EURASIAN TITLE: 4-WAY FURY

Try as she might, Samantha Sinclair just couldn’t bring herself to stop fidgeting, the tips of her fingers lightly drumming against the ten pounds of EuroAsia Gold strapped snugly about her trim tummy. Nervously she hopped from one foot to the other as she gazed forwards at the curtains, the arena positively thrumming just beyond and the FAWNatics support sending her pulse to quickening.



She exhaled, freckled cheeks all aglow as she reminded herself that this was far from the first time that she had been here. It didn’t work as butterflies, it seemed, was something she was never going to grow out of.



“This is a bad idea,” from beside her, Sam’s little sister offered her opinion, Scarlet noticeably calmer as she sucked on a lolly pop. “I just want you to remember that later, I told you that this was a bad idea.”



Sammie frowned ever so slightly, cocking her brow at the smaller brunette, “You drew a penis on Irma Iron’s forehead.”



“Which seemed like a perfectly good idea at the time,” Scarlet defended, popping the lollipop out from between her lips before shrugging. “I’d probably do it again.”



The eldest of the Sinclair Sisters sighed in exasperation before putting her game face back on, which was far more adorable than she would ever have intended, her freckled cheeks all aglow. “I’m made of bad ideas lately.”



“I noticed,” Scarlet observed. “Jumping off things you shouldn’t be jumping off is getting to be a habit, but then, what can anyone say,” she tilted her head ever so slightly downwards, pointing at the gold adorning her sibling’s midriff, “it’s been paying off.”



Sammie nodded, smirking despite herself before forcing herself to find some semblance of focus, exhaling deeply as she did so.



“I’m proud of you,” Scarlet confessed, apropos of nothing, earning a startled stare from her eldest sibling. “You’re pretty awesome when you want to be.”



Samantha began to speak before a distinctly uncomfortable Scarlet cut her off, “Don’t get hurt, it sucks when you do that.”



Without permission, the People’s Princess pulled her Rebel counterpart into a tight hug, regardless of her little sister’s protests. She didn’t get a say in the matter, matriarchs’ prerogative. Fortunately for Scarlet’s reputation, the sound system began to thrum into life.



“That’s your cue,” Scarlet prompted, needling her elbows into Sammie’s side in a renewed effort to wriggle free from the embarrassing embrace.



“That’s my secret,” Sammie pulled back, smiling down at her frequently wayward sibling before turning back to the curtains, looking over shoulder for just a moment to deliver a patented, Sinclair Smirk.



“It’s always my cue.”



**********

The FAWNatics were just beginning to grow restless when the houselights fell, plunging much of the arena into darkness and, as if to confirm that everything was fine, the sound system hummed into renewed life…



FEEL INVINCIBLE

www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gco_SAvHVSM



The masses were initially perplexed when the first few notes began to play, unfamiliar with the soundtrack or, more specifically, who it was supposed to belong to. When the house lights returned however, bathing the stage with welcome illumination, the Loyalist Legionnaires in attendance officially lost their collective sh*t, the Upstart Supreme herself revealed for all to see!



SAMANTHA SINCLAIR













Standing with her feet braced apart and arms upraised, the miniature Brit flashed her most winning smile as her freckled cheeks flushed an endearing shade of crimson. She raised her hands up high and wiggled her fingers, the Little Sparrow cluing in her supporters that it was time for them to join in before she brought them together…



ONCE!



TWICE!!



THRICE!!!



…the audience doing likewise in unison before she pointed dramatically towards the squared circle, pyrokinetics exploding to either side of the EuroAsia Champion and surrounding her in a halo of light.



Statement of intent made, the brunette of petite proportions set off down the ramp at a brisk and lively pace as she made her way to the ring, diverting from her destination as she spotted the youngest members of the audience in the front rows and delivering crisp high fives to make their evenings. Standing in at five foot four and one-hundred and ten pounds, her spirited and welcoming demeanour made her every inch the People’s Princess, welcoming the masses with open arms as they welcomed her in return.



Arriving at the ring, the lithe, gold clad grappler hopped up onto the apron without even a hint of hinderance, grasping onto the top rope in short order. After delivering a cheeky shake of her pert booty, Sammie leaned backwards before positively vaulting her slender physique up and over the uppermost coil, turning about into a darling spiral as her boots returned to canvas, brunette curls bouncing about her shoulders as she toured the four corners of the squared circle.



Coming to a stop at centre ring, she brought her hands to rest upon the EuroAsia Title sat snugly about her trim tummy, the tips of fingers drumming excitedly upon its surface as she bashfully bit down on her bottom lip.



The FAWNatics cheered all the more as attention was drawn to that coveted Title, the Loyalist Legionnaires in attendance exceedingly pleased to witness it being worn by a member of the most Babyfaced of Factions, the Upstart Nation. It was not long before a new chant found purchase amongst the faithful, one that had become a staple during a Samantha Sinclair appearance.



“WORLDS! BEST! BRIT! WORLDS! BEST! BRIT! WORLDS! BEST! BRIT!”



Sammie’s cheeks turned an even deeper shade of crimson, and it took her longer to recover than she would have expected before accepting a microphone from the Official. She bit down on her bottom lip once again as she brought the stick up and, sensing that she was about to speak, the audience slowly fell into a respectful silence.



“Sure feels good to be the EuroAsia Champion,” she confessed with a bright smile and almost an overabundance of humility, the FAWNatics responding in the positive. Truthfully, most of them were purely thankful that she hadn’t suffered a sustained injury after yet another, high stakes PPV appearance. “Took me a few tries, but it’s totally worth it.”



She looked down at her Title then, patting its faceplate with genuine fondness, “And trust me, I know how much this Gold means to a lot of people backstage right now, so I fully expect to have a hell of a time keeping a hold of it. Which, as it happens, brings me to why I’m out here.”



Sammie paused for just a moment, marshalling her thoughts before her eyes settled on the curtains.



“Winning this Title, it took everything I had, but that isn’t enough to make me Champion.”



The FAWNatics, unsurprisingly, didn’t exactly agree, but Sinclair carried on regardless, although she appreciated the sentiment.



“To be worthy of being a Champion, you have to know that your right to wear this Title is wiped out each and every time you step into this ring.”



