Post by hawkeye on Jul 12, 2019 0:39:13 GMT
Backstage, moments ago…
At last, Shea felt like she was finally back.
SHEA LONDON
Though she had made her return to FAWN action at Mayhem, she had arrived at the FAWN Arena under the metaphorical cover of darkness, not having wanted to tip de Cyr (or anyone else) off in advance to her presence. But now, there was no mystery, freeing Shea up to arrive before the show at the usual time most of the talent arrived. She had dropped her bags off in her old dressing room, said hello to and caught up with some of the backstage personnel who dated back to her time, and even managed to have a brief chat with Jaime and Summer.
And now, she just awaited her cue, and her proper introduction.
Another wrestler of the Sensational One’s standing might have been offended, to have her first official match back in the company to be booked against someone who might be labeled ‘a preliminary wrestler.’ But, her surprise appearance at the last pay per view, London understood that it had been about two and half years since she had last competed regularly in FAWN. And as the saying goes, Father Time was undefeated. It was only natural for the powers that be—especially ‘powers that be’ in the mold of Bethany Christian—to want to see just what exactly Shea might have left in the tank.
Not that Shea herself might be looking past her opponent tonight. No, the woman would be facing tonight might not possess either London’s resume nor de Chevalier’s buzz, but she was still dangerous.
And hungry.
The blonde Briton found herself pulled out of her thoughts by the voice of the ring announcer…
Now…
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the ring announcer declares, “your following contest is scheduled for…”
The man in the tuxedo lets his voice trail off, but the paying crowd is ready to take up the mantle. “ONE FALL!” the fans shout, prompting a nod from the announcer.
“One fall,” he echoes for a change, “with a 15 minute time limit. Introducing first, hailing from Manchester, England in the United Kingdom. She stands five feet four inches tall and weighs in this evening at one hundred and twenty pounds. She is the icon… the living legend… the Sensational One herself… SHHHEEEAAA LOOONNNDDDOOONNN!!!!!”
The arena PA system came to life, a voice posing a single question to tonight’s pumped up crowd:
“Do you wanna get rocked?”
Judging by the deafening roar from the FAWNatics, this is precisely their greatest wish.
”LET’S GET ROCKED”:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=VhM_LxeKgEQ
As Def Leppard’s “Let’s Get Rocked” pumps over the arena’s speakers, the curtains part, and “Sensational” Shea London emerges onto the ramp. While it is said that familiarity breeds contempt, there is nothing but love in the FAWNatics’ response to the returning legend. Just as in her previous appearance last month, the gorgeous blonde sports a pleasingly “Old School” look: visible underneath an open, traditional, red ring jacket is a one piece proudly emblazoned in the Union Jack, the red stripes of the cross running from the scooped neckline to between her legs and underneath her bosom, respectively, her eyes shielded behind a pair of stylish shades. Red knee and elbow pads along with blue boots complete her ensemble.
The blonde Briton darts down to the ring, her million megawatt smile on full display as she slaps hands with a FAWN fandom populous that still doesn’t seem quite fully ready to believe that this woman might once again be a part of the full time roster. But, back the British beauty is…
… and, despite current appearances, not everyone is happy about that.
Backstage, moments ago…
It was an insult.
That’s what it was. An unmitigated insult!
LADY LYDIA LETHBRIDGE
Granted, that description could justly be applied to FAWN management’s treatment of her through her entire career with the company, in Lydia Lethbridge’s mind. But tonight’s booking she found even more of an egregious affront. Just last month, Shea London had surprised the wrestling world by returning to the company for which she had been its inaugural champion. While Bethany Christian’s feelings toward the Sensational One were a matter of public record, it was still certain that this was an investment being made with a higher payoff in mind, one where it would not do for London to be embarrassed and humiliated in her first known match back.
No, the opponent selected for London for this match was intended to be nothing more than a patsy.
This was meant to be little more than a showcase for the Sensational One to show just how impressive a competitor she remained at this age.
Well, her Ladyship was more than just a whiteboard, on which London could scrawl whatever message she wanted.
