Miranda Wainright vs Emily West

Steeling his nerves for the clash ahead, the Announcer tucked his notes away and called, “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall with a thirty minute time limit! Introducing first, representing the Church of Eternal Midnight, hailing from Raven’s Fair, Virginia, she stands at five feet four inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and nineteen pounds, she is the Straight-Edge Siren, the Prophet of Pain, the Beacon of Dark in this sad, lonely light… MIRANDA WAINRIGHT!”

Darkness descended upon the Mayhem throng even as the heathens raised their voice in a belligerent chorus. From the gloom an angry, judgmental voice promised, ‘And we will see how godless a nation we have become.’ From that bitter fruit blossomed Green Day’s ‘East Jesus Nowhere’, a simple riff that was repeated four times. Following every cycle a spotlight lit up to reveal a scarecrow-ish effigy mounted to a tall wooden stave that had grown up seemingly in an instant. The effigies, done up in a style best described as ‘Early American Psychopath’, were simple but easily recognizable. First came Yoona Park, then Camille Cosworth and finally Cassava Onika. When the light illuminated a eerily accurate Emily-figure on the last stake the drums started to pound and a fifth spotlight revealed the Deacon of Despair.

MIRANDA WAINRIGHT:


Tonight Miranda wore the pitch black version of her usual vinyl one-piece. Scooped low in the back and high over the hips, it was accompanied by clunky knee-high gray boots and black elbow-length mesh gloves. As for her hair, it was still a lustrous, gleaming gold, its radiance seemingly in defiance of all the vile filth surrounding her. Immune to the ranting and raving of that astounding number of heathens, Miranda started down the aisle and kept her eyes on the squared circle until she reached the foot of the steel steps. Taking them slowly, she reached the apron, dipped her head and carefully removed her hat, which she set atop the ring post.

Once in the ring, she turned to the stage and extended both arms out at shoulder level in a rough ‘T’. A heartbeat later she brought her palms together in emphatic prayer and that was enough to make the quartet of effigies burst into flame. Smiling into the dancing fire, Wainright held her position until they were reduced to cinder and ash. Then she backed into a corner on the opposite side of the ring and offered her wrists and elbows to one Algernon Carpenter.

“Count yourself blessed, arbiter.” Miranda murmured. “For you among all of FAWN’s officials have been chosen to witness the last desperate stand of this promotion’s most disgusting false idol.”

Al knew better than to open his mouth, so he okayed the inspection with a quick nod, then retreated to a neutral corner while Miranda focused her attention on the curtain at the top of the ramp.

Shortly thereafter the FAWN’tron went heavy with static fuzz and the light linked out. It didn’t last long however. Accompanied by the plinking introduction to ’Handlebars’, a bank of spotlights illuminated the squared circle, transforming it into an eight by eight grid of black and white squares, the only chessboard worthy of FAWN’s Great Game. When Jonny 5 reminded everyone he could ‘keep rhythm with no metronome, no metronome’ Emily West strode forth to survey her game board.

Icy as ever despite the fact that she‘d been effectively ‘checked’ in their first encounter , Emily took her rightful place at center stage then raised a hand and tapped her temple. Taking that as his cue, the Announcer called, “And introducing her opponent, representing the Black Court, hailing from Dunwich Massachusetts, she stands at five feet four inches tall and weighs in tonight at one-hundred and twenty-two pounds. She is the One Hundredth Percentile, the Amazing Academic and the Black Queen, I give to you… EMILY WEST!”

EMILY WEST:


For this second and possibly last match against the Truest of the True Believers, West wore a gleaming black corset with half a dozen tiny silver buttons that started below her sternum and ended just above her navel. Beneath, the corset flowed seamlessly into a matching black skirt edged in delicate white lace. Traveling yet farther south (across perhaps three inches of exquisitely toned thigh) Emily’s strong legs were armored in black nylon stockings topped by more lace (albeit in black) and shiny black wrestling boots that reached to just below the knee. This regal style was accessorized with flat black pads at elbow and knee and a completed by a wide choker done in black velvet. From this choker hung a small onyx pendant carved into the shape of her favorite chess piece.

Eager to correct the miscalculation that‘d stopped her at March to War , Emily made her way down the aisle and went straight to the steel steps, which she ascended without fanfare. Standing on the edge of her board, the Black Queen took a moment to survey the crowd, just in case Miranda had planted any of her followers. Finding none, she slipped through the ropes and reached the center of the ring as the lights returned to normal. Turning in a slow circle to better take in the whole of her board, Emily came to a stop facing the hard camera, whereupon she raised a hand and tapped her temple once, twice, thrice.

I’m. So. Smart.

The response was far from universally positive, after all there was a strong contingent among the FAWNatics that believed West to be just as dangerous as her opponent. Yet there were also a great deal of cheers, as plenty of those assembled were eager for someone, ANYONE to end the pall Wainright and her flock had cast over the whole of FAWN. Emily herself paid this very little mind, she only had eyes for Miranda, the Black Queen never letting her gaze leave the insurgent during Carpenter’s appraisal of her boots, pads and wrist-tape. Once cleared, she backed into the opposite corner to wait out the last few seconds of this enforced reprieve.

