Hayden herself had been posing for promotional photos. The mansion and grounds offered many opportunities for such pictures and the test shots she had seen very encouraging. At 5’1 1/2, Hayden envied the bigger fighters, but she had found excellent small girl fighters ahead of her on the roster and fighting Brenda Song and Laura Breckenridge had been tough, hard, and, to be honest, a lot more fun than the rigid world of high society ballroom fighting that had been Hayden’s heritage in the city of her birth. That was behind her now, and she was at CPW where she planned to carve out a new career for herself.

Hayden had been posing in a blue CPW Tuff Skin. She loved those tight-fitting, but amazingly comfortable one-pieces, though its form-fitting properties had taken some getting used to. She went down to the basement locker room. (Basement seemed in an inadequate word for the sprawling underground room, but they were as richly decorated as the rest of the hose. She had never expected a locker room with marble fixtures and tiled mosaic floors). She carefully changed out of the Tuff Skin and began to dress, but she had barely begun when she heard the locker on the other side open. Eager to talk about her photographic experiences, she threw on a robe and came around the corner.

Hayden arrived just in time to see a small young woman pulling a dress over her head, revealing an expensive black lace body suit. In a flash of recognition, Hayden knew who this was and the realization filled her with anger.

“Marcy!” She spat the name out. “What are you doing here?”

Marcy Rylan was a dark blonde with blue eyes who was the same age as Hayden. She didn’t seem surprised to be confronted by the girl-next-door blonde.

“I’m here to do what I have always done. Expose you for the fighting fraud you and your mother are!” Marcy said, flicking an imaginary piece of dust off her body suit.

“My mother is back home. I’m sure you know that,” Hayden snarled. “You and your nasty excuse for a mother want a rematch with us or do you just want to take me on alone?”

“Considering what you two cheats did to us, I’d prefer the rematch, but you ran off to this place. So I tracked you down. I’m going to spoil any hopes you ever had for a career here. Maybe then you two will give us the rematch we deserve!”

“Spare me the family honor crap! You two were the ones who got caught cheating. It’s not our fault you two got banned!” Hayden retorted. “You tried to use solid gold knuckles on us!”

“You framed us!” Marcy insisted as though that would make it true.

“Oh, that’s IT!” Hayden cried and threw off her robe to reveal a royal blue bra and matching panties.

“Bring it on, Hay-seed! Bring it on!” cried Marcy, kicking off her high heels.

The two small battlers locked up in a furious tie and collar. They then slammed each other against the lockers, until their holds broke. Hayden was swiftly able to adjust into a hip toss that sent Marcy sliding across the floor after making a painful landing. If Marcy was hurt by the impact, she gave little sign of it; she shot to her feet and charged. Hayden obligingly stood her ground, she then grabbed Marcy as she closed, she then fell backwards and tossed the girl over her head. Marcy crashed into the lockers, which rocked perilously, then slid to the floor in a heap.

Hayden rolled over and crawled over to fallen Marcy. Marcy was groaning loudly and Hayden leaned forward from a crouching position. Marcy’s arms suddenly shot up and Hayden was yanked forward. The top of Hayden’s head hit the steel lockers, but Marcy kept her grip and pulled Hayden into a side headlock . Marcy then got to her feet and converted the headlock into a nasty bulldog to the hard floor, which left Hayden’s brain filled with stars as she lay face-down on the tile.

Marcy reached down and grabbed Hayden by the hair and the waistband of her panties. For a small girl, she was surprisingly strong as she lifted her opponent up and rammed her head-first into the much-battered locker bank. Hayden’s vision started darkening, but the thought of being knocked out by her hated enemy kept her conscious.

Tiring of using Hayden to assault the lockers, Marcy let her drop to the floor. She then arranged Hayden in a starfish position, arms and legs spread wide apart. Then Marcy backed off and made a running leap. Obviously, a body splash onto the helpless Hayden was her plan, but Hayden got up her knees and Marcy’s trim tummy was impaled on the knees. Hayden then heaved and Marcy landed hard on her back, even sliding a bit on the tile.

Hayden threw herself on the dazed girl and locked her legs in a grapevine. She then pushed, forcing the legs apart further and further until she could feel Marcy’s muscles starting to cramp as Marcy began to writhe. She couldn’t escape and pain filled her eyes, but no sound escaped her pursed lips.

“I’ve got you Rylan! I’ll break up in two and send you back North the same failure you’ve always been!” Hayden hissed in her rival’s ear.

“N-no!” Marcy protested weakly.

“Next time do you stretching exercises before a fight. They’ll help avoid things like this. Oh, that’s right, you won’t be fighting anymore when I’m done with you.”

“Go-to-hell!” Marcy gasped, but then Hayden gave surge of pressure against Marcy’s legs and blonde couldn’t hide the gasp of pain.

Hayden held the grapevine for what must have seemed to Marcy Rylan like an eternity, but no further sounds came from her. Still, Marcy’s face was deathly white and taut as a bowstring. She was clearly fighting intense pain.

