Slumber Party Massacre Elimination Match

[Luncha_Libre]

[So, this was a match idea I had literally yesterday. Inspired in equal parts by Lucha Underground, the Undertaker/Styles match from Mania, all of the Broken Hardy stuff, I wanted to do a cross between a Halloween slasher flick and a battle royal/elimination match. Between time and my own atrocious posting habits, however, I know there’s nowhere near enough time to organize or actually set it up as an RP that would be done in time for Halloween 2021, let alone Saturday. However, I really liked the idea, so I lined up a set of potential victims and wrote it up, regardless. If there’s any interest from anyone else (I know I can think of at least two other characters on the board who would be great in the ‘slasher’ role), maybe we can all set something up for next year!
I’m posting this in chunks in the ‘other areas’ board because it’s happening off-campus, outside of a LAW arena, in an abandoned house. All characters referenced here who don’t have art provided in the thread can be found in my signature/roster page, for those that want reference; because this is an RP board, feel free to post any in-character reactions for those watching: reacting to eliminations, placing bets on ‘survivors,’ grabbing some popcorn and digging in for the carnage, talking smack about how much better they would fare, etc.!]






HALLOWEEN SLUMBER PARTY MASSACRE DEATH MATCH
Mixed Handicap Match with an Eight Hour Time Limit; No Disqualification, Competitors are Eliminated When Incapacitated by Opponent Until They Have No Chance of Competing
Ultrasatanico VS.
The Team Of: Felicity Elliot, Gemma Faraday, Hana Harada, Holly Matheson, Kamen Moon, Misty Sims, Santa Tigresa IV, Soledad Vega, Betty West

“Hey there, fans of frights and fights!” The woman on screen wasn’t a regular LAW official, competitor or even guest, but to those that binged late-night horror movies on basic cable (especially the worst of the worst), she was a legend. Tonight, however, LAW management had asked the maven of the macabre to provide a fun, sexy introduction to what would go down as one of LAW’s oddest, and possibly most horrible, ideas …

Spoiler

“Welcome to the Halloween Slumber Party Massacre Death Match!” the horror hostess said, with a smirk. “And if you thought that was a mouthful, just wait for this explanation. Tonight’s little contest is a special LAW Halloween event for you folks- nine women enter, one woman leaves … if she’s lucky! You might have seen a hardcore match or two in your day, but never one like this! From a stately manor in the Japanese countryside, nine of LAW’s finest and funnest are waiting for this match to start, but they have no idea what they’re in for. They know that they are booked for a no-disqualification, all-night-long match to celebrate our favorite holiday! The problem is, they probably think they’re about to fight each other …

“Sorry, girls, no such luck! See, tonight, they are being stalked by none other than lucha-resu death match legend, Ultrasatanico! For the uninitiated, Ultrasatanico was a star of the 90’s death match scene, and he hasn’t been in a sanctioned match since that scene finally died finally went out of fashion for the wrestler’s own good. Imagine that, fans, pro wrestling looked at something and said, ‘okay, maybe this is too much!’ So you know poor Ultrasatanico is hard up for a little action, and he’s probably looking at a house full of nine young, nubile wrestlers like an all-you-can-eat buffet of bad decisions!

“Now, for rules, we’ve got just a couple, so here they are. A competitor is eliminated when they’re incapacitated. What’s that word mean? I don’t know, I didn’t get this job based on my big, spacious vocabulary! There’s no disqualification, so anything goes, so I’m hoping we see folks get creative, here. There is a way to survive, however: if any of the girls can last until sunrise, that’s it, they win! I know that’s usually when I turn in, but we’ll see how many of our wrestlers can pull an all nightery. They don’t really seem like college material, either, you know what I’m saying? So that’s it. Nine girls, one bloodthirsty luchador, and about eight hours of chaos ahead of us. The action is coming to all of us through hidden cameras, ample microphones and a couple of discreet drones, so grab your favorite snack, get online and start placing bets on who’s getting taken out and how, and enjoy the first- and, if God is paying any attention at all, the last- Slumber Party Massacre Death Match!”

“What the blinking hell was that?” Gemma Faraday asked, staring at the television. The steampunky Brit was one of several women in the room, now all shown on LAW camera, staring in horror at the central television set. The women were in the expansive living room of a secluded mansion, seated in big chairs around a table laden with snacks, a fancy balcony overlooking them, everything seemingly the picture of comfort … aside from the dread that permeated the room!

