Dorothy Oswalt, Part 3
Charina's failed leg drop had cost her dearly.
Dorothy kicked the dazed Charina square in the back, seized the offensive, then locked Charina's head against her side and dropped backward. Clean, textbook DDT — the work of a true veteran.
Then Dorothy went straight into the arsenal of her fellow shooter and personal role model, R.B.D. A forward roll into a midair twist — a moonsault. She hit Rolling Thunder next, crashing down back-first across Charina's chest.
"Aaah!"
Charina screamed and bucked hard. Dorothy kept her back planted on Charina's chest, hooked one leg, and went for the cover.
One!
Two!
Charina's free arm snagged the rope. Rope break — the referee caught it clean. Dorothy rose with a look of pure irritation, grabbed Charina by the hair, hauled her up, and clamped her neck against her side again.
Everyone expected another DDT. They were wrong.
Dorothy bounced, then hoisted Charina straight up into a vertical lift and held her there — frozen in the air.
Whoa—!
Dorothy! Dorothy!
The crowd erupted. Stacey, watching from the back, was genuinely stunned. Dorothy had the ideal women's physique — about five-eight, a hundred forty-three pounds — but raw power had never been her calling card. Stacey had never once seen her pull a pure strength move like this, something with no finesse to hide behind.
"A delayed suplex? Since when does she have that kind of power?"
"Opponent's light enough that she can get away with it."
"Ah—!"
After roughly three seconds of that hold, Charina thrashed her legs free and landed beside Dorothy. She immediately drove a kick into Dorothy's midsection.
"Ugh!"
A short cry — Dorothy doubled over, both hands on her stomach. Charina spun a full one-eighty in front of her, snared her neck, and sat down hard. This time it was Dorothy thrashing like a landed fish.
"Stunner!"
"She's the one who hits the Eclipse — of course she's got that in the bag."
"Still didn't expect to see it. Clean hit, clean sell."
Charina's face was as furious as Dorothy's had been. She wiped the blood and sweat from her face, steadied her breathing — looking for all the world like she was deciding which finish to use. Then she made her choice. She hauled Dorothy up and clamped one hand around her throat. Dorothy tried to pry the fingers loose with both hands, but Charina was faster. Her free hand scooped under Dorothy's waist, lifted, and drove her into the mat.
Plenty of choke slams look alike. Supporting the waist with the off-hand, though — that was the Deadman's way.
"The Deadman would lose his mind if he saw that."
"Just the Deadman? Jake-o, Iron Cold — half the legends who ever loved her would be lining up."
"Why isn't she hitting my Sweet Chin Music, though?"
"Hmm. Maybe because Selma already does the jumping elbow drop."
Charina grabbed Dorothy's legs and dragged her to center ring. After a successful choke slam, it looked like she was setting up for a Shooting Star Press. But what she did next was strange. She hoisted one of Dorothy's legs high, forced her own leg between them, and lay back.
Stacey and John both recognized the position instantly — and both knew it had absolutely no business being on a wrestling ring. It was the kind of pose you'd find stamped with an adults-only rating, the kind that belonged in a certain kind of lesbian film.
"Huh?"
"What… what is that?"
Ohhh!
What the…
Some in the crowd screamed. Some swore.
Wow!
Nice! That's it!
Best ever! Best ever!
Others cheered.
Charina sat with Dorothy's one leg pinned under her hips and back, then twisted the opposite ankle.
"AAAAAGH!"
It was the most agonized scream Dorothy had let out all match. She tried to shove the leg off her torso; when that failed, she tried to thrash free. Charina only applied more pressure. Before the referee could even check on her, Dorothy tapped.
Ding ding ding.
And the winner of this match — Cha~ri~na!
Submission victory by tap-out. Charina's theme rolled. The crowd rose as one for a match WWO rarely saw the likes of — whistling, clapping, pouring praise on both women for the war they'd just fought.
Wheeeew—
Clap clap clap clap—
The music announced the end of the bout, but Charina still hadn't released Dorothy's ankle. Only when the referee rushed in and grabbed her hands did she finally let go.
Even in victory, Charina was sniffling, wiping her nose with the back of her hand, still seething. She glanced once at Dorothy writhing and clutching her ankle, then bolted outside the ring, grabbed her bag, and came right back in. She pulled out a spray can, shook it, and squirted foam into her palm. She tasted it herself first — then force-fed it to Dorothy.
Oh nooooo!
The crowd knew what that was by now. The reaction was pure revulsion. Unlike Olivia, Dorothy couldn't run — her ankle was too wrecked. Charina packed a full fistful into her mouth before finally letting go.
"Cough — cough — ptoo, ptoo."
"Hmph."
Charina looked genuinely baffled by the rejection. She squirted another dollop onto her own hand, tasted it again, and smiled with pure satisfaction — as if to say, what's the problem? Then she turned to the crowd and bowed, deep and formal, the Eastern way.
That was incredible—
Great work, Charina!