Miranda strode forth at the sound of the bell, the Prophet of Pain claiming the center of the ring as if it were her own personal pulpit. This was in stark contrast to Emily, who snubbed a direct approach in favor of skirting the ropes, thus forcing the blonde to turn on one heel to keep her in sight. “Why, what is ever the matter, my queen?” Wainright asked in a tone of servile (and utterly disingenuous) concern. “Your opening gambit is far more, shall we say, measured, than I would expect from a former World Champion. A bolder tongue might call it cautious. An insolent one might call it timid.” West offered no response, save to slowly tighten the spiral she walked around the blonde. More than willing to fill the silences her adversary offered up, Wainright noted, “Could it be that you understand the scope of our conflict is far greater than your pathetic ‘game board’ could ever contain? No, surely a mind such as yours came to that realization years ago. Aaaaaaaahhhh, I know. You’re not cautious. You’re not overwhelmed. You’re afraid.”

Emily was still closing, though she’d yet to reach swiping distance. “I suppose all of those possibilities COULD be true, sister.” the brunette replied with an equally false show of concession. “Although if we whittle them down with Occam’s Razor, the answer will present itself easily enough.” The former World Champion came to a stop *just* outside her opponent’s reach.

“Please, enlighten me, sister.” Miranda cooed.

“I didn’t want your pretentious, cheap-shotting ass to punt me in the crotch ag--”

Wainright lashed out with the Left Hand of Righteousness, a savage Palm Strike that could’ve stove in Emily’s chin if she hadn’t dipped low and hooked an arm around that bicep. Whipping around back to back with the startled battler, West caught Miranda’s other arm in identical fashion, then dropped to her knees and pressed her forehead to the canvas to stack Wainright on her shoulders with a Backslide good for…

ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!

Miranda somersaulted loose with barely a half second to spare, the adrenaline of her escape putting the Septa on her feet the tiniest bit ahead of her rival. Quick to press any semblance of advantage, Wainright stepped forward and flicked her right foot straight at the juncture of her opponent’s thighNO!

Emily caught the would-be Low Blow in both hands but she didn’t even get the chance to say ‘I told ya so’ before Miranda leapt off her plant foot and whipped it at the heathen’s skuNO!

West ducked the Enzugiri, ensuring the True Believer landed flat on her chest and belly. Still holding onto Wainright’s right ankle, Em captured the left as well, then folded the blonde’s lower legs so the soles of her boots were pointed at the rafters. From there she stepped onto Miranda’s thighs so she could wedge those shins against her own at a rough diagonal. Aware of what the heathen had in mind, Wainright rocked this way and that, fighting to dislodge the brunette before “UUUNNNNGGGHHH!” Emily hopped up and came down with their legs still entwined, thus using all her weight to drive Miranda’s knees into the thinly-sheathed plywood.

DOOM STOMP:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=TpUSOr09QsE

The jolt freed Wainright’s legs, which allowed her to roll to the side and draw them against her che--“EEERRRRGGGGHHH!”

West dropped to one knee, putting all her weight behind the point she drove into the small of Miranda’s back! No curling or quick scrambling now, at least not from the blonde. Emily shoved her onto her stomach and took a seat on those aching thighs just above the knee. “Your arrogance knows no bounds, sister.” West observed even as she raaaaaaaaked her nails down the other wrestler’s bare back. “Yet I am certain a humble heart beats somewhere deep inside. Tonight I’m going to dig it out of you.”

Miranda hissed, reached back in search of the brunette’s hair and got her fingers twisted for the trouble. “My heart IS humble, sister.” she braced her elbows against the mat and set to dragging their combined bulk to the ropes. “It’s my ambitions that are boundless. And for you of all people to accuse me of boundless arrogance. The gall that takes is… astoundEEERRRRRRRHHHHH!”

Above her, Emily curled the thumb and forefinger of each hand into shallow curving ‘C’s, all the better to fit into the deep crease between her opponent’s buttocks and upper thighs. Wrists crossed for the best possible grip, the Amazing Academic bore down with white-knuckled enthusiasm. “And yet I say it without the faintest hint of irony.” West noted when the Hammy Clamp was less than ten seconds old. “Someone’s needed to bring you low for a long, LONG time, Miranda. That the task should fall to me is perhaps not ideal, but you know how the old saw goes. If you want something done right, do it your--”

“Spare me your prattle!” Wainright was an arm’s length from sanctuary now. “You delight in the attention of these heathens just as much as dear Susan, perhaps even more so! At least she has the strength to admit she’s a fame-drunk attention whorOOOOOW! HAIR! HAIR, ARBITER!”

Seeing that Miranda would reach freedom within seconds, Emily abandoned the Clamp in favor of a double fisted grip on the blonde’s long hair.

“Ok Emily off the hair, you know better.” Al said within moments.

“You know the rules as well as I do, Al. I have until--” “Five. Yeah, yeah. ONE… TWO… THREE…”

Miranda surged forward and wrapped a hand around the bottom strand. “Break! Break the hold, heathBYTCH!”

