Wipe Out

As Roberta checked her boots to make sure they were tight and comfortable, she couldn’t help looking over at the new girl, Pinky. She had a towel wrapped around her body and was drying that bubblegum hair with a second towel as she talked to Lori "Lightning" Striker about something. Roberta found it really annoying.

It had nothing to do with them making too much noise or comments that bothered her. It didn’t really have anything to do with Pinky at all. The newcomer deserved some attention. Her performance in that "dark" tag match was top-notch, like a seasoned veteran. Pinky deserved to feel proud of the way that she hooked the fans with her charisma and gave them a great match.

Lori Striker was the problem. About the same size as Pinky, Striker was a high-flying favorite of the UWF fans. As soon as Pinky got back to the locker room, Lori was there to congratulate her and make the new girl feel at home. It was really sweet.

Lori wouldn’t be so friendly to the other newcomers, though. The other five rookies didn’t have the fans mobbing the security rails as they walked out of the arena. They didn’t look like sure-bets to be popular.

For six months as "Big Bobbi-Jo," the most that Roberta could get from Lori Striker was a polite brush-off. Striker didn’t want to waste time getting attached to a so-so wrestler that might not last with the UWF. Of course, she’d probably want to be friendly now that Roberta had the fans’ interest as "R.I.P." The new persona was obviously going to be around for a while. R.I.P. was a little too scary for Striker and many of the other wrestlers, though, and Roberta kind of liked it that way. It really showed those stuck-up bitches that they should be careful of the girls that they snubbed.

Satisfied with the feel of her boots, Roberta closed her locker and went for a small drink of water, just enough to help fight the hot lights without filling her bladder. She was wearing her black tights, pads, and boots, but she would wait to put on the skull-mask, gauntlets, and cape until it was almost time to go out to the arena. Why get hot and sweaty before it was necessary? When Roberta got back to her locker, she saw her opponent Bambi hovering around it and trying to look casual.

Bambi’s gimmick was the Baywatch-type surfer-girl, and she fit the mold to a "T." She had the golden tan and the sun-streaked blonde hair and the clear blue eyes. She had the long, shapely legs and the firm, heart-shaped butt and the huge, gravity-defying breasts. To fill out the picture, Bambi wrestled barefoot in a purple-and-pink one-piece of thin neoprene and spandex, one of those "wet" swimsuits meant to keep you comfortable in activities like surfing and kayaking. The suit hugged her curves like a second skin and had a zipper in the front that Bambi had open enough to show some deep cleavage. Everyone in back knew that the zipper was rigged with super-glue so it couldn’t possibly open any further. Bambi took advantage of the "stretchy" nature of the suit to wiggle in and out of it with the rigged zipper. Other than the suit, Bambi’s only other accessories consisted of beach sandals for the walk to the ring and a colorful surfboard that she carried with her.

Roberta went to her locker and pulled out the rest of her costume, purposely ignoring Bambi and letting the blonde make the first move. Bambi wasn’t going to be much competition tonight. The surfer-girl had distinguished herself in two ways in the UWF. First, she was one of the most popular women in the UWF and the most "downloaded" woman on the company’s web-site. The other distinction was that Bambi had never defeated an opponent in her career. She was the prettiest punching-bag in the UWF. The few wins on her record came from her opponents getting disqualified for breaking the rules as they pummeled the blonde.

Bambi was obviously hoping that Roberta would offer some kind of greeting. When it became clear that the bigger woman wouldn’t, the blonde cleared her throat and said, " So, Roberta, ready for our match tonight?" She smiled in a friendly way that almost disguised how nervous she was.

Roberta let her stew for a few seconds before standing and moving almost breast-to-breast with Bambi, using her 4-inch height advantage to make the blonde look up. With a blank expression, she said, "I’m ready." Roberta paused for a second and added, "You’re not." Without another word, Roberta sat down again like she’d already forgotten Bambi was there. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Bambi open and close her mouth twice before slinking away quietly. Roberta let a little grin creep out. It was never too early to start a mind-game and grab an advantage, even if it probably wasn’t needed.

About 40 minutes later, R.I.P. was in full costume and waiting quietly behind the curtain. Bambi was already in the ring, probably still waving and wiggling by the sound of the crowd cheering. Any second now… the light peeking under the curtain went dark. R.I.P. had ten seconds to march forward a distance of three practiced strides. Right on cue, a funeral dirge blasted out of the arena’s speakers and a spotlight illuminated the 6-foot-2 figure covered by her long, black cape. R.I.P. counted to "3" silently and threw her arms out to the sides, sweeping back the cape and revealing her powerful, Amazonian physique as the lights came on again.

