“Look at this place!”

Sara marveled at the pristine white sand beach and the crystal-blue water that ran as far as she could see in both directions. “We need to get that toll booth open fast. We are missing out on so much foot traffic.”

“Yeah,” Raven said, sucking loudly on the straw of an overly decorated, neon-pink mixed drink. “I’m really enjoying the vacation, too.”

“Oh, hush.” Sara looked down at the hastily printed parchment map of attractions and food stalls for the annual Mark Calaween beach festival. She adjusted her long black leather duster and smoothed out her faux-silver bullet necklace. “I mean, who willingly picks the American Badass era?”

“Fuck yeah!” Raven grinned, strolling confidently down the sand toward the hundreds of colorful tents and rowdy partygoers. “And who do you think is actually going to get the Hutch reference?”

Sara adjusted the collar of her duster defensively. “Who hasn’t seen Suburban Commando?”

Raven just chuckled. The way her dark lip pulled up into a smirk, almost high enough to reach the edge of her black bandana, warmed Sara’s heart.

As they got closer to the main thoroughfare, a group of Halfling kids wearing bright red shirts with the words Big Evil printed on them ran by, holding greasy slices of Tombstone Pizza. A group of dainty, pastel-haired High Elf girls dressed in full, black-leather Ministry of Darkness gear sat on a blanket, happily eating massive bowls of Texas Red chili. Wooden tables were set up everywhere, overflowing with bootleg Taker merch and locally grown produce. Sara loved that Mark's weird, hyper-fixated wrestling celebration always doubled as a wholesome community farmer’s market.

“Oooh!” Sara bounced on her heels, pointing at a massive, towering wooden scaffolding in the distance. “I want to go on The Last Ride drop-tower!”

Raven squeezed her hand tight and smiled softly. “Anything for you, m’lady.”

“Please don’t do that,” Sara said immediately, her nose wrinkling. “You are way too confident, and way too skinny, to use that specific term.”

“What should I call you, then?” Raven shrugged playfully. “M’boss?”

A shiver of pure cringe ran down Sara's spine. “I’ve never liked pet names. Sara works just fine. Please.”

“Anything for you, Sara.” She gave Sara's hand a light squeeze and a genuine smile. “But I’m choking the chicken first!”

Sara was about to be entirely nonplussed by the phrasing, but then she saw they were standing in front of a small wrestling ring set up like a carnival stage. A brightly painted banner hung above it: Chokeslam the Chicken! “Oh, this is gonna be good,” Sara laughed.

Inside the ring, a worker in a cheap, oversized yellow chicken suit danced around, flapping their wings and running in circles while the next contestant prepared. A stout Dwarf walked forward, full of liquid confidence, his chest puffed out as his friends patted his back and cheered drunkenly from the barricade.

The Chicken flapped and bocked aggressively in his face, bending down to offer its neck in a comedic fashion. The Dwarf was flustered. He grabbed the suit and tried to legitimately lift the worker, but the Chicken just jumped up on its own, put its hands over its chest, and took the back-bump safely on the canvas.

The Dwarf jumped slightly with the impact, desperately trying to sell the landing to make himself look stronger. The Chicken was back on its feet immediately. The carnival barker dismissed the Dwarf with a loud buzzer, refusing to hand over a prize for the weak performance.

“You can do it,” Sara snuggled into Raven's arm. “Show me your chicken-choking skills, baby!”

Raven smiled, pointing at a massive Thri-kreen insectoid dressed in a full, tailored black suit who was passing by holding a golden urn. “I didn’t know we could dress up as Paul Bearer!”

“Yeah,” Sara shrugged, looking around at the cosplay. “Anyone associated with Mark Calaway's direct storylines is canon here.”

“Shit.” Raven threw her free hand up in defeat. “You mean I could have done Paul Heyman? Or Brother Love?”

“Yep,” Sara pecked her cheek and dropped her hand as the carnival barker called Raven's name. It was her turn to choke the chicken. “Now get in there and show them what a real chokeslam looks like.”

Raven climbed smoothly through the ropes into the ring and stretched her shoulders as the Chicken danced and mocked her.