West released the hair-hold as bade, unfortunately for Wainright she promptly filled her empty hands with Miranda’s waistband and YANKED with all her might! No banter from the referee now, Carpenter barked out a brisk count that Em acknowledged only at ‘FOUR’ and seven-eighths.

Miranda slid to the floor at once, the Deacon of Despair rounding on West with hateful, blazing eyes. “Desperation has made you tawdry, sister.” she growled once her distended togs were gingerly set to rights. “But it will not save you. It will only ensure that you--” Wainright took a step back when Emily sat on the second rope and pushed down.

Pushing up on the top rope to make sure there was no mistaking the invitation, the Black Queen said, “You don’t like the rules of the game, sister? Then climb back inside and dictate your own. You’re welcome to try, but I understand if you’re afraid.”

Miranda’s hands curled into fists at her sides, though when she spoke her voice was calm. “Please ask this heathen to back away from the ropes. The stench of her sin is turning my stomach.”

Emily made no move to comply until Al tapped her on one shoulder. “Go on, Em.” West snorted, pulled clear of the rubber-coated steel and retreated to mid-ring.

Miranda waited to see if the brunette would rush the ropes or perhaps cut to one side or the other. When this didn’t happen, she stalked to the apron, put a knee thereupon and boosted herself onto the narrow ledge. Then she slipped on through, her eyes never leaving the Insidious Intellectual.

“Would you care for a moment to reflect, sister?” Emily chided. “You’re looking a bit cautious. Timid, ev--”

“Shut your yammering mouth.” Miranda interrupted.

Emily’s dark eyes narrowed. “You want my silence, Miranda? You’ll have to win it, here on the board. Think you can do that without kicking me in the crotch?” West raised both hands to shoulder-level and beckoned the blonde to join her.

The Messiah of Misery adopted a similar stance and started forward, the quickness of her approach prompting Emily to lunge for-- Miranda shot in to meet her, though she did so with a page from her Adelaide Brewster’s bloody book, namely a thumb to the heathen’s right eye! Emily cried out as she stumbled back, the heel of one palm flying to her welling socket. Preoccupied by the cheap shot, she didn’t register Wainright closing in until the blonde’s palms THWHAPPED against her ears in a cringe-inducing Bell Ringer!

Two of five senses were effectively scrambled now, yet Miranda still wasn’t satisfied, so she flattened her left hand and drilled the tips of her fingers into the hollow of Emily’s throat! “See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.” the Prophet of Pain murmured as the discombobulated brunette staggered away tending to her various aches. “That last is especially important for you, sist… did I say you could leave?”

Noting the heathen’s natural instinct to head for a corner, Wainright loped after her, hopped up and drove a knee between her shoulders. Utterly unprepared for the blow, Emily reached the corner in a near sprawl, her forehead BWUNGING against the top turnbuckle. An arm hooked over the ropes kept the former World Champion from crumpling to her knees, though she probably wished she did once Miranda grabbed a double handful of hair and proceeded to mash her face into the rough canvas of the turnbuckle!

“You are no match for me, sister.” Wainright spoke loudly to ensure West would hear her over the sound of her own muffled wailings. “And it brings such joy to my heart to finally show this great dismal horde what I and my followers have known for so many years.”

She might have gone on if Al hadn’t said, “Enough of that, Miranda. Get her out of the corner.”

Miranda lifted West’s flushed features away from the buckle, though this was only so she could BWUNG them down once again. “It most certainly is NOT enough, arbiter.” the blonde replied. “But I will concede that she deserves a better view of what’s to come.”

On that ominous note the zealot grabbed her brunette by the shoulder and stepped back just far enough to turn Em in a half circle. Now the Queen’s butt sat heavy and sullen against the middle buckle and there it stayed when Miranda mounted the second rope. Twining the fingers of one hand deep into West’s dark mane, Wainright forced her head back to force some blistering eye contact.

“Adelaide is of the mind that I should simply punch your face until you see the light, I believe certain sects would call this a ‘Come to Jesus’ moment. It does hold a certain appeal, but the light betrayed me years ago and truthfully, you’re not worthy of redemption. So rather than bloody my knuckles…” The Prophet of Pain raised her free hand overhead like she was about to testify but instead she brought it ‘whicking’ down to CRAAACK Emily across the face!

The response from the FAWNatics was split between ‘OOOOHHH!’ and a call of ‘ONE!’ It was far heavier on the numerical end of the scale when Miranda SLAPPED her again. ‘TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIVE! SIX! SEVEN! EIGHT! NINE!’

Wainright raised her hand in an effort to silence this unworthy congregation of heathens (suffice to say, it did no good) so in the end she chose to silence West instead, the Septa of Sorrow jabbing thumb and forefinger into Emily’s mouth so she could pinch, then twist the brunette’s tongue!

“GAAAAAAAHHHHHH!” West stamped her feet and pushed at Miranda’s encroaching tummy, but salvation didn’t come until Al Carpenter barked out ‘FOUR!’ on a noticeably irritated count.

Hopping down from her perch, Wainright paused her sermonizing long enough to spare the arbiter a withering glare and thus placate his obnoxious rulemongery. Once he’d cleared off she helped herself to Emily’s left wrist, stepped away and dropped a shoulder to send the heathen barreling to the other side of the ring with an Irish Whip. West saw the corner closing in and managed to turn her back to it, though she was still going a pretty good clip when she BWUUUNGED against the buckles.