With the briefest moment of reluctance, Samantha unclasped the Gold from about her waist before holding it skywards, making it visible to one and all, especially those in the backstage area.



“To be worthy of being a Champion, you have to defend it against every challenge that comes. I stepped into this ring as Champion, if I want to step back out of it again as the same, well, I have to deal out an ass kicking!!”



At that, the Legionnaires responded in the positive, the People rallying behind their Princess with gusto.



“With that in mind,” she went on to declare, lowering the strap down to rest across her slender, right shoulder, “tonight I mean to start as I intend to go on. Tonight, I intend to issue an Open Challenge! Anyone who wants a shot,” Sinclair paused for effect, the audience eating out of her palm, “come and take it!”



Enthused by the audacious declaration, the FAWNatics turned their collective gaze to the waiting curtains, waiting to see who would answer the thrown gauntlet.



They did not have to wait long…



CAN’T GO TO HELL

www.youtube.com/watch?v=8c8tPJ740xA



The intro had changed, but the young woman it heralded had not, the black sheep of wrestling returning to the stage whenever it suited her, and spurning the industry whenever it didn’t, the Purr-fect Princess swaggering into the limelight however, and whenever she desired, all five foot five and one-hundred and twenty pounds of her sublimely sculptured to purr-fection.



MARVELA MARCILLE













She smiled as she appeared, lights catching all the right curves, her manner without hesitation as she stood with regal bearings, raising one hand high in welcome as pyrotechnics erupted bombastically to either side of her. She seemed oblivious to the boos that were there to welcome her, the people that she had scorned as spitefully as possible letting her know just how much exactly they had not appreciated it.



It was this, however, that was the facade, and eventually she broke the illusion and she greeted the crowd’s heckling with a rolling of her eyes, a slightly exasperated ‘tut’ upon her lips and a world weary smile tugging at the corners of her lips. With her less than sincere efforts of extending an olive branch rebuffed, Marvela launched into a light stepped stride down the ramp, the saunter of hips and the swish of her shoulders full of self-assured swagger, her mane of chocolate brown immaculate and shimmering, matching her gaze and showing not even a hint of fallibility.



She spun in a one eighty spiral, sweeping out her arms to either side as she continued to saunter backwards, smiling in a way that suggested that she knew that she was hot shit, and everyone else was just burned by it, her stride as infuriatingly confident in reverse as it was in going the right way. It was at this point she spotted one sign in particular, a message that was repeated several times over throughout the arena in preparation of her appearance, and she barely even had to read the words to know what it said.



What it always said.



NOT “OUR” PRINCESS



She merely rolled her eyes once more and dismissed the heartbroken sentiment with a dismissive flick of her wrist, turning back to sauntering the right way as she reached the ring. She strode up the steel steps and slipped into the squared circle like a welcomed heroine, taking a diagonal path across the canvas until she reached the opposite corner.



Marvela climbed the turnbuckles and swept up her arms as if in welcome, ready to salute the crowds that lov...



Marcille couldn’t do it, a wickedly indulgent grin marring her features as she opted to flip off the FAWNatics instead, and even that gesture seemed half hearted in its effort as she barely considered them worthy of it. The Purr-fect Princess hopped back down, swishing her curls dramatically across one shoulder before she held out one palm expectantly.



When nothing was placed into her waiting paw after several moments, she turned a withering glare in the direction of the Announcer, intensifying her gaze with increasing venom until he found a microphone for her to use.



Her lips curling into a condescending facsimile of a smirk, Marvela turned the entirety of her attention to the waiting Sammie, forcing her ‘People’s’ equivalent to wait before she saw fit to address her. She brought the stick up to begin speaking…



…only to be immediately cut off, her features becoming a mask of indignation as…



ELECTRIFIED

www.youtube.com/watch?v=8oNuQMTI7n0



…burst out over the loud speakers.



IRMA IRONS





The Dark-Haired Destroyer tore through the curtains with little ceremony, evidently incensed that someone had beaten her to the punch, setting a murderous pace as she stormed towards the ring at a rapid, fitful pace. She glowered, every muscle of her physique positively twitching, five foot four and one-hundred and twenty-five pounds of scarcely contained aggression made manifest as she cracked her own neck in alarming fashion.







She forgo the need to torment the FAWNatics, either having outgrown such necessities or, more likely, her volatile need to inflict misery had merely become more focused. Her murderous glare was for the occupiers of the squared circle only and, after she had stormed up the steel steps, the Manchester Malcontent came to a sudden stop on the apron.



With a white-knuckle embrace, she squeezed the top rope as she glared at the People’s Princess inside the ring, fully prepared to rip her most heated rival limb from beloved limb.



Samantha did not back down…



“HEY!” Marvela interrupted, raising her mic up to her lips to ensure that she could be heard, the crimson clad athlete condescendingly snapping her fingers in Iron’s direction to get her attention. “MUTLY!! I didn’t pay you to come out tonight, so scat, go, this is MY TIME!!”



Irma, it seemed, didn’t take kindly to Marcille’s tone and, before the brunette could even bring herself to regret it, the Dark-Haired Destroyer was already storming into the ring, ducking rapidly through the top and middle ropes on her way into the squared circle. She crossed the distance in no time or, at least, she would have done had Marvella not rapidly back peddled, immediately opting to exercise the better part of valour as she put the

Announcer between herself and danger.



Sammie, somewhat perplexed, somewhat amused by what was transpiring, opted to keep herself out of it for the time being, not entirely certain as to where this was going.



Iron’s glowered at Marvela, deciding whether or not to simply go straight through the Announcer to get to Marcille, before matters became just a little bit more complicated…



OH MY MY

www.youtube.com/watch?v=x7TN-TpkET8



Scarlet burst out into the stage, the FAWNatics welcoming the Upstart with all of the fanfare that was befitting a member of that most Babyfaced of Factions. While she was a somewhat reluctant, card carrying member of that particular Nation, she wasn’t about to turn down the accolades that accompanied the prestigious association.



SCARLET SINCLAIR

















She came to a screeching halt, Scarlet grinning as she made a show of preventing herself from falling over and then, with her feet braced, she WHIPPED both of her arms up high into the air.



