Vendetta

Lynda Carter, star of the TV series “Wonder Woman”, and Loni Anderson, the sexy secretary on “WKRP In Cincinnati”, were relaxing in Lynda’s hot tub at her home in Beverly Hills. Both women were enjoying the summer hiatus of their respective shows. Lynda was trying to forget her worries about the future of her series. There were rumors at the studio that “Wonder Woman” was about to be cancelled. She had only one feature film on her resume, a low-budget action movie called “Bobbie Jo and the Outlaw”. She had recently performed as a singer in Las Vegas, and had even done a TV special, but her post-“Wonder Woman” career was still unclear. She had received offers to pose in Playboy, but she was reluctant to accept. She was certainly not ashamed of her body, but she considered a Playboy pictorial something you did if you were desperate for attention. She had not yet reached that point.
The maid came onto the deck, and gave Lynda a telegram. She quickly dried her hands, opened it, and read the message. “Oh my God,” she muttered.
Loni opened her eyes. “What’s wrong, Lynda?”
Lynda handed her the telegram. “Read this.”
Loni read it out loud. “Thank you, Miss Carter, for your request to participate in our competition. I am pleased to inform you that your desire has been granted. Please be at the Villa Minerva this Friday evening, at no later than eight o’clock. Present this message to my Butler. We anticipate an extremely exciting event. Sincerely, Anton Davi.”
Loni tossed the paper onto the wooden deck, and fixed her eyes on her friend. “Jesus, Lynda, what have you done? Do you know what this means?”
Lynda swallowed hard, and nodded. “I wasn’t sure Mr. Davi would accept, or that I wanted him to.”
Loni sat up, and put her hand on Lynda’s arm. She could feel her trembling. “Why on earth do you want to fight at the Villa? God, anything could happen. You could be hurt badly. If your face is scarred, your career would be ruined.”
Lynda reclined back on the rim of the tub, and spread her arms. “To everyone in Hollywood, I’m a beautiful porcelain doll. The only things people care about are my legs and my tits. When I sang at Caesar’s Palace last year, the costume designer made sure to lengthen the slit in my dress all the way up to my hips. On the TV show, they keep shrinking my costume. I’m not allowed to do any of my own stunts. The producers are terrified I might scratch my knee, and they’d have to shut down production for a week.”
“What has any of that have to do with fighting at the Villa,” Loni asked.
“No one takes me seriously,” Lynda said loudly. “I want to act, in good movies. Mr. Davi runs one of the biggest studios in town. If I win the fight, and get the five-picture deal, I’ll be set. I want people to forget the blue satin tights and the red boots. I have to show the people in this town that I’ll fight for want I want.”
“Have you ever seen a fight at the Villa?”
“I can handle myself. I did a few stunts on ‘Bobbie Jo and the Outlaw’, and my trainer can teach me some tricks.”
Loni was unable to hide her concern. “I was a guest at the Villa, about a year ago, and saw a fight. I won’t tell you who was fighting, because you know them. They went at each other for almost an hour, and when it was over the loser was carried out of the room. She was out of work for a month. Is that what you want, Lynda? Are you that desperate for a film career?”
Lynda climbed out of the hot tub. Water dripped from her body, and pooled on the wooden deck floor. She grabbed a nearby robe, and pulled it on. She looked down at Loni. “I’m not going to spend the rest of my career singing in a Vegas casino.” She shook out her hair, and tied it back. “Let’s go inside, and get a massage.”
Frowning and shaking her head, Loni got out of the hot tub, put on a robe, and followed her friend inside.

On the afternoon of the same day, shooting was wrapping on a low-budget action film called “Warriors of the Apocalypse”. The crew were breaking down the set, and moving away the lights and cameras. The cast members were drifting back to their trailers. The film was being shot in the desert, on the edge of Death Valley. The bright sun beat down on the sand and dry earth, turning the area into a frying pan. Everyone was sweating, tired, and irritable.
No one was more irritable than the blonde, buxom co-star of the film, Sybil Danning. She strode back to her dirty, rusting trailer, flung open the door, and entered the hot box. The entire flimsy structure shook on its’ wheels, when she slammed the door behind her.
Sybil tore off her white robe, and flung it on the floor. She was naked, except for an ugly gold necklace she wore for the part. Her svelte body was slick with sweat. An ancient air conditioner creaked in one window, barely lowering the temperature. She dropped on the sofa, lit a cigarette and closed her eyes.
Sybil was an icon of low-budget action and soft-core films. She had been working in the underside of Hollywood for ten years. Her strange beauty had been a blessing and a curse. Her slightly Asian facial features were considered perfect for playing a biker “mama”, a sword-and-sorcerer warrior, or a sex queen. Her narrow, blue eyes and high cheekbones gave her a cruel appearance. Unfortunately, as desirable as she was on Poverty Row, she was ignored by the major studios. She had tried to get work at Universal, Paramount and MGM, and had been rejected by all of them. Her agent had told her that she was considered too exotic for major films. Of course, her resume didn’t help her chances. The studio bosses took one look at her credits, and couldn’t wait to turn her down.
Ten years of toiling in the slums while others climbed the ladder of Hollywood success had nurtured a burning hatred in her. She watched the fashion models and beautiful actresses walking the red carpet at film premiers, and cursed them. She fantasized about what she would do to them, if she ever got the chance.
Mr. Davi’s fights at the Villa Minerva had come to her attention a year ago, when one of her co-stars had told her that she had helped train an actress in martial arts. From the moment Sybil had learned about the fights, and the spectacular reward of a five-picture deal at Davi Studios, her one goal was to get an invitation. She had no doubt that she could defeat any opponent. The producers she worked for were seldom able to afford stunt people, so Sybil did most of her own action scenes. She knew how to fight in any style, whether it was a brawl or a catfight. She had suffered enough physical and emotional pain during her career that the prospect of a little more to become a star meant nothing.
Once a month, for seven months, she had sent a letter to Mr. Anton Davi requesting an invitation to participate in a fight. Each letter had been returned, unopened. Each rejection fueled her anger and frustration.
She opened her eyes, and glanced down at the coffee table. Beside the full ashtray was a fashion magazine. Cheryl Tiegs smiled from the cover. Sneering, Sybil grabbed the magazine and tore the cover off. If only I could get into a fight with that smiling bitch, she thought. I’d make sure she wasn’t on any magazine covers for a while. She stubbed out her cigarette on the center of Cheryl’s face, crumpled up the cover and tossed it aside. There was a knock at the door.
“What do you want,” Sybil shouted.
“I’ve got a telegram for you, Miss Danning.” It was the shaky voice of one of the teenage gophers on the set. Sybil was notorious for treating everyone around her, even her co-stars, poorly.
Sybil pulled on her robe, and went to the door. A skinny eighteen-year-old boy in jeans and a sweat-soaked white t-shirt stood outside. With a shaking hand, he held out the envelope. She snatched it out of his hand, and slammed the door in his face.
She pulled off the robe, dropped it on the floor, and sat down on the edge of the coffee table. As she slit open the envelope with a long, sharp fingernail, she thought that it was probably a note from the producer apologizing for having to delay her payment until the picture was released. Her blue eyes scanned the same words that Lynda Carter had read, and her heart began to race. She read the telegram twice more, before tossing it on the table.
Sybil looked around at the drab, flaking interior of the trailer, and felt the sudden urge to run outside and dance naked in the burning desert sun. This would be the last time she would have to spend her days in a dump on wheels. After she won the fight, she would be a star at Davi Studios. She would have her own dressing room. There would be people around her to see to every need. She would walk on the red carpet at movie premiers, and look down her nose at the pretty, pampered bitches behind her.
The blonde opened a bottle of champagne from a nearby a cooler, and downed half of it in one gulp. She would not have to train. Her stunt work kept her in top physical condition. There were few women in Hollywood who would be a match for her. As she took another sip from the bottle, she began to wonder who her opponent would be. Her stomach quivered, as she thought of getting her hands on Cheryl Tiegs or Suzanne Sommers. She would show them no mercy. The fight would be her statement to Hollywood. Sybil Danning would crush whoever stood in her way, to make it to the top.
Danning was a supremely confident woman, but she was also smart enough not to take any chances. This opportunity might never come her way again, and she intended to take complete advantage of it. There was a machinist with the crew, a fat middle-aged man named Roy, who did all of the repairs on the set. She had rebuffed his clumsy advances throughout the shoot. Now would be a good time to know him better. In exchange for her brief passion, he would make her a little toy that would guarantee victory. Sybil drained the bottle, and then took out a pen and paper and quickly drew a sketch of what she wanted.

