The Fallout Shelter (vs Pequeno Dinosaurio)
May 8, 2020 15:02:36 GMT -5
lajohnnystylez, Miss OpW, and 1 more like this
Post by Sahara on May 8, 2020 15:02:36 GMT -5
The Fallout Shelter was a run down training center originally used by the Fallout girls during their roughshod run as a wrestling faction back in 2017, which was later converted to a wrestling school. The group was composed of only three women; Grace Goeren, Elizabeth Gaunt, and Sahara. The latest signing to Outlaw Pro. While their scintillating sex and drug fueled rampage went down just a few years prior in the now defunct EWA, it was already long forgotten history. To anyone involved in the wrestling industry, they understand how years can sometimes feel like decades. For Lauren -- aka Sahara -- it was like taking a stroll down memory lane…unleashing a part of her past even she’d forgotten.
She softly whispered, “When we were Queens…”
She’d phoned ahead to see if the place was still standing, and much to her surprise, someone actually answered the phone. A cheeky sounding receptionist with a heavy southern twang that seemed more interested in pecking away on her iPhone than actually doing her job. But it was of no concern, the Shelter was somehow still open for business, and that meant it was time to take a ride…
One of the advantages of the Shelter was that it was in a remote location, far enough off the grid of a major city that it wasn’t under any pressure to stay closed during a time of global pandemic. It was also membership by invite only, so it wasn’t like rando’s off the street were walking in. Not that any of that mattered to Sahara. As far as she was concerned, her body, her mind -- her choice -- and selfishness be damned, she needed a way to work off the ring rust.
As the blonde pulled into the gravel covered parking lot, she noticed a smattering of cars parked in various locations. The property was sprawling, and she’d instantly noticed the once dilapidated sign out front of the building had been fully refurbished. As a matter of fact, the whole building looked like it had gone under major reconstruction since her last visit.
She sat in silence for a few minutes as the memories came rushing back. Eventually, the blonde heaved a sigh and grabbed her gear stuffed duffle bag that sat on the passenger seat...
“Well, let’s see what we’ve got…”
“Pequeno Dinosaurio,” the blonde let out a little laugh, “I hope I’m pronouncing that right. I won’t lie to ya, I don’t know much about ya. As a matter of fact, before entering OPW, I’d never heard of ya in my life, and it’s safe to say that you probably never heard of me, either.”
“Hello Pequeno, I’m Sahara. Consider us formally introduced.”
“Your father was a Lucha legend, and while I’ve never wrestled down in Mexico, even I’ve heard of him. Big shoes to fill. And believe me when I say I can empathize with ya. You ain’t got the strength or size most seem blessed with in this industry, and so you gotta make do with the hand you were dealt. Speed. Lots of it. And as they say, speed kills. I also grew up in a wrestling family, the littlest sister amongst four brothers, all destined to be wrestling superstars.”
“All except for me, that is…”, Sahara scoffed.
“I was the little princess that was meant to be seen, not heard. And the mere thought of stepping into that ring seemed like the farthest thing from my father's mind. Wrestling was a sport for men. If anything, maybe I could be a valet for one of ‘em. A valet. That was meant to be my legacy in the sport I grew up in. So when I say I get it? I get it. You’re a piranha in a world of sharks. It’s what fuels you … keeps ya goin’. You ain’t doin’ this just to prove to yourself, that you’re worthy of bein’ your father's son. You’re doin’ it to prove it to anyone and everyone that ever thought of doubting you...”
“Let’s just say we got that in common.”
It was eerie stepping through the front doors to the Fallout Shelter after all this time. And holy damn had the place changed. The lobby itself -- which didn’t exist in the past -- was state of the art to the point of being completely unnecessary for a private club in the middle of nowhere. Sahara’s eyes scanned the walls in both surprise and utter bewilderment. Adorned with carefully hung pictorials of wrestling’s past, black and white images of the Fallout girls lined the walls. Images frozen in time, with the only splash of color coming from any blood that might be depicted in the scene.
Prominently displayed front and center, Sahara’s eyes gazed upon a massive multi-pane portrait of herself, looking like some sort of a stoic warrior. Braided hair cascaded over her shoulders with those fiercely darkened eyes, and her chin and neck awash in a contrasting shade of crimson. She remembered that night as the night she finally made it. The infamous Vampire incident. It was the night she became the Crimson Queen. The fact that it was hanging in the lobby of the Shelter came as an unexpected shock--
“Can I help you?”, the girls almost over the top southern accent pierced her thoughts. “Ma'am, are you alright?!” Shaking her head to clear her mind, Sahara approached the receptionist.
