Madison Tempest vs Viola Wolff

“What are you doing?” Braxton inquired from the doorway, leaning against the frame as he stared into the bedroom where Madison was balancing on one foot on the elevated footboard of the bed. He didn’t sound surprised at the sight, but not much she did surprised him anymore.

“I’m thinking about when I used to be in gymnastics,” she replied without turning toward the sound of his voice.

“Well,” he mused, “that explains the balancing part, but why are you in your underwear and using my tie for a blindfold?”

“It’s an exercise my coach used to have us do, the blindfold part” she told him. “It was supposed to help us learn to trust ourselves, so we’d see that our bodies knew what to do all on their own even if our eyes couldn’t see the goal. I wanted to see if I could still do it.”

“Maddie!” he protested, too late.

She bent backwards until her hands found the smooth wood of the footboard and the rest of her body followed suit, flipping over until she stood in place once again. She grinned at him as she peeked out from beneath the tie she had used for a blindfold, and hopped down from the bed. “See? Just like riding a bike. I still remember.”

Relieved that she hadn’t fallen and broken her neck, he shouldered off of the doorframe and stepped into the room, wrapping his muscular arms around her tattooed body. “I see, yes, but what brought this on?”

Madison giggled as she wrapped her legs around his waist and held on with her arms around his neck. “I’m going to go wrestle in New England this weekend,” she explained. “I haven’t been in a ring since So-Cal closed, but I figured if I could still remember how to do a backflip on a beam, I could still remember how to wrestle.”

Braxton frowned, the chiseled line of his jaw and thick muscles in his neck tensing. “Wrestling? This weekend? I wish you would have mentioned it sooner.”

Her feet hit the floor with a thud as she suddenly let go of him, taking a step back and crossing her arms over her chest. “Why? Don’t tell me you’re not going to be there, Brax. You said when I started that you’d come to my shows.”

“I did,” he began slowly, “and I came to all your So-Cal shows, didn’t I? This is kinda short notice.”

“What does it matter?” she demanded. “You said you weren’t working this weekend, and we didn’t make any plans.”

Braxton rubbed the back of his head uncomfortably. “Your father wanted us to come over for dinner. He had something to tell you.”

Madison felt the color drain from her face as she recalled the last time she had been to her father’s house and who she’d run into there. “Well, I don’t want to go,” she told him imperiously. “So it doesn’t matter, and we’re going to New England. Maybe after we can even go up to New York and go shopping.”

“You know I’ll gladly take you shopping any day babe,” Brax said softly as he stepped closer, pulling her back into his arms. “And of course I’ll be at the show. Just don’t make me be the one to call your father and tell him we’re not coming. He already doesn’t like me.”

She rolled her eyes and tossed her blue and purple hair back over her bare shoulder. “He likes you just fine,” she insisted. “Because he knows I love you and that’s all that matters. I’ll call him and tell him we can’t make it if you pack our bags.”

“Deal.” He kissed her so long it bordered on obscene before giving her backside a squeeze and letting her go. “Make sure he knows I tried to convince you and this was all your idea, etcetera.”

She gave a little gesture with one hand as she wandered out of the bedroom to find her phone. “Yeah, yeah, I got it. You’re a saint, I’m the bad girl.”

“I like it when you’re a bad girl,” he called after her.

---

All Star Combat Entertainment. Sounds like a bro gym, won’t lie. The kind where everyone is on a steroid and juice diet, know what I mean? I almost passed it over without a second glance, but I’m glad I decided to give it a shot.

It’s been a while since I’ve wrestled, a few months I suppose, but I’ve been keeping up with my training. Every time Brax goes to Las Vegas on business I go back to that little school and company where I started it all. Leo still teaches there, still as big of a hard ass as ever. He keeps me in shape.

Not that I imagine I’m going to need to be in that great of shape against this Viola Wolff. What was it I read in some blog the other day? “A visual definition of ‘underwhelming.’” That seems entirely accurate, now that I’ve watched some footage. Since she made it to that Date with Destiny ladder match on the first show, she’s done exactly nothing.

Going no-contest with Jud Kennelly and losing to this K-Remix douchenozzle is straight up embarrassing. If I were her I’d have changed my name and gone into witness protection. Maybe she’d do better there than she has wrestling, since no one’s supposed to know who the fuck you are in that case.

Honestly, I was almost offended when I saw who I was getting for my little guest appearance. I had half a mind to call Erik Hawke back and tell him what he could do with this match. Then I realized what a statement I could make here. Walking in from outside the company and literally tearing apart the home talent?

That’s the kind of shit that gets you noticed, and this business is all about being noticed. Apparently someone forgot to teach Viola that somewhere along the line. Maybe Erik didn’t intend to give my career a boost when he booked me, but that’s how it’s going to turn out anyway, so thanks for that.

In return I’ll do you the favor of taking out some of your trash. It’s a chore, I know, and no one likes doing chores. But you did me a solid, so I owe you, right? The least I can do is beat this bitch so badly you don’t even have to waste the effort firing her. You’re welcome, don’t worry about sending a card.