Before the barker could even give the word to start, the Chicken tried to step forward to taunt Raven. It was a mistake. Raven's Level 11 Brawler reflexes snapped into action. She stepped into the taunt, caught the worker cleanly by the throat with one hand, and legitimately hoisted the Chicken high over her head, supporting the worker's weight perfectly with her other hand on their back.

Raven spun once in the center of the ring, made direct eye contact with Sara, and drove the Chicken—feet and arms flailing wildly—straight down into the mat.

The impact was thunderous. The worker bounced so hard off the canvas that Raven actually caught them on the rebound, planting them flat on their back. The Chicken laid there, completely motionless. Raven pinned the suit with one boot, and the barker frantically counted. One, two, three. Ding, ding, ding.

“We have a winner!” the announcer called out over the crowd, completely failing to notice Raven immediately dropping to her knees to check on the worker, who still hadn’t moved. “The American Badass wins the Chokeslam competition!”

As the crowd filtered away from the stage toward the next posted show, Sara moved quickly to the edge of the ring. Raven and the barker were kneeling over the Chicken. Raven urgently beckoned Sara over, then slid over to the ropes, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper.

“She’s being forced to do this.”

Sara's vacation mode paused instantly. She snapped right back into Managerial mode. “How do you know? Who’s doing it?”

“I pulled her mask back. She's bleeding, and she's terrified,” Raven shook her head, her eyes scanning the crowd. “I don’t know who's running the booth, but we can’t leave her here to get hurt against her will.”

Sara scanned the ringside area with cold calculation. Sitting on a pair of wooden crates just far enough away to think they were inconspicuous were two massive Owlbears. They were trying to blend in, but their tight, neon-green VMMF staff shirts gave them away immediately.

“Craig,” Sara hissed.

Raven glanced back over her shoulder at the Owlbears, then down at the groaning Chicken girl, then back to Sara. “We can’t get her out of the ring without starting something physical.”

Sara considered the tactical situation and looked out over the bright, happy festival. Fuck. She really wanted to go through the Hell’s Gate corn maze. She sighed, slipping under the bottom rope and stepping onto the canvas. “Be ready.”

Sara approached the downed Chicken girl and knelt beside her, gently pulling the oversized mask completely off. Underneath, smooth green skin dotted with brown specks and terrified amber eyes revealed the worker was a Githzerai.

“Can you fight?” Sara whispered.

The Githzerai's eyes narrowed, but the physical pain from the constant bumps was still vividly present on her face. “I can’t fight them. They’re too powerful.”

“Follow our lead.” Sara helped the girl to her feet and looked over at Raven with a sharp nod. It was understood immediately.

They began moving toward the ropes to exit the ring, but the two Owlbears took quick notice. They pushed through the lingering crowd and moved to intercept them, stepping up onto the ring apron to block their path before they could slide out.

The larger Owlbear, sporting bright blue liberty spikes gelled into his head feathers, held a massive, clawed paw out to block them. “Leave the girl and go.”

Sara blinked. She squinted hard at the spiked Owlbear. “Wait. I know you.”

The Owlbear looked around nervously, then back down at her. “I don’t know any Tieflings.”

“Yeah, you do.” Sara leaned casually against the top rope, looking directly up at him. “You’re Owlpachino. The lead detective of the Tawagoto Sex Crimes Division. Mark used you in a massive Law & Order campaign we played way back in college.”

“Former head of the TSCD,” Owlpachino grunted, his feathered face giving away the deep shame that he did not want to be "former" anything. “I don’t know a Mark.”

The other Owlbear interrupted, slapping the ropes. “Take the reunion elsewhere. Muffin has work to do for the boss.”

Sara continued leaning over the rope, her tone turning to absolute ice. “Nah. She’s gonna come home with us.”

Owlpachino ruffled his feathers aggressively and started climbing up the ring stairs.

Sara smiled. She backed up to the center of the ring, motioning for Raven and Muffin the Githzerai to step back as well. This was exactly what was going to make this year's Mark Calaween the most special ever.

As soon as Owlpachino stepped through the middle ropes onto the canvas, Sara charged. She extended her arm out to the side, maintaining perfect tabletop form, and delivered a devastating, high-velocity lariat clothesline. The impact caught the massive Owlbear cleanly under the beak, knocking him entirely off his feet and flipping him backward over the top rope to the floor.