"Bambi’s opponent in this match weighs in at 190 pounds and hails form the Heart of Darkness! She is the Daughter of Death, R.I.P.!" The crowd started howling and throwing trash at the masked woman while R.I.P. stood at the top of the ramp like she was oblivious to all of it. She was too busy staring at Bambi and chuckling to herself about her introduction. Only the bit about her being "Bambi’s opponent" could be considered non-fiction. The "Heart of Darkness" and "Daughter of Death" were part of her persona, of course, and "190 pounds" sounded a little better than her actual weight of 188. That didn’t really matter since her interest in bodybuilding had grown since becoming R.I.P. Her goal was to get up to about 195 pounds with enough muscle to look really ripped and intimidating without being overly huge.

She stayed where she was on the ramp until Bambi began to fidget under her gaze, and only then did R.I.P. strut slowly and confidently toward the ring. Those four simple words back in the locker room obviously had the blonde worried. Taking her time getting to the ring would work up the fans and give Bambi a little longer to fret. When R.I.P. finally climbed into the ring, though, the waiting was over. Shifting into high gear, the masked wrestler tossed off her cape and charged at Bambi.

R.I.P. was surprised in the center of the ring, not by Bambi but by the referee. While the blonde cringed in her corner, the ref jumped in front of R.I.P. and used his body to block the charge. As he took the brunt of the unavoidable collision, he shouted, "Back to your corner! Wait for the bell!"

Not wanting to fight with an official, R.I.P. only put up a token struggle as the ref forced her back to her corner. But as he did, she hissed at him, "What the fuck are you doing?"

"I’m following orders," he replied in a voice only Roberta could hear. The ref checked her boots and pads thoroughly as he continued, "Pam Trent told me to be strict in this one and call it down the middle."

His words stunned Roberta long enough for the ref to back off and call for the bell. Trent had told Roberta that she wanted R.I.P. to slaughter Bambi in this match. Why would she give the referee orders that were just the opposite?

Now wasn’t the time to figure it out because Bambi was out of her corner and moving cautiously along the ropes. Clearly, she wanted to keep plenty of room between herself and R.I.P., but R.I.P. had other ideas. The dark Amazon charged across the ring, moving at a little less than top speed just to make sure she could react in time if Bambi tried to dodge. Bambi didn’t, instead swinging her right hand at R.I.P. in hopes of stopping the bigger woman. R.I.P. easily batted it aside with her left arm and drove the blonde into the ropes. Shoving her left hand up under Bambi’s chin, she bent the blonde backward over the top rope and laid a thunderous right forearm shot into Bambi’s bountiful bosoms.

R.I.P. wound up her arm, intending to hammer several forearms down on the blonde’s chest, but the ref was already there calling for a break and starting a count. The masked woman had no choice but to step back or the match would have been over in less than a minute. She didn’t like it, though, and R.I.P. turned to bitch at the ref as Bambi sat her round derriere on the middle rope and hugged her breasts. Bambi only had a few seconds of relief, however, because R.I.P. quickly hurled a few insults at the referee and lunged sideways at her opponent, stabbing the point of her elbow into the right side of Bambi’s jaw. Bambi screamed in pain as her head snapped around to the left, and she slid off of the ropes to her knees. Before she could fall any further, two black gauntlets grabbed Bambi by her long golden hair and dragged her to her feet. Naturally, the ref was right there to complain about the hair-pull as Bambi was hauled into the middle of the ring, but R.I.P. cut him off by pulling Bambi off of her feet, swinging her around, and throwing her down face-first into the canvas.

The referee screamed at R.I.P. for the illegal move, but she ignored him and stomped the back of Bambi’s head twice. Before the ref could complain about that, the masked woman dropped her left knee between the blonde’s shoulder blades. Keeping her left knee in place and pinning Bambi’s right arm with the other, R.I.P. locked her hands around Bambi’s chin and tried to wrench the blonde’s head off of her neck. Bambi kicked her legs frantically and made a high-pitched squeal through clenched teeth as R.I.P. pulled back savagely and slowly twisted her head from side to side. This torture went on for one of the longest minutes of Bambi’s life until the referee moved in to ask Bambi for her submission. It was way too early to let that happen so R.I.P. released the chin-lock. Bambi’s neck was burning with pain as her face dropped into the canvas, and she could hardly move her head as she listened to her dominant opponent tell the ref to back off and mind his own business. Then, Bambi felt R.I.P.’s leather-clad fingers reaching around her face again, but this time, two fingers from each hand forced their way into Bambi’s mouth. A split-second later, Bambi’s agony was doubled as R.I.P. pulled back as hard as she did the first time, but now, she was pulling back with a "double-fish-hook" that felt like she was peeling Bambi’s face off of her skull. For Bambi, the only shred of relief was that this hold allowed her to release her anguished screams. Of course, this was yet another illegal hold, and the ref didn’t even give a warning before starting a count. Bambi’s torment was as brief as it was terrible because R.I.P. released the hold quickly to prevent a disqualification so early in the match.

