X Club Wrestling Divapocalypse [ EXCLUSIVE ]

She threw the championship belt.

Lana looked at the championship. The cobra’s eyes were no longer crimson. They were empty. A keyhole. “It’s not a belt,” she whispered. “It’s a lock. And I just broke it.” X Club Wrestling Divapocalypse

The Divapocalypse screamed. The runes on her skin exploded outward like startled birds. Her form unraveled—first the hair, then the face, then the horrible beauty—until all that was left was a single, old-fashioned microphone on a stand. She threw the championship belt

She lunged. Candi shoved Lana aside and took the hit—a palm strike to the chest that didn’t break bones, but broke time. Candi began aging backward: twenty-nine, twenty-five, eighteen, twelve, a baby, a gasp of pre-life, and then nothing. A puff of glitter. They were empty

“You wore crowns of plastic,” she whispered, though her voice echoed in every fan’s skull. “You fought over rhinestones and fake tan. I am the original. The first Diva. The one you buried under steel chairs and ‘women’s evolution’ slogans. And I have come to collect.”