“Yeah, um, is Gracie around?”
The receptionist smiled, “Gracie? You must mean Grace. No, she don’t come here very often these days. I’m sorry, but are you a member here, cuz this is private property--”
“Yea, I um, I’m aware of that…”
“So do you got a membership card I can scan, or what?”
The blonde raised her eyebrows, “A membership card?!”, she took a few steps back before pointing up at the rather large portrait on the wall. “That’s my membership card.”
“I’m sorry, I’m not followin’…”
The blonde looked up at the portrait of herself, before returning her gaze to the receptionist and pointing up at it again. “Look at it. Look at me. That’s me honey. I’m that one!”
“Well I’ll be damned…”, a gruff voice chimed in, “I will be damned! Sahara herself! How in the hell are you?!”
Sahara’s eyes fell upon the Fallout’s old trainer, Luther, still alive and kickin’! That familiar voice brought with it an unexpected comfort, considering she used to attribute it to something of a drill sergeant pushing them to their limits. “Luther?! Good God are you a sight for sore eyes!” Sahara rushed up and swung her arms around him, grasping him in the tightest hug.
“Wait a minute,” the receptionist’s southern twang interrupted as her voice rose a few octaves, “Holy God, is that really you up there on the wall?!”
Luther laughed, “Yeah, that’s really her, Maisy. The Crimson Queen herself.” The grizzled trainer looked the blonde up and down before nodding, “So the prodigal daughter of the Fallout returns…” Motioning to the back, he beckoned her to follow.
“You royalty around here, ya know...Grace done tore up the place and rebuilt it in honor of you girls…” Shoving the large glass paned doors open, the blonde gazed out upon the sprawling gymnasium. The fitness center that was once a few used weight machines and a rundown wrestling ring had become something the girls never had imagined at the time.
“Jesus f--Christ.”, Sahara gazed around in awe, “It’s amazing!”
“You gals still talk?!”
Sahara shook her head, “Naw, not after the … um, Fallout of a Fallout, pardon the pun. That’s kinda why a tribute to us like this is so unexpected. I mean, I know Gracie got super successful in real estate after she left wrestling, but I never imagined she’d do somethin’ like this...Jesus, I’m honor--” Her voice trailed off as she gazed upon a particularly disturbing depiction of herself on the far wall…she almost couldn’t believe what she was looking at.
“Is that...is that a goddamn picture of me snorting Oxy?!”
Luther damn near guffawed as he cracked a huge smile, “Sure is. Grace insisted on authenticity when they redecorated the place, she wanted to show her students what you Fallout girls were all about … warts n’ all. And is that what it was?! Painkillers? The guys and gals in here have been bettin’ on what you was snortin’ since the place opened…” Luther paused a second, “Cocaine comin’ in at number one.”
They shared a laugh as they strolled down toward the practice rings set up near the back. As the blonde walked side by side with Luther, the students of the Shelter slowly caught a glimpse of that unmistakable shock of platinum hair.
One of the Fallout girls had come home.
It didn’t take long for more and more of the students to take notice.
“What exactly is goin’ on, Luther?”
Her former trainer simply motioned toward one of the practice rings, where more and more students of the Shelter began to gather.
“I know you here to knock off that rust, and I got a room full of students that’d kill each other for an opportunity to step into that ring with you. I told ya, you like royalty here…” After a brief pause, he continued, “Don’t look so surprised. I know you signed with OPW. The Internet don’t keep no secrets these days.”
As she passed by the various guys and girls that had gathered around, a few of them reached out adoring hands just to touch one of the girls they’ve seen hanging up on these hallowed walls all this time.
Sahara breathed it in as she looked up at a portrait of the Fallout girls all standing together. Beneath the portrait was a plaque that read, “The God Queens, 2017.”
And there it was … that intoxicating feeling of pure vanity.
“Everyone doubted me for a time. Including myself. I was just another pretty face tryin’ to make it in a male dominated business where I didn’t belong. Ya see, back then the crowds were mostly adults, and you’d rarely ever see a kid out there in that sea of testosterone. They threw me a pair of panties and a bra and told me, ‘Go on out there and give ‘em a show!’”