At seven o’clock on Friday evening, Lynda Carter drove her red Porsche convertible up the long, crushed-marble drive of the Villa Minerva. Her grip on the steering wheel was tight. Her lustrous black hair was tied back in a loose ponytail. She slowed as she approached the wide stairs leading to the entrance, and looked at the cars parked in a line at the other end of the drive. It was an impressive assortment of luxury cars. She probably knew most of the owners. All week, she had tried hard to ignore the reality of what she would do this night and who might see her. Of course, she would have nothing to worry about from the tabloids. Mr. Davi’s power and influence permeated every facet of Hollywood life. He made sure that the right people knew about the fights, and that they never talked about them.
Lynda walked to the wide marble stairway leading to the entrance. She was dressed in a simple pair of slacks, a white blouse and high-heels. Her poise was remarkable; even on the uneven surface her stride never wavered. She carried an air of casual confidence. Preston, the Butler, stood on the bottom step. Carter held out her hand, and Preston shook it gently, feeling the silky smoothness of her hands.
“Good evening, Mr…”
“Preston, Miss Carter. Good evening to you.”
Moonlight glinted on her perfectly manicured nails. Her smile was enough to melt the heart of the strictly formal Butler. She handed her invitation to him. “I was told you needed this.”
He quickly read the note, and then slipped it into his pocket. “Everything is in order, Miss Carter. Please follow me, and I will show you to your dressing room.”
The pair ascended the stairs, with Lynda trailing a few steps behind. They entered the massive foyer, filled with the sounds of the party in the ballroom. Preston led her down the mahogany-paneled hallway to the elevator doors at the end.
“Please step in, Miss Carter.”
Lynda placed a hand gently on his arm. “Is there any chance of finding out now whom I’m fighting?”
“I apologize, Miss Carter, but that is against the rules. The note in your room will explain everything. Good luck, Madame.”
Lynda entered the elevator. As the doors closed, she winked at Preston and gave him a small wave. He nodded in reply. As he walked back down the hall, he pondered the possibility of Mr. Davi allowing him to watch the fight. He was supposed to remain dispassionate about his employer’s “special entertainment”, but he hoped Carter would win. It would be a crime, he thought, for her beauty to be marred.

Sybil Danning arrived at the Villa Minerva ten minutes after Lynda. She parked her tan Buick two-door sedan at an angle, beside a shining silver Jaguar. As she stalked across the drive to the entrance stairway, she thought of how disturbed the driver of the Jaguar would be, to see her large, ugly monstrosity beside the luxury car. Let them turn their noses up at her. After tonight, they would have to deal with her as an equal.
Preston waited at the bottom of the stairs. Sybil wore a navy blue jogging suit and white sneakers. Her blonde hair was tied back in a tight, business-like ponytail. Her eyes were narrowed to slits, and her face was set in a grimace. It was the same look she gave Directors, when they asked her to shoot another take. The look said, don’t mess with me. I’m here to do a job, so don’t get in my way.
Preston nodded formally, and held out his hand. Sybil tossed her invitation to him. He scrambled to catch it, and almost fell off the step. She chuckled. Frowning, he opened the note and quickly read it.
“Miss Danning, if you will follow me…”
“Let’s get the show on the road, buddy. I haven’t got all night, and I don’t plan on this taking too long.”
Struggling to maintain his customary reserve, Preston led Sybil up the stairs and into the Villa. She paused in the foyer, and looked around at the opulent surroundings. “Jesus, this place looks like an Italian bordello.”
Preston silently led the blonde down the hall to the elevators. Sybil walked stiffly behind him, scowling. For the past week, she had been hostile to everyone around her. She had struck the punching bag at the YWCA so many times, and so hard, that she had split the covering. She had gone to a manicurist, and had her nails sharpened until they could slit plastic. Her thoughts had been focused on violence.
The Butler gestured to the open elevator door. Sybil stepped in, and the door closed behind her. Preston walked back down the hall, slowly shaking his head. He had encountered enough fighters to sense the ones who wanted to do more than win a fight. He knew that Danning wanted to hurt someone, and he feared for Lynda.