What a match. You're the best—
Loved every second of it — except that godawful mint chocolate!
Mint choc out! Mint choc out!
Charina seemed to enjoy the reaction. She waved, hopped on her skateboard, and rolled slowly back through the curtain. Dorothy limped out of the ring on one good leg. One of them had a bright red mouth; the other was coated white from chin to cheek.
Dorothy! So close—
Great job, Dorothy!
Get her next time—
Even limping, Dorothy waved back, then let the medical staff help her out of the arena. Only then did the crowd settle.
"Haaah. That was a lot to process."
"Right? Even more so live. What hit you hardest, John?"
John counted on his fingers.
"We'll set aside Charina's range of moves and how strong she is."
"Okay."
"First — that prideful Dorothy actually jobbed. She's mellowed out more than I expected."
Stacey nodded.
"Second — Charina's selling. Dorothy just deadlifted her like that. Means almost anyone on the roster can hoist her. Moves nobody would ever dream of using become possible. Hell, even five-foot Roxanna might be able to hit power moves on her. And with selling that good, wrestlers are going to be lining up to work with her."
"No argument. I feel like I could hit a powerbomb on her myself."
Snap.
John flicked a finger-snap.
"Exactly. We're going to get a lot of great matches out of this."
"Anything else?"
"I'll need a closer look, but I've never seen a submission like that. Some kind of modified ankle lock — no idea who invented it. Having a unique hold of your own is a massive advantage on its own. And the crowd ate it up."
The reactions had split every which way tonight because it was brand new. Give it time, and just the setup for that hold would draw cheers on sight.
"But does it actually hurt?"
"Hell if I know. Tomorrow I'll grab some of the boys and test it."
Stacey recoiled.
"Ugh. Two guys in that position? I do not want that image in my head."
"Hahaha. Fair enough."
Then Match Five started — the Inquisitors versus the Hardy Boyz. Curious about both teams' ring work, the two of them dropped the small talk and focused on the match.
I rolled into Gorilla Position on my skateboard.
Clap clap clap—
The producer, the writers, the brand general manager, even the Inquisitors and the Hardy Boyz waiting for their entrance — all of them greeted me with applause.
"That was a hell of a match."
"Great work out there."
"Haaah. How am I supposed to follow that?"
"You think you're the only one? What about me?"
"You looked great, Rina. Well done."
"I heard about it, but damn — that was a lot of blood. You okay? Anything hurt?"
I bowed first, grateful.
"Nothing's hurt. Thanks to all of you, the match went well."
"Then why the face?"
"My face? I don't know… tired, maybe?"
I answered Alf and shook the hand the GM offered.
"That exceeded every expectation. A true classic."
"Thank you."
"The nosebleed's fine, though?"
"Yes. It ran for two or three minutes and stopped."
"Good to hear."
Then Dorothy came through. She got her own round of applause from the crew and her peers.
"Thank you."
A short greeting — then she walked over and gave me a light hug.
"Rina. You're even better in a live match. That was a blast."
"Ankle okay?"
"Obviously."
Dorothy rolled her foot against the floor to prove it.
"But that hold — I really couldn't get out. Way tighter than in practice."
"You can't half-ass the positioning in a real match."
"Mmm. Fair. Let's run it back sometime. You good with that?"
"Of course."
"Next time, though, I'm winning. I hate mint chocolate. Tastes exactly like toothpaste."
"Hahaha. Sorry."
"Not like I need an apology! Anyway — good work."
"You too."
Dorothy turned away looking satisfied and went to exchange greetings with the GM and the producer. I told Alf and James to go kill it, then slipped out of Gorilla Position and headed for the locker room.
Luckily, Selma — who shared the room with me — was nowhere to be found. Washing the dried blood off my face should have been priority one. But more urgent than that was the failure message that had popped the moment I left the arena. Irritation first. I needed to check it.
"Open quest window."
Receive a standing ovation from the entire audience in your match against Dorothy Oswalt. (80% or higher)
FINAL RESULT: FAILURE
78% achieved. 2% short of success condition.
Two percent. How many people was that?
Two thousand seats — so about forty people?
I failed over forty people?
If I'd just winked after the match, blown a kiss, hugged a few fans — it would have been more than enough. I'd gotten cocky after the insane reaction to my debut.
"Aaaargh! Shit! Forty people!"
The scream and the curse slipped out before I could stop them.
Thud. Thud.
I was slamming my palms into the sofa in pure frustration when the door rattled open and Selma walked in.
"Hey! What's wrong with you?"
"Ah… nothing."
"Did you not realize how much blood was on you?"
"It's not that. Haaah. I'm gonna go wash up."
"Fine. I'm next door with Olivia — come find me there."
"Got it."
The second Selma left, I exhaled in relief. Thank god there was no penalty for failure. That could have gone so much worse.
The linked quest — the Star Mission — ends the whole chain on a single failure. If this works like a normal RPG, the rewards only get bigger as you go. I cannot afford to fail that one.
No matter what. I will clear it.