A more pressing concern, both figuratively and literally, came in the form of Miranda’s right knee, which she DROVE between the brunette’s eyes half a heartbeat after impact. Em’s head snapped back and she should’ve plopped to a seat then and there if Miranda hadn’t snatched another huge handful of hair. Bracing her left foot on the bottom rope for a little extra height, the blonde hissed, “No rest for the wicked, sister. Not until I say so.” The last word was barely out of her mouth when the Truest of the True Believers brought her right leg up half a dozen more times, Miranda just POUNDING away at West’s vaunted braincase with the cudgel of her knee.

CORNER KNEELIFT & REPEATED KNEE STRIKES:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=GFzhZUZZyeA

No count necessary from the ref on this visit, Wainright dropped of her own accord, whipped around and collected the heathen’s head in a Three Quarters Facelock. Then she took two giant steps forward and went down on one knee to THWHUMP Emily to the deck with a Snapmare that landed with the force of a standard Atomic Drop! With Em looking shabbier and shabbier with each passing moment, Miranda turned her attention to the ropes in front of her prey and took off like a shot. Her return trip proved just as fast and twice as painful because she THWHACKED a heavy Soccer Kick into the Black Queen’s undefended chest! West went down flat on her back while Miranda spun around to face the sprawled battler, then leapt up and drove her heels deep into Emily’s midsection!

SOCCER KICK & DOUBLE STOMP:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=7mRKuHliHUM

The Double Stomp sent Emily onto one side in a fit of convulsive coughing, a position she occupied for approximately two heartbeats. Then Wainright grabbed her at hip and shoulder and tugged her onto her back so she could hook the far leg for…

ONE…
TWO…

Emily shoved loose after ‘TWO’, not quite late enough to be a near-fall, but pretty close regardless. “The game is over, sister.” Miranda was back on her feet, looking down on the brunette as Emily fought to one knee. “You have no pieces left to move. No knights, no bishops, no rooks, not even a single miserable pawn. All you’re doing is trying to avoid checkma--”

“If the game is over,” Emily interrupted with a breathless little grunt. “why can’t you seem to put me away, MiranNNNNNGGGGHHH!”

The Deacon of Despair hopped up and landed on West’s posted right thigh with both feet. Immediately thereafter she leapt again and twisted at the apex to THWHACK her right shin offa the side of Em’s skull with a righteous twist on the Enzugiri. Emily toppled to one side and Miranda pinned her again, the blonde hooking the far leg while Carpenter and the crowd counted off…

RIGHTEOUS ENZUGIRI:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=dePMe358c0Q

ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!

Emily powered free and flopped over onto her stomach with a half second between her and the end of the Black Court.

“I’m merely making a concentrated effort to ensure there’s no way you can possibly spin such a lopsided series of losses, sister.” Miranda explained as she got to her feet. Noting West’s position on the canvas, she backed slowly into the ropes, then added, “Or perhaps I enjoy this game of yours far more than I’d care to admit.”

Emily was too woozy to offer her usual erudite response, so Wainright bounced off the strands, hopped up and brought her right thigh THUMPING down on the nape of the heathen’s neck with Leg Drop that was Sensational in spirit, if not elevation. Emily shuddered but didn’t get out from under Miranda’s gam, thus allowing the Septa of Sorrow to grab a handful of hair. In the next breath she wrenched the brunette’s head back and slipped her left thigh into place under West’s throat. Ankles crossed, Miranda twisted to her right to place both palms against the mat. This arrangement also wrenched Emily’s head and upper body back at a sharp angle, forcing the trapped heathen to push up as far as she could to alleviate the worst of the pressure.

HANGMAN'S HEADSCISSORS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bxd1Pp3hk6U

“What do you say, Em?” Al asked after five long seconds. “You hanging in there?”

“She’s hanging by a thread, arbiter.” Wainright answered in the heathen’s stead. “Soon that thread will snap and the whole of the Black Court will bend the knee to--” Emily reached up with one hand and dug deep into the meat of Miranda’s encroaching stem. The zealot snarled but didn’t abandon her grip, in fact she squeeeeeeeeeeeeezed until a groan from the crowd told her an ugly flush was creeping into her opponent’s cheeks. “The board is mine, sister.” Wainright proclaimed following another ten seconds of steady constriction. “At least have the common decency to admit this truth before unconsciousness claims-- what is this nonsense?”

The Insidious Intellectual worked her clawin’ hand between her throat and Miranda’s thigh. It didn’t grant enough room to slip the Headscissors, what it did was let Emily push to one knee, then twist in a half circle and drop to her butt with a weary thump. Sighing in relief now that her back wasn’t bent in the wrong direction, Em set her left hand to work on the blonde’s ankles while the right pak-pak-pak-PAAAKED stiff little punches into opposing tummy.

Loathe to abandon the grip when she knew West’s head was swimming, Miranda shifted all her weight to her left hand, thus freeing the right to grab at the trapped woman’s wrist. “Enough, sister.” she snarled. “You’ve led me on a spirited chase, but your light grows dim and my patience grows shorOOOFFFFFHHH!”