Mr. And Mrs. Davi entered the Seating Area, at one end of the Combat Area. Their guests followed, each with a drink in their hand. The thick glass of the two-way mirror offered a perfect view of the action. Mr. Davi relaxed in his French royal throne, and Mrs. Davi sat beside him on her Marie Antoinette chair. As the others took their seats, Mr. Davi leaned close to his wife, and took her hand.
“I have a surprise for you, my dear,” he whispered in his thick Romanian accent.
“Will it be someone we know,” she asked.
He chuckled. “We know everyone. One of the participants is of particular interest. She is someone I would never have expected to desire this experience. You will be excited, I’m sure, when you see who it is.”
Her skin tingled at the thought of whom her husband might have in mind. She squeezed his hand. “Tell me, Anton. Don’t make me wait.”
He patted her hand. “No, darling. You will see, soon enough. I assure you, the revelation will be all that you could hope for.”

Lynda stripped off her clothes, folded them neatly and placed them on the dressing table. She had already read the note left by Mr. Davi. It was to be a no-holds-barred fight, with no rules and no referee. To win, you had to render your opponent unconscious, or force her to submit. The realization of how serious this was caused her to break out in gooseflesh. She was not entirely sure she would be able to cause enough pain in another person to make them submit, let alone knock them unconscious. She decided that the easier avenue would be submission. She knew enough martial arts to defend herself against any attack, and her trainer had taught her a few submission holds. She would try to end the fight as quickly as possible. There was no point in either her or her opponent suffering any more than was necessary.
The name Sybil Danning was vaguely familiar to Lynda, but she could not entirely place the face. She had never done a guest spot on “Wonder Woman”. She couldn’t recall having met anyone by that name at a party. She might have crossed paths with her years ago, back in the days of “Bobbie Jo and the Outlaw”. It didn’t really matter. Surely, Miss Danning had no more desire than she to inflict serious damage.
Lynda examined the bikinis hanging in the closet, and chose a red one. It had straps that criss-crossed at the sides, and joined at the small of her back. She checked the fit in the mirror, tugging up on the bottom portion a bit and pulling down at the hips. Her entire torso was completely exposed, except for her breasts. She had never felt so vulnerable.
She suddenly thought of what it would feel like to be struck in the stomach, or on the breasts, or to have her hair violently pulled. What if Sybil punches me in the face? What will happen to my career, if my looks are damaged in this fight?
She began to breath heavily, and was afraid for a moment that she might begin hyperventilating. She sat down at the dressing table, and calmed herself. I know what a catfight is. We’ll pull each other’s hair, maybe trade a few slaps. I’ll manueveur her into a submission hold, and force her to give up. The fight probably won’t last more than ten or fifteen minutes.
Lynda stood, and began the stretching exercises she’d learned from her personal trainer. She placed each bare foot, in turn, on the dressing table and folded her body over to touch her toes. She twisted her torso back and forth. She put her hands behind her head, and bent back as far as she could.
When the red light came on over the door, her breath stopped. Her heart pounded in her chest, and sweat sprang out all over her body. She took a deep breath, and then opened the door and stepped into the Combat Area.

Sybil Danning stripped off her clothes, and tossed them onto the floor. She threw open the closet doors, briefly scanned the selection of bikinis, and took out a strapless white one. Before putting it on, she sat at the dressing table and read Mr. Davi’s note. Lynda Carter! This was better than she had hoped for. Sybil had never met the tall brunette, but she was familiar enough with her television show and her face on magazine covers to hate her. She was exactly the kind of royal Hollywood bitch who looked down at Danning as lower-class trash.
The blonde put on the bikini, and examined herself in the mirror. It was tight. That was good. It fit her like a second skin. She jumped up and down and jogged in place. There was no slippage. She bent down, picked up her jogging suit and felt around in one of the pockets until she found a small, narrow strip of lead. It was fitted with rings on one side, and painted a flesh color.
Sybil already knew that there were no rules or referee for the fight. Despite Mr. Davi’s secrecy, there were physical trainers in Hollywood who had worked with participants and weren’t afraid to talk.
She slipped it onto her right hand, and then clenched her fingers into a fist. The fit was perfect. It might hurt her hand if she hit Carter hard, but that wasn’t her plan. A few jabs in the stomach, the kidneys, or the back would be enough to make her scream for mercy. She smiled as she punched her open palm, and felt the sting. The flesh-color paint made it practically invisible. She took out a bottle of spirit gum, brushed some on the flat part of the weapon and then slipped it beneath her bikini bottom, pressing it against the fabric. After a few minutes, she jumped up and down several times. The weapon stayed in place.
Of course, Sybil didn’t want to finish off Lynda too quickly. She would draw blood. She wanted to make sure that “Wonder Woman” wouldn’t be able to appear in public for quite a while.
She went through a few stretching exercises, and jabbed the air like a boxer. The light came on over the dressing room door. She rubbed her hands together, gave a light pat to her secret weapon, and then opened the door and stepped into the Combat Area.

As the two combatants came out, a murmur of shock rolled through the Seating Area. Few of the guests recognized Sybil, but all of them knew the statuesque brunette. Mrs. Davi threw her arms around her husband, and kissed him deeply.
“This may be the best contest we’ve ever seen,” she whispered. “I can’t believe Miss Carter asked to participate.”
“I always keep my promises, darling.”

