Olympia reeled as her rival, Hellen Wheels, pummeled her with a series of body punches. Olympia tried to stay close, but the fists seemed to come from everywhere at once, landing on her muscled stomach over and over.
She gasped for breath and tried to grab a wrist, a forearm, anything to halt the barrage. The sell out stadium crowd jeered and booed, but the sound was growing distant and detached. Digging deep, sweat dripping from her short strawberry blonde hair and threatening to partially blind her, she growled, focusing, and caught Hellen’s next punch, gripping with all her strength.
Somehow, she caught her opponent’s other arm and pulled the smaller but fierce wrestler close, locking her up. The biker chick turned pro wrestler grinned up at Olympia, her smile victorious.
“Not so tough out here, are you? You’ve always been in my shadow,” she taunted, struggling to break the grip on her arms. “Look at you with all those medals you flaunt, acting like you’re better than me because you won a few races. What a joke!”
Olympia, still fighting for air and for composure, glanced over to her corner, at her medals, outside the ring. They seemed to mock her, her pride in winning so many prestigious international competitions a joke inside the wrestling ring. All that work … all that struggle … meaning nothing facing off against this woman who seemed to best her with ease every time they fought.
All that work…
The ring, Hellen, the referee, the crowd, all seemed to fade away for Olympia. Her childhood flashed like a slideshow in her mind. Discovering her love of running, of competing, early on in school field days. Begging her parents to let her run farther, go to the gym during the cold winters, compete against older kids and even some adults.
Also, those late nights secretly watching old wrestling matches. Not understanding why she couldn’t also compete in the ring with the boys, why her parents simply refused. How angry she got, at them and herself, for allowing herself to cry herself to sleep, and how she channeled it into training for races at higher and higher levels, until she was winning those medals Hellen belittled to her face every time they met.
Anger, it simmered to the surface, and her focus returned. The ring, everything, came with it. Glaring down into Hellen’s eyes, her grip tightening hard on the other woman’s arms, she whispered quietly, “Not any more…”
Stunned by the venom in her eyes, Hellen tried to draw back, and Olympia seemed to explode into motion. With a tug on one arm using her leverage, Olympia spun Hellen and wrapped her in an unbreakable embrace, back to front, tossing her to the mat in a perfectly executed German Suplex.
Jazz Jupiter, the announcer’s voice, rang out in excitement, his powerful vocals cutting through the crowd noise. “Can she do it? The Triple Gold!”
Reaching down, Olympia pulled Hellen to her feet by her hair, spinning her into a second suplex. Hellen tried to crawl away, but Olympia, her pulse pounding in anger and excitement, pulled her up again and, with an incredible display of strength, completed her finisher, tossing Hellen nearly across the ring with a third suplex.
The entire crowd called out in unison as Olympia pinned the stunned woman.
Standing in the center of the ring, with referee Oscar Cortez holding her hand in the air, Olympia looked down at the woman who’d tormented her since she joined the DWC all those months ago, and the anger turned to an exaltation she’d never felt winning any race at any age. Looking around, she promised herself the next gold she won would be one of the Council’s coveted title belts.