Mark Jindrak looked at Sarge in disbelief. He’d let himself be talked into coming down to the Plant for a few days and helping out. It’s not like he had much of anything to do. Once he paid the bills and went shopping, he would just be doing nothing. He’d done nothing for two days and had five to go. So, when the call came from Sarge he was more than happy to go. Though, once he’d gotten there, he wasn’t so sure about that anymore.

“You want me to go in there and fight her?”

“That’s what I said,” Sarge said, hands on his hips. Mark looked down at the smaller man and shook his head. He turned his eyes back to the woman in the ring. Her hair was in long braids... goddess braids, he remembered from that movie. He thought for a minute. What was it? Oh yeah... Poetic Justice. Why they had let Shawn talk them into watching that, he didn’t know, but it wasn’t all bad. He shook his head again, clearing his thoughts.

Her chocolate skin glistened with sweat under the hot lights above the ring. She bent down, stretching her back and hamstrings. When she moved, the muscles moved beneath her skin. They weren’t too prominent. From the look of her, Mark knew that she wasn’t a bodybuilder. No, she just seemed to be the kind of woman that wanted to stay in shape. And her taut muscles and ridged stomach definitely showed that she’d got what she wanted. When she stood erect, she was taller than most women. Mark gauged around 5’9 or so. With a sigh, he turned back to Sarge.

“You know I could break her in half?”

“Yeah, but she’d still give you a run for your money?”

“So, this would be a shoot match? All us?”

“Yup.”

“And she agreed to this?”

“She doesn’t have to. She’s in training and she does what I say.” Sarge gave a crooked grin, then climbed up on the ring apron, stepping between the ropes. He stood next to the woman and she was just a tad bit taller than him. Mark shook his head and followed Sarge.

He looked down at her and she showed no fear, no worry. “How tall are you?” Mark asked.

“Why?”

“Because I wanna know.” She turned her head to Sarge and he said, “Tell him.”

“5’10.”

“Not shabby. You lift.”

“Yeah, and?”

Mark growled slightly then looked at Sarge. “I really don’t wanna do this, Sarge.”

“I don’t care.” He walked up to him, hands on his hips. “Your ass is back in the Plant and who rules the Plant?”

Mark sighed. “Sarge rules the Plant.”

“That’s fuckin’ right.” He turned back to the woman. “Kat? This is Mark Jindrak. Mark. Meet Kat. Say hello, then start fighting.” Sarge grunted, then climbed out of the ring.

Kat walked over to Mark and looked at him. She hadn’t needed an introduction. Everybody at the Plant knew a Natural Born Thriller when they saw one. They were all Sarge’s pride and joy. And now, she stood in the ring with one. Mark Jindrak. Former WCW tag team champion. And, in those shorts and tank, he was damned fine, too.

“So,” Mark said, “this is a shoot.”

“Yup.”

“Sarge probably just wants to see what you can do. On your own.”

“Yup.”

“So-- are you ready to show him?”

“Yup.”

As the words left her mouth, a mock bell rang and she caught him off guard with a shot to the head. Mark took a moment to recover and ducked as she swung wildly. He grabbed her around the waist and took her off of her feet. Kat was quick however and rolled before he could grab her head. She got back to her feet and the two circled one another.

Mark grabbed her arm, putting her in a hammerlock. The astonishment was evident on his face as she powered out of his hammerlock easily. A guy powering out was no big deal, but a woman-- they usually went below the belt slyly to get free. She reversed it on him and tweaked up the pressure. Mark groaned slightly before elbowing his way out of it. He turned her back around and picked her up for a German suplex.

Sarge, standing at ringside, started to count the pin, but Kat rolled out of it, ending on her hands and knees. She moved away from him slowly, regrouping and Mark saw the muscles in her shoulders move. Almost like a cat, the skin rippled with each motion. This girl was-- something. Definitely something.

His thoughts elsewhere, Kat was able to rush him, spearing him to the mat. Mark coughed, the breath knocked out of him. Taking the point, she got up and went to the corner. Kat climbed to the top turnbuckle and guaged her position. Then, with a twist and a flip, she came down on Mark with a splash. Again, he was not only impressed, but had the wind knocked out of him.

Realization came back as he heard Sarge at ’2’. Mark quickly kicked out, lifting Kat off of him and half-tossing her up past his head. He stood and shook his head. “Okay, time to get serious,” he muttered. He went for her, taking it to her. With forearm shots he weakened her. He sent her across the ring, bouncing off of the ropes, and took her down with a clothesline. He looked to where others had trickled in, watching the action. He gave the signal for the end, then picked her up over his shoulder and brought her down in a slam. The rest was academic as Sarge counted the 1-2-3.

Mark stood up and looked down at Kat as she groaned on the mat. She’d given him a run for his money, that was for sure. With sportsmanly manner, he extended his hand, grabbing hold of hers and pulling her to her feet. “Pretty good,” he told her.

“I didn’t win.”

“And?”

“Then it wasn’t good enough.”

Mark laughed slightly, shaking his head. “You’ll learn one day. It’s not whether you win that makes you get noticed.”

“Then what is it?”

Mark laughed again, then turned as Sarge climbed in the ring. “Should I tell her?” Sarge grinned and nodded. Mark looked back to Kat and, with a smile, said, “It’s how fucking good you look losing.”

Kat couldnt’ help but chuckle. “But, I like to win.”

“We all do. But-- first you job, then you win.”

“You learn all this from where?”

“From gettin’ my ass kicked all over TV for the past year,” he told her with a grin. “And if ya know-- you lost that pretty damn good, I think. Of course, I wasn’t watchin’ so--” He turned to Sarge.

“Well, I was watchin’ and-- she lost okay. She can be a bit better at it though.”

“Oh, thank you, Obi Wan Kenobi.”

“Smart ass,” Sarge muttered. He looked at his watch then turned to the others standing around. “Half an hour!” he shouted. “All your asses back here, in this ring. You looked like shit yesterday, so you’re gonna start at the beginning! Bumps!” The wrestlers in training groaned as they walked off.

Mark watched Kat climbing out of the ring and his mind started going. Something about her had intrigued him. Maybe it was her manner in the ring, or her manner before the match had started. He didn’t know, but when she was a few feet away from the ring, Mark flipped out and ran up to her. “Hey,” he said, catching up. Kat stopped and turned.

“Yeah?”

“Um-- Nice move,” he said haltingly.
“Thanks,” she said. “I call it the Feliner.”

“Kat... Feliner... I like that.”

“Me, too.” He walked a few steps with her and she stopped. “Did you want somethin?”

“Um-- I was wondering if you’d, maybe, like to have lunch with me?” He felt awkward and hated that. So, he took a deep breath and let the tension flow out with his breath. “We could talk about your moves? WCW? Good ole, Uncle Eric? How incredibly sexy you seem to me.”

Kat looked at him and grinned. She was waiting to see if she’d have to totallly flirt outrageously with him, but apparently, her nonchalant mode had worked. She swung her braids over her shoulder and widened her grin. “Sure,” she finally said. “We can discuss-- that last comment. And the vice versa.” Mark grinned, taking her arm and walking off. Oh yeah, that trip to the Plant was gonna pay off, one way or the other.