“This is not what I signed up for,” Holly Matheson, the Loser’s Champion, told the room with a pout. “Not that I had much of a choice, in the matter …”

“So, I’m not kicking all of your asses?” Soledad Vega asked, huffing a little bit. “I was kind of picturing a little pillow fight, maybe some Halloween candy, now I gotta team with you bitches?”

Misty Sims, Harada Hana, Felicity Elliot and Kamen Moon sat in a semi-circle, looking equally bewildered. They had just caught the same introduction that the LAW fans had gotten and were all left unsure of what to think. From the information they had gotten, a house-wide pillow fight, something of that nature. Now it seemed it … definitely wasn’t that.

“She said nine women …” Kamen Moon said. “Where’s the last one?” As if on cue, a loud crash through the front window of the house cut off any reply, as a curvaceous body came crashing through! Half the competitors screamed, their voices filling the air while the tinkle of broken glass hitting floorboards echoed. They stood and looked to see the body of Santa Tigresa laid out between them.

The luchadora looked horrible. Her forehead cut, blood matting her long, raven hair, the luchadora rolled onto her back, face turned up to the lights. Santa Tigresa’s ample bust strained against her spandex clothing, shallow breaths the only sign of life from her limp form, her curves still swaying with the momentum of being thrown through the window. As the girls stared in horror, a voice came on a PA system running through the house:

”Santa Tigresa IV has been … ELIMINATED. Boy, hope for you girls’ sake there’s a Santa Tigresa V, ready to go!”

Kamen Moon and Gemma Faraday exchanged an angry look, over the catty joke. Meanwhile, some of the more naïve girls, from Misty to Betty to Hana, recoiled in wide-eyed horror. Hands over their heaving chests they took deep breaths, realizing that this match was not at all what they had been led to believe.

“We need to get her out of here,” Kamen Moon said, finally. “Competition or not, Santa Tigresa is a great luchadora, and she deserves better than this.”

“Or, we could worry about ourselves,” Sola said, with a sharp edge to her voice. Slowly, with a trembling hand, Felicity reached for the downed luchadora’s mask, only to have her hand swatted away by Misty.

“I’m with you,” Gemma said. “I know I wouldn’t want to end up like that.” Without another word, Gemma placed her hands beneath Santa Tigresa’s arms, pulling her up off the floor. Kamen Moon immediately stepped forward, taking La Santa’s boots and tucking them beneath her arms, hefting the thick luchadora off the floor and starting to pull her toward a back room, so they could lay her out in peace.

“What the hell are we going to do?” Misty said, watching with wide, wet eyes as the other two girls pulled the luchadora out of the room.

“I could go for a drink,” Betty West offered, clearing her throat with a hand over her heart.

“Sod this,” Holly said, suddenly. “J-just … just sod this!” The British Bombshell stood in the center of the room, fists at her hips, watching the body of arguably the strongest woman on their ‘team’ getting dragged out of the room.

“Everything okay, Champ?” Sola asked, with a raised eyebrow.

“Look, you can all sit around and wait for … whatever,” Holly said, turning toward the door. “But I absolutely will not! I am getting the hell out of here!”

“A-are you sure about that?” Misty asked, looking nervously around the room. Holly didn’t listen. Drawing a deep, chest-inflating breath, the British Bombshell threw open the door, and stormed out into the night. She took a few striding steps off the porch, then broke into a full run! Panic overtook her, thick thighs pumping as she ran like hell across the lawn of the house in the middle of the night. Chest heaving, barely staying contained, the buxom Brit made a break for it … only to be cut off by a massive arm emerging from behind a tree, cutting her escape short with a heavy clothesline!

“AAAH!’ Misty, Hana and Felicity all screamed in unison as they saw Holly take the hit. The Brit caught the clothesline right across her bouncing bosom, her momentum making her legs kick up, her body flip over, then land hard face down in the dirt. Her shimmering white gear was immediately caked in mud, her fair skin picking up dirt. Holly coughed in pain, winded by the hit. She looked up to see a massive man, clad in red, a satanic mask glaring down at her.

Spoiler

“W-what …” Holly started, but she was cut off by a sudden kick to the head! The girls inside recoiled in fear. “AAUGH!” Holly cried out, getting her pretty features stomped into the dirt. The beating that followed wasn’t any more dignified. The brute stalked around her, stomping down on her body, bringing a boot down on her back, her shoulders, her lower back, her round ass. Each time, Holly cried out in pain, spasming and writhing in the dirt at the feet of the brutal Ultrasatanico.