The FAWNatics responded to the invitation with a renewed bout of cheering, this time louder than before just as the Brit had requested it.



Scarlet, having heard what they had to say, set her hands back on her hips and tilted her head sideways. With a look of ‘deep’ consideration, she measured their offered enthusiasm to her arrival and, following a shaking of her head, she WHIPPED her arms up into the air for a second time!



So prompted, the FAWNatics responded even louder than before, their voices filling the rafters and encouraging a fresh smirk to emerge upon the features of the girl of their affections.



Satisfied with their performance, the Rebel Princess set off down the ramp at an impressive pace, her feet crisscrossing in front of one another as she held out her arms in welcome. Just as she was about to reach the squared circle, she cut a sharp turn right and began circling the squared circle. Scouring the front rows of the crowd before her, she only paused in her search once she spotted what she was looking for, which was evidently the cutest looking boy that sat within arm’s reach.



She both snagged the beer cup from his grasp and a pen from the nearby Timekeeper, helping herself to a gulp of the cool beverage (to be social), and proceeded to write a note (to be doubly social) on the side of the paper container. She returned the cup with a wink accompanying the swivel of her hips as she turned her back to him, the young man both left smitten by her proximity, and astonished by the invitation that she had left.



Leaving him speechless, Scarlet bounded up onto the apron and, just as she was about to duck between the top and middle ropes, she delivered a firm SPANK to her own, shockingly firm buttocks for good measure. She slipped into the ring and came to an almost immediate stop, her posture full of mischief.



Sammie, upon the arrival of her little sister released a world-weary sigh before gracing her sibling with a perked brow.



Unapologetically, Scarlet shrugged her shoulders and smirked back, “Don’t look at me like that, I told you that this was a bad idea.”



“True,” Samantha conceded with a shake of her head, her brow furrowing ever so slightly as she took in the increasingly crowded ring. “Well,” she announced, the People’s Princess perking up once she’d come to a decision, “here’s another one.”



Mind made up, the EuroAsia Champion took the Announcer to one side and whispered in his ear, the gentlemen asking her if she was certain before delivering the change of plans. When she nodded in the affirmative, Sammie raised her Title up high as the Announcer brought his mic up to issue his declaration.



“Ladies and Gentlemen,” he began, the FAWNatics listening with bated breath. “The following contest will be a Fatal Four Way Match for the EuroAsia Title, the first woman to secure a Pinfall or Submission will be the winner!!”



“NO!!” Marvela protested with a pentulent stamping of her foot, continuing to insist that “IT’S MY TIME!!”



The enthusiasm of the FAWNatics, however, effortlessly drowned her out and, whether she liked it or not, the train was already leaving the station. Positively seething, Marcille retreated to a corner as Iron’s turned her full attention to Samantha, the intensity of her glower almost lethal as the EuroAsia Champion handed over her coveted Title to the Timekeeper for safekeeping.



With the competitors so positioned, the Official raised his hand at centre ring and the audience held their collective breath, before he brought it whipping down to begin the contest!



The bell rang and the FAWNatics cheered, eager to witness the ensuing mayhem, Irma was the first to react as she exhaled sharply and advanced so swiftly it was almost as if she were a bullet train…



Iron’s would have crossed the distance between herself and her most heated Rival in no time at all, had an entirely different Princess not intercepted her on her route towards the People’s favourite. It almost seemed as though Scarlet had appeared from no-where, the diminutive Sinclair launching herself across the ring and positively SLAMMING her petite mass into the blindside of the Weaponised Wolverine with enough force to

send the bigger Brit sprawling!!



SEEING SCARLET: @5:10

www.youtube.com/watch?v=nXr6Rk7x5hQ&t=451s



Crashing down onto her side, Irma was spitting curses far too vigorously for any of the syllables to actually be comprehensible, but Scarlet was evidently still in a mood herself, scrunching up her button nose as she straddled her adversary from ‘Mayhem’ a month earlier and proceeding to wail down her little fists with rights and lefts!! Iron’s turtled up, protecting her head with her forearms, spitting threats the whole time as the youngest of the Sinclair’s refused to let up, the Babe of Brawl demonstrating why she had picked up such a moniker on the House Show circuit.



Somewhat startled by the intensity of her little sister (Sammie resolving to have a chat with her about it later), the Little Sparrow was left surprisingly flat footed by the sudden display of aggression. She was, however, far from unaware of her surroundings as Marvela thought she spied a weakness in her guard, launching into a sprint herself.



The Purr-Fect Princess lined herself up to deliver a wicked clothesline to behead her fellow brunette, but Samantha was feeling far too wily at that particular moment to be caught out so early in the contest. She ducked low, avoiding the scything limb and, with a spiral, brought herself about to face off with the crimson clad grappler, the two of them eyeing one another up from across the ring.



“You know,” Sammie commented, the People’s Princess motioning between the two of them, “I’m surprised we haven’t crossed paths more often; someone might suggest that you’ve been avoiding me.”



Marvela sneered, rolling her eyes dismissively, the ‘Original’ People’s Princess shaking her head as though Sinclair were delusional. “Hardly,” she flat out refused the notion, sauntering with a swivel in her hips before crouching down into a ready stance, “I scarcely have time to bother myself with knock offs.”



Sammie lowered her own posture, competitive nature rising to the fore, her own lips quirking into the smallest of smirks as her heart beat just that little bit faster. “I’d take that to heart,” she countered, the two, athletic brunettes beginning to circle slowly, “if your PR Department hadn’t lifted your moniker from my Facebook page when I was twelve.”



Marcille seethed, narrowing her gaze as she silently bristled, flexing her fingers before she suddenly shot forwards, Sammie matching her for momentum as the two slammed together into a forceful, collar and elbow tie up. They shoved up against one another for several moments, seeking an advantage, before Marvela suddenly lashed out, whipping her right knee up high and vindictively burying the joint deep into the exposed, trim tummy of the Upstart Supreme!!



Sammie exhaled painfully and involuntarily folded forwards, cradling her wounded midriff as an intensely pleased Marvela backed off just half a step, observing her handiwork. Not entirely satisfied, she raised her right palm and, with a deliberate lack of respect, SLAPPED her fellow Lightweight clean across her cheek.



