

The referee had gotten Sugar’s feet unhooked and left her lying on her back near the corner. R.I.P. walked over, yanked her up to a sitting position, and pulled Sugar into a chin-lock against the big woman’s knee. As added torment, R.I.P. was shoving the fork into the sensitive flesh under Sugar’s chin so the blonde was in a world of pain, but she couldn’t even scream. Looking a lot less glamorous, the blonde beauty’s face was twisted in agony, and her legs kicked wildly and futilely against the mat.

Seeing Sugar in such pain overrode Spice’s common sense. She fought the ref even harder to get to her partner, and ultimately, she kept him out of the match for nearly two excruciating minutes. For every second, Sugar suffered because R.I.P. added twists and jerks to make sure Sugar didn’t get used to it. As she tortured her victim, R.I.P. also kept an eye on the ref and Spice. When the ref finally got her to the side of the ring and convinced Spice to leave, R.I.P. stood and gave Sugar a sharp blow to the forehead with the fork that put her on her back and in spasms. When the referee finally turned back to the action, the cocktail fork was back in its hiding place, and R.I.P. was forcing Sugar up so she could plant the blonde’s head with a DDT and grind it into the canvas to explain the tiny cut from the forehead shot.

The match had been going for almost nine minutes, and Sugar was face-down, bleeding, and completely beaten. She couldn’t get up if you lit a fire under her. All Sugar was now was a means of keeping Roberta’s career alive, and she had to suffer a little more for that. Grabbing the sides of Sugar’s head, R.I.P. got the blonde to her knees and trapped her head between the heel’s powerful, black-clad thighs. She got a grip around Sugar’s waist, and the smaller woman was swung up high into the air and pounded into the canvas with ring-shaking force in a liger-bomb. Head lolling to one side, Sugar looked blankly into the crowd as R.I.P. knelt beside her and put a hand on her chest for the pin.

Again, the villain pulled up the fan favorite before the referee could slap his hand down the third time. With a firm grip on the front of Sugar’s tight suit, R.I.P. pulled her into a sitting position and slapped her head from side to side to wake her up a little. Then, she stood and brought Sugar to her feet as she did. The blonde was in a stupor; she couldn’t hold her head up. Naturally, she put up no resistance when R.I.P. scooped her up and put the girl on her shoulder.

Roberta had put a lot of thought into how her new character would finish a match and came up with two moves that seemed right. Sugar got one of them now. R.I.P. pulled her into an inverted bearhug with the blonde’s head about even with the bigger woman’s knees. The masked wrestler took two quick steps toward the ropes, jumped onto the middle rope, and sprang into the air. In midair, she spun around so she was facing into the ring and finished Sugar by landing on her knees and planting the blonde’s head into the mat. It was a springboard-tombstone-piledriver! The impact seemed to make the blonde bounce on the top of her head before she collapsed in a pile of limbs on the canvas.

Sugar landed more or less on her back, and R.I.P. nudged her a little with a foot so she lay flat. Then she placed a boot on Sugar’s face and told the referee to count. Sugar didn’t so much as twitch during the three-count, but R.I.P. insisted on a five-count to really hammer home her dominance in the match.

Spice shot into the ring as soon as the bell rang and fell to her knees by her broken best friend. She didn’t look at R.I.P. who was strutting around the ring with her arms raised in victory. She should have because then she might not have been kicked in the back of her head. Stunned, Spice was pulled to her feet with a handful of dark hair and laid flat on her back with a short, but vicious, clothesline right under her chin. Standing over the Brazilian, R.I.P. jumped into the air and drove a paralyzing elbow-drop right into Spice’s heart. Conscious but hardly able to move, Spice was pulled up by the hair again and lifted across R.I.P.’s shoulders for a sample of the big girl’s second finishing move. Like her partner, Spice was planted head-first into the canvas, but she was the unlucky recipient of a Death Valley Driver. Spice joined Sugar in unconsciousness, and R.I.P. collected her cape and walked out of the arena amidst a shower of trash and the deafening screams of hundreds of fans.

She had barely gotten back to the women’s locker room and removed her mask when one of the trainers called to her. "Roberta, Pamela wants you in her office NOW!" Heart pounding in her chest, Roberta ran her fingers through her now-short hair to straighten it a little and almost sprinted the short distance down the hall to see Pam. She barely tapped the door when Pamela told her to come in.

Roberta walked in and stood in front of the desk. "One chance. I gave you one last chance! I’m going to threaten to fire you every damned week! My God, why didn’t we think of this months ago? R.I.P. is worth her weight in gold! The crowd is still going nuts over you!" Pamela opened the folder on her desk and turned it around so it was facing Roberta. "Sign this contract! It’s our standard three-year deal with bonus provisions if you become a main attraction. I should probably say, "when you become a main attraction." You’re gonna take a week off, and then I’m giving you a match with Spice. She’ll probably want a piece of you, but she’ll get one even if she doesn’t want it. Waiting a week will give me a chance to get some posters up and make sure Sugar can be at ringside. Maybe we’ll give her a neck-brace for effect." Pam took the signed contract and signed her own name in the appropriate line. "Roberta, I’m telling you now that the place will be packed with people dying to see if you can do to Spice what you just did to Sugar. Can you?"

Roberta smiled for the first time in a week. "I can make what I did to Sugar look like a Sunday tea. Have a stretcher at ringside and Spice will leave on it!"

Pamela smiled and jotted a quick note down to do just that.