And, unbeknownst to the British Bombshell, Lydia watched her from the shadows as Shea fidgeted and paced, awaiting her announcement. And only once London parted the curtains did the diminutive brunette move into the light.
Unlike her adversary, however, Lethbridge did not wait patiently for the announcer to (once again) fail to live up to giving her a proper introduction. Lydia instead charged through the curtains herself, even as the Leppard continue to fill the air…
Now…
Shea’s first inkling that anything might be amiss comes in the sensation of the air parting behind her back, an instant before her lower back is lit up with a jolt of pain from a narrow, cylindrical object striking home near the base of her spine. The British beauty arches her back, staggering forward with a cry of pain, but before she can get very far, a hand grabs her by the shoulder, spinning her around.
Before London’s blinking eyes can focus on her attacker, that hand moves to the neck of her ring jacket, swiftly pulling the garment up and over Shea’s noggin! The effect is twofold: not only does the legend now find herself blinded, but the garment’s current contortions force the Sensational One’s arms up and out, to her sides—and leave her midsection wide open.
Lydia adjusts her grip on her weapon—namely, a black, aristocratic walking stick, the base tipped in silver and the handle adorned by a wolf’s head shaped out of the same substance—and promptly connects with a swift trio of strikes to the more famous Brit’s midsection. Each blow produces a muffled gasp, the Sensational One’s pained exhales muffled by her own traitorous jacket. Looking to create enough separation that she could use to extricate herself from her makeshift bonds, Shea turns away from her attacker and manages to stagger forward a couple of strides…
Deprived of her sight, London cannot see Lydia behind her spin her walking stick, her hands trading their grip on its handle for one nearer the base. Nor can Shea see her Ladyship launch her next swing, this one coming in a more underhanded variety than the previous ones…
What Shea DOES soon feel, however, is the sensation of that silver wolf’s head sweeping upward, between her parted thighs and SLAMMING into her unsuspecting nether regions.
The foul blow instantly liquifies London’s legs, dropping the mewling icon first to her knees, and then down to her left hip. All of which leaves the diminutive Lydia towering over her fellow countrywoman, the jeers and abuse of London’s Legion doing nothing to diminish the haughty, satisfied smirk gracing her Ladyship’s features. Lethbridge stands stunning and resplendent in her customary wrestling ensemble: a red lace corset that offers her bosom plenty of (unnecessary) favors, cut high on the hips but nevertheless remaining fully seated, with matching elbow length opera gloves and thigh high stockings, her look completed with blue ankle boots.
Content in the knowledge that London is no longer a threat, Lethbridge discards her walking stick and begins to sloooowly peel her right glove down her forearm, teasing the audience with its impending threat—the writhing and groaning Shea remaining obliviously tangled in her own jacket. Lydia brings her removed glove up to her lips, holding it between her teeth and freeing both her hands up to roughly extricate the Sensational One from her bonds, the British blonde’s shades being harshly ripped from her face along with the ring jacket. Dragging the FAWN Original up to her knees, her Ladyship takes the dangling ends of her glove with both hands, removes the velvet from her mouth, and wraps it around London’s throat!
Shea’s eyes begin to bulge, her fingers frantically trying to claw between the flesh of her own neck and the fabric to create some slack. Lydia will have none of it, planting a knee between her foe’s shoulderblades as she keeps trying to draw the noose tighter. In the ring, referee Reginald Worthington III takes a step toward the ropes, but then stops himself, torn between a desire to protect London’s safety and Bethany Christian’s long-standing edict to allow the wrestlers as much freedom to settle things between themselves as humanly possible. After all, technically speaking, the match hasn’t even begun yet, and therefore neither has his authority. Which, of course, also means that the wheezing, gurgling legend on her knees on the floor cannot rely on the official’s five count to save her.
And Lydia doesn’t have to worry about his annoying voice droning on in her ear. Instead, it’s Shea who is forced to listen to her Ladyship’s words, even as her head begins to swim and her vision cloud. “I am NO ONE’S ‘example’, London,” Lethbridge hisses, a particularly malevolent pull on her glove forcing the British blonde’s tongue to momentarily slip past her lips. “These dolts consider YOU some sort of wrestling royalty? You’re a pissant compared to me, not even worthy to lick the sweat off my ass. But I’ll allow that mercy to be the final act of your career.”