With her freckled features stinging, Sammie winced as she inhaled a pained breath, the FAWNatics letting their dissatisfaction be known as Marcille stepped backwards, excessively smug as she held her arms out wide. Evidently, she had not anticipated Sinclair to retaliate quite as swiftly as she proved to…



The Brit of Perfectly Petite Proportions surged forwards into the breach and, with a (adorable) war cry, PLANTED an impressive forearm against Marvela’s foolishly exposed torso, forcing a startled expression to light up her opponents features and an undignified GRUNT to escape her body. Marcille was forced into a back pedal, her feet unsteady as she struggled to regain her bearings, and her eyes grew only wider as Sammie created enough distance to brace herself to unleash a Sammie Kick…



…which Marvela had found herself on the wrong end of far too recently too volunteer being so again quite so soon, panic gripping her ever fibre as she ducked down swiftly to the canvas and rapidly rolled away beneath the bottom rope. Having made her impromptu escape, she found her feet again on the concrete and paced towards the barricades, shaking her head as she ruefully stood with hands on hips.



She should, perhaps, have paid more attention to what was still occurring inside the squared circle however as, while she had been denied unleashing one of her deadliest weapons, the eldest of the Sinclair Sisters wasn’t prepared to call her offensive a wash just yet.



The gold and sapphire clad athlete nodded to herself for just a moment before she shot off at a sprint towards the furthest set of ring ropes, rebounding back off them with enough force to launch her back across the canvas at even greater speed. She threw herself into a cartwheel, much to the delight of the watching Legionnaires and, the moment she returned to boot leather, she positively HURLED herself into a Moonsault that took her over the top rope and sent her diving to the outside of the ring!!



OVER THE TOP ROPE MOONSAULT: @1:58

www.youtube.com/watch?v=J7mYBWVjTyo



Marvela turned herself around just in time to open her eyes in surprise before being flattened by the resulting splash, the young woman sent sprawling in an ungainly heap as Sammie, to the adoration of her supporters, somehow managed to land in her feet, whipping her hands up high and smiling, answering their cheers with a heartfelt salute of her own.



Meanwhile, back inside the squared circle, Scarlet had evidently made herself comfortable, straddling Irma’s hips as she dropped down one punch after another, tenacious in her efforts to land a telling blow whilst her furiously cursing opponent was maintaining her guard. “Come on Iron’s,” the youngest of the Sinclair’s needled as much with her words as she did her fists, “let it out. Anyone would think you were upset that I drew a massive dick on your forehead.”



Irma’s temper spiked then, as it so often did in the heat of the moment, emerging from her torso as a howl as she grabbed her assailant by the shoulders and all but HURLED her aside, freeing her from her unwanted rider.



Scarlet, doing her best to suppress her own surprise, rolled with the momentum and, already possessing a head start, found her feet well before the Manchester Malcontent. She was sprinting by the time Irma had returned to her knees, and she had rebounded off the furthest set of ring ropes when Iron’s had returned to vertical. With terrific speed, she zeroed in on her target, preparing to…



…Irma released a renewed ROAR, turning on the spot sharply and SLAMMING her elbow clean against the temple of the youngest Sinclair, almost knocking her head clean off her shoulders!!



SURGING ELBOW

www.youtube.com/watch?v=PJdMa13JcD0



Scarlet pivoted sharply before stumbling sideways following the brutal THUNK!! to her cranium, the gobsmacked, Rebel Princess prepared to teeter over at any moment. At least, she would have done were Iron’s prepared to leave her be, the Manchester Malcontent collecting the stumbling Babe of Brawl and sternly folding her forwards into a Standing Headscissors. With scarcely a grunt of effort, Irma lifted and pivoted her unwilling cargo skywards and quickly transitioned her embrace into a Canadian Backbreaker.



The smaller brunette released a sharp yelp that was followed up by a protracted groan as her cheeks scrunched up in misery, the small of her back popping into a sharp arch over her opponents unyielding shoulder. Iron’s jostled her prisoner with a savage twist, the young women’s lithe stems kicking out in protest, before Irma followed through on her true intent. With a push against her cargo, she SHOVED Scarlet off her perch and sent her spinning through the air, the yellow and blue clad Brit soon sent crashing down to the canvas across her front.



CANADIAN BACKBREAKER SLAM

www.youtube.com/watch?v=F93t8ipJ8Mw



Scarlet bucked before laying still, the Rebel Princess wincing as she was bodily rolled over by her larger opponent, Irma possessively collecting both of the girl’s athletic legs to roll her up into a tight pinfall…



ONE!



…and the youngest Sinclair kicked out, freckled cheeks scrunching up in determination as she refused to go so quietly into the night.



Iron’s, pushing up onto her knees, shook her head before snarling, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth before standing up. “Suit yourself,” Irma spat, cracking her own neck alarmingly, “I’ll wreck you as often you like.”



It took her just a moment longer to realise that the tenor of the FAWNatics watching had shifted sharply…



She turned about just in time to witness her most heated rival, Samantha Sinclair pop herself back up onto the apron, the EuroAsia Champion grasping the top rope with both hands before propelling her lithe physique upwards to stand atop it. Having ascended to the peak of Everest with a single vault, the People’s Princess rode the bounce of the uppermost coil to positively launch herself into the air, the Loyalist Legionnaires accompanying her Springboard Dive back into the squared circle with a heartening cry…



…right up until Iron’s, a snarl creasing her features, braced herself in that fraction of moment to capture her vaulting foe, which is precisely what she did! The FAWNatics inhaled sharply in denial, but it was no use as Irma collected the airborne brunette now sitting across her shoulders, pivoting on the spot whilst holding the smaller young woman aloft, before FLINGING her back down to the deck by way of Powerbomb!!



