The masked woman!

Overtaken by sheer curiosity, you stalk intently towards the masked woman, leaving the downed Kayla be for only a moment.

“Hey...HEY!” you shout, trying to get her attention but to no avail.

Getting angrier and angrier by the moment, you try one last time, “Hey, I’m talking to you!”

Deciding to try next with your fists instead of words, you come to a seething halt next to the referee, now just inches away from the seemingly unafraid masked lady.

Gritting your teeth, you reach for her mask and-

“Aarrgghh!”

Moving the official to the side so she couldn’t see the subtle movement of her hand, the masked woman suddenly sprays something right in your eyes, most definitely catching you off guard.

“What the-?” Recoiling back instinctively, you blindly swat at the spot where the mysterious lady was just standing but she’s already gone.

Dropping down to the floor, she mockingly blows you a kiss before leaping over the steel barricade and disappearing into the masses.

Your vision blurred by the stinging mist still permeating your pupils, you groggily stumble right back towards the now kneeling Kayla, who had had more than enough time to recuperate in the meanwhile.

Not even able to fully make out her dark eyes locking in to you as you stagger into range, you are, however, cognizant of her fingers grabbing onto your waistband and sending you flailing forward…

….. right into the middle turnbuckle pad.

Landing hard with your forehead’s sweat now imprinted upon the vinyl, you instantly go limp with your bell sufficiently rung.

Still on her knees, Kayla only has to sit back and wait as you crumble down to the ground, too dazed to register (or even see) anything that’s happening around you.

Running on fumes herself, she remains upright just long enough to collapse right on top of you, her warm, womanly flesh the only pleasurable sensation you could experience with the harmful mist still clouding your vision.

Dropping into position, the referee counts your shoulders down for the full, uninterrupted 3-count.

Rolling off you, Kayla brings her knees up and tenderly massages her ankle, evidently fine with the manner in which she “defeated” you.

“Well, it is the ECL, folks. You get a win any way you can take it,” the announcer shrugs, the frustration present in his voice but he’s just as helpless as you are.

You’ve lost a point for pinfall.