Before the second Owlbear could even step into the ring to help, Sara bounced off the opposite ropes, building momentum. She ran full-speed across the canvas and dove headfirst over the top rope in a flawless, soaring plancha. She landed directly across the second Owlbear's chest on the outside, crushing him to the dirt.

Sara’s ribs ached from the impact, but she pushed herself to her feet immediately. She grabbed the dazed Owlbear by the feathers, hauled him up, and shoved him roughly under the bottom rope back into the ring toward Raven, while she quickly climbed up onto the apron.

Raven didn't hesitate. She grabbed the Owlbear and whipped him hard against the ropes, sending him running. After the first bounce, Raven dropped down and leapfrogged cleanly over him. As the Owlbear turned around, completely disoriented, Muffin the Githzerai stepped up and delivered a flawless, cracking Sweet Chin Music superkick directly to his beak, knocking him senseless into the corner.

Owlpachino rolled back into the ring just as Sara climbed through the ropes. He roared and charged blindly at her. Sara thought fast. She dropped to the canvas, executing a perfect drop toe-hold, tripping his massive weight forward. As he fell flat on his face, Raven launched herself into the air, landing a massive, crushing leg drop squarely on the back of his neck.

As Sara scrambled to her feet and Muffin laid into Owlpachino with stomps in the corner, the second Owlbear finally recovered. He pulled a serrated hunting blade from his belt and charged directly at Raven.

Sara gave the Drow a knowing, split-second glance and set her stance.

Just as the Owlbear lunged with the knife, Raven ducked cleanly under the swipe. She stepped in, wrapped her arms around the Owlbear's waist, and lifted him straight up into the air, holding his feathery head high above her shoulder.

Sara ran off the ropes, launched herself into the air, grabbed the Owlbear's head in both hands mid-flight, and drove him face-first into the canvas, delivering a stunning, flawless Dudley Death Drop.

The canvas shook. The Owlbear was out cold.

As Sara and Raven bounced back up to their feet, they heard Muffin scream.

Owlpachino had recovered. He grabbed the Githzerai from behind, holding a viciously sharp hunting knife tight against her green throat. “Enough! Back off! I’ll kill her right here!”

Muffin didn't wait to be rescued. She twisted her body sharply under the blade, drove a brutal elbow backward directly into Owlpachino’s solar plexus, and ripped herself free from his grip.

Without a second thought, both Sara and Raven charged across the ring in unison. They leapt into the air and delivered a tandem, double-dropkick straight to Owlpachino's chest, knocking him flying backward into the turnbuckle, completely dazed and done.

“Let’s go!” Raven yelled. She grabbed Muffin’s hand and pointed urgently through the parting festival crowd. “There are more coming!”

A group of four heavily armored VMMF Owlbear guards were charging through the food stalls, knocking tables over to get to the ring.

Sara looked at their exit path, then back to the oncoming storm of muscle. There wasn’t enough time to get away clean if she didn’t stall them.

“Go!” Sara yelled, pointing at the beach. “I’ll be right behind you!”

Raven paused for a fraction of a second, looking deeply into Sara’s eyes. She nodded firmly, trusting her, and ran off into the crowd, dragging Muffin behind her.

Sara moved with lightning speed. She grabbed the dazed Owlpachino by his feathery head and dragged his massive bulk to the absolute center of the ring. She bent him forward, forcefully placing his head securely between her legs.

She wrapped her arms tightly around his thick waist, planted her boots, and lifted with everything she had, rolling his dead weight up until he was sitting high on her shoulders, his back facing the oncoming storm of Owlbears.

She took a deep breath, gave a powerful, straining final lift to get him even higher, took a single, dramatic step forward, and delivered a devastating, thundering Last Ride powerbomb, launching Owlpachino completely over the top ropes.

His massive body crashed down directly onto the charging guards, bowling them over like ten-pins and burying them in a tangle of limbs and feathers, buying Raven exactly the time she needed to escape.

Sara stood alone in the center of the ring. She looked down at the groaning pile of corporate thugs, crossed her arms over her chest, and took one final, theatrical bow.

“Tell Craig to stop hurting my people."

 

[SYSTEM ALERT: Encounter Cleared.]

[XP Awarded: 2,000]

[Level Up Available! Unspent Attribute Points: 16]