SPRINGBOARD INTO POWERBOMB: @5:20

www.youtube.com/watch?v=nXr6Rk7x5hQ



The plywood boards flexed as Sammie visibly bounced after being DRIVEN into the canvas, a pained GUFF of air escaping her suddenly fragile looking body as she rolled over onto her front, petite frame shivering as she groaned audibly. Instinctively Sinclair curled up into a smaller ball as Irma rolled both of her own shoulders vigorously, a crooked grin creasing her features. The Brit wiped the back of her hand across her lips before…



“HEY!” Scarlet protested, Sammie’s little sister stubbornly pushing her way back up onto her knees with a pained puffing of her cheeks, “LEAVE HER ALO…”



Iron’s, her amusement swiftly vanishing, rotated sharply on the spot and, with a frustrated shout, SLAMMED the point of her right knee directly against the unprotected forehead of the Rebel Princess! The light blinked out of the peepers of the Babe of Brawl almost immediately following the impact, the youngest woman in the squared circle clearly blacking out as she slumped backwards, her arms spreading outwards in a starfish as her right thigh twitched.



KNEESTRIKE

www.youtube.com/watch?v=pyET5yz4BTM



Iron’s herself blinked at least twice following the vindictive impact, suddenly rubbing at her own forehead with the palm of her hand as if she were still frantically trying to remove the penis that had been drawn there two months previous. She exhaled sharply, regaining control of her composure through force of will, although she was still visibly shaking as she struggled to calm down, seemingly caught between which of the two Sinclair’s she should be ripping limb from limb.



Those precious moments of indecision proved to fuel the simmering hope of the FAWNatics as the girl that they had christened the ‘World’s Best Brit’ was regaining her own equilibrium, Sammie recovering from the Powerbomb that had planted her, as she slowly found her hands and knees. With Babyfaced determination, she was back on her feet again, albeit with a shimmy in her hips, whilst her fellow Brit remained distracted, a mere moment away from…



…the cry of warning from the Legionnaires was far too late in coming, the many and varied dangers of Fatal Four Way competition materialising in the lithe physique of one Marvela Marcille, the Purr-Fect Princess returning to the ring as a crimson flash and launching into a Marvellous Strike!!



MARVELLOUS STRIKE

www.youtube.com/watch?v=qQPh9iFSTlE



With viperous intent, the Marvellous One bicycled her right stem outwards, and successfully PLANTED the sole of her boot against the freckled cheek of her beloved ‘successor’ for the first time since they had met. The ‘Original’ People’s Princess felt elated as he modern equivalent tumbled to the deck, pretty peepers fluttering as she struggled to remain conscious.



Smirking as though she were an excessively pleased feline, Marvela shimmied her hips as she raised her hands up high, circling the fallen Little Sparrow that she had finally put in her place. Before she could gloat too long, however, she came face to face with a seething Iron’s, the frequently violent Brit clearly haven not forgotten their earlier altercation.



“Whoa, whoa, WHOA!!” Marvela backpaddled rapidly, pleading her case with a window washing of her hands, “let’s not do anything hasty, me and you, we are on the same page, yes?”



Irma did not look convinced, cracking her jaw before advancing a step.



“SINCLAIR!” Marcille, with but that single word, pleaded her case further and, in her own defence, it did seem earn her a moments consideration from the incensed Iron’s. She seized it, as any good opportunist would do, pointing down at the fallen, gold clad grappler laid out between them. “She’s the one you want, yes? Prove that you’re better than her? I can help you!”



With a twitch in her right eye, Irma both opened and closed her fists before evidently coming to a decision, turning her attention away from Marvela and, much to the dismay of the FAWNatics, turned the entirety of it back towards Sammie.



Marcille, her smirk returning in full force, briefly considered taking advantage of her ‘allies’ momentary inattention, her heart beating a mile a minute at the very thought of it, before quashing the notion in favour of far tastier prospects. “Get her up!” she ‘suggested’, managing to stop herself short of trying to make it a command, the crimson clad viper making her own way to one corner. She swiftly scaled the ropes to reach the top turnbuckle, turning herself about to face inwards, extremely pleased with herself and her manipulations.



Iron’s, meanwhile, had scraped the shell shocked Sammie off the deck, striking her across her cheek first to make sure she stayed that way, scooping the smaller grappler up into her powerful arms as though she intended to cradle the petite brunette, seemingly effortlessly holding her rival aloft as though she were an offering to the Gods.



That was good enough for Marcille, pausing only to allow the Gladiatrix Photographers to capture the imagery for prosperity, before she took to the heavens with a gravity defying leap. She began her descent back down to earth quickly enough, extending her right stem out in a manner that was perhaps deliberately reminiscent of one of Sammie’s own idols, the Sensational Shea London, before DROPPING the suddenly lethal limb across the exposed throat of the upraised, EuroAsia Champion!!



THE OFFERING

www.youtube.com/watch?v=GNI5zOi61G4



Iron’s dropped just a fraction of a moment after Marcille made her own contact, and between the two of them they both bodily SLAMMED the People’s Princess into the canvas and all but beheaded the young woman, the FAWNatics looking away with a sympathetic groan.



Sinclair spasmed before flopping still, a crumpled heap trapped between two women who did not like her.



Marvela wasted no time, gleefully throwing herself atop her fallen adversary and seizing a lithe leg to collect…



ONE!



TWO!!



Iron’s all but ripped Marcille off her perch of the downed Sinclair, bodily throwing the crimson clad athlete aside before she could complete her Title winning pinfall.



Marvela, her earlier trepidation concerning the Weaponised Wolverine quickly forgotten in the face of her own, overwhelming indignation, sprung back up onto her feet and, much to the surprise of those watching, STORMED right back up into the breach. She met the significantly broader Irma bosom to bosom, petulantly seething as she sneered venom in her direction.



“WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?!” Marcille demanded to know, stamping her foot to demonstrate just how displeased she was feeling, the FAWNatics enraptured by what was transpiring in the middle of the ring. “Know your place, Mutely, this is my ring, MY RING!!” She raised both of her arms up high, bringing her thumbs towards her own crown in accompaniment with her most favoured of declarations…



“IT’S! MY!! TI…”



Iron’s evidently wasn’t listening, her ears deafened by the pumping of her own blood, her exhales sharp and rapid before she suddenly SEIZED the young woman before her!! Marvela released a shriek of protest as she was forcibly muscled skywards, the lighter brunette swiftly strapped across Irma’s shoulders for an Iron Valley Driver…



…which she wanted absolutely nothing to do with!



