The stipulation was brutal: The loser must retire from wrestling forever (kayfabe). The weapons: A glass table, thumbtacks, and a RingDivas.com branded fire extinguisher.

The match lasted 22 minutes. It wasn't a spotfest. It was a slow, agonizing pressure. Rain used a "wire grater"—a piece of wire mesh—to file down LuFisto’s back. LuFisto, in turn, used a staple gun to attach a dollar-bill to Rain's forehead (a callback to the company's financial woes).

The ring ropes were replaced with two-strand barbed wire. No canvass tape. Bare wire.

Women’s wrestling didn't evolve in spite of matches like this. It evolved because women were willing to bleed in obscurity so that their successors could main-event stadiums without catching flack for being "too soft" or "too violent."

Rain wasn't trying to win the title. She wanted LuFisto to say "I quit" in front of LuFisto’s own family sitting in the front row (a rare inclusion for RingDivas).

In the annals of women’s professional wrestling, there are distinct eras: the "Pioneer Era" of the 1940s, the "Glamour Girls" of the 1980s, the "Attitude Era" crash-fests, and the modern "Evolution" of athletic legitimacy. But nestled in the shadows of 2006 and 2007, there was a digital cult phenomenon that refused to play by any rules.

Miss Chevous (a technical brawler from Canada) and Lorelei Lee (the southern barbarian) were chained at the throat by a 15-foot length of heavy chain. The goal wasn't a pinfall; it was to drag your opponent to the center of the scaffold and unhook a set of brass knuckles hanging from the ceiling.

That phenomenon was .