R.I.P. stood up and glared down at the ref, her frustration with his interference growing more apparent. About the same height as Bambi, the poor guy looked a bit intimidated but only backed up a step as he spouted the usual speech about obeying the rules or being disqualified. Bambi, in the meantime, was lying face-down on the mat and fighting back tears at the pain in her neck and the taste of blood from her lips. That last brutal move had split the red, pouty lips of the surfer-girl, so when she raised her head finally, the fans got a glimpse of smeared blood on the favorite’s chin.

The cries of protest at Bambi’s damaged face brought R.I.P.’s attention back to her sorry opponent. Immediately, she hopped straight up and drilled her left knee into the small of Bambi’s back. The suffering blonde arched around the big woman’s knee, lifting her shoulders and legs slightly off of the mat as her face twisted in agony. R.I.P. grabbed the blonde by the chin again, but she stood and used the hold to pull Bambi up to her feet. Moving to the right of her victim, R.I.P. drove her left thigh into Bambi’s midsection to make her bend over. Still holding Bambi’s chin, she forced the blonde’s head up and lifted her right knee to smash it into Bambi’s jaw. R.I.P. put enough force into the blow to not only straighten Bambi up, but it lifted the blonde’s feet off of the canvas and sent her crashing senseless on her back.

Bambi was spread-eagle on the canvas and wondering where she was, and R.I.P. went to the corner with the ref following her like a yapping terrier. Going to the top turnbuckle, The skull-masked woman tuned out another count by the referee and gave the fans an awesome demonstration of her agility by doing a somersault into a guillotine-leg-drop across Bambi’s throat. The added velocity of the somersault put ungodly force into the vicious blow to make the blonde’s entire body do a violent spasm on the mat. As R.I.P. stood, there was no question that Bambi had no hope of getting up and she laid there twitching and coughing weakly.

But once again, the referee was in R.I.P.’s face, and Roberta was getting sick of it. Technically, she had "slaughtered" Bambi already, and she dropped an elbow into the blonde’s heart and went for the pin. How was she supposed to do her "monster-heel" bit and still win the match under these conditions?

The answer came to Roberta as the ref counted "2," and she pulled the helpless blonde up. R.I.P. couldn’t do both. It had to be a test from Pam Trent. She wanted to know, "Is R.I.P. a winner or a monster?" It was as clear as the skull on her mask. Let the ref disqualify her. Bambi was getting carried out tonight on a stretcher.

Suddenly feeling better, R.I.P. stood and pulled Bambi up to her feet. The surfer was wobbling on rubber legs, so the evil Amazon held her steady with a handful of Bambi’s rubber suit and started to bitch-slap her for the fun of it. The ref complained, but now that she didn’t care about the DQ, R.I.P. could test the limits of his patience.

Letting the ref whine, R.I.P.’s right gauntlet cracked into Bambi’s face over and over until pink-and-white foam was splattering with each slap. Holding back the next slap, R.I.P. watched Bambi’s red, swelling face come to rest and smiled beneath her mask at the pink blood-and-saliva that covered Bambi’s chin and dripped into the deep crevasse between her breasts. Her blue eyes were vacant and glassy. Bambi wasn’t in the ring anymore. This was a blonde zombie.

A back-handed chop to the throat sent the helpless victim stumbling back into the ropes. Like a mannequin, Bambi fell into the ropes and was tossed back toward her torturer. R.I.P. was right there waiting with a European uppercut that snapped that empty head backward and lifted the broken blonde off of the canvas and into the ropes again. Bambi bent way back over the ropes this time, nearly falling out of the ring, but that was R.I.P.’s goal. As she came back down into the ring, the evil Amazon stepped forward and launched her right knee up between Bambi’s thighs. The crowd groaned and booed as the cunt-buster caught her victim squarely with a loud "crack," and Bambi was lifted almost out of the ring. The only thing that kept her from hitting the arena floor was a black-gauntlet shoving down on her thigh before she was completely over the top rope.