With a panicked wriggle, somewhat to the disappointment of those watching, the ‘Magnificent Marvel’ managed to slip out of the Fireman’s Carry via the back door, shoving her palms against her opponents back the moment her feet returned to the deck.



Off balance, Irma stumbled forwards several steps before managing to halt her forwards momentum, a growl emerging from her torso as she turned herself about…



…and Marvela SLAMMED the sole of her boot clean against Iron’s cheek with her SECOND Marvellous Strike of the evening!!



MARVELOUS STRIKE

www.youtube.com/watch?v=qQPh9iFSTlE



Irma hit the canvas with nary a word of protest, the briefest of grunts proceeding her collapse to the deck, the Manchester Malcontent knocked senseless by that singular, ruthless blow.



Marvela, her physique all aglow, thrust out both of her arms to accept her accolades, smirking with excessive pleasure as she sauntered about the ring. She found the centre and, with arms still upraised, she resumed to pointing her thumbs back down to her own cranium, satisfied that she wasn’t about to be rudely interrupted this time.



“IT’S! MY!! TI…”



Only for a resurgent Scarlet to take her turn in cutting her off, the FAWNatics erupting as the youngest of the Sinclair’s returned to the fray by leaping into the air on Marvella’s blindside. Catching the crimson clad grappler by her noggin before she could voice a protest, she utilised both gravity and all of her propelled body weight to YANK Marcille’s upper body earthwards, PLANTING her features into the deck by way of an impromptu, Running Bulldog.



Marvela painfully cursed all manner of vulgarities in French as she popped back up onto her knees, shaking her head as she clutched at her nose, persistently insisting that some manner of infraction had just been committed.



Scarlet, having just endured a landing on her own, taunt little toosh, had bounced back up to her feet much to the delight of the watching Legionnaires, the youngest of the Sinclair’s shaking her own head to dislodge any remaining cobwebs. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that,” she explained, cleaning out her ear with one finger, “wait, doesn’t matter, I don’t care.”



“RAT!” Marcille cursed, pushing back up onto her feet and pointing an accusatory finger, “VERMIN!!”



Taking the opportunity that the extended arm presented itself, Scarlet dripped beneath the irate Marvella’s guard and slipped around her back, slinging her own limbs up beneath her opponents’ shoulders to deftly apply a neat Full Nelson. Marvela opened her lips to stutter, but Sinclair was evidently true to her earlier word, the Rebel Princess not waiting for her to say anything as she as crossed her stem in front of her foes own, and bodily flung them both forwards, deftly PLANTING the captured brunettes features into the canvas!!



FULL NELSON FACEBUSTER

www.youtube.com/watch?v=gBS7DOD8-oI



Marvela’s initial recoil was limited to a quiver that ran throughout her limbs as she remained restricted within grasp of the Babe of Brawl, until Scarlet un-tussled her cargo in order to roll her over. Pressing the crimson clad athletes slim shoulders to the mat as she straddled the other woman’s hips, the FAWNatics counted alongside the Official…



ONE!



TW…



Marvela threw up a shoulder with a petulant kickout with her legs, refusing to be put down just yet.



For her own part, Scarlet appeared undeterred, shrugging her shoulders as she began jostling a reluctant Marcille back up to sitting. “Have it your way,” the miniature Brit explained, “but if you keep this up, I’m going to have to go and draw a penis on your butt once we’re done. I get the feeling that’s the most frequent point of entry.”



Marvella hissed as she suddenly thrust out her thumb, all but STABBING Scarlet in one of her unprotected eyes, blinding her all but immediately.



The be-freckled young woman recoiled with cry, palming the pained peeper as it began watering in sympathy, the FAWNatics calling fowl up and down the arena. If, however, they expected to witness some manner of reprimand from the Official, they were to be sourly mistaken, swiftly reminded that, by the nature of the contest, all was fair in love and war.



Whether or not Marvela herself had been aware of that before she committed what would usually be in infraction, no-one would ever know, but she moved to take advantage regardless. She advanced, grasping her blinded foe by her wrist and pivoted sharply, determined to launch her towards the furthest set of turnbuckles by way of Irish Whip!



She was partially successful, only to be undone at the last moment, the spirits of the FAWNatics soaring the moment Scarlet SLAMMED on the brakes at the moment of release. She still couldn’t see worth a damn, but that didn’t stop her from turning on the spot sharply herself, retaining her grip of Marvela’s wrist and instead launching her adversary towards the waiting turnbuckles in her place.



Marcille’s protest proved to be more or less silent as she instead reserved her efforts to cushioning the incoming impact, turning about and connecting with the corner across her shoulders instead of absorbing it with her bosom. She exhaled sharply as her thighs immediately gave out, dropping the young woman down to the canvas until her buttocks bounced sharply on the mat.



After rubbing her weeping eye vigorously and blinking several times, Scarlet spied her opponent sitting in one corner. Perking up immediately, the Babe of Brawl shot off at a sprint, flinging herself into the air with but one pace to go to throw herself into a sweet as you like Cannonball!!



CANNONBALL

www.youtube.com/watch?v=RbkjA3DXPQM



Squashed as she was between Brit and turnbuckles, Marvela exhaled sharply as her sleek physique was shaken from head to toe, her head bobbing on her shoulders as she struggled to recover. Scarlet rolled away from the collision in much better condition, finding her own feet quickly enough as set about making some distance.



After feeling the need to momentarily rub her still reddening eye one last time, the stinging sensation reminded the Youngest of the Sinclair’s just how unhappy she was with Marcille at this particular moment. She looked out to the FAWNatics and held up a solitary finger, asking those watching if they wanted to witness a Cannonball one more time?



After they responded in the affirmative, she nodded with a smirk, before turning about to…



…receive a BLISTERING Marvellous Strike to the side of her cheek, the THIRD to be released this very evening!!!



MARVELOUS STRIKE

www.youtube.com/watch?v=qQPh9iFSTlE



A furiously incensed Marvela had positively SURGED out from her corner before anyone could realise that she had summoned the reserves to do so, the sole of her boot connecting with its target before her victim had even been aware that it could be coming. The SMACK could be heard in the front rows and, as Scarlet’s noggin snapped sideways, there could be no denying that she was about to go down for the count…



…only for the petite Brit to be sent tumbling right through the top and middle ropes, the young woman bodily bouncing off the apron before dropping to the cold concrete outside.