“Haahh,” the masked man grunted as he reached down, hooked Holly beneath both arms, and hefted her up. With little effort, the wrestler pulled Holly into the air, until her legs were straight up. Her long raven hair hung low, her expression one of total horror as she looked out into the night. Her heaving breasts threatened to come spilling out of her ring gear at any moment as she took deep, panicked breaths.
“N-no, wait! No!” Holly cried out, right before the masked man threw her forward, dumping her unceremoniously on her front, knocking the life out of her. Holly lay there, ass jiggling, her body otherwise motionless. Ultrasatanico reached down, grabbing a fistful of her hair, then dragged her toward the lawn. The girls inside watched powerless, horrified, as he pulled her toward a plot of dirt. A shovel sat nearby.
“W-what are you doing?” Holly asked, as he dragged her up to her knees. The villain said nothing as he grabbed Holly by the throat, yanking her up to her feet. He drove a fist into her soft belly, making her double over and give a long, loud groan of misery. Ultrasatanico then hefted her up off her feet, grabbing her tights to give her a full, ass-exposing wedgie, the last anyone saw of the loser’s champion as she dangled over the precipice.

“N-now, wait! Please, don’t do this! Please!” Holly cried out, before her opponent choke slammed her straight into the open grave! Winded, Holly lay there, body heaving. The low light caught her alabaster skin, shiny with sweat and tears, as she took deep, horrified breaths. Holly began to hyperventilate, as Ultrasatanico picked up the shovel, and got to work throwing dirt on her lovely body!

“No … please, please … don’t bury meee …” Holly whimpered, wincing as each shovel full of dirt buried her body. She tried to push herself up, but by the time her aching body responded, it was too late. The shovels full of dirt weighed her down, and she struggled to get up. Her thick legs pumped, her chest squirmed out of the dirt only to catch another shovel full, and she dropped again. She held her arm up as if to plead, but her face caught a choking load of dirt and she fell again. Soon, Holly had been buried in the ground, her body disappearing into the earth, totally powerless to escape an utterly gruesome fate.

”Holly Matheson, has been … ELIMINATED! I know that poor girl gets buried all the time, but this has to be a new low, even for her!”

In the house, the sound of the loudspeaker seemed to bring the girls back to reality.

“AAAAH!” Hana, Misty, Betty and Felicity all screamed in unison, watching Holly’s body disappear into the dirt. Kamen Moon and Gemma came back into the room just in time to see Sola roll her eyes and try to slap a couple of girls back to their senses.

“Stop it!” Gemma shouted. “Bloody hell, this is what he wants! We need to get our shit together, not act like a bunch of noodly little tosspots! For God’s sake, it’s still seven on one!”

“For now …” Sola said, after Moon interjected herself between the Puerto Rican street fighter and a thoroughly slapped-up Misty.

“I like that mask,” Felicity said, a finger over her lips.

“Gals,” Betty said, still staring outside, “where’s the guy?” The plot of land where Holly had been buried was now empty, save for a lonely shovel.

“Oh, hell no!” Misty shouted, eyes widening. Hana ran her fingers through her hair, chest deflating as she let out a loud sigh. Kamen Moon rushed to the window.

“Let’s fuckin scramble, eh?” Sola suggested. “Make him work for it. He chases us down, he gets pinned tired. Or whatever’s going to happen.”

“We should find weapons,” Gemma said, nodding. “There has to be something to hit him with. Make him pay for … for doing that, to Holly …” Slowly, Gemma turned, and jogged down the nearest hallway, into the dark. Reluctantly, the other girls started to go their own ways. Sola lingered, then went after Gemma. Looking to avoid her, Misty and Hana went another way, down a dimly-lit corridor. Betty made a beeline for the kitchen, brushing hair out of her face. Alone, Kamen Moon noted that she hadn’t seen Felicity Elliot in a while, and figured the black cat was on her own. Shaking it off, the Heroine of Moon followed her panicked ‘teammates,’ and went off into the dark …

[Luncha_Libre]

