What Goes Up... Beware the Fall.

[Dalilah Ashe]

Sunday, April 21st.  London, England

The Clink Prison Museum in London is an archaic relic of a time when the puritanical reigned in Old England. The devices of torture and torment enshrined within, along with disturbing displays containing wax statues posed in place of innocent victims,had been erected to remind the public about punishment in its purest, most primordial form.

As unsettling as the interior of the old prison could be in the light of day, it's even more haunting in the darkness, when the fog of London rolls in off the Thames to settle in on Clink Street. It was in just such an oppressive environment that Jack the Ripper had most likely stalked and dismembered his victims, before disappearing without ever being found.  But despite the forbidding feel of the environment, it was an atmosphere in which Dalilah Ashe seemed to feel right at home.

She walked alone through the dark catacombs and dusty corridors, taking in all the displays, with their depictions of the most terrible types of torture with a particular interest that verged on something deeply carnal. Sinestro had slipped the night watchman several thousand pounds to allow her to spend the night before the Pay-Per-View immersed in images of the most heinous human cruelty. He felt it was the right environment to put her in the correct head space going into her second Hellevator match at Stranglemania.

Her first appearance in this multi-level mayhem in 2022 had seen her wrap her hands in glass to take on the likes of Mark Storm, Lavender, Faith Rivers and Caleb Scott, before Nevaeh came along to Cast her Out Of Heaven. But Dalilah would not allow her revenge to be deferred, returning later in the match to throw Nevaeh off the roof before she could claim the ultimate victory.

This year saw her in a field with strong competition, including The Lad and Bruce Booth, who were among the names that had already defeated her so far this season. But again, the idea of savage revenge was never far from her mind.

“Brucey Boy and Laddie Buck both must’ve felt like bloody big brutes after they beat darling Dalilah. But they both should know that it takes more than a simple pin fall to crush The Creature.  Because she will always rise again, and I can guarantee that the second dance with Dalilah will replace the sweet taste of victory with the sour flavor of Ashes on their tongues."

Because neither of them have been locked in a box with a rabid animal, which is exactly what it feels like to be in the claustrophobic confines of the dreaded Hellevator."

Reaching up she affectionately brushes the hand of a wax skeleton cramped into a rough iron Crow’s Cage suspended by chains from the museum’s ceiling.

“As that killer enclosure gets increasingly cramped, with every passing level, the doors will open and each stop will present a new an exciting horror seeking only to ruin your day.”

Tilting her head she smirks with sickening delight at all the magnificently horrific possibilities.

“Maybe it will be Apollo Polamalu from Paramount. This Polynesian punisher, in his first few outings in the EWC, has already toppled the likes of Ibuki Ito and Xavier Reid.

Or maybe it’ll be ZERO, the masked monster man, who is doing his best to turn Rampage into his own personal killing field.”

Dalilah steps into a scene where a masked executioner uses a metal hook to remove the intestines from his bound and helpless victim.

“Will Justin Paige be waiting? And will the Old Dog become a rabid dog, when the recollection of past times spent in small spaces with violent men drives him mad with memory?

And what about Rick Rampage? He’s a big boy with a bigger chip on his shoulder. And I’m sure losing to the likes of The Lad, after a strong start against Adriana Aquilla didn’t do much to improve his angry mood.”

She continues to wander the halls, weaving in and out of the displays where most of the daytime patrons are forbidden to tread. She runs her fingers with intimate familiarity through the hair of a shrieking wax woman, who is tied to a stake while she burns alive on a pyre.

“As a former Indy and Undisputed Champion Narumi, the leader of The Shinijoshi, has proven herself to be a deadly assassin in almost every environment imaginable.  Her hands are registered weapons, and her mind rivals the ancient Senshi of a beautifully brutal age.

And speaking of beautifully brutal: Melinda Rhodes, The Original Rebel, has come back to redeem herself by proving that she’s not the dupe that Darius made her out to be when he stole her International Championship at Parabellum. “

She sneers at a tapestry showing a Royal Guard stabbing his peasant victim in the back with the spear end of a halberd.

“Divewire is a live wire. His agility is his strength. But in the Hellevator, he’ll be bouncing off the walls with no room to spread his wings to fly.

And then there’s that cockroach, Phoenix Winterborne. No matter how many times you stomp on him, he just keeps crawling back for more.”

With the spiked heel of her boot she crushes a large roach that had hoped to scurry unnoticed to the safety of the shadows.

“In the 17 Levels of Hell Caleb Scott, you made the mistake of putting yourself on my radar. It’s just unfortunate that Nevaeh hit me from behind before I could use that little cross of yours to crucify you. This year I won’t be letting you get quite that lucky.”

Posing next to a half-naked figure in an iron mask Dalilah gave the mannequin's body a big shove, causing it to swing on the chains that attached it to a dungeon wall. She smirked and giggled at its helpless predicament.

“This year, at Stranglemania, I’ll be bringing a talisman of my own.”

She retrieved Ian, her razor-wire wrapped aluminum softball bat.

“Ian and I are coming to recreate carnage. We’re coming to spread pain. And these violent delights can only find their inevitable end as The Hellevator rises.”

She caresses Ian lovingly.

“You see in this match there are so many fresh young talents on their way up in the world, while I'm one of the sad little monsters who seems to be falling from grace.”

She offers the camera a bitter, twisted grin.

“But in a match like the Hellevator, you can’t afford to be afraid to fall.  Maybe the cable might snap, and the whole damn thing might come tumbling down. OR, maybe you’ll get to the top, and some sick little wench will kick you in the head, before she tosses you back down to Hell.”

She smirks at the reference to Nevaeh’s fate in 2022.

“But Demon or Angel, no matter which way you go, only one of us will reach the top alive, and not even one will leave this match intact, without a few scars to show off as souvenirs of the experience.”

Displaying her hands to the camera, she shows the scars that can still be seen, caused by the broken glass that she, herself, had once used as a weapon in her first ride on the Hellevator.

“So in the name of Iggy Swango, a woman who always did things her way and who never felt the need to ask for permission, let the violent times begin! Twelve shall take The Lift headed for Heaven, but only The Creature will avoid that great fall back into the Abyss.”

Stepping up to a mock-up of a guillotine, Dalilah reaches for the chord to release the  giant blade that would separate the wax head from its wax shoulders. But, in a moment of sick inspiration, she decided to forgo the instant gratification of decapitation. Instead Dalilah takes an unnatural pleasure in using Ian to bash in the back of the kneeling victim’s plastic skull.

Licking her cracked lips, she sweeps the hair back away from her face. With a look of sadistic satisfaction, she throws her head back and starts to smile as she sings loudly in a kind of off-key, Werewolf of London type howl.

“London Bridge is falling down. Falling down. Falling down. London Bridge is falling down… “

She glares at the audience with the eyes of a demon, before spitting the last line like a bitter black bile into the camera lens.

“My. Fair. Ladies.”


Cackling like a wicked queen Dalilah dances amoung depictions of death.  Alive in a den of history's greatest cruelty, she awaits the executions that will come at dawn.