“NO!” Marcille protested, dropping to her hands and knees as a near certain, Title winning pinfall almost quite literally slipped through her fingers. “NO! NO! NO! NO!!!” She slapped the canvas repeatedly before inhaling deeply, forcibly reminding herself that it didn’t matter. There were still two scrubs inside of the ropes that she could take advantage of, it was merely a matter of choosing.



With the assistance of the ring ropes, she pulled herself back up to her feet, smoothing out her hair before she turned about to claim her much deserved glory.



Iron’s had other ideas, all but GUTTING Marvela with a blistering spear out of no-where, impaling the young woman’s trim tummy with a powerful shoulder and shocking degree of velocity. Both combatants hit the deck hard, the FAWNatics flinching at both the sheer suddenness, and seeming brutality of the collision but, with Marcille all but snapped in half by the assault, she was the one that was left as a quivering mass of lithe limbs on the canvas.



Irma, on the other hand, was back on her feet in a flash, her shoulders heaving as she glared murder down at Marvela, exhaling deeply with furious snorts. She was struggling to keep her temper reigned in and, right now, she was struggling to think of a reason as to why she should have to, Iron’s cracking her neck left and then right before reaching down to forcibly grab the crimson clad athlete quivering at her feet.



Without a great deal of ceremony, and even less resistance from the limp limbed Marvella, the Weaponised Wolverine muscled the Purr-Fect Princess up and over onto her shoulders, securing the Fireman’s Carry with a stiff grip. There was to be no slipping out of the back door this time for Marcille, not as she was held aloft and, once Irma had found her spot, the Hardbody Brit exhaled once, before shoving upwards on her captured opponents’ lower limbs.



As Marcille’s stems were forcibly kicked up into the air, Iron’s choice that moment to drops sideways, THROWING both herself and her unwilling cargo down towards the earth and PLANTING Marvela head and shoulders first into the plywood!!



IRON VALLEY DRIVER

www.youtube.com/watch?v=3OXjxAdWwD8



Marvella’s lithe, lower limbs kicked skywards with a sharp spasm before she slumped down onto the deck, her eyes open and yet staring into oblivion.



Iron’s was on her knees, breathing heavily, staring down at the wreckage that was her opponent and well aware that she could put this match to bed right there and then. And yet…



She shook her head, gritting her teeth as she clenched her fingers into fists, her blood still boiling with impossible intensity. Turning her head sideways, she could see her most heated rival, Samantha Sinclair, the EuroAsia Champion, was pulling herself up to sitting in one corner.



Iron’s came to a decision, wiping her lips with the back of her hand before collecting Marvela, shovelling her off the deck with but one intention, which was to bodily fling her out of the ring. It was a desire she fulfilled with gusto, all but hurling the dead weight of the Marvellous One up and over the top rope, the hard camera losing sight of the crimson clad grappler before she connected with the concrete outside.



“Should have never come out bytch,” Irma explained, the Manchester Malcontent resetting the match to what she felt it should have been from the start. “Aint no-body should get between me and Sinclair, NO-BODY!!”



She turned about, rolling her shoulders as she turned her undivided attention to Sammie, the Brit of Perfectly Petite Proportions ever so slowly pulling her wits back together as she grimaced painfully in one corner.



Irma had just the thing to get her focused, advancing swiftly and felicitating a cry of warning from the Legionnaires watching, willing the People’s Princes to avoid the oncoming train. Sammie, however, was evidently in no position to do, unable to pull herself up in time before Iron’s arrived, the Manchester Malcontent proceeding to keep her most heated rival precisely where she was trapped, raining down a brutal regime of Mudhole Stomps!!



MUDHOLE STOMPS

www.youtube.com/watch?v=-QzEa5AZZmg



Sammie proceeded to release of enforced series of grunts, moans and groans in accompaniment with every, vicious descent of her opponents reinforced boot against her smaller body, the petite brunette buckling anew beneath every impact, forced to just sit there and take it as Irma worked out her frustrations against her. Sinclair stopped resisting quickly enough, her arms draped backwards over the bottom ropes in her inability to raise them, her slender shoulders driven deeper into an ever-tightening corner.



Iron’s was the one who ended it, storming away after a solid twenty seconds of unrelenting abuse, releasing a soul deep roar as she hammered a fist against her own torso.



“GET UP!” she demanded, turning back around to the EuroAsia Champion, “GET UP, SINCLAIR!! GET UP SO I CAN F*CKING END YOU!!!”



Against her better judgement, the Leader of the Upstart Nation complied, the Lightweight Brunette evidently far too stubborn for her own good as she reached up and grabbed one middle rope after the other. With a pained heave, she draaaaaaaaged her way back up to vertical, wincing all the while, Irma crouched low and watching with murderous intent.



Suddenly, without warning, and with a shimmy still visible in Sinclair’s hips, Iron’s launched herself into a sprint, the Weaponised Wolverine closing the distance between herself and her victim at a blistering pace, fully intent on…



…Sammie cried out, releasing a (not exactly intimidating) war cry as she threw out her elbow, timing the interception just right to SLAM the joint right up into the underside of Irma’s exposed jaw!



The FAWNatics erupted as Irma recoiled, grunting out a curse as spittle burst out from between forcibly clenched teeth, staggering this way and that as she clutched at her rattled noggin. She refused to fall however, remaining upright even as her vision wavered, coming to a stop and crouching as she struggled to recover.



Exhausted, Sammie spied an opportunity, ignoring the fresh numbness that was gripping her right arm and burying the rest of her aches and pains as she did so. With a hop, she popped her boots up onto the bottom rope and, with a second, she ascended to the second. Spotting that Irma was close to recovering, Sinclair made the quick calculation that this was as high as she was going to be allowed to get, measuring the distance to her target

before leaping high into the air to deliver a one-hundred- and ten-pound splash!



Which Irons was more than happy to collect!!



Much to the horror of the FAWNatics watching, Irma retained enough about her to not only absorb the impact of the high-flying assault, but to bodily strap the Upstart Supreme up and across her shoulders in an all too familiar Fireman’s Carry in the process. Sinclair attempted to kick free, but she just didn’t have enough left in her, and Iron’s was never willing to let Sammie free once she had her, possessively carrying the EuroAsia Champion to the middle of the ring with just one thing in mind.