Emily twisted that hand free of the blonde’s clamp to deliver her hardest punch yet. Wainright slumped more than a little, her aggrieved midsection settling heavy atop West’s shoulders. Proximity made more punches impossible, so the Amazing Academic draped her right arm over the back of Wainright’s neck, then powered to one knee! Sensing a jailbreak was nigh, the crowd began a rhythmic clapping that got progressively faster until Emily let out an angry growl and clambered to boot-leather!

Her once fearsome Scissors transformed into nothing more exotic than a Fireman’s Carry, the Deacon of Despair crooked her left arm into a ‘V’ and drove the dagger of her elbow into the side of Emily’s noggin once, twice, thr-- West broke into a shambling run that smoothed out considerably once Miranda wasn’t actively trying to dent her skull. That West was headed to the corner was no mystery, but the purpose for her visit remained a mystery until she wheeled around on one heel and BWUUUNGED the top of Wainright’s head into the top turnbuckle!

The vise around her neck finally loosened enough for Em to draw a deep breath, so she celebrated by driving the blonde’s pate into the roughly-padded canvas two more times in rapid succession. Tromping back to the middle of the squared circle with Miranda draped over her shoulders, Emily ‘hupped’ the blonde up and laid out on her back while simultaneously drawing both knees high across her chest! There was a heavy THWHUMP followed by a breathless groan as the Double Knee Gutbuster sent Wainright tumbling across the canvas with her arms swaddling her midsection.

DOUBLE KNEE GUTBUSTER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=WpRPJ6-wmsw

Breathing deep now that she was free from Wainright’s clutches, Emily raked a hand through her hair and assessed the situation. “Patience should be the least of your concerns, Miranda.” she huffed. “If anything is growing short…” the Black Queen rose to her full height, moved over to Wainright and casually dropped to one knee, driving it into the blonde’s ribs. “… it’s your breath.”

“Yet somehow you remain as longwinded as ever, heathen.” Miranda wheezed. “Rest assured I’ll find a way to still your blasphemous tongue once and for NGH! NGH! NGH! NGH!”

Em swung a leg over to claim the mount, grabbed a huge handful of hair and pounded half a dozen punches offa the Churchgoer’s forehead!

“Open that hand, Emily.” Carpenter demanded to no real response. “I know you’re not punching her hard enough to drown me out. Open your hand or--”

West did as bade only to CRAAACK the vulnerable battler’s face with a scathing Bytch Slap. “Dear me, that was quite loud.” Emily chortled. “Almost loud enough to drown out Mr. Carpenter. Not that I want that. After all, if we can’t hear him, he can’t hear your burbling surrender!”

“Your hysterical sobbing seems far more likely.” Miranda sneered. “Though I would happily settle for the slow, rhythmic sigh of your unconscious OOOFFFFHHH!”

Emily hurried to her feet only to kick ‘em forward so she came down with all her weight thumping the blonde’s exposed tummy! The Butt Bomb forced Wainright to a wide-eyed seat and though Emily was sorely tempted to stuff a Forearm Smash in her mouth, she tucked Miranda’s head under her right arm. From there she worked her arms under the zealot’s biceps and clasped her hands between opposing shoulders to complete the Double Underhook.

Arms stretched wide, chin braced rudely against her own sternum, Wainright couldn’t prevent the heathen brunette from hauling them both to verticality, nor could she muster adequate defense when Emily thum-thum-thum-THUMPED a quartet of Kneelifts into her abdomen. “How’s your patience now, sister? Better than your respiration, I hope.”

“Growing shorter by the heartbeat, heathen.” Miranda growled. “And when it finally runs dry I won’t be held responsibNNNNNNGGGGHH!”

The Amazing Academic blasted another Kneelift into the blonde’s tummy, then dipped down and popped her hips to take Wainright to the canvas with a quick Double Underhook Suplex. Hands locked through the landing, West rolled through, came up on one knee and got back to her feet just to return Wainright to the deck with a second Suplex! Anticipating a full on Butterfly Swarm now, the FAWNatics were hardly surprised when Em hauled her opponent to verticality once again. Of course trying to predict a mind like Emily West’s was almost impossible, so no one was *really* surprised when she powered Wainright into the air only to convert to a Cross Armbreaker as the blonde began to fall! Legs threaded around Miranda’s left arm before they landed, Emily grabbed that wrist in both hands and hunched forward to--NO!

Miranda locked her hands in an S-clasp to prevent the Courtier from cranking back on the agonizing hold. “Don’t waste your energy, sister.” Wainright growled. “You don’t have the strength to break my grip, let alone my wilNNNGGGHH!”

Shifting her hold to the Churchgoer’s wrists, West got up and plowed a single hard stomp into Wainright’s belly! Miranda’s fingers loosened but didn’t actually come apart until Emily spun ‘round to the other side and doubled up on the right wrist. Then she popped her hips and took full control of that vulnerable arm.

DOUBLE MAJOR:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=h1gDiTIPr-0

“AAAAARRRRRRRHHHHH!” Miranda thrashed wildly, the Deacon of Despair trying to roll into the brunette’s oppressing gams to rejoin her hands, but Emily frustrated those efforts by repeatedly thrusting her hips into her rival’s bicep.

