Toughness. No Male Approval [Chapter III]

The fans hush in the coliseum as Trixie is planted head first by a rather deranged and murderous clown looking star, a monster heel type man dropping Trixie on her head, on the outside of the ring and busting the blonde open. Trixie gazes up to the lights as her own blood trickles down her face. Her blonde hair turning darker on the fringe and sticking to her forehead as she's rolled into the ring.

Trixie now fed to another clown like star, the fans seeing this clown and show much more respect to him, the undefeated one on the Prime brand aside his one and only loss to Trixie. Picking up the blooded Prime Girl into a powerbomb and in front of the thousands in attendance, he sits out and really drives Trixie down, a huge powerbomb and the fans count, thinking it's over when Trixie surprises the world by kicking out of a trademark move. Proving to the world she's no barbie, she's got pure heart and determination to win and be crowned the first Indy Champion.

Trixie finally connects with the sexy neckbreaker. Landing the clown with green hair that sent putrid odours to Trixie's nose from the toxic chemicals on her shoulder. The back of his neck collides as Trixie lands in the splits to further the drop from vertical base to impact, an incredible move she delivers and scores the victory.

Trixie stands on the turnbuckle victorious on a grand stage, proving to the world she can beat the odds, she is a tough as nails girl and nobody could say any different after her performance.



The day goes on as every student walks up to a dummy and superkicks it right in the sternum, not the face, the sternum. Each one being told to make their opponent lose their lunch with one kick. Trixie must have kicked the dummy a good few hundreds of times and every student was showing their exhaustion. This mounted up as they all adhered to code #1 (Superkick Every-F*****g-Thing) and delivered kicks to the chin (dubbed the standard superkick) but also the back of the head (dubbed the killshot kick), the back of the knee (dubbed the crippler kick), the middle of the back (dubbed the old man maker) and generally over practicing a superkick on every part of the human body.

But after the day is done, the students, Hilary included, all grab their bags and head out of the training room. The big room that forms the extension to give the building it's "J" appearance as they all head to the stairs to begin going up to their rooms. Trixie walks past the elevator that strictly goes to the top floor, the penthouse. Trixie follows the students up, the group of about 12 students get to the first floor and three disperse to rooms JA, JK and JE. On the second floor another four leave the group going to rooms JA, JI, JC and JK as Trixie, Hilary and the remaining three carry on, envying the people on floor one as they trot up to the third floor where Trixie disperses from the group with an irish boy as he heads to room JE and Trixie heads to room JC, third floor, JC, her home for the time being. Her familiar room she always lived in whenever she trained at the school, one of the only schools to provide students with accommodation.

Trixie gets herself onto the singles bed and finds the lack of a memory foam mattress unwelcoming to her. Her ways of training downstairs in her own home before finding the marshmallow bed upstairs, was always a treat to end training. This time, she was back as a student. Laptop up to stream movies with ramen noodles or sushi pack to eat. Trixie settles in and unpacks her bag with a variety of work-out gear and lastly her EWC Indy Title and her Trixie Championship. Unable to showcase her Genesis Title on the desk between the two aforementioned titles, however that wasn't what drove her to tears. Trixie finds on the bed headboard something she scratched, 2015, her start but underneath of it which pillows covered was the word dad. The room, the beginning of her wrestling career partly was to connect with one man whom she was told took the same vocation.

As her pillow case absorbs her tears, she hears a knock on the door before the door opens up anyway and before her is the man with a large afro. The trainer, the writer of the codes of the school. He wears a rather 70's shirt. The collar is large and flared. The shirt is white with black and can only be described as a pattern from looking into a kaleidoscope. This is tucked into a pair of red pants with a matching red blazer. He clearly hadn't outgrown the 70's era in terms of fashion.



While bluntly spoken, Trixie was quite used to this person's mannerisms when the lack of sensitivity towards being upset usually would invoke either further sadness or spiral to anger over the person's ignorance. Trixie slowly sits up, unhappy two years after her start in wrestling she had become a multiple time champion but her quest for her father had made no real progress.



Trixie cuts herself off. The topic of conversation she was now having and in this emotional state was for those close to her heart. She always bats off the hateful comments directed to her about her status, often turning it back on the so called Queen of the Heavyweights by implying she'd be the bag mule to Trixie. But here and now Trixie sits, with someone close to her and letting them see a side nobody would ever see.



Trixie sniffs, remembering his talk with her about a close friend and former student of his being unable to conceive and loaning her the money for In Vitro fertilization.





He says to the older girl who steps in and follows his calling finger to stand opposite Trixie and spun to face her.



Trixie looks to him as he begins a mini tirade about his grimes with Twitter. She'd hear a number of times his gripes with people on the site and their posting habits. As someone who kept his private life quite hidden and his adoration for pro wrestling quite public, he was quick to chastise anyone for trying to make any relationship drama important to the wrestling business, coining the term "it's not about who you fucked or who you blew who. Instead about who fucked up who or who dealt the final blow" as a response to any sort of relationship drama, never believing it had any merit inside the ring.



There it was, more gripes only Trixie immediately clocks he's talking those very famous hashtags #WCW/WRW or #MCM/MRM which Trixie let him speak and go one, allowing him to have his tirade as he relates people who attack Trixie on social media to her dead beat disappearing father. It wasn't a bad analogy now that she thought of it, or an outlook on the social media straying from the wrestling. Being in the school, she was back to learning, back to the grind and how being an incredible striker was key to the ring, had clear value over some picture of Trixie in a bikini in Malibu.







Like all students, Trixie huffs as she knows the training regime and no matter how many times she does it, it doesn't ever make it easier. But it did make her one tough walking blonde so that's why she got a firm pat on the back, twice. The pat was an unspoken comment that he didn't give a rat's ass about her huffs and knew she'd be a champ and do it like the rest.

He gets up and opens the door and heads back down the stairs. Trixie spies Hilary spying from the stairs looking in at Trixie's room and shooting Trixie absolute daggers. The Irish guy acts as a shield as he comes to Trixie's door, hands on both sides of the frame.



The Irish lad says shrugging, looking at Trixie as he fixes his baseball cap and stuffs his hands in his jacket pockets. Trixie figures what the hey and heads out of her room to join him, keeping three hand length's apart from him as they head downstairs.



Taken from the TrixieBrand.com website. First Prize is front row seats to the Convergence PPV, travel and accommodation included for the best answer.