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a waltz of hypocrisy

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Becky takes her time; she scouts the area, taking some deep breaths from the diaphragm to calm her wildly beating heart. Her face is still hot to the touch. Her vision is foggy right until the moment she sees her target.

Nobody's there to save the Wicked Witch.

"Stop right there, princess."

Alexa's exaggerated sigh creeps under her skin, rubbing her the wrong way once more. And when she keeps walking, shaking her head slightly, like Becky isn't even worth the full motion -- something inside her snaps.

Becky lunges. She grabs Alexa by the wrist and twists hard. Alexa drops the championship, clawing at Becky's grip. But the ant-bites of her nails dragging across Becky's skin are nothing against the flames of Becky's rage.

"Let me go, you maniac! Who do you think you are?"

Alexa writhes, taking a shot at the back of Becky's knee. It connects. Becky's grip loosens, involuntarily, but she staggers back and steps on the belt. She can feel Alexa's glare on her skin. When she looks up, she can see Alexa gently rubbing the warped muscles.

"I think you're forgetting something."

"I'm not going near you, okay? That is my championship! When will you understand that, Becky? It's not yours. It's mine."

Becky grabs her by the hair and slams her face into the wall. Alexa cries out. Becky puts a hand over that pretty little mouth and spins her around. There's a hatred in Alexa's contorted face; there's a shining ferocity and defiance too, as if she's above this whole struggle.

As Becky stares at her, wading through her disgust and determination to find something more, Alexa's limbs are kicking and pounding at Becky's body. But the power advantage is hers, and she can hold Alexa there as long as she pleases.

A particularly sharp jab to her stomach pulls a gasp from Becky.

"You don't get it, do you? It's not about the title anymore. It's about proving that I am a more deserving champion than you."

Alexa spits into Becky's hand. Becky grins.

Becky grabs her by a fistful of hair and crushes their lips together. It's not a kiss; it's a message. It's teeth clashing with teeth; it's desire and a little something less than rage. It's everything Becky wants to say to this beautiful, bitchy little blonde; it's every drop of disgust and every snide comment turned on itself.

It more than surprises her when Alexa slips her arms around Becky's neck and brings her own force. For such a small figure, she's agile; or maybe Becky's knees are a little wobbly from the lack of air. She spins Becky around until her back's against the wall and breaks the kiss.

Becky looks past the frenzy in Alexa's eyes to find a thinly-veiled question. Alexa drives her elbow into Becky's stomach so hard she doubles over. She kicks Becky square in the jaw and slides back. From her position of pain, Becky spots Alexa's tiny hands scooping up the title.

"See you next week, Becks," she coos, licking her lips before scurrying away like a cat that's finally gotten the cream.