The changing hue of London’s features finally convinces the official to move toward the ropes, but before he can reach them, Lydia relaxes her grip. She doesn’t let the glove fall from her foe’s neck, however, even as the Sensational One’s hands fall in front of her, the gasping blonde sinking to all fours. Instead of choking the iconic Briton, Lethbridge contents herself with knotting the glove around Shea’s neck—snugly, certainly, but not enough to fully impair Shea’s breathing.
But it does leave a sizable stretch of the glove free for her Ladyship to use as a leash, which she does to guide a crawling London toward the ring, the FAWNatics growing increasingly passionate in their condemnation of the younger, smaller Brit. Dropping the end of that glove, Lydia turns her attention to the glove remaining on her left hand, peeling that one away with a little more urgency than she had previously. Deftly tying one end around London’s right wrist, Lethbridge climbs onto the apron and pulls up on the glove, forcing the Sensational One back to her feet as she loops the garment over the top rope and binds the Sensational One’s left wrist together with her right.
With London’s arms trussed above her head and the bound blonde forced up onto her tiptoes, Shea’s back to the ropes and the apron, her Ladyship hops down from the apron and saunters over to retrieve her walking stick. Again securing a two-fisted grip on the opposite end of the one intended, Lydia swings it again and again, driving the wolf’s head into the British Bombshell’s belly time after time after time, some of the blows landing with enough force to rip a couple of gashes into London’s one piece.
This time, however, the referee refuses to be a powerless bystander. While he might not be able to do anything to dissuade her Ladyship from administer forty lashes, or however many Lydia might have actually intended, Reginald can and does begin to untie Shea’s wrists.
Rather than become incensed with his presumptuousness, Lydia merely smirks and nods, tossing away the walking stick moments before the official finishes her work releasing the Sensational One. A now-freed Shea stumbles forward on shaky legs, slumping as she approaches Lethbridge. Her Ladyship welcomes her in, pulling London’s head under her left arm and grabbing a handful of fabric at Shea’s left hip. Muscling the living legend off her feet, Lydia falls to her back, her Golden Spike living up to its name and DRILLING Shea’s cranium into the concrete floor.
GOLDEN SPIKE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=lWWWegDgF38
And just like that, the crowd is silenced, and Shea herself is left a shuddering lump of flesh, face down on the concrete floor. Seated beside her prey, Lethbridge wipes the back of her hand across her forehead, before flicking whatever sweat it had accumulated onto the corpse of the Sensational One. Climbing to her feet, her Ladyship pulls Shea’s lifeless body up, pushes her onto the apron, then sends her tumbling into the ring with a shove. Climbing in after the demolished legend, Lydia drapes herself across London’s chest, gathers a leg and hooks it, to a cascade of boos…
… but NOT the beginnings of a count.
Glancing up, Lethbridge observes that the official is still standing, arms crossed at his chest. “Well?” she indignantly demands to know. “Are you waiting for an invitation?”
“No,” Worthington responds simply. “But you might have been best served waiting for the bell. I can’t count a pin when the match hasn’t officially started yet.”
“Then ring the damned bell, you insolent buffoon!”
Reginald shakes his head. “Not until I am convinced that Ms. London can have a proper match.”
Unaccustomed as she is to other people telling her no, it takes her Ladyship a moment to process what she has just heard. Finally, almost incredulously, she manages to utter, “I’m sorry?”
“I will not ring the bell,” the ref again tells her, “until I am satisfied that Ms. London can proceed. Ringing the bell now would be unfair to her.”
Incensed, Lydia tosses Shea’s gam aside and scrambles to her feet. Stepping over the Sensational One’s form, Lethbridge gets in the official’s face—well, as best she can accomplish such, giving up nearly a full foot in height to the man in charge. “Who the HELL do you think YOU are?” she snaps. “I could buy and sell you ten times over!”
“That’s as maybe,” Reginald replies, “but I think you’ll find it’s Ms. Christian who signs my checks, and not you. Therefore, I in no way answer to you, and this match will begin when, and ONLY when, I am ready to give it official sanction.”