“Ask her.” West told Carpenter once she heard Wainright’s heels beating against the mat. “But try to couch it in flowery language so she won’t feel like such a quitEEERRRRRGGGGHH!”

Miranda sat up without breaking the hold, curled her left hand into a talon and raaaaaaked Emily from flank to thigh before securing a claw above the Black Queen’s right kidney. “You of all people have the gall to impugn me a quitter?” Wainright sneered. “Say what you will of me, I NEVER abandoned my followers in their time of need. Of course, I never surrendered the World Title to a perpetual charity case like Kylie SandDRRRRRRRRGGGGGHH!”

Emily pulled her right knee in close, braced that foot against the side of Wainright’s face and kicked like she meant to scrape the blonde’s mouth and nose from her face! Miranda shrieked and the FAWNatics groaned alongside in unlikely sympathy. Not that they felt bad for the zealot specifically, it was simply that one couldn’t observe such an emphatic application of boot-leather to the human face and not feel a measure of sympathy for the sufferer.

But Wainright didn’t register their mood and would have found it laughable, if not downright contemptible if she had. The whole of her attention was devoted to removing the heathen’s vile ankle from her cheek. With her right arm completely in West’s power, the Septa of Sorrow palmed the intruding footwear in her left hand and pushed up until she was able to slide it between her face and Emily’s boot. Of course meant her own knuckles were mashed against her cheek, however it was still preferable to the previous arrangement and after a few more seconds she sat up with an awkward grunt. The Black Queen felt Wainright maneuver to one knee before she actually saw it, so she shifted her right foot up and pumped it half a dozen times in search of her opponent’s right eye.

Hissing in disgust as her guard tried to fall apart, Miranda spat, “Going for my eye, sister? I would’ve thought better from a supposed moralNNNNNGGGGHHH!”

West rolled her back ‘n forth, just mashing the blonde’s interposed hand against her suffering features. “Don’t ever lecture me about tactics, Miranda.” Em’s voice was cold. “Not after what Adelaide did to LenorWHOOOAAAAAAHHH!”

Sole food be damned, Wainright ripped her hand out from under Emily’s foot and bulled her way into the Courtier’s upturned haunches! West ended up stacked on her shoulders nice and tight and it got even tighter when the Deacon of Despair snatched a handful of tights! Already in position closer to Emily’s shoulders (and thus unable to see the infraction) Al Carpenter tolled off…

ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!

Emily twisted from her shoulders to her stomach in a single sinuous movement that put Wainright flat on her belly with that poor right arm still firmly in the heathen’s grasp. Galling though this was, it was far more tolerable than before, as the new arrangement meant West could only apply a fraction of the earlier torque. As it was, the position was more annoying than painful and a glance at her surroundings revealed the bottom rope less than six inches from her left foot. Bracing that hand against the canvas, she pushed onto her knees and shuffled backward, always careful to lead with her--

“OOOOOOWWWWWWW DAMN YOU!” Miranda’s toes were less than two inches from sanctuary when Emily took the blonde’s fingers in one hand and bent them back like she meant to touch nail to forearm!

“Submit.” Emily demanded as her rival’s jailbreak collapsed just shy of the finish line. “Don’t think I’m not patient enough to wait for our third match while your fingers heal.”

Al had no great love for Miranda Wainright, but he wasn’t about to see any of his charges leave a ring under his watch with a serious injury so he asked, “How are you doing, Miranda? Tell me something.”

“Very well.” Wainright huffed. “I’ve always loathed your tacky girlfriAAARRRRRRRHHHHHH!”

Emily West felt no great love for Jenny Jacobs (as Al could most certainly attest) yet she delighted in any opportunity to disrupt Miranda’s speaking, so she went from bending to pulling, namely splitting the blonde’s fingers like a Vulcan sigil turned into a Wishbone. “Careful what you say, Miranda. I can assure you that Ms. Jacobs holds a grudge and you can’t afford to have more than one nemesis at the mo--”

Wainright forced herself back the last couple inches and latched her ankles around the bottom strand in a death-grip. “BREAK!” she screamed in a choked, ragged voice. “BREAK THE HOLD YOU HATEFUL HEATHEN SLEEEERRRGGGHHH--”

Emily abandoned the Armbreaker and the joint manipulation, but transitioned to a grip on the blonde’s wrist and forearm to keep that wounded hand flush to the canvas. From there she powered herself into a quick handstand just to come down with the full weight of one knee THUMPING into that hurtin’ hand! Miranda wailed like the damned, finally twisted clear of the brunette’s machinations and immediately curled tight around the bottom rope.

“Ease off, Em.” Al said when it looked like the Amazing Academic was thinking about a handful of hair. “She’s in the ropes, she’s earned a break.”

“She had a handful of tights on that roll-up, Mr. Carpenter. My professional life is on the line here and if she’s willing to take shortcuts than I intend to make sure they carry a very steep price.”

The official held up a placating hand. “I’m sorry I missed the trunk pull. It won’t happen again. That said, she’s still in the ro--”

“Shut your useless mouth and stand aside, arbiter.”