“That’s what I dealt with growin’ up in this business, so like I said, I get it when people look at you and say, ‘He’ll never measure up to his daddy.’”
“I almost gave up on wrestling. When I walked away, refusing to become some sorta clown act sideshow, flashin’ my boobs for cheap pops, it took me a while to realize I didn’t just give up on wrestlin’, I had given’ up on myself. I knew it was gonna be an uphill battle for us girls. I knew I couldn’t do it alone. Even today when ya look across the landscape that is the OPW, all ya see is faction after faction, lookin’ out for their own. But I get the feelin’ most of ‘em don’t know what a real faction is. It ain’t about a few people gettin’ together and tryin’ to dominate. It’s about a sisterhood you’ll never forget, even though you know it won’t last forever.”
“That was the genesis of the Fallout. I know, I know, ya never heard of it. But in our little corner of the world, we were the God Queens of the wrestlin’ universe. Sorry gents, ladies only. We weren’t gonna do this standin’ on the shoulders of the very men that once told us to wrestle in our damn skivvys. Fuck ‘em, we said. And then we did!”
“Your story is just beginnin’, little Pequeno, and believe me, I ain’t callin’ ya little to … belittle ya. I know you got the heart of a T-Rex. A little Rex, but still a Rex. You’ll roar and you’ll be heard, but it doesn't happen overnight. You got a lot to learn, and it’s gonna take more than speed or moves, or wrestling itself. Took me years to figure out who I was in this business, and how it all worked. I was taller than most of the girls, but in the grand scheme of things, I was still small. It’s where my reckless style came from. And I know if you bothered to do any research on me, you’d see I fuck up from time to time. They told me not to do moves I’m incapable of doin’, to know my strengths and all that. But all that does is hold ya back. The only way to hit that moonshot is to swing for the fuckin’ moon.”
“And I will … swing for the moon.”
“They called my style reckless … but to me it was fearless.”
“But that’s not what I’m here to tell ya, Little Dinosaurman. I’m here to tell ya wrestlin’ isn’t about winning and losing. I know most think that these days, but they’re wrong; and I’m gonna prove it to ya. In the end, all that matters is who they remember … something I learned a long looooonnng time ago, and I’m here to remind the wrestling world of what’s been missing...”
“Forgive me for being a bit Trumpian here, but it’s time to Make Wrestling Entertaining Again.”
“Sometimes ... winning ain’t winnin’, and losing ain’t losin’.”
“For example, I’m gonna guarantee you somethin’ crazy. The deal of a lifetime. I promise you that you’ll beat me on Showcase, but you won’t be the one they’re talkin’ about when all is said and done.”
“This is how you tell a story.”
“This … is how you entertain.”
“Think on that one for a while, little Dino man…”
She softly whispered, “When we were Queens…”
She’d phoned ahead to see if the place was still standing, and much to her surprise, someone actually answered the phone. A cheeky sounding receptionist with a heavy southern twang that seemed more interested in pecking away on her iPhone than actually doing her job. But it was of no concern, the Shelter was somehow still open for business, and that meant it was time to take a ride…
One of the advantages of the Shelter was that it was in a remote location, far enough off the grid of a major city that it wasn’t under any pressure to stay closed during a time of global pandemic. It was also membership by invite only, so it wasn’t like rando’s off the street were walking in. Not that any of that mattered to Sahara. As far as she was concerned, her body, her mind -- her choice -- and selfishness be damned, she needed a way to work off the ring rust.
As the blonde pulled into the gravel covered parking lot, she noticed a smattering of cars parked in various locations. The property was sprawling, and she’d instantly noticed the once dilapidated sign out front of the building had been fully refurbished. As a matter of fact, the whole building looked like it had gone under major reconstruction since her last visit.
She sat in silence for a few minutes as the memories came rushing back. Eventually, the blonde heaved a sigh and grabbed her gear stuffed duffle bag that sat on the passenger seat...
“Well, let’s see what we’ve got…”
~~~~~
“Hello Pequeno, I’m Sahara. Consider us formally introduced.”