The oak floor was warm against the soles of Lynda’s bare feet. Her skin tingled, as though she had been hit with a blast of hot air. She was already perspiring. Even though the room was large she suddenly felt trapped, like an animal in a zoo waiting for the tourists to arrive. Her muscles were tense and constricted. There was a moment of nausea, followed by a flow of excitement as the fear subsided.
Sybil walked with her shoulders thrown back, her breasts jutting out proudly. She almost swaggered, as she strutted to the center of the room. She felt hard, as though her body were made of stone. In her mind, the floor trembled beneath her bare feet. The lead weapon pressed against her groin. Her eyes were narrowed to slits. Her mouth was turned down. There was a fluttering in her belly, not of fear but of anticipation. Her fists were clenched at her sides.
Lynda whirled around, and her eyes widened slightly in recognition. She had seen a few of Sybil’s films. They were all low-budget exploitation movies, but some of the writers and producers had moved on to bigger and better things. Lynda’s first instinct was to raise her arms in defense, and back a few steps away from her opponent.
Sybil could smell Lynda’s fear, and she loved it.
Lynda studied her opponent. She was shorter than Carter by several inches, but was clearly more muscular. Her stomach was flat, with a clear washboard effect. Her biceps and triceps were clearly defined. Her thigh muscles were well proportioned. Her skin was deeply tanned. Lynda couldn’t see a part of her body that might be vulnerable. She obviously spent time regularly in the gym. Her face was cruel, and she felt a shiver down her spine. She might have been wrong about her expectations for the fight.
Sybil examined her opponent’s form. Carter was not muscular. In fact, she looked soft. Her stomach was concave, with no definition. Her arms were smooth. Her long legs were the only part of her body that appeared toned. Her skin was lightly tanned. She could see that Lynda wasn’t physically ready for a fight.
The ceiling speakers crackled. Both women looked up. “Ladies,” Mr. Davi’s voice rolled across the room. “You may begin.”
Lynda turned back to Sybil, bending down slightly and putting out her arms. It was all she had time to do. Sybil was on her like a tiger loosed from its’ cage.
She practically leaped the short distance separating them, and threw herself onto Lynda. They crashed to the hard floor, and Carter felt the breath explode from her lungs, as her opponent’s full weight landed on her.
“Owww!” Lynda screamed, as Sybil dragged her sharpened nails across her chest and stomach. Carter tried to grab her hand, but the blonde dug her fingers into Lynda’s raven hair. She jerked her head from side to side, pulling at her scalp. She pounded her head against the floor, until the tall brunette felt herself becoming light-headed.
Lynda brought up her powerful legs, squeezing her knees between their bodies. With a grunt, she pushed out and thrust Sybil away. The blonde landed hard on her back, but was on her feet in an instant. Carter scrambled backwards toward the nearest wall, watching with mounting fear as her animalistic opponent advanced on her.
“The more you fight back,” Sybil snarled, “the worse I’m going to hurt you! Give up, and make it easier on yourself!”
Lynda waited until Sybil was in range, and then swung out with her right leg. She caught Sybil square in the belly. It felt as though she had hit a wall, but the blow had the desired effect.
“Oufff!” Sybil’s hands covered her belly, and she staggered back. The blow had not been painful, but it had surprised her. She quickly recovered, and moved toward Lynda again.
Carter got to her feet and circled the room, trying to stay out of Danning’s reach. Sybil charged at her again. Lynda stepped to the side and, when the blonde turned, slapped her across the face.
“Ahhh!” Sybil’s head whipped to the side. Before she could recover, Lynda slapped her twice, on both cheeks. Danning’s head twisted back and forth, and she lurched back, nearly losing her balance. Her ears were ringing, and her cheeks burned.
Lynda grabbed Danning by the arm, spun her around once and then let her go. She slammed face first into the nearest padded wall.
“Unghhh!” Sybil dropped to her knees, in a daze. Lynda pulled her up by an arm, and flipped Danning over her shoulder. She slammed on the floor, and immediately arched her back. Her eyes squeezed shut, as she fought against the pain in the small of her back.
Carter took a moment to catch her breath. She had completely recovered from Sybil’s initial attack, but was still wary of the blonde. As she walked toward her fallen opponent, she decided to apply one of the submission holds she’d learned. The fight was more than the tall brunette had expected, and she wanted to end it quickly before one of them was seriously hurt.
She stopped beside Sybil, who had rolled on her side facing away from Lynda. Her mind was reeling. She had been so sure she would be able to easily disable Carter. She sensed her approach behind her, and scrambled to retaliate.
As Carter bent down to take hold of her arm, Sybil suddenly rolled over and grabbed Lynda’s arm. She pulled Carter off of her feet, and over her prone body. Lynda crashed to the floor a few feet away.
The thud of Carter’s body striking the floor was audible around the room. She felt a burst of pain in her back and hip, and a wave of numbness invaded her head. Sybil got to her feet, straddled the fallen brunette, and then dropped down on top of her.
“Oufff!” Once again, air was forced from Lynda’s lungs as Sybil’s weight crashed onto her stomach. Her vision became hazy. She looked up, and saw Sybil raising her clenched fists above her head.
With all of her strength, Sybil struck Lynda across the face. Carter cried out, as her head snapped to the side. Danning struck Lynda again, across the opposite cheek. Lynda’s head slammed against the floor, and she was on the edge of consciousness.
Sybil sat on her opponent, catching her breath. Lynda’s eyelids fluttered. She groaned and tried to fill her lungs, but it was impossible with the blonde sitting on her.
“We’re going to have fun now,” Sybil snarled. She dragged her sharp fingernails across Lynda’s smooth, tanned chest. Carter raised her head off the floor, and screamed. Sybil began firing punches at Lynda’s breasts.
“Owww!” The torment was unbearable. Her body convulsed, and she flung Sybil off of her. Danning got to her knees, as Lynda crawled a few feet away and covered her breasts.
Sybil approached her from behind. She grabbed Lynda by her hair, and bent her head back. At the same time, she brought her hand around and slapped her palm against Carter’s chest. The sound of flesh striking flesh sounded like a gunshot.
Lynda tumbled over, her chest enflamed. Sybil got to her feet, and felt for the weapon hidden in her bikini bottom. She started to take it out, and then stopped herself. It was too soon.
Lynda rolled onto her back, her hands covering her reddened chest. Through a haze of pain, she saw her opponent approaching. When she was within range, Lynda struck out like a snake with her long, muscular legs. Her feet connected with Sybil’s thigh.
“Ahhh!” It felt as though lightning had struck her thigh muscle. Sybil immediately crumpled to the floor. She clutched her right leg, desperately trying to massage away the pain.
Lynda pulled Sybil to her feet by her right arm. She twisted the arm up behind her back, and pushed up at the elbow. The blonde’s scream was piercing. When Danning tried to pull away, Lynda jerked up harder. Sybil screamed again.
“Give up, and I’ll let you go,” Lynda said.
“Go to hell,” Sybil shouted. In response, Lynda jerked up on her arm again. Sybil squirmed, trying to get loose, but Carter had a firm grip. She kept the pressure on, gritting her teeth and flexing her biceps. She didn’t want to break Danning’s arm, but she had to force a submission and end this nightmare. Sybil’s arm was almost numb. She moaned in anguish, but refused to surrender. She finally felt her arm begin to slip out of Carter’s grasp. Both women were covered in a film of sweat, and drops fell to the oak floor. Carter was having difficulty keeping her grip on Danning’s arm. She squeezed her hand, but it was no use. With a yell, and a twist of her torso, Sybil freed herself.
Lynda stepped back a few feet, and shook her hand and arm. Sybil cradled her injured arm, her face twisted into a grimace of pain and hate. With her back to Carter, she reached into her bikini bottom and took out the weapon. She slipped it onto the fingers of her left hand and held it down out of sight.