The Legionnaires looked away as the brunette’s lithe lower limbs were shoved upwards and, heartbreakingly, Irma dropped the both of them earthwards, PLANTING the head and shoulders of People’s Princess into the deck with a THUNDEROUS Iron Valley Driver!!



IRON VALLEY DRIVER

www.youtube.com/watch?v=3OXjxAdWwD8



Following a SHARP spasm from her slender stems, those very same limbs flopped down to the canvas right along with the rest of her, the Little Sparrow caught out of the air and laid to rest as her pretty peepers fluttered erratically. With Sammie’s petite bosom hiking with the smallest of pained breathes, Iron’s possessively collected both of her foes, lifeless legs and rolled her up into a needlessly tight pinfall for…



ONE!



TWO!!



CLANG!!!!!



…Scarlet interrupted the pinfall by SLAMMING the folded face of a steel chair down against Iron’s exposed back, Sammie’s little sister having returned to the ring with weapon in hand!!



The FAWNatics could no more contain their surprise than Irma could contain the pain that she was suddenly experiencing, the Manchester Malcontent howling in fury as she recoiled up onto her knees, instinctively cradling her spine as she struggled to process what was happening.



Scarlet hit her again, unwilling to allow her to do so, the Babe of Brawl unleashing a blistering chair shot to her opponent’s torso, following it up with a THIRD before Iron’s toppled over to her side. “Remember Mayhem?” Scarlet questioned the poleaxed Irma, more than a little anger in the young woman’s own tone, referring to the previous months PPV. “Because I sure as hell do!!”



Payback, they say, is truly a Bytch as Scarlet rained down chair shot after chair shot on Irma Iron’s, returning upon her the same assault that had been inflicted upon the Rebel Princess scarcely a handful of weeks earlier. She stopped only when it became evident that Irma wasn’t about to get back up, the little Brit forcing herself to do so despite every fibre in her being demanding further recompense.



She threw the chair away and lent forwards, Scarlet exhaling deeply as she struggled to calm down, abundantly aware that she was probably going to get an earful about this later.



Scarlet stood back up and ran her hands threw her hair, setting them back down on her hips before…



THUNK!!!



…Marvela NAILED her clean across her forehead with the faceplate of the EuroAsia Title!!!



As though her strings had been cut, Scarlet returned to the canvas in a heap, yet another victim claimed by the unseen return of another wrestler. The FAWNatics could scarcely take it anymore, covering their eyes following yet another sudden reversal, the exhausted Marcille dropping to her knees beside her unconscious rival whilst she clutched the weaponised, EuroAsia Belt tightly to her chest.



The Legionnaires, however, did find the energy to call fowl on that. Not because of the use of a weapon, as all was fair in this particular content, but the manner in which she was claiming that she had not yet earned.



Marvela didn’t care, she wasn’t even listening, holding her prize close as though she never intended to let it go. And why shouldn’t she? Irma was down. Scarlet was down. Samantha was down…



An audible groan interrupted her wishful musings, a sneer creasing Marcille’s lips as she looked backwards over one shoulder, the insufferably persistent, Upstart Supreme rolling over onto her front. Marvella stood up, still clutching the EuroAsia Title in her hands, bringing her improvised, yet exceedingly effective, weapon to bare as she prepared to end this ‘ridiculous’ contest for good.



“Come on!” she hissed, every inch of her sublimely sculptured physique poised, the Purr-Fect Princess brandishing her gold with viperous intent. “Come on! Get up! Kiss it goodbye!”



Then, as a woozy Sammie had found her hands and knees, Marvela felt a glimmer of descent, a thorn in her pride that forced her to reconsider. She looked back down at the Title in her grasp and, with a frustrated sneer, she cast it aside, the ‘Original’ People’s Princess frame becoming even more animated.



“I don’t need it,” her lips curling into a murderous parody of a smirk as she glared at her ‘replacement’, exhaling long, measured breaths as she prepared for the kill. “I’m the original, the genuine article. You’re just a copy, inferior! I’m the best, the best, me!”



She stepped back as Sammie found her feet and then, when the moment was perfect, the Marvellous One launched herself forwards into a sprint, wickedly bicycling her lethal right stem to deliver the perfect ‘Marvellous Strike’…



…which would have been the most ‘beautiful’ of the evening had Sammie not thrown herself forwards into a dive to evade it, tucking through into a neat little roll after she had done so.



Marvela cursed in a spectacular number of different languages as she followed through on the swing and a miss, stumbling to a stop even as Sinclair had arrived on her back, flipping herself back up to vertical via FAWN’s Favourite Kip Up!!



At the same time, exhausted and running on reserves, both young women turned about…



…the Upstart Supreme PLANTED a sweet little Sammie Kick clean beneath Marcille’s unprotected jaw!!



Marvella went down and the FAWNatics erupted, willing the People’s Princess to capitalise, which is precisely what she did, the miniature brunette almost falling across the top of Marcille to collect a pinfall. The Official dropped down to the canvas, preparing to begin his count…



ONE!



TWO!!



THREE!!!



Sammie exhaled in relief and the FAWNatics exploded into applause, the Leader of the Upstart Nation retaining although, if she were being entirely honest, she was fairly certain that she hadn’t been awake for large portions of the match.



With a visible grimace, the brunette was able to sit back up, resisting the urge to groan as she accepted the EuroAsia Title back into her possession from the Official. She cradled it close as the hard won treasure that it was, before she dragged her way on over to her little sister.



Scarlet was still on her back, much like everyone else, but she was mumbling something that sounded suitably unhappy. Sammie brushed her hand against her cheek and, after Scarlet swatted it away like a disgruntled kitten, she was satisfied that her sibling was at least reasonably ok.



“Yeah,” Sammie nodded, a sincere smile on her features as she held up her hand in appreciation to the FAWNatics, “this was a pretty stupid idea.”



“You’re a stupid idea,” Scarlet grumbled.



“Maybe,” Sammie nodded, too tired to argue, “but I’m still taller.”