Her Ladyship’s fingers rapidly clench and unclench at her sides, her fury continuing to flash across her brown eyes. But then, with an exasperated sigh, Lydia turns away and marches toward a vacant corner, muttering something under her breath about overcompensation. Shea, meanwhile, has at last begun to stir, the woozy Briton struggling to work her way up to a seated position.
Dropping to one knee alongside her, Reginald asks, “How do you feel?”
The Sensational One starts to shake her head… and instantly regrets it, letting out a soft groan as her right hand moves to her forehead. “Unnnnhhhh… ‘ow…. ‘ow many did I ‘ave last night?” the blonde beauty asks.
“Do you know where you are?” Worthington questions her, trying to ascertain her cognitive functions.
Shea’s eyes blink rapidly. “I’m…” she stammers, before concluding, “I’m where I belong.”
“Ma’am,” he says, his voice somehow both gentle and firm at the same time, “in light of Ms. Lethbridge’s unethical assault, if you cannot proceed, I am prepared to declare this a no contest. It will not blemish your rec…”
Whether or not the Sensational One had understood herself to be in a wrestling ring and about to have a match prior to that point, she dismisses his offer with a wave of her hand. “Forget it, mate,” London mutters, pushing her way back to unsteady feet. “Tha…. Tha bytch isn’t about ta make me let these folks down…”
“Are you sure, Ms. London?” the ref asks, his hands moving cautiously to unfasten the velvet glove still knotted against her throat.
“I said I can go!” the living legend snaps back, her tone more convincing of that sentiment than the current state of her body. In a sign of her determination, Shea brushes away those offered helping hands, and with a shrug of his shoulders the ref calls for the bell.
With the sound of the bell still echoing in the air, Lethbridge shoots past the official, grabs the Sensational One by the back of the head, and drags the reeling blonde into the near corner, where she SLAMS Shea’s face into the leather padding of the turnbuckle half a dozen times. Snatching the dangling end of her former glove, her Ladyship turns her back to the FAWN icon and legend, pulling her makeshift leash over her right shoulder as she leads London to the next corner.
Continuing her concussive assault, the brunette gives her opponent’s face another four smashes to a turnbuckle, before spinning Shea around and pressing her back into the corner. Retreating to the middle of the ring, Lethbridge turns on a dime and charges back toward the corner, slamming a running European uppercut into London’s chest.
CORNER RUNNING EUROPEAN UPPERCUT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=LccUeL5FHxc
The impact proves too much for Shea’s shapely legs, sending the battered blonde crashing to a seat on the canvas. Lydia uses a pair of small, disdainful kicks to the blonde’s calves to force London’s gams open a little wider, before returning to the center of the ring. Just as before, her Ladyship charges toward her foe, only this time she dives into an incredibly low dropkick, Lethbridge’s soles soullessly connecting between the juncture of the Sensational One’s thighs.
“Ms. Lethbridge…” Reginald begins to admonish her Ladyship, but Lydia interrupts before he can finish.
“When I want your opinion,” she snarls, grabbing one of the mewling blonde’s ankles and dragging her away from the ropes, “I’ll tell you what it is.”
With the cables now safely beyond her opponent’s reach, Lethbridge plants a conquering boot atop Shea’s heaving bosom. As much as he might deplore her tactics, Reginald has to concede that it’s a valid cover, and thus slides into position to check London’s shoulders…
ONE…
TWO…
THNOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The Sensational One shoves her Ladyship’s boot away.
Correcting her balance, Lethbridge circles to position herself just above and to the right of London’s right shoulder. Then, with a malicious twinkle in her eye, the petite brunette hops into the air, extending her nylon encased legs in front of her and dropping a luscious thigh across the older Brit’s throat. Climbing back to her feet, her Ladyship connects with two more standing legdrops in swift succession, each one increasing the volume of the crowd’s scorn—not just with her techniques, but also with the sheer audacity of attacking the Sensational One with legdrops, even if hers hadn’t been launched from the top turnbuckle.