Betty West rushed into the kitchen, boots pounding the tile, until she reached the fridge. With a grunt of effort, the young woman yanked open the fridge, its pale light catching her skin as it illuminated the room.
“Oh, thank God,” she sighed, looking inside. There were several bottles of champagne, of which she grabbed two. “Thank God …” Quickly, the perky party girl found a corkscrew, popped both bottles of the bubbly, and began pouring one of them down her slender throat. Soon, her face was flush, from her cheeks to the swell of her breasts. The girl hopped up, sitting her ass on the kitchen island, and dangled her feet.
“Un-fucking-believable,” Betty said, polishing off one of the bottles and setting it aside. “I finally get myself on a wrestling show, and they sign me up for a horror show murder match. Ugh! Okay, couple more bottles of liquid courage, then I find the girls, and we take this dude down!” Betty took a deep breath, pounded the second bottle, then threw it into a wall. “WHOO! Yeah, Betty!”
The somewhat-soused American reached back for her empty, looking to toss it away before returning to the fridge, and found it to be surprisingly full.
“Oh, hell yeah, dude,” she said, twisting off the cap and downing some more. “Wait,” she said, looking puzzled suddenly. “Where did this …?” Betty mulled the thought over with a little bit more of the bubbly. Without pulling the bottle from her lips, Betty hopped off the counter and turned around, trying to find her errant empty … seeing it in the hand of a massive man, holding it right over her head.
“Oh, SHIT!” Betty got the words out just before the brute slammed the bottle into her forehead, making it shatter. Betty fell back against the wall, where she caught a chop to the chest. She doubled over, falling to her hands and knees. She tried to scramble away, only to get caught by the waist of her skirt, legs flailing desperately in an attempt to escape, before Ultrasatanico yanked her up, slammed her into a wall, then threw the fridge door open.
“Ooohhh,” Betty moaned. “Oooh, come on, nooo … nooooo, please …” Betty begged. Ultrasatanico grabbed another bottle from the fridge, and the glass and champagne exploded across her forehead, before her limp body was tossed into the fridge, light cutting off abruptly as the door slammed shut, putting the party girl on ice.

”Betty West … has been Eliminated! Pour one out for your homegirl, ladies!”

“God dammit,” Misty said, running her hands through her hair. “This is getting crazy!” Somehow, the fangirl turned wrestler had found herself in a massive room, with canopied pink bed, standing across the room from redheaded Japanese bodybuilder Harada Hana. The room was the mansion’s ‘master bedroom,’ and where the girls imagined that the actual match was going to take place. It had everything for a boudoir match: big, fluffy pillows and cute stuffed animals. Sleeping bags were lined across the floor, on top of a pink shag carpet. They thought they’d be smacking each other around a little bit, bend over, a couple spankings, give or take … not exactly the stuff of sporting competition, but then again neither was playing the part of screaming coeds in a slasher flick!
Hana and Misty had a history, and while they hadn’t spoken since an ill-fated tag match some time back, Misty was hoping she could make something out of this. With everyone else gone, Misty slowly approached Hana.
“Look, Hana,” Misty said, “I know the Model Wrestlers didn’t do … great, in our first match.”
“You got your ass kicked,” Hana said, crossing her arms beneath her pert round bust, her boobs seeming to pout with her expression as she shifted her weight onto one finely-toned leg. “I didn’t even get tagged in.”
“Okay, yeah, these are true things,” Misty said, wincing at the memory. “But look, you gotta admit, this is something totally different. I mean, this is supposed to be a team, and where the hell are our teammates? How many are even left?” Hana looked thoughtful.
“Look,” Misty continued, “the only other tag team here was the British Bombshells, and at least half of them are buried in the front yard! What’s that leave? A bunch of snarky-ass mean girls, and …?”
“The Model Wrestlers,” Hana said, nodding.
“Exactly! So, if we’re gonna make it to morning, or even beat this crazy dude …”
“Then we have to do it, together!” Hana pounded a fist into her hand.
“Right! And there’s nobody I’d want at my side, except you, you buff, bodybuilding babe!”
Hana nodded, smiling. The bodybuilder might not have been the greatest wrestler, but Hana was not about to be a victim. And with Misty here, watching her back, maybe she had a chance! Both girls reached out, shaking hands vigorously … right up to the moment they heard a scraping sound.
“Oh, shit!” Misty cried out. The two girls scrambled then, looking around the myriad pillows, sleeping bags and stuffed animals, suddenly scrounging for a place to hide!