Of course, that left Bambi back in the arms of R.I.P. Bambi fell away from the ropes, and R.I.P. caught her under the arms, taking all of the surfer-girl’s weight and dragging her to the middle of the ring. From the wheezing sounds and baby-steps that the blonde was making, the skull-masked woman could tell that Bambi could barely breathe or walk, the results of the throat-chop and cunt-buster that the ref was whining about behind her. Once they reached the center of the ring, R.I.P. turned Bambi around so she was facing away from her tormentor. Squatting down, R.I.P. put her right arm between Bambi’s legs and pulled the jobber across R.I.P.’s shoulders as she stood up. Clamping her left hand on the blonde’s throat, the Daughter of Death bent the blonde in a choking torture-rack back-breaker. That brought a fresh complaint and count from the ref for the choke, but Roberta was playing with him now as much as Bambi. She wanted him to count and waited until the last second to break the hold… by pressing Bambi into the air and dropping Bambi’s spine across her knee. The absolutely devastating over-the-knee back-breaker made the crowd gasp in unison as the beautiful victim’s spine folded around the powerful thigh of R.I.P. Even the referee was shocked into silence for a moment, and R.I.P. took advantage of it to start her next move. Standing and pulling her victim more-or-less upright, the evil Amazon bent Bambi forward at the waist and hugged the blonde around the torso. With ease, the woman in black picked Bambi off of the mat and into an over-the-shoulder back-breaker. She didn’t stop there, though. R.I.P. let the blonde’s body slide back until the back of Bambi’s neck was against her shoulder, a hangman submission. Then, she shifted her grip from Bambi’s chin to another double-fish-hook so poor Bambi was suffering not only from horrible pain in her neck but from the face-peeling torture that she’d felt earlier. Almost on cue, the referee was counting again, and again, R.I.P. waited until the last second to break the hold. This time, she dropped to her butt to shock Bambi with a neck-breaker.

Bambi slid off of R.I.P.’s shoulder like a limp rag and laid on the canvas, occasionally twitching in her agony. Any fight that Bambi might have had in her was long gone. Her world was a gray-edged blur full of pain and a dull, roaring sound.

On the other hand, the referee was quite aware of what was happening. R.I.P. was taunting him, using some of the nastiest submission holds on Bambi and adding an illegal twist to each one. If he enforced the rules and ordered her to break the hold, she did so with a vicious finishing maneuver. At the same time, he knew that if he ignored the cheating and tried to get Bambi’s submission, R.I.P. would do the same damned thing. She was pushing his buttons, no longer worried about getting disqualified for some reason.

As the referee rolled this around in his mind, R.I.P. picked up her victim once more and twisted her into another debilitating hold, an abdominal-stretch. With her superior size and power, R.I.P. was able to apply the torso-tearing hold with Bambi completely off of the mat and at R.I.P.’s nonexistent mercy. And for the referee’s benefit, she applied the hold with her right hand crushing the windpipe of the hapless blonde. Having no choice, the ref started another count for the choke, knowing what would happen. Just before he could finish, R.I.P. swung Bambi’s legs out in front of her, tucked the blonde’s face under her arm, and planted Bambi’s skull into the mat with a reverse-DDT.

Getting angry, the referee tried to pull a trick of his own. The reverse-DDT left R.I.P. on top of Bambi’s unmoving body, and he dove to the mat to try to slap out a lightning-fast 3-count. He nearly made it. R.I.P. was barely able to roll herself and her victim out of the pinning position before his hand hit the mat the third time. Snidely muttering, "Awfully fast on that count, ref," R.I.P. got to her feet, using the front of Bambi’s suit to lift her off of the canvas. Scooping the lifeless blonde into her arms, she looked at the ref and said, "Maybe Bambi and I should take this where you can’t count a pin." With that, she pressed Bambi over her head and threw Bambi out of the ring.

Bambi hit the floor like a bag of wet cement and laid still. Her eyes were doing the "thousand-yard stare" at nothing, and for the most part, she was in a coma from the beating she was taking. Above her in the ring, the ref was trying to get between R.I.P. and the ropes, but she "pie-faced" him, putting her left hand over his face and shoving him back and off of his feet. The look of surprise on his face was priceless, and then it was replaced by anger as he watched R.I.P. leave the ring to continue the destruction of Bambi.