In the Seating Area, the audience saw what Sybil had done. A murmur of shock and anger passed among the guests. Mrs. Davi looked at her husband in astonishment.
“Are you going to disqualify her,” she asked.
He shook his head. “There are no rules, my dear.”
“No one has ever brought a weapon into the Chamber,” Mrs. Davi said. Her voice could not disguise her excitement.
“We will now see how strong Miss Carter is,” Mr. Davi said.
All eyes were locked on the Combat Area, in anticipation of what was to come.

Lynda finally managed to get the circulation going in her hands. She hadn’t anticipated losing her grip because of sweat. She would have to use a different submission hold. Her trainer had showed her something called “the figure-four leg lock”. Lynda knew that her legs were her strongest weapons. Sybil would have to submit, once their legs were entangled and the pressure was applied.
The tall brunette walked toward Sybil. The blonde was bent over, with her back to Carter. She waited until she felt Lynda’s hand on her shoulder. Danning spun around, and buried her left fist in Lynda’s relaxed, unprepared belly. She felt the weapon plunge into her stomach.
“Oufffff!” Lynda crumpled to the floor, like a puppet whose strings had been cut. She curled into a tight ball, and wrapped her arms around her devastated midsection. She had never felt such complete, strength-sapping anguish in her life. It exploded in burning shards, and knifed into every part of her torso. Tears welled in her eyes and in spite of herself she began to sob. It made the overwhelming pain worse. No matter how tightly she held herself, it would not go away.

In the Seating Area, the audience gasped in shock. They were all surprised that Mr. Davi was allowing the fight to continue, but they didn’t dare to question his decision.
With her husband’s hand still in her grasp, Mrs. Davi pressed her lips to his knuckles. Mr. Davi could sense the excitement coursing through his wife’s body.
Behind them, Preston bowed his head and closed his eyes. He left the Seating Area unseen. The fight was clearly over. There was no point in watching further.