Gemma Faraday found herself scrambling outside, only briefly, before she wandered into the tool shed. Pulling on a chain, she hit a light. Gemma’s eyes took a second to focus, before she saw a wealth of rusted out, iron tools. The tool shed seemed to be a graveyard of old school death match material. Gimmicked land mines, barbed wire, old light tubes, card tables, an entire wedding’s worth of steel chairs, it was a wealth of items sensible people would never touch.
“Bloody hell,” Gemma said, “What the Terry Funk is going on, out here?” Gemma went and grabbed the nearest piece of bent rusted metal and turned it over in her hand. The fishhook looked sturdy, and maybe a little too much, for just about any other match. Before the punky Brit could look for more sensible weapons, however, she turned and nearly had her face smothered out by a pair of round, pert brown breasts.
“AH!” Gemma cried out, wide-eyed, taking in the sight in front of her.
“AAAH!” Soledad Vega cried out in reply, both women backing off each other before coming to. Chests heaving, staring one another down, the two women tried to come back to reality.
“Ohh, good lord,” Gemma sighed, after a moment. “Thought I was done for, just now!”
“You’re the one holding a rusty hook,” Sola teased. “Come on, now! So, what have we got out here?”
“Help yourself,” Gemma said. “It’s no DQ, and we’ve already seen this guy take out three of us.”
“Yeah, about that,” Sola said. “We all watched this guy take down Holly. She was your old tag partner, wasn’t she? That couldn’t have been fun to see. I mean, I don’t know how … close, you gals were …?” Sola raised an eyebrow, then.
“We were … Oh!” Gemma’s eyes widened when she caught on to what Soledad was implying. “Oh, God, no, we weren’t ever that close, no. I mean, I ended up, I mean …” Gemma said, not wanting to refer to her breakup from her tag team partner.
“Really? Word? Two hot-ass chicks like you, and you never … Huh.”
“What? No! I mean, no. No way! We just thought it was a good gimmick, and … and … Wait, did you say hot-ass, or …?”
“I might have said something like that,” Sola said, with a smirk. Looking Gemma up and down, she laid a hand across the Brit’s slender back, and pulled her tight. Gemma gasped a little bit, as her body got pulled tight against Sola’s. Their breasts pressed together in the low light. Gemma tried once to pull away, her fair skin grinded against Sola’s toned, tanned abs, and Sola smirked. “So .. I mean, I’m not coming up with super cute tag team names right now, or anything, but maybe you and me could make it through the night, together?”
“I, ah …” Gemma trailed off, biting her lip as she stared at Soledad. “I mean, yeah, tonight. Let’s, um, let’s make it through the night.” She nodded, reaching up and giving one of her braids a nervous tug. Sola’s hand glided down her lower back, to Gemma’s perky ass, and gave it a confident smack. Gemma felt her heart flutter, and suddenly felt a little bit less doomed …

Inside the house, masked heroine Kamen Moon stalked the halls. The young heroine had lost track of her teammates but was still trying to figure out a plan. That was what heroes did, she told herself. They had plans. Like Kamen Rider, or Batman, they always had plans. Somewhere, she would find a teammate. Or the villain. Either way, she could make a plan, and everything would be alright. Yes, she told herself again, everything was going to be alright …
Kamen Moon passed a wall with a mirror, and she heard a creaking sound. Upon first glance she only saw her own reflection, and the darkness. Then, the creak of some floorboards, and she looked again. This time, she saw herself, flanked by a massive, muscle-bound devil.
“You!” Moon gasped, as Ultrasatanico lunged at her! She ducked, rolled backward between his thick legs, and kipped up. Ultrasatanico turned just in time to eat a superkick from the masked heroine, but he didn’t even budge. The deathmatch rudo stood there, as Moon’s eyes grew beneath her mask. Beneath his own, he smirked. He lunged forward, going for a lock up. The heroine met the lockup, not even thinking, and he slammed her hard into a wall. Then, with a simple twist of his hips, the devil-masked man threw Kamen Moon away, tossing her helpless body into a wall.
“AAARGH!” Kamen Moon screamed as she hit the wall, arching her spine in pain as she fell to the floor, abs pulled tight as she took sharp, pained breaths. Ultrasatanico strode up to her. Catching her breath, Moon pressed her knees and palms into the floor, and pushed herself up onto all fours, her perky ass sticking straight up in the air as her opponent responded by planting a boot dominantly on her neck.
“AAH!” Moon cried out, grimacing in pain as her face was shoved roughly into the floor. Kamen Moon thought of her fans, as she squirmed. The people that were about to see a heroine’s ultimate fall. The masked man reached down, grabbing Moon’s mask, affixing his fingers around the thin fabric, ready to reveal her face to the world …
Suddenly, there was a crash above, and the attic door frame swung open. A bundle of white hair and flailing limbs leapt out, as Felicity Elliot, the Black Cat, dropped onto the broad shoulders of the big man! Ultrasatanico reeled backward, arms reaching up to stop the cat clawing at his own mask. Kamen Moon looked up just in time to see Ultrasatanico’s body pull back toward the balcony railing, then go crashing through it- with Felicity on top! The two went down, Felicity shrieking! They went downward, Felicity coming down on bottom, her body rocking through a hardwood table. Kamen Moon lay there, unwilling to look down, or even peel herself off the floor. She waited for the announcer, for what felt like forever, before she heard …

”Felicity Elliot … Has been, Eliminated! Looks like that was her ninth life, folks! So sad!”