“Your father was a Lucha legend, and while I’ve never wrestled down in Mexico, even I’ve heard of him. Big shoes to fill. And believe me when I say I can empathize with ya. You ain’t got the strength or size most seem blessed with in this industry, and so you gotta make do with the hand you were dealt. Speed. Lots of it. And as they say, speed kills. I also grew up in a wrestling family, the littlest sister amongst four brothers, all destined to be wrestling superstars.”
“All except for me, that is…”, Sahara scoffed.
“I was the little princess that was meant to be seen, not heard. And the mere thought of stepping into that ring seemed like the farthest thing from my father's mind. Wrestling was a sport for men. If anything, maybe I could be a valet for one of ‘em. A valet. That was meant to be my legacy in the sport I grew up in. So when I say I get it? I get it. You’re a piranha in a world of sharks. It’s what fuels you … keeps ya goin’. You ain’t doin’ this just to prove to yourself, that you’re worthy of bein’ your father's son. You’re doin’ it to prove it to anyone and everyone that ever thought of doubting you...”
“Let’s just say we got that in common.”
~~~~~
It was eerie stepping through the front doors to the Fallout Shelter after all this time. And holy damn had the place changed. The lobby itself -- which didn’t exist in the past -- was state of the art to the point of being completely unnecessary for a private club in the middle of nowhere. Sahara’s eyes scanned the walls in both surprise and utter bewilderment. Adorned with carefully hung pictorials of wrestling’s past, black and white images of the Fallout girls lined the walls. Images frozen in time, with the only splash of color coming from any blood that might be depicted in the scene.
Prominently displayed front and center, Sahara’s eyes gazed upon a massive multi-pane portrait of herself, looking like some sort of a stoic warrior. Braided hair cascaded over her shoulders with those fiercely darkened eyes, and her chin and neck awash in a contrasting shade of crimson. She remembered that night as the night she finally made it. The infamous Vampire incident. It was the night she became the Crimson Queen. The fact that it was hanging in the lobby of the Shelter came as an unexpected shock--
“Can I help you?”, the girls almost over the top southern accent pierced her thoughts. “Ma'am, are you alright?!” Shaking her head to clear her mind, Sahara approached the receptionist.
“Yeah, um, is Gracie around?”
The receptionist smiled, “Gracie? You must mean Grace. No, she don’t come here very often these days. I’m sorry, but are you a member here, cuz this is private property--”
“Yea, I um, I’m aware of that…”
“So do you got a membership card I can scan, or what?”
The blonde raised her eyebrows, “A membership card?!”, she took a few steps back before pointing up at the rather large portrait on the wall. “That’s my membership card.”
“I’m sorry, I’m not followin’…”
The blonde looked up at the portrait of herself, before returning her gaze to the receptionist and pointing up at it again. “Look at it. Look at me. That’s me honey. I’m that one!”
“Well I’ll be damned…”, a gruff voice chimed in, “I will be damned! Sahara herself! How in the hell are you?!”
Sahara’s eyes fell upon the Fallout’s old trainer, Luther, still alive and kickin’! That familiar voice brought with it an unexpected comfort, considering she used to attribute it to something of a drill sergeant pushing them to their limits. “Luther?! Good God are you a sight for sore eyes!” Sahara rushed up and swung her arms around him, grasping him in the tightest hug.
“Wait a minute,” the receptionist’s southern twang interrupted as her voice rose a few octaves, “Holy God, is that really you up there on the wall?!”
Luther laughed, “Yeah, that’s really her, Maisy. The Crimson Queen herself.” The grizzled trainer looked the blonde up and down before nodding, “So the prodigal daughter of the Fallout returns…” Motioning to the back, he beckoned her to follow.
“You royalty around here, ya know...Grace done tore up the place and rebuilt it in honor of you girls…” Shoving the large glass paned doors open, the blonde gazed out upon the sprawling gymnasium. The fitness center that was once a few used weight machines and a rundown wrestling ring had become something the girls never had imagined at the time.
“Jesus f--Christ.”, Sahara gazed around in awe, “It’s amazing!”
“You gals still talk?!”
Sahara shook her head, “Naw, not after the … um, Fallout of a Fallout, pardon the pun. That’s kinda why a tribute to us like this is so unexpected. I mean, I know Gracie got super successful in real estate after she left wrestling, but I never imagined she’d do somethin’ like this...Jesus, I’m honor--” Her voice trailed off as she gazed upon a particularly disturbing depiction of herself on the far wall…she almost couldn’t believe what she was looking at.
