Hey guys, thanks for the feedback on this. I feel like this little thing has only one or two chapters left in it, so enjoy and PLEASE REVIEW!


Angel's back room was filled with the necessities that any wrestler would need; headgear, knee pads, mouth guards, and even more items that Liz hadn't seen for years. The equipment hadn't been used in a long time. Each item had its own way of showing its age; some things were totally falling apart while others merely had a few scuffs. Either way, the room was clearly filled of memories for the wrestler. She smiled and ran her fingers over the pair of boots he had mentioned. Their purple color had faded long ago; the scuffed paint and lack of polish really made them show their true age. She recalled Angel wearing them when they had met after a match an eternity ago. It had only been a few years before, but with the Saints' sudden rise to fame, everything in Stilwater seemed like it was ten years ago. She remembered his match vividly; it had been so jaw dropping that she still hadn't forgotten it to this day. In fact, she had taken her whole crew along to see it at the Ultor Dome. They all went due to the hype everyone had made about it. Liz had had low expectations but bought great seats nonetheless. The crew deserved it, and getting ringside tickets and backstage passes were easy for them due to their higher status.

She had been dead wrong about the match. Instead of tag teaming it with Eddie "Killbane" Pryor, Angel had gone solo against another notable wrestler. With the odds against him, Angel had managed to win big. His moves were other worldly and much more impressive than Liz had been expecting. She even admitted there was a lot she could learn from him. When the Saints went backstage, he had been overwhelmingly surprised about the Boss' enthusiasm. It was his seriousness and good looks that had won him a personal invitation to the Purgatory that night. Ironically enough, a week or so later, Angel had been publically demasked and went into hiding due to the shame brought onto him. His temporary glory had been suddenly stripped from him, which was a feeling Liz could identify with a little too much.

Sighing, she threw the pair of boots onto her feet. Although her little fling with the Luchadore had only lasted about a week, she still had some sort of attachment to him. Granted they had both moved on to bigger and better people, she couldn't help but wonder if something was there. He had been and still was at least ten years her senior, but that didn't seem to bother them at the time. The week she had spent with him had been one of the more fun ones of her life; if they weren't fooling around in the ring, they were hanging out in Angel's private bedroom in the gym.

She laced up the barely there boots and scowled. She knew that the age difference wasn't what was keeping them apart at the moment. His apparent hatred for her and her actions had built a communication barrier between them. Wanting a romantic relationship wasn't what she had come here for. In fact, she didn't want one at all. She came to give him the retribution he deserved.

It was a simple plan: she would go in to the ring, fight him and let him win. Whatever kind of fight he would put up wouldn't be something that she couldn't handle. After all, it had been almost a year since Murderbrawl XXXI, and Angel hadn't been training as hard as had had been before. Or, at least that's what she thought.

Liz stood up and strode out of the backroom. Although she didn't like to lose, she could use a few new scars. Putting her ego aside didn't seem to be that hard to her. She peeked into the main room of the gym to see that Angel had moved his deformed punching bag out of the ring. The thoughts that were going on in his brain were completely different than the ones in hers. He wasn't intending to train with her; he wanted to see if he could make her fall.

She stopped for a moment to watch exactly what he was doing. He paused and began to wipe a few beads of perspiration off his forehead before turning his attention to the woman standing twenty feet away from him. A smile was the last thing you would see on his face. He was looking all too serious as Liz put a hand on her hip in anticipation. She was expecting one of his usual lectures on how she should focus more or how she should have prepared herself. It also could have been something about how drinking and smoking would eventually kill her, and even the "occasional" bag of weed has a negative effect on everyone.

Instead, he took a controlling stance in the middle of the ring. With his arms crossed and glossy with sweat, he took a few steps to the edge of the platform to take a good look at her. He analyzed her up and down and frowned disapprovingly.

"Get your ass up here and fight, we don't have all day." he snarled deeply. "And those clothes aren't going to protect you much." Liz raised her eyebrows and slowly walked into the ring.

"At least I don't have a bare chest showing." she commented starkly.

Maybe losing wasn't going to be as easy as she thought it would be. If Angel was going to put up a good fight and kept acting like this, winning would feel irresistible. The feeling of conquering someone made her adrenaline pump through her like a drug. After he didn't respond to her comments, she felt that it was time to push his buttons.

"Don't go easy on me, old man." she teased.

Before she could take another breath, a fist collided with her cheek, causing her hand to soar up to her face. Pain echoed throughout her jaw and soon began to surge out to her head. After the initial blow, Angel didn't hesitate any longer. He released his anger through his fists, dealing only minor punches to the woman in front of him. It was hardly what one would consider wrestling.

"The piledrivers can wait…" he thought to himself. If the leader decided not to put up a fight, using good moves would be worthless.