“Damn,” Moon said, peeling herself off the floor, hoping that even if the monster wasn’t defeated, he was at least hurt enough to let Kamen Moon finally make that plan, and make certain that Felicity’s sacrifice wasn’t in vain …

[CaptainL]

"...Uh...Kirie...you're sure about this?"

"Positive!~"

Halloween night, and this was how they were celebrating. Hiro wasn't sure what to expect. He knew that this was his girlfriend's favorite time of year and that she was excited to be spending it with him, and she had invited him over to watch something together. Probably a scary movie, given the season. That was something couples did. Granted, knowing Kirie, he wasn't about to be the big, strong man there to comfort his girl when she was striken with fear and needed someone to cling to. If anything, the reverse was going to be true. Either way, though, he supposed it couldn't go wrong...

Until the "movie" they were watching was a wrestling match pitting LAW's finest against a bloodlust-crazed luchador intent on venting decades of pent-up aggression - if a wrestling match was even a fair description of the event, considering what luck the girls were having thus far. Hiro winced just watching it, sitting stiffly on the couch by Kirie's side. By no means was it the most gruesome of all things he could watch involving a bunch of young ladies trapped in a house with a maniac. But something about it stuck deeper into his being. It was more that the same company he was working for was doing this, potentially putting the well-being of its own employees at risk. Did he want to work for people like that?

Not that he'd have much say about it. Kirie nuzzled up closer against his side, scooting over to sit in his lap. "What's the matter, Hiro-kun? I'm having fun, aren't you?"

Hiro gulped. While he couldn't say no to being this close to Kirie - and the cute little nurse outfit she had on didn't hurt - he still had some questions. "I'm just...is this, uh, legal?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" Kirie looped an arm around his side, popping some candy into her mouth from a bowl beside them on the couch.

"Someone could get hurt-"

"This is wrestling, silly! It's what they signed up for!" She leaned closer, kissing his neck. "Besides, you can't tell me you care more about these girls than this girl, do you?" Winking, the pink-haired girl ran a hand down her side and her leg, in a display that made Hiro gulp.

"Don't worry, Hiro-kun. I'm gonna make sure nothing bad happens to you...and that white-haired slut is never getting her hands on you, okay? I'll make sure she regrets ever messing with us!"

"Right...just...don't do anything too crazy, okay?" Hiro thought back on the challenge that Miyabi Mey had made against Kirie, putting her relationship with Hiro on the line for their coming match - both in the business and personal sense. It was for that reason Kirie had especially wanted him over tonight, but was that just to spend more time with him just in case? Or was it her marking him as her own?

Either way, Kirie met that with a chuckle. "Awww, and here I thought I'd be getting sooooo many ideas!~" She snickered, watching as Betty wound up in the freezer, and applauded Ultrasatanico on his efforts. "Hah! You really got her there!~"

"R-Right..." Hiro eyed Kirie with his usual cautious air. Did she know that directors usually didn't expect their audiences to root for the killers? He took a sip of apple cider, trying to distract himself from the unease.

"I love you, Hiro-kun...Happy Halloween," Kirie added, burying her face in his neck as she planted a kiss against it. He sighed, but smiled, settling in against her side as he pulled her closer.

"Yeah...Happy Halloween, Kirie."

[Luncha_Libre]

There was no telling how much time had passed, since Misty and Hana heard that their pursuer had already gotten Betty and Felicity. The two didn’t have a clock with them, in the sleeping bag they’d both crammed themselves into, in a panic. There hadn’t been a plan, either, just a sheer fight or flight response that told them the best thing to do would be to hide together, in a sleeping bag that perhaps one of their buxom bodies might have fit into. Now, Misty was on top of Hana, her thick figure pressed flush against the muscular body of the Japanese bodybuilder, and the two tried hard not to breathe too loudly- not easy, all things considered.

Misty and Hana snuggled close together, their bodies pressed tightly in close quarters, hot flesh grinding against hot flesh as they took shallow, shuddering breaths. Misty bit her lip and tried not to tremble. Seeing this, her tag team partner hugged her close, strong arms tucked tight around Misty’s lower back. They heard a crashing sound, and Hana hugged her friend tighter. Misty took a breath, her breasts squeezing against Hana’s, making her blush bright red.