Sybil stood over her fallen opponent, her chest rising and falling as she gasped for breath. Lynda writhed at her feet, sobbing uncontrollably. The blonde looked down at her, and smiled. Now, she would go to work. By the time she was through, Carter would be lucky if she’d be able to appear on television in a year.
Sybil dug her fingers into Lynda’s raven locks, and pulled her across the room. The oak paneling burned her bare back. She tried to pull loose from Sybil’s grasp, but a stab of pain in her belly paralyzed her. She was afraid to think of what damage had been done by one blow. The realization that she was at the blonde’s mercy suddenly washed over her.
“Please, don’t hurt me anymore,” she cried. “I sub…”
Sybil released her grip, and Lynda’s head slammed to the floor. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she lay still and silent. If she had submitted, it would have been far too soon. “I think we’ll start with those long, beautiful legs of yours,” Sybil muttered. She knelt down beside the dazed brunette, and slammed the weapon into Lynda’s right thigh.
“Owwwww!” Lynda’s scream might have shattered champagne glasses. Her body jerked, and she rolled onto her stomach. She knew her thigh muscle was damaged. The agony merged with the pain that still pulsated nauseatingly in her stomach.
“Your back is so smooth,” Sybil purred. She crawled after her devastated foe. “You’ve got a nice tan, too. It could be a little redder, though.” She drove a punch into the small of Lynda’s back. The weapon struck like a wrecking ball. Lynda flipped over, and arched her back. She tried to scream, but all that passed her lips was a low, broken moan.
The site of Lynda’s soft, exposed belly was too much for Sybil to resist. Ignoring the weapon for the moment, she quickly stood and then dropped her knee directly onto Carter’s navel. Lynda grunted, and her body bounced against the floor.
Sybil grabbed her by her ponytail, and dragged her to the nearest wall. She lifted her up, until she was leaning against the padding. Carter could barely stand. Sybil slapped Carter as hard as she could, and then returned with the back of her hand. Lynda grunted weakly with each blow. Her cheeks were bright red. She began to slide down. Sybil grabbed her by the throat and held her up. She slipped the weapon off of her hand, and put it back into her bikini bottom. There was no need for it, now.
The blonde grabbed hold of Lynda’s bikini top and pulled violently, until it dragged down off of her chest. She didn’t resist. Her arms hung loose at her sides, and she seemed unaware that her gorgeous breasts were exposed. Her head rested against the padding. Every breath sent a shaft of agony through her body. Her mouth hung open, and a thin trickle of blood ran down her chin. The blonde’s vicious slaps had split her lip.
Sybil took her by the chin, and shook her head. Lynda’s eyes slowly came into focus. Danning leaned close, until their faces almost touched. “You’re not so high and mighty now,” she whispered menacingly. “You won’t look down on me again, bitch. I own you. I can do anything I want, and you can’t stop me.”
Lynda slowly shook her head. Tears mixed with the blood on her chin. “Why…” she muttered.
“Because I can,” Sybil said, grabbing hold of Lynda’s breasts. Her face drawn into a hate-filled grimace, she squeezed the soft flesh, digging in her nails.
“Owwwww!” Lynda came away from the wall, and threw back her head. She grabbed Sybil’s wrists, and tried to pull her hands away. The blonde squeezed harder. She pressed her thumbs against Carter’s nipples, and pulled her away from the wall. Lynda screamed until her voice broke. She thought with terror that her tormentor might pull her breasts off. She wanted to submit, but the words would not form. Sybil smiled, as she twisted and pulled Carter’s breasts.
The agony was too much for the statuesque brunette. Knowing the intense pain she would suffer, Lynda suddenly leaned back and freed herself from Sybil’s torturous grip. She lurched away from Danning as fast as her shaking legs would move. The blonde’s handprints were flaming red on the lightly tanned skin of her breasts.
Sybil strolled after her prey. With a laugh, she pushed her from behind. Lynda toppled to the floor face first. She groaned, and rolled over onto her back. Sybil reached down, and grabbed Lynda by her ponytail. She pulled the brunette to her feet and, with a snarl, jerked Lynda’s head back and forth by the hair. Carter grunted with each twist of her body, looking like a rag doll. Finally, Danning released her. Carter stumbled across the floor, and fell against the wall.
Sybil stood for a moment, catching her breath and gathering her strength to end the fight. She had scratches on her chest and red marks on her face, from Lynda’s brief attack. Carter lay on the floor, propped against the wall. Her lip had stopped bleeding. Her torso was covered with scratches and bruises. Her exposed breasts were beet red. Her hair had come loose from the ponytail, and hung wet and loose in front of her face. She appeared to be utterly helpless.
Sybil slowly advanced on Lynda. She took the weapon from her bikini bottom, and slipped it onto her left hand. She would get Carter onto her feet, and then punch her once on the jaw. After the blow, she wouldn’t get up again.
Through tear-streaked eyes, Lynda saw her merciless foe coming. She wanted to crawl to Danning, and scream her submission. She wanted to beg the vicious blonde for mercy, so the punishment would end. Her heart told her to fight back. Even if she lost, she couldn’t let the blonde continue to humiliate her.
Sybil was smirking and her eyes were narrowed to slits. Here it comes, bitch, she thought. Get ready to have your lights turned out. She reached down to grab Lynda by the hair. Carter’s leg suddenly shot out, striking Sybil’s left hand. The weapon clattered across the floor. A split-second later, Lynda’s leg lashed out again, this time hitting Sybil in the stomach.
“Oufff!” Danning had been totally unprepared for the blow. Her lungs emptied and she staggered back, covering her belly.
Lynda crawled away from the wall, and dove at Sybil’s legs. She caught the blonde on the knees with her shoulder. Sybil screamed, as pain suddenly exploded in her knees, and she crumpled to the floor.
Lynda was operating on pure adrenaline. It took every ounce of her fading strength to fall on top of the blonde. With an animalistic growl, she grabbed Danning by the hair and repeatedly slammed her head against the floor. Sybil grunted with each blow. When Lynda finally stopped, Danning groaned and rolled onto her side. She was dazed, and there was a terrible ringing in her ears.
Lynda crawled off of Sybil, and frantically looked around for the weapon. She spotted it, lying about three feet away. She lunged toward it, but was stopped when Sybil grabbed her by the ankle.
The blonde had taken far less punishment in the match then Carter, and had recovered quickly from the brunette’s sudden attack. Lynda screamed, and tried to free her ankle. Sybil dug her fingers in, and pulled the brunette back towards her. She slammed her fist into Lynda’s thigh, at the same spot she had struck with the weapon.
“Owwww!” Lynda rolled onto her back, and ripped her leg loose from Sybil’s grip. With her other leg, she kicked Danning in the face.
“Unghhh!” Sybil toppled backwards. A trickle of blood ran down her chin.
Lynda scrambled across the floor. The weapon was almost in her grasp. Suddenly, Sybil crashed down on top of her with all of her weight. Lynda felt her bare breasts crushed, and her face slammed against the oak floor.
Sybil clenched her hands together, and drove punch after punch into Lynda’s kidneys. The brunette screamed with each blow, and her battered body slammed against the floor. Danning grabbed Carter by the hair, and pulled her head back. She then raked her fingernails across Lynda’s beautiful face. Carter screamed again. She was now almost completely blind.
Danning rolled off of Carter, and got to her knees. The brunette slowly crawled away, still trying to reach the weapon. Sybil reached out, and dragged her fingernails across the bruised flesh of Lynda’s thigh. Lynda sobbed, her voice in shreds, as five red streaks marred her tanned legs.
“Come back here, bitch,” Sybil snarled. “I’m not finished with you, yet.”
Lynda made a sudden, violent lunge away from her tormentor. Sybil scrambled after her. Lynda felt the metal weapon under her, pressing against her belly. She reached under herself, and grabbed it. At almost the same moment, Sybil got to her.
Danning had no idea that Carter had found the weapon. Flames leaped from her eyes, as she stared down at Lynda. All of the hatred in her heart blazed, energizing her. She grabbed Lynda by the arm, and with a violent jerk that nearly dislocated her arm, pulled her to a sitting position. Before the brunette had a chance to use the weapon, Sybil lashed out like a python, kicking Lynda between the legs. Carter let out a muted squeal, and her face went pale. Her eyes squeezed shut, and her body went slack. Sybil kept a tight grip on her hair, and kept her upright. Carter looked up at her, her mouth hanging open, desperately trying to stay conscious.
“Have you learned your lesson, honey?” She jerked Lynda forward by the hair, and lifted her knee. She caught the brunette on the point of her chin.
“Unghhh!” Carter’s head snapped back, tearing her hair loose from Sybil’s grip, and she fell hard to the floor. Only reflex action allowed her to keep her grip on the weapon. Her split lip opened again, and blood trickled onto her chest.
Sybil dropped to her knees in front of Carter. After pulling her up by the hair, she slapped Lynda’s breasts. She screamed, as the sound of the slap ricocheted around the room like a gunshot. “After tonight, bitch, when you see me coming you’ll step aside!” Sybil continued to slap Lynda’s breasts as hard as she could. Carter screamed, and twisted out of her grip. Danning laughed, and got to her feet. Lynda lay on her back, cradling her breasts.
Through a haze of agony, Lynda knew that she had to use the weapon now. If Sybil continued her attack, she was terrified to think of what more she might do to her. She saw the blonde preparing her final attack. Smiling broadly, Sybil flexed her fingers until the knuckles popped.
She looked down at her devastated foe, and felt nothing but complete satisfaction. She would have gladly beat Lynda all night, but she was beginning to tire. It was time to end the fight. Carter had propped herself up on her elbows. Her beet-red breasts lay flaccid on her chest, which was stained with drops of blood. The fight had been everything Sybil had hoped for. Now, she would send the brunette out of the Combat Area on a stretcher. She was going to slap the brunette’s breasts, punch and squeeze them until she either screamed her submission or was knocked out.
Lynda waited until Sybil was standing in front of her. She didn’t have the strength left to aim a punch at her abdomen or crotch. The best she could hope for was a disabling blow to her legs or feet. She had to slow her down first, before she would have even a chance.
Sybil didn’t see Lynda’s hand come up from the floor. She gazed at her pendulous breasts with a gleam of anticipation in her eyes. With a growl, Lynda slammed her fist down onto the blonde’s right foot. She felt the lead weapon crash against the thin bones.
“Owwwwww!” Sybil’s scream was deafening. She dropped to the floor in front of Carter like a felled tree, and grabbed her foot. She knew two things instantly. Lynda had gotten her hands on the weapon, and her foot was seriously damaged.
Lynda struggled to her knees. There was not a single part of her luscious body that did not cry out for relief. She forced herself to move in spite of the anguish. She swung her fist, and smashed the weapon into the inside of Sybil’s thigh.
The blonde’s scream disintegrated, as torment exploded in her thigh. She rolled onto her side, her hands moving from her foot to her thigh. Her foot was already beginning to swell. Tears welled in her eyes. She was rapidly losing all feeling in her right leg.