“Oh boo hoo,” a rising Lydia sneers, jerking Shea back to rubbery legs by a handful of hair. Keeping the Sensational One doubled, Lethbridge pulls the blonde into a standing headscissors before wrapping her arms around London’s gulping tummy. Then, showing off a bit of power in that pint sized frame, her Ladyship sweeps the slightly bigger blonde upward, until Lydia’s shoulder bisects Shea’s spine. As the blonde’s legs dangle behind Lethbridge, the brunette shuffles her stance, attempting to snag London’s boots against her thighs. Meanwhile, Lydia’s arms hook Shea’s and pull down, her Ladyship locking the Sensational One into a Gory Stretch!
GORY STRETCH:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=PeMH5FzQFl8
The Stretch itself would be diabolical enough, but Lydia has never been one for half measures. Lethbridge adds to Shea’s torment by dropping into a couple of squats, before slinging the Sensational One down in front of her like yesterday’s garbage. London bounces up from the impact before settling on the mat, face down, arms outstretched to her sides, her left leg bent at the knee. Maneuvering herself between Shea’s gams, her Ladyship bends down and worms her arms underneath the Sensational One’s stomach. Then, in another demonstration of strength, the brunette hoists her foe off the mat, bridges back, and DRIVES Shea’s head and shoulders into the canvas with a deadlift German suplex. Even the most dedicated of London fans can’t help but be impressed, even as Lethbridge sustains her bridge through…
DEADLIFT GERMAN SUPLEX:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=leeTZVr1rD4
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Shea bucks loose.
Scowling as she rises, her Ladyship steps into a standing straddle of London’s waist. Leaning forward, Lydia looks down into her opponent’s dulled, unfocused eyes, the brunette’s expression one of utterly insincere concern—which is never more clear in that insincerity than when Lethbridge paintbrushes the Sensational One’s cheeks with slaps. “You are irrelevant,” the smaller, younger British woman hisses, before pulling Shea up to her knees.
“Get up,” Lethbridge commands, punctuating her order with a couple more slaps. “ON YOUR FEET, BYTCH!”
Dragging the Sensational One all the way back to verticality, her Ladyship locks Shea’s head under her left arm and helps herself to a handful of spandex at the taller Brit’s left hip. Lydia then starts to pop her own hips, looking to punish London’s back with a swift but brutal snap suplex. But the FAWN Original and icon hooks one of Lethbridge’s stems with one of her own, blocking the attempt. Unable to believe the blonde’s nerve, Lydia merely attempts to deliver the suplex a second time.
And again, Shea blocks. Only this time, the Sensational One doesn’t stop there, rocking back and pulling her Ladyship into a tight small package!
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Lethbridge kicks free.
Despite the veteran Briton’s sudden insurgency, Lydia still proves the fresher woman, beating the Sensational One to her feet and dragging Shea the rest of the way up by a handful of hair. Slipping in behind London, her Ladyship threads her arms underneath her fellow countrywoman’s, applying a full nelson. Rather than immediately attempt to break free, however, Shea vaults off her feet, bending her knees and pressing her legs to Lethbridge’s hips to keep her stabilized. The elevation also proves too much for the smaller brunette to keep her nelson secured, and as Lydia’s hands slip free of each other, the veteran blonde swings her upper body downward, through her Ladyship’s parted stems. Lydia is pulled off her feet and taken to the mat, Shea momentarily left seated on the brunette’s ample chest, Lethbridge’s legs in her possession. But rather than settle for the victory roll, the Sensational One pushes to her feet, turning Lydia over to her belly as she locks in an ankle lock!
VICTORY ROLL TRANSITIONED ANKLE LOCK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=DEfqgEJYXLQ
And suddenly, for the first time tonight, Shea London finds herself in control of the match.
“Do you wish to surrender, Ms. Lethbridge?” Reginald asks, doing his best to keep any satisfaction he might be experiencing over this turn of events hidden under a veneer of objective impartiality.
“Nooooooooooaaaah,” her Ladyship howls, one elbow digging into the canvas while her other hand plunges into her raven locks. “In no uncertain terrrrrrrrRRRRAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
A particularly meanspirited twist of Lydia’s ankle cuts short whatever her declaration might have been.