He squinted at her through his adrenaline as she threw up her arms and narrowly dodged the hits. His knuckles collided with her rapidly swelling forearms every other second.

He was even giving her the upper hand by using more of a street fighting style, but she still resisted. It wasn't something he had ever seen from her; usually her feisty fighting style would shine through whenever it got the chance. Now, she was cowering like a pathetic new recruit.

In a sudden move, he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her up. Instinctively, she began to pry out of his grip before abruptly giving up her strength. It was now all too obvious that she was trying to lose.

She felt sorry for him.

He hastily dropped her down onto the floor, her body landing with a loud thud. After standing up, she brushed off her tender skin and gave Angel the same glare he had been giving her just minutes ago.

"The fuck was that for?" she questioned, her breathing heavy. She didn't have the energy to raise her tone. For the second time in a match Angel had frighteningly exceeded her expectations. Even if she did try to win, it would be an unexpected challenge.

"You have to try!" he barked. "I'm not going to fight you if you're an unworthy opponent. I know you can do better than that because I've seen it with my own eyes."

Liz rubbed her head and exhaled loudly. He was making this more difficult than it should be.

"It's the boots…" she mumbled. "And maybe I don't want to put up a goddamn fight."

"We both know you wouldn't deny a fight even if you were on your deathbed." he retorted. Anger was bubbling up inside the redheaded woman and her fiery temper was about to burst. She clenched her burning fists until her knuckles were white and took a step towards the former Luchadore.

"He can't be worse than Maero…" she thought to herself.

She threw a fierce kick, knocking Angel straight in the stomach. He grunted in pain before grabbing her leg and pinning her down to the ground for the second time. She could feel his exhales tickling her still sore neck, making her shudder ever so slightly. After using all her force to kick again, she rose up to her feet and scowled.

He was forcing her to get crafty.

She got into the stance that she had seen him do countless times; it was the signature stance used to start a proper match. If they were going to wrestle, she decided that they would have to do it right.

"Do you even know what you're doing?" Angel asked. The anger and frustration had faded a little from his tone, making him seem a little more approachable.

"Fuck no, but I'm doing it anyway."

She went towards him and positioned her right foot between his legs. Her knee fell to the mat as she lunged forward to grab both of his legs, sending Angel's body over her shoulder. It was one of the most basic wrestling moves she had learned a long time ago from her father: a double leg takedown. Unfortunately, it was the only move she had learned, making the next step feel a little too difficult. Without knowing what to do next, she crouched and held him up without a proper purpose.

Angel pushed himself out of her grip by pushing down on her back. After flipping over and sending her face down into the floor, he pinned her down and counted to three silently.

"One…"

Liz squirmed and lifted her arm up to grab at his neck.

"Two…"

Impulsively, he threw her hand down onto the mat and put more pressure on her back to keep her down. Her attempts to thrash him off failed quickly.

"Three."

Pressure sluggishly found its way out of Liz's back, and she looked up to see Angel standing over her.

"Try harder next time." he said before turning around. He was heading in the direction of his room, and she couldn't be more livid with him.

She got up and felt every part of her body hurting, her neck and forearms taking the most damage. She could also tell that she would have to nurse the pain in her back with a heating pad when she got back to the penthouse.

"That's it? You take me down and now you decide to leave without any kind of rematch?!" Her voice had regained its momentum, but the yelled had already begun to take a toll on her now strained vocal chords.

Angel shrugged and grabbed his worn purple hoodie that was hanging on a nearby punching bag. He threw it over his sweaty body and pushed open the double doors in front of him. As soon as he disappeared, Liz followed him, wanting more.

She slammed the doors back open and raised her voice substantially. His nonchalant attitude about his win infuriated her, and she saw a predictable rematch in their future.

"Get the fuck out of there, Angel; I know you're in there! I'm not going to be a loser!" The sound of a microwave turning on redirected her to his little nook of a bedroom. The difference between his current bedroom and his former one was like night and day.

Angel was sitting on the side of his mattress, staring at his frozen pizza that was in the mini oven. Some of his more important wrestling memorabilia was stashed in the room along with year old trash. The mattress had unknown stains all over it and was nothing compared to the plush California king he had had before. He looked up at her with those chocolate brown eyes she had loved only a few months ago, except the spark seemed to have left them. They looked exactly like the time when she had met him for a second time while fending off Luchadores in the same building. Now his eyes held anger and a large amount of power waiting to be released.

"You lost," he said calmly. "Come back when you're better."

"When you're better…"

The words echoed silently in her head. She looked at Angel one more time and nodded before heading back out to the main room of the gym. After taking in the Latino rap that was playing and finding some tape for her fingers, she picked up the deformed punching bag and mounted it properly in the middle of the ring. If she was going to get better, she was going to do it the right way.