The guests in the Seating Area were enthralled. This was, by far, the most exciting fight any of them had seen.
Mrs. Davi had her arm around her husband, and he could feel her body trembling. Her lips were moving, but she made no sound.

The exhausted combatants remained on the floor for several minutes. Sybil held her deadened leg and moaned in a low, almost child-like tone. Carter was on her knees, her beautiful chest rising and falling. She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. It came away stained red. She looked at the weapon, still clutched in her fist. In disgust, she threw it across the room. It bounced off of the two-way glass of the Seating Area, and came to rest on the floor far out of reach of either woman.
Sybil dragged herself away from Carter, trying to get to the nearest wall and pull herself up. She had to buy herself time to recover. Lynda lunged forward, and grabbed her by the ankle of her injured leg. She cried out, as Carter’s hands squeezed her ankle. The veins in the brunette’s biceps stood out like thick wire, as she pulled Sybil back towards her.
The blonde suddenly flipped onto her back and, with her free leg, kicked Lynda in the face. Carter grunted, her head snapped back, and she fell over. Sybil smashed her clenched fists down onto Lynda’s groin.
“Ahhhh!” Carter brought her knees up, and curled her body tightly as pain flowed through her torso. Sybil struggled to a sitting position beside Lynda, and began to viciously slam her fists into the brunette’s belly with all of her remaining strength. Lynda grunted with each powerful blow, and her body jerked. Sybil brought her fists down ten times, each blow striking the already-bruised spot where she had first hit Carter with the weapon.
Carter was sure that at least one of her ribs was broken. She wept in desperation, each sob increasing the anguish in her body. The blonde was inhuman. No matter what Carter did, Danning continued to attack. Sybil laid her hands on each of Lynda’s bare breasts and squeezed, digging her fingernails into the smooth, raw flesh. Lynda threw back her head, and let out an ear-splitting scream. Sybil pulled on her breasts as though they were elastic, forcing Carter to sit up to relieve the torment. In a reflex move, she swung her right fist around and connected with Sybil’s right cheek. Danning grunted, but did not release her grip.
Carter swung her fist again, and struck Sybil on the same spot. Her grip loosened slightly. With a final, desperate swing she punched Sybil squarely in the face.
“Unghhh!” Sybil’s head popped back, and her hands covered her face. Lynda held her breasts, as agony pulsated through her body. She forced herself to move, fighting the urge to give up and end the torture.
Sybil was on one knee, shaking her head. The brunette swung her clenched fists at Sybil’s chest. The blow connected with a hollow thud, and sent Sybil sprawling backwards. Her head thumped against the floor, and her eyes rolled back.
Lynda wrapped her long, luscious legs, around Sybil’s legs. The pain of Danning’s earlier blow to her thigh with the weapon was still severe, but she had no other option. If this didn’t work, the fight was over. Lynda completed the application of the “figure-four” leg lock. She propped herself up on her elbows, and then flexed her powerful leg muscles.
Sybil returned to consciousness with a piercing scream. The severity of pain in her already-damaged legs was something she had never experienced before. It flowed like lava up her legs, and into her torso. Scream after scream tore loose from her lungs. She fell onto her back, and pounded the floor with her fists. Her screams were mingled with moans from Lynda. The hold was causing almost as much pain in her own legs. She tensed her stomach muscles, and felt an immediate stab of pain from the repeated blows to her belly. Her neck muscles were corded like steel cables.
The two women lay entangled on the floor for at least five minutes. Sybil shook her head from side to side, and continued to pound the floor. She could not make the agony in her legs stop, and she did not know how to escape the hold. Lynda’s gorgeous body was drawn tight in anguish, as her battered muscles screamed for relief. Finally, when the battered brunette was on the verge of releasing the hold, Sybil screamed out.
“Stop! Stop! I give up! Let go of my legs, you bitch! I submit!”
Sobbing with joy and triumph, Lynda slowly disentangled their legs. Sybil turned on her side, and massaged her legs. The muscles throbbed like a million sore teeth. She didn’t think the pain would ever go away. Lynda got to her knees, and rested back on her feet, gasping for breath. She smiled, through her tears. She had beaten the vicious blonde.
The ceiling speakers crackled, and Mr. Davi’s thickly accented voice echoed in the room. “The victor is Lynda Carter!”
Still smiling, Carter fell onto her back and was unconscious.