“Is that...is that a goddamn picture of me snorting Oxy?!”
Luther damn near guffawed as he cracked a huge smile, “Sure is. Grace insisted on authenticity when they redecorated the place, she wanted to show her students what you Fallout girls were all about … warts n’ all. And is that what it was?! Painkillers? The guys and gals in here have been bettin’ on what you was snortin’ since the place opened…” Luther paused a second, “Cocaine comin’ in at number one.”
They shared a laugh as they strolled down toward the practice rings set up near the back. As the blonde walked side by side with Luther, the students of the Shelter slowly caught a glimpse of that unmistakable shock of platinum hair.
One of the Fallout girls had come home.
It didn’t take long for more and more of the students to take notice.
“What exactly is goin’ on, Luther?”
Her former trainer simply motioned toward one of the practice rings, where more and more students of the Shelter began to gather.
“I know you here to knock off that rust, and I got a room full of students that’d kill each other for an opportunity to step into that ring with you. I told ya, you like royalty here…” After a brief pause, he continued, “Don’t look so surprised. I know you signed with OPW. The Internet don’t keep no secrets these days.”
As she passed by the various guys and girls that had gathered around, a few of them reached out adoring hands just to touch one of the girls they’ve seen hanging up on these hallowed walls all this time.
Sahara breathed it in as she looked up at a portrait of the Fallout girls all standing together. Beneath the portrait was a plaque that read, “The God Queens, 2017.”
And there it was … that intoxicating feeling of pure vanity.
~~~~~
“That’s what I dealt with growin’ up in this business, so like I said, I get it when people look at you and say, ‘He’ll never measure up to his daddy.’”
“I almost gave up on wrestling. When I walked away, refusing to become some sorta clown act sideshow, flashin’ my boobs for cheap pops, it took me a while to realize I didn’t just give up on wrestlin’, I had given’ up on myself. I knew it was gonna be an uphill battle for us girls. I knew I couldn’t do it alone. Even today when ya look across the landscape that is the OPW, all ya see is faction after faction, lookin’ out for their own. But I get the feelin’ most of ‘em don’t know what a real faction is. It ain’t about a few people gettin’ together and tryin’ to dominate. It’s about a sisterhood you’ll never forget, even though you know it won’t last forever.”
“That was the genesis of the Fallout. I know, I know, ya never heard of it. But in our little corner of the world, we were the God Queens of the wrestlin’ universe. Sorry gents, ladies only. We weren’t gonna do this standin’ on the shoulders of the very men that once told us to wrestle in our damn skivvys. Fuck ‘em, we said. And then we did!”
“Your story is just beginnin’, little Pequeno, and believe me, I ain’t callin’ ya little to … belittle ya. I know you got the heart of a T-Rex. A little Rex, but still a Rex. You’ll roar and you’ll be heard, but it doesn't happen overnight. You got a lot to learn, and it’s gonna take more than speed or moves, or wrestling itself. Took me years to figure out who I was in this business, and how it all worked. I was taller than most of the girls, but in the grand scheme of things, I was still small. It’s where my reckless style came from. And I know if you bothered to do any research on me, you’d see I fuck up from time to time. They told me not to do moves I’m incapable of doin’, to know my strengths and all that. But all that does is hold ya back. The only way to hit that moonshot is to swing for the fuckin’ moon.”
“And I will … swing for the moon.”
“They called my style reckless … but to me it was fearless.”
“But that’s not what I’m here to tell ya, Little Dinosaurman. I’m here to tell ya wrestlin’ isn’t about winning and losing. I know most think that these days, but they’re wrong; and I’m gonna prove it to ya. In the end, all that matters is who they remember … something I learned a long looooonnng time ago, and I’m here to remind the wrestling world of what’s been missing...”
“Forgive me for being a bit Trumpian here, but it’s time to Make Wrestling Entertaining Again.”
“Sometimes ... winning ain’t winnin’, and losing ain’t losin’.”
“For example, I’m gonna guarantee you somethin’ crazy. The deal of a lifetime. I promise you that you’ll beat me on Showcase, but you won’t be the one they’re talkin’ about when all is said and done.”
“This is how you tell a story.”
“This … is how you entertain.”
“Think on that one for a while, little Dino man…”