The Model Wrestlers had no idea what had happened to the other girls, who hadn’t been announced. If they were making plans, finding weapons, or what. Both girls were quietly humiliated by their own cowardice, but there was an unspoken plan between Misty and Hana that an ideal plan would be to lie here the rest of the night, hopefully unfound as Ultrasatanico made his way through the rest of the girls in the house …

The two women lay there for long moments, the tight confines of the sleeping bag feeling almost cozy. Misty looked down, and felt like she could see her impressive, round breasts mushrooming against Hana’s firm bust as the two models were tucked in tight. Misty licked her upper lip, remembering the first time she’d seen Hana and had the idea for the Model Wrestlers. Hana’s firm figure, lifting weights, her sinewy body pressing an iron bar into the air while she squatted, muscular ass popping in her tiny little yellow bikini …

“Did you hear something?” Hana whispered, snapping Misty out of her reverie.

“Wait, what?” Misty asked, right as she felt the bag get hoisted up. “Oooh, no! N-no, hell no! Come on!” Misty wailed the words, as she felt a pair of strong arms clamp down around the sleeping back around them. She squirmed, but only felt the loose fabric of the bag and the equally squirming flesh of her partner. Her eyes went wide in shock, as she realized that there was no leverage or handle for her to mount an escape. Hana tried to struggle as well, but only managed to press her muscular figure up against Misty’s soft, warm frame, proving herself equally useless. The two women could only wail in panic as Ultrasatanico hefted them into the air, swung them around, then started to slam them.

“AAARGH!” Misty screamed, as they were run into a wall, her body squished between Hana’s and their tormentor’s huge frame. The house seemed to shudder, with the impact.

“Uuugh!” Hana groaned, as her body was crushed against the house, the power enough to knock the wind out of her. The bodybuilder went limp, her body melting into Misty’s buxom figure, before the two of them were swung around, and powerslammed, crashing into the floor beneath the muscular figure of a man hellbent on destroying them! Both let out loud whimpers of pain, Misty’s eyes tearing up, Hana letting out breathless sobs.
Ultrasatanico stood up, then, grabbing the bag. Misty and Hana’s limp bodies were unable to respond as he hefted them up in the air, then slammed them down again and again! The Model Wrestler’s bodies were pounded into the floor, their limbs flailing weakly at first, before eventually dropping off.

“Aaargh! AAAAH! OWWW!!! UUuughhnnn …” Misty’s screams went from cries to moans, to pitiful whimpers. Hana was a hell of a cushion earlier, but the hardbody bodybuilder could only provide so much protection.

“N-no! AAAH! AAAUGH! Uh-uhhhh … aaaugh …” Hana’s voice died off at the same time, her body taking the brunt of the damage by being beneath Misty, body squashed beneath the fangirl’s thickness.

Ultrasatanico paced around the bag, deliver stomps to weaken them further, before wrapping his arms around the bag again. With a sick grin, the devilish luchador hefted the girls up into a tombstone position, let out a laugh, then dropped them on their skulls in unison!

”Misty Sims … and Harada Hana … have been, ELIMINATED! Looks like those bodies to die for did exactly that, huh?”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Gemma said, sighing. “It’s bad enough we’re dying out here, does this bitch have to make jokes about it?”

“Don’t you worry about it,” Sola said, smacking Gemma’s ass. “You just worry about you and me, and how we’re getting through this. Maybe after we take him down, we go ahead and go after her, how does that sound?”

“Really good, actually,” Gemma said, shrugging. She spared a glance over her shoulder, looking at Soledad’s body in the low light. Gemma had been into a handful of girls in her day, but she had to admit that Sola was something else. The Brit tried to shake it off and keep her head in the game. The two girls had left the shed, and all of its strange contents, with a couple of keepsakes. Gemma had abandoned her fishhook for a barbed wire baseball bat, slung over her shoulder, now. Soledad, meanwhile, had found something much more interesting. A military duffel bag loaded up with horrors that the girls had found in the shed. The shed was apparently a last holdout of Japanese deathmatch wrestling, and while Gemma hadn’t seen what her ‘partner’ had shoved into the bag, she had taken stock of what she could see there, in the low light. Gasoline, light tubes, barbed wire, panes of glass, rolls of electrical cords, bags of thumb tacks, staple guns, nail guns, cattle prods, stun guns … Gemma even thought she’d seen a box labeled ‘land mines,’ but she hoped that was just her poor grasp of kanji. Whatever Soledad had shoved into that duffel bag before they made a break for it, the punky Brit was glad that at least they were on the same side.