Preston, with the help of two other servants, carried the fallen combatants back to their dressing rooms. Doctor O’Neill, employed under an oath of strict secrecy by Mr. Davi, attended to both women.
Sybil Danning had not lost consciousness. She undressed, and lay naked on a portable table as Doctor O’Neill examined her. After cleaning the cuts, bruises and scratches that covered her body, he closely examined her leg and foot. Fortunately, her foot had not been broken by the blow from the weapon, only severely sprained. He wrapped her foot and leg tightly, and advised complete rest for the next several days. Before she dressed, he gave her an injection of a painkiller.
After Doctor O’Neill left, Sybil struggled to her feet and looked at her body in the full-length mirror. The sight stunned her. There were red scratches on her chest and stomach. There was a deep purple bruise in the center of her chest. Both of her eyes were blackened, and her left eye was rapidly swelling shut. She struggled into the shower, and stood under a flow of hot water for several minutes, before soaping her body. She sobbed uncontrollably, as her body throbbed like one large raw nerve.

Doctor O’Neill examined Lynda, who lay on the table with her bikini still hanging loose. Aside from a multitude of bruises, scratches and cuts, her lower lip was split, and her ribs were bruised. The blows to her legs had caused a severely bruised thigh muscle. Her eyes were blackening, but there was no swelling.
When he left, Lynda pulled off the rest of the bikini, and looked at her reflection in the mirror. She hardly recognized herself. The woman she saw looked as though she had been in a car accident. Practically every surface of her body was covered with welts, scratches and bruises. Her long, black hair was a tangled mass. Her breasts were fire engine red, and still bore Sybil’s handprints. Spots of dried blood dotted her chin and chest. Her belly was covered with bruises. She slowly crossed the room to the shower. As she stood under the hot water, she gently touched her breasts. They were horribly sensitive to the touch. Her groin burned under the water. Unlike Sybil, though, Lynda didn’t weep. In fact, she felt exhilarated. The pain was excruciating, and every movement made the sensations worse, but it didn’t matter. Carter had achieved her purpose at the Villa that night. She was tough enough to take the worst beating, and still overcome.
As she stepped out of the shower, and began the laborious process of dressing herself, she didn’t think of the film deal she had just won or the money that would result from it. She thought only that she had shown the important audience at the Villa that she was not just a beautiful, elegant woman too gorgeous for movies. She would do whatever it took to succeed.

The evening was warm and humid, when Sybil Danning left the Villa. Her steps were slow and shaky. Doctor O’Neill had offered her crutches, but she had refused. She had come there without help, and she would leave the same way. As she gradually descended the stairs, she saw her car waiting at the bottom. Mr. Davi stood a few steps from the bottom. As she approached him, she saw that he was examining her closely. He held out his hand. She frowned, and stared at him until he withdrew his hand.
“You certainly displayed a great deal of spirit and, might I say, ingenuity, Miss Danning,” Davi said in his thick Romanian accent. “I thought your little weapon would give you a clear victory. I suppose the lesson is that we cannot be sure of anything, can we, Miss Danning?” He chuckled, his eyes glinting in the moonlight.
“Fuck you,” Sybil muttered.
Mr. Davi smiled benevolently. “Of course. Good evening, Miss Danning.”
Sybil struggled into her car, and drove off toward Los Angeles and the rest of her life. Her hatred for the beautiful, successful women of Hollywood still smoldered. Perhaps, one day, she would get another chance at revenge. Maybe she would get a return fight with Lynda. The thought brought a smile to her cracked lips.

Preston escorted Lynda Carter down the staircase, to her waiting Porsche. She held on to his arm to steady herself. She felt slightly light-headed, and her legs were throbbing. She hoped she would be able to safely drive home.
“How do you feel, Miss Carter,” Preston asked, unable to contain his happiness that she had won the fight. “Are you very badly hurt?”
Lynda smiled at him. “I’ll live, thank you. Did you watch the fight?”
“Oh yes, Miss Carter. I’m so relieved that you won. I was very worried, when that woman used her weapon.”
Lynda shrugged. “I was pretty worried, too. I guess she wasn’t too confident in herself.”
Preston returned to the house. Mr. Davi stood beside the open driver’s door, holding a sheaf of documents in his hand. “I congratulate you, Miss Carter, on your stunning victory. Your ability to overcome your opponent’s unorthodox tactics was truly impressive.”
Lynda looked at the man, but could detect no real emotion in his eyes. “Do you always let fighters use weapons?”
“The contest is whatever the combatants wish to make of it. We are merely benign observers. To overcome such difficulties is a true test of strength, ingenuity and fortitude.”
Lynda nodded. “Thanks for the compliment.”
Mr. Davi handed her the documents. “This is your contract with Davi Studios. Please have your lawyers examine the documents, and then return them to me at your earliest convenience.”
Lynda took the documents and, without looking at them, tossed them on the front seat. She started to get in, stopped and looked up at Mr. Davi.
“Thank you.”
Mr. Davi raised his eyebrows. “For what, Miss Carter?”
“Allowing me to prove something.”
Mr. Davi bowed at the waist. “Good evening, Miss Carter.”
The Porsche roared to life. Lynda slowly drove across the crushed marble driveway, and then out onto the mountain road. The warm night air brushed through her hair, stinging the cuts and scratches on her face. She would have a lot of explaining to do, to her boyfriend, her lawyers, her agent, and the show producers. Of course, the truth was not an option. As she approached the lights of the city, she chuckled to herself. For the first time, she actually felt like “Wonder Woman”.

Mr. And Mrs. Davi entered the Combat Area at midnight. They breathed in deeply, inhaling the intoxicating aroma of sweat and blood. Mrs. Davi spotted the weapon, lying on the floor near the two-way mirror. She crossed the floor, bent to pick it up, and then returned to her husband. He watched, as she slipped the lead strip over the fingers of right hand and then slammed a light punch into her left palm. She yelped at the sting of pain, and smiled.
“Did you enjoy the evening’s entertainment, my dear,” Mr. Davi asked.
Mrs. Davi began to slowly undress. Mr. Davi joined her. They lay down on the oak floor, and made love. Mrs. Davi scraped the weapon across her lover’s back, occasionally thumping him lightly. Their moans of pleasure were entirely unlike the cries of pain that had filled the room, only a few hours earlier.

The End