Emily and Algernon turned around to discover Miranda on her feet and leaning heavily against the ropes, that injured arm held snug against her chest. “You should learn to take your own advice, sister.” Emily murmured. “Algernon here was looking out for your best inter--”

The Messiah of Misery stormed offa the strands to smite Emily’s mouth with her left hand, not the gleaming and noble Hand of Righteousness oh no, this was nothing more than a CRAAACKING Bytch Slap delivered with all the respect (or rather, lack thereof) that such a gesture entailed. Catching hold of the heathen’s hair when Emily tried to backpedal from the thunderclap assault, Miranda spiked a knee into opposing tummy and bellowed, “I LOOK OUT FOR MY BEST INTERESTS, SISTER! NOT THE SIMPERING OFFICIAL AND CERTAINLY NOT ERRRGGHHOOOOFFFFFHH!”

Emily tore free of that spiteful grasp, stuffed a shoulder into Wainright’s belly and plowed her into the nearest corner where she hit with a low, tooth-thrumming BWUUUNG!

Unable to decide if the Slap or the tongue lashing infuriated her more, West decided it didn’t really matter as long as she dealt with it as quickly and aggressively as possible. To that end she laid claim to the middle rope on either side of her foe, drew back as far as she could, then lunged forward and buried her shoulder in the zealot’s midriff. A single Shoulderblock did nothing for Emily’s anger, so she added another. And another. And another. And she would’ve kept on in that fashion for who knew how long if Al hadn’t hurried over and started to count.

Straightening up just after ‘FOUR!’, West flipped hair off her face and treated the ref to a bemused look. “Your dedication is admirable, Algernon. Here you are prizing this wretch from my jaws once more when she was screaming at you all of thirty seconds ago.”

Al shrugged, would’ve asked Emily to clear out of the corner if West hadn’t raised her hands overhead and done just tha-- the Insidious Intellectual whipped around on one heel and threw herself back into the corner, the point of one elbow THUNKING against the point of Wainright’s jaw. “Apologies Algernon. I simply couldn’t allow her to take those sort of liberties with you.”

Ignoring the rest of Carpenter’s protestations, Em hunched down, put a shoulder to the blonde’s tummy and muscled her into a seat on the top turnbuckle. From there she climbed to the second rope so she could draw her adversary into a Front Facelock, then slung the near arm across her shoulders and caught a handful of waistband. “I have no doubt that FAWN will be a safer, more stable game without your malign influence.” Emily huffed over the buzz of the crowd. “And it is a service I am happy to perform. But deep down I draw far more pleasure from the simple act of shutting your mouAAAARRRRHHHHHH FAAAAAAAAAAAHK!”

As desperate to close out Emily as West was to stay in the fight (though she never would’ve admitted to such a base emotion) Miranda slipped her free hand betwixt the heathen’s thighs and squeezed with every bit of venom she could muster. It proved more than sufficient to weaken Em’s grasp, which became Wainright’s grasp when the Deacon of Despair abandoned the Crotch Claw in favor of a Facelock and hip-grip of her own. Feet braced firm against the middle rope, Miranda muscled the brunette to one o’clock, then tossed her forward and down to send West plummeting to the deck flat on her face, chest and belly!

The desperation Facebuster left the Courtier flat on her back with her midsection bisected by the ominous shadow of the ring-post. Somewhere above, Miranda Wainright stretched her arms wide as she addressed the assembled throng. “A time comes when all games must end, heathens! That time is when the clock strikes Midnight!” The resultant jeers did nothing to anchor the blonde, Miranda hopping up and twisting ‘round in mid-ascent to land on the top rope facing the crowd. She was gone as soon as she touched down, the Messiah of Misery hurling herself out into the void in a gorgeous back-flip that became a much nastier Moonsault the instant she THAWHAMMED down on Emily’s gulping midsection. West jolted on impact but couldn’t find her way out from under the Churchgoer, who hooked the far leg in a Cradle good for…

MIDNIGHT MOONSAULT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xnk4vExJcm0

ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!

Emily wrested loose, rolled to hip and shoulder while Miranda treated Al to a baleful look. “I shouldn’t be surprised that a mind such as yours would fight until all hope is gone.” the blonde sighed as she peeled Emily off the deck in stages. “Nor should you be surprised that I am the sort of mind that delights in extinguishing it.”

Emily mustered no response, so Wainright helped herself to a Wristlock and sent the brunette rushing into a corner on the far side. The besieged Queen managed to turn her back to the jarring collision, alas her only reward came at the point of Miranda’s right knee, which THWONKED into her forehead almost immediately thereafter. The Prophet of Pain often went from the High Knee to a Running Bulldog, but tonight she set down with both feet on the bottom rope, her midsection pressed snug to Emily’s face.

“Where are your cheers now, heathen pawns?” she taunted the Mayhem crowd. “Where are they when your false queen needs them most?” That got the crowd going louder than ever, their heady mixture of defiance and disdain bringing a smile to the blonde’s lips. Oh so pleased to smite this pretender in front of a worldwide audience, Miranda cupped the top of Em’s noggin with her right hand to hold her head in place while she drove a Kneelift between her eyes. This was followed by a second and a third before the crowd finally caught on and started to count. ‘FOUR… FIVE… SIX… SEVEN… EIGHT… NINE… TEN!’