Bambi didn’t seem to realize she was being pulled to her feet by the hair; her arms and legs just hung limp as R.I.P. picked her off of the floor. With a little "arranging," R.I.P. got Bambi on her feet, for the most part, so she was almost steady. That was all that the dark woman needed for the move she had planned next. The blonde zombie easily manipulated so her head was caught between R.I.P.’s thighs while the monster-heel hugged her around the waist. From that position, it was simple to lift and swing Bambi up until she was sitting on R.I.P.’s shoulders. Shifting her hands, R.I.P. grabbed the back of Bambi’s rubber suit by the leg-holes and lifted Bambi even higher to give the fans a good look at Bambi’s tanned cheeks and give Bambi a "Last Ride" powerbomb on the arena floor!

There was hush through the arena at the sickening sound of flesh hitting the thin padding over cement, and then the lull was broken by the sound of the bell ringing. The referee was back on his feet and calling for the bell, disqualifying R.I.P. for knocking down an official, unfortunately too late to stop her from using the powerbomb on the floor. Bambi was obviously going to be joining Spice on the injured list for a couple of weeks.

The voice of the ring announcer blared over the speakers, "The winner of this match… by disqualification… is BAMBIIIIIIII!" The fans reacted with a mix of cheers and boos, supporting the decision but not the destruction heaped on their favorite. The referee slid out of the ring and crouched by the unconscious blonde, signaling for help from backstage.

No one was really watching R.I.P., and that was a big mistake because she wasn’t finished yet. With the referee’s attention on Bambi, the masked monster walked over to Bambi’s surfboard and slid it into the ring, laying it across the middle ropes in one of the corners. Once she had it to her liking, R.I.P. walked back around the ring toward Bambi. The fans noticed R.I.P.’s approach and reacted loudly, getting the referee’s attention. He stood and moved to cut off R.I.P. and got surprised with a second "pie-face," ending up on the floor again.

Other officials were running down the ramp to assist, but by the time they reached the ring, R.I.P. had the blonde draped face-down across her shoulders and was climbing the ring steps to the apron. They followed the masked Amazon into the ring, begging her to put the injured girl down gently, but R.I.P. ignored everything but the surfboard in the corner. She took Bambi over to the corner, and without hesitation, R.I.P. smashed Bambi’s head through the board with a Death Valley Driver. Nothing more than shaped and lacquered foam, the board snapped in half as the broken body of its owner continued its trip to the canvas, and the two pieces ended up holding Bambi in place, folded upside-down in a matchbook in the corner. Now, R.I.P. was done, and she left the ring and walked up the ramp, pelted with a shower of trash.

She barely got through the curtain before someone was telling her to go directly to Pam Trent’s office. Pulling off the mask on the way, Roberta quickly made her way to the Women’s Division Director’s office.

At her first tap on the door, she heard Pam call out, "Come in, Roberta." Entering the office, Roberta noticed first that her boss was smiling. "Have a seat." Once Roberta was seated, Pam smiled even more. "You really pulped poor Bambi. That may have been worse than the beating that you gave to Spice. You lost the match, though."

"I thought about it while I was in the ring. Winning didn’t seem as important as proving that R.I.P. was here in the UWF to hurt people. Was I wrong?"

"Hell, no, you weren’t wrong! That’s just the attitude I was hoping for in the ring, and I think you figured that out, too. Now, you did lay your hands on the ref, so I’m required to fine you for that, as well as for putting Bambi through that surfboard after the match was over. I’ll make an announcement that you were "heavily fined" for you actions, but I’m thinking a hundred bucks will cover both infractions, since you were following my orders in a way. The next thing is your next opponent. Like we said, I want you to take a week off from the ring and then have a match with one of our A-list wrestlers. Any preferences?"

Roberta thought for a second before the perfect candidate came to her. "Yeah, how about Lori Striker? Doesn’t she have that "number-one contender" match next week? I could put in an appearance and make sure she loses. Then, we’d have the perfect set-up for her and me to have a match the following week."

"Yeah. YEAH! That would work out perfectly! She’s facing "Spider" Marlowe in that match next week, and to be honest, I’d rather have Marlowe in the title match. I mean, who wants to see favorite face "Lightning" Striker challenging the champion face, "Sweet Dreams" Samuels? Marlowe versus Samuels will be a much better match, especially with R.I.P. versus Striker to warm up the fans. Great idea, Roberta."

"My pleasure, Pam. Believe me."