Hayden kept up the hold, but then sighed, “OK Marcy, it’s getting late and I have a dinner engagement. I’m gonna give you the chance to end this. Just say, ‘I quit’!”

Marcy glared at Hayden, but spat out the words, “’I quit’—this time.”

Hayden released the hold. Marcy sagged beneath her. Hayden stood up and put her bare foot on Marcy’s throat. “I decided I want to beat you in public again. We’ll meet in the ring here. Now get your dress on and leave. You have sixty seconds.”

Marcy looked sullen, but nodded. Hayden released the throat. Marcy rolled over and somehow gathered her shoes and dress. She scrambled into them and out the door—all in under sixty seconds.

“See you again, soon!” Hayden called after her in a mocking tone.

“You bet you will!” From outside the locker room came Marcy’s weakened, but stubborn voice. Then there was silence except for the sounds of a shuffling retreat.

Hayden walked back to her own locker. She liked this place more than ever now…
******
Several days later,
Hayden and Marcy sat in chairs on opposite sides of the outer office of the President of “Casa Perdita Wrestling Inc.” They alternately shot silent daggers at one another and ignored each other’s existence until the door to the inner office opened and an efficient-looking woman stepped out and in her best ‘high school principal’s secretary summoning two unruly students’ tone, announced imperiously, “Mr. Fannin will see you now.”

The two petite young women jumped to their feet and headed for the doorway. Despite their small size there didn’t seem to be enough room for both of them to enter at the same time and neither was willing to yield to the other so they wedged themselves in the door, hip-to-hip and jostled and traded elbows to the ribs. Finally, they both lurched forward, nearly falling into the room and making a rather inelegant entrance.

A bearded distinguished-looking gentleman looked up from behind his big executive desk as the two young women steadied themselves and exchanged dirty looks, then strode up the desk, leaned across and offered their hands at exactly the same instant

“Hello, Mr. Fannin! I’m Hayden Panettiere!”

“Hello, I’m Marcy Rylan - and I want you to know it’s all HER fault!”

Fannin managed to take his eyes from their cleavage shook both their hands at once with both of his, ensuring neither could feel slighted. Then he said in a firm voice that brought immediate silence, “LADIES!” Everyone in the room stopped and stared at him. Fannin grinned, “Good, I like it quiet in here. Pleased to meet you both. I’m Richard Fannin, the president of this organization. Please be seated.”

The two young women meekly drew up chairs, but they placed them as far apart as they dared. Meanwhile, Fannin sat down himself and rummaged through his papers until he came up with two pieces of paper. He handed one sheet to each young woman. “The maintenance staff tells me you two had a fight in the locker room the other day. This is what it’s going to cost to replace the lockers you two damaged,” he said, holding up the paper so quickly that neither could make out the bottom line.

“Hey! I was just defending myself…” Marcy protested. “…minding my own business. SHE attacked ME…for NO reason…well, no reason other than she’s a nasty little bully!”

Hayden flushed and said sullenly, “OK, I DID start it. Gimme the bill, I’ll pay for the whole thing. But you have to understand, Mr. Fannin, there’s a lot of bad blood between us - and that, I did NOT start THAT!”

Fannin regarded the blonde coldly, “Bad blood I don’t mind - not as long it’s shed in front of paying customers. I realize neither of you really needs the money I’m paying you, but I expect you to confine your brawling to places where I can make money on it.”

Hayden gulped, “Yes, sir.”

“Of course, sir,” Marcy said, her tone dripping with insincere sweetness.

Hayden dug her checkbook out of her purse and started writing. Marcy studied her, and noted Fannin’s obvious approval so she suddenly interrupted. “Just a minute! Maybe guess I do share SOME of the blame. Give me the bill. I’ll pay my fair share.”

Hayden scowled and handed over the paper, but whispered, “Suck up!”

Marcy gave her a secret ‘flip off’ with her middle finger while Fannin was looking at the two checks and grinning. “Good. I trust that you two will be more careful in the future.”

“Yes sir, I’ll try, sir!” Hayden said.

“I certainly will sure,” Marcy said with smiling assurance; thinking to herself, ‘And I’ll be damn sure to be careful that Hayden gets all the blame - and the bill!’

Fannin dismissed them with a nod and the two young women exited much as they has come in, fighting to be first. Once they were gone, Fannin’s secretary rolled her eyes and commented, “Well; those two little terrors certainly don’t like each other, do they?”

Fannin smiled, “According to my sources in San Francisco, their mothers before them have been feuding for years. These two are just a couple of chips off the old blockheads!”

“Interesting family values they have up there,” the secretary observed with a sly smile. “Maybe we should arrange a ‘family outing’ those kinky fans would probably pay top dollar for a mother-daughter tag team match.

Fannin nodded, “If I can just get them to keep it in the ring, they’ll be headlining in a year. And when I want you to start match-making, I’ll send you a memo,” he added with a wink and a grin.

“Considering how those lockers looked,” the secretary said. “I’d say you’re definitely getting your money’s worth. You should have paid them for renovating that dingy, drap old run-down place.”