Now the two women were skulking around the grounds of the estate. The house to the south of them, the tool shed behind them, they faced a large pole barn on one side and the woods in the distance. Knowing full well how the woods had turned out for poor Holly, and figuring the big man had just been on a spree in the house, the girls decided to explore the pole barn as a hiding spot.

“How many are left?” Gemma asked.

“What?” Sola replied, sounding surprised.

“How many of our team are left?” Gemma asked again. “Cuz I think we’re down to the nitty gritty, here, and I don’t know how much time we’ve got left …”

“Yeah, that’s true, girl,” Sola said. “I think they announced just about everybody, you know? I know they called the thick lucha bitch, and your old partner with the big titties,” Sola said. Gemma looked more than a little uncomfortable as the two women stalked around the grounds of the place, but she said nothing. “The drunk girl, she’s out, and the cat girl. There was just those other two chicks, the black girl and the bodybuilder … Shit, who else was there …?” Gemma didn’t answer, instead reaching out and tugging on Sola’s top to pull her close. A breast nearly popping out, Sola was about to say something, before she saw what Gemma was pointing to: the lone, masculine figure, standing in the woods. Sola smirked, but then realized what Gemma’s wide, fearful eyes meant.

“Bloody bollocksing blast it,” Gemma hissed, as Ultrasatanico stalked toward them. “Oh shit, oh shit …” Gemma said, pulling up her bat. “Okay, we got a fight on our hands, here, Sola, let’s do this!” Coming out of the house at a full run, Ultrasatanico made a beeline toward the girls, swinging hard, looking to take Gemma’s pretty head off with a lariat until she ducked him, hitting the brute across the abs with her barbed wire bat. He doubled over, and she reeled back to hit him again, across the shoulders.

“Got you, you rutty bastard!” Gemma cried out, backing off as the bleeding monster reeled in pain. “Sola, help me out, here!” Gemma cried out. She eyed their surroundings, seeing a fence that she could work with. The girl leapt up, her boot hitting the wire of the fence, before she lunged off. She came down with her bat first, like a brutal double axe handle, and hit him across the face. The masked monster let out a cry and reeled back with blood coming down his face.

“Yes,” Gemma said, spinning around, swinging with the bat again. He caught the wood this time, the crack of bone against splintering wood echoing through the fields as the bat cracked against his blocking arm. Left weaponless, the high-flying Gemma looked for another plan.

“Bloody hell,” Gemma said, eyeballing her surroundings. Seeing a hanging overhead branch, Gemma rushed, jumped up, grabbed the branch and swung hard, looking to land a crossbody across the bloodied Ultrasatanico … only to be caught in mid-air! The brute held Gemma with one hand across her back, the other cupping her perky ass cheeks.

“Oooh, no, no!” Gemma cried out, legs kicking. “No, don’t!” Before she could do anything, however, Ultrasatanico spun her around, body slamming the Brit into a tree and knocking the wind out of her. “D-damn,” Gemma grunted. “Sola, help …” Then, while Gemma could only flail around helplessly with her arms and legs dangling, he brought her up … then down, with a brutal backbreaker across his knee!

“AAAAAARGH!” Gemma screamed as she felt her spine compress against his knee, back arched in agony, gasping for air, before she flopped onto the dirty at his feet. She rolled onto her front, panting in pain, waiting for Ultrasatanico to come down with another hard blow … instead, however, Soledad came charging in!

“Bastard!” Sola shouted, the night sky lighting up with sparks as she shoved a cattle prod into the center of Ultrasatnico’s broad chest. Gemma rolled onto her side, watching Soledad charge the big man back. The brute fell with every step, not making a sound but flailing wildly. The two backed off, giving Gemma enough time to get back up to her hands and knees, right before she watched them burst through the doors of the pole barn … and the sparks to go dark.

“Sh-shit,” Gemma gasped, realizing that there was a very solid chance that a cattle prod that had been sitting dormant since the nineties probably wasn’t going to be up to the task to putting down a death match wrestler made out of solid meat.

“Aaaugh,” Gemma grunted, as she pulled herself up and broke into a dead run toward the barn. “Oh, God!” She shouted when she looked inside; there was only dim lighting, a few hanging lights … all suspended over the worst-looking ring Gemma had ever seen in her life. Beaten up, surrounded by a half-assed scaffolding system, steel cage panels hanging loosely from that … with twisted, rusted barbed wire where reasonable people would have put ropes. Gemma swallowed hard, then started looking desperately for Soledad.

The punky British high-flyer moved into the barn, heading toward the ring, not even realizing that another, smaller figure was following her into the shed, this night’s brutal brawl wasn't finished, just yet ….