RIGHTEOUS BLUDGEONING:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=XVoby3NrmYQ

Miranda hopped down, buried both hands in West’s hair and pivoted through a smooth quarter turn that sent the former World Champion between the top and middle ropes. Not to the floor mind you, Wainright maintained a firm grip on Em’s locks to ensure her prey remained on the apron with the Courtier effectively draped gut-first over the second strand. Welcoming West to a Standing Headscissors via a single sustained squeeeeeeeeeeeze, Miranda gripped the top rope in both hands and snarled, “In time, I have no doubt the rest of your Court will become valued members of my flock. And they, like the rest of my sisters, will be brought to tears by the beauty and terror of Eternal Midnight. But you, Emily? You shall only know that glory by the shape of their absence in your wretched soul. So it is written, so it shall come to pass.”

She sprang so abruptly that many thought Emily had found strength for a Back Drop, but those hopes were dashed when Miranda swung back down and dropped to her tush, thus SPIKING Em’s skull into the canvas with a vicious Piledriver!

SEESAW PILEDRIVER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=OddVXPo7kAI

West bounced up from the landing to return to her previous position, only now her arms hung limp at her sides. Knowing damned well that the heathen wasn’t going to leave this spot without some assistance, Miranda caught hold of the Amazing Academic’s waistband and dragged her into the squared circle, the Septa of Sorrow making sure she was well out of reach of the ropes before she sat on the brunette’s chest, clasped her hands tight and lowered her head. It *looked* like a prayer, but the smile twisting Wainright’s mouth was anything but righteous. Indeed it grew ever more sinister as Carpenter and the FAWNatics tolled the…

ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOO!

Miranda’s quest to bring the Black Court under her sway came up half a heartbeat short when Emily lifted a shoulder off the mat. False serenity engulfed by genuine rage, Wainright slammed her palms down on the brunette’s shoulders and entwined her legs with West’s, adding a Grapevine to her efforts to claim the…

ONE…
TWO…
THRE--

“AAAARRRRRRRHHHHH BYTCH!”

Emily slipped free of Miranda’s hands, reached up and sank her talons into the blonde’s unsuspecting bounty! Scrambling to verticality to break the heathen’s grip, Wainright stomped the ol’ holy hell out of West’s tummy and chest, the Truest of the True Believers not stopping until Emily rolled to one side and curled herself into a ball to protect against more abuse.

“Claws and teeth, the last haven of a desperate, doomed animal.” Miranda rasped once she’d taken a few deep breaths. “Yet more evidence that you’ve always been more wolf than queen.”

With the wounded warrior in no condition to protest, Miranda snatched a double handful of Emily’s hair and hauled her to boot-leather. Once there she spun West in a half circle and reached under her left arm to secure the Half Nelson. Murmurs, then shouts of alarm from the capacity crowd when Miranda reached over with her right hand, caught the Black Queen’s limp wrist and drew it tight across her own thro-- Emily’s right hand flew up and back, catching hold of the blonde’s battle damp hair. In the same breath she leaned forward and went down on one knee to send Miranda tumbling over her shoulder with an awkward yet effective Snapmare.

Wainright was back up in a trice and sprinting straight at the recovering brunette, her left arm already drawn back for a final-- Emily stepped in and slammed her forehead into Miranda’s right cheek with a resounding THWHUNK!

QUEENLY HEADBUTT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=x16XcTnoUYA

Righteously stymied by the heathen’s pinpoint strike, Wainright stumbled backward, but didn’t make it more than a couple steps before West caught her by the hair. Reeling Miranda into a Front Facelock, the Insidious Intellectual dipped her head under the blonde’s near arm and grabbed hold of her waistband just above the left hip. The crowd was still cringing over the Headbutt when West hoisted her burden all the way up, put a hand on Wainright’s left thigh to keep her steady, then kicked a leg forward and laid out flat on her back to TWHONK the Churchgoer’s skull into the thinly-sheathed plywood!

CEREBRAL HEMORRHAGE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=reHRGmTVGok

Miranda bounced away, bobbled to a seat, then stretched out flat when Emily grabbed both shoulders and tugged her down. An aggressive cover followed, the Black Queen hooking both legs in a tight bundle to keep her nemesis pacified through the…

ONE…
TWO…
THREE!

Emily tossed Miranda’s legs aside at the sound of the bell, though she didn’t even try to make it to her feet before the Announcer’s confirmation. “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner via pin-fall… EMILY WEST!”

The Black Queen raised a hand to acknowledge the roar of the crowd, but she didn’t let Al help her stand. Instead she filled that hand with Miranda’s hair and dragged her to seat so she could press her lips to the blonde’s ear. “And now our series is even, sister.” she murmured. “The next time we meet, I’ll show the FAWN the promise of a beautiful sunrise when the clock strikes twelve oh one.” With the promise of sunrise on the horizon, West pressed a kiss to Wainright’s temple, set her down and stood up so Carpenter could raise her hand to another round of relieved cheers.