“Jump me from behind, would ya?” Shea mutters, her chest still heaving as she takes advantage of her current position to gather her second wind. “They told me ya were a cheatin’ skag, Lydia, but no one told me ya were a bloody coward.”
Their recent reversal of fortunes does nothing to introduce any sense of humility into her Ladyship’s vocabulary. “If you… do not… take your grimy, common hands off me this innnNNNNNGGGGGUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
“Manners,” the Sensational One scolds her. “They cost nothin’, y’know?”
“Ms. Lethbridge,” the referee again interjects, “should the pain be too much…”
“STUFF IT, MEATHEAD!!!” Lydia shouts, one last lunge allowing the brunette to grab hold of the bottom rope.
Under ordinary circumstances, Shea would have broken the ankle lock almost immediately once the referee called for it. However, the blonde’s anger over her Ladyship’s opening ambush has not yet had the chance to fully subside, and so London lets the official’s count reach “THREE!” before she releases her ankle lock. Bringing Lethbridge up to her feet, the Sensational One pushes the brunette back into the ropes before taking her wrist and attempting an Irish whip…
Unfortunately for the FAWN Original and her fans, Lydia still has enough of her bearings to dig in her heels and reverse the whip—though not, it must be noted, without a noticeable wince when she plants the foot that the Sensational One had just been twisting and turning moments ago. Still, her Ladyship appears poised and ready as London hurtles back toward her…
… until the blonde Briton launches herself into the air, landing with her knees against Lethbridge’s shoulders and driving her down to the mat via her London Blitz! Reaching behind her as she settles atop the brunette’s chest, Shea attempts to secure Lydia’s legs under her arms as the referee slides into position to count…
LONDON BLITZ:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=x2Iu6_EU_3k
ONE…
TWO…
THNOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!
Her Ladyship bucks London off.
Launched to her feet by Lethbridge’s escape from the pinning predicament, a look of realization flickers across Shea’s face for the briefest of seconds, before that expression is replaced by one of righteous indignation. With a defiant snarl, the Sensational One’s hands fly to her throat and make short work of ripping away the velvet glove that her Ladyship had used to choke and embarrass her. As the petite brunette rolls over to her stomach, London drops to her knees alongside, taking Lydia’s left wrist and wrenching her arm behind her back in a nice hammerlock, which only gets nicer and more painful when the British blonde places the crown of her skull against the canvas and flips forward, increasing the torque on the hold with, dare it be said, a “Sensational” bridge.
BRIDGING HAMMERLOCK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=-bcEsE8id_g
“YAAAAAGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” the formerly domineering, diminutive brunette cries out, slithering against the mat in a desperate effort to find some position that might lessen the strain on her shoulder socket, with little success.
“Give it up, Lydia,” Shea rasps, her voice contorted from the effort required to keep her bridge in place. “Rich as ya may be, when it comes ta wrestlin’, ya’re outta yer league, Duchess.”
“Well, Ms. Lethbridge?” the official asks. “Are you ready to concede?”
The brunette answer comes only in anguished groans, until the Sensational One releases the hold of her own accord. Lydia struggles to sit up, attempting to roll the lingering pain out of her shoulder. “I’ll show you where you belong compared to me, London,” her Ladyship hisses, pushing her way toward her feet…
… until a pair of arms slip around her waist. Instinctively, Lydia’s hands move to Shea’s wrists, looking to break the clasp of her opponent’s embrace. But before she can get anywhere, London bridges back, yanking the smaller Brit free of the mat and DRIVING Lethbridge’s head and shoulders into the canvas with her own German suplex that PLANTS the brunette ass over teakettle, her shapely legs weakly churning as Shea holds her bridge through…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Lydia spasms loose.
A groaning Lethbridge rolls to her stomach, then pushes up to a less-than-Lady-like posture of hands and knees. Alas, a resurgent Sensational One hasn’t just regained her footing. She’s left them, Shea taking flight not from either a stationary or running start, but something more of a pirouette. As much as her offense since gaining control of the contest had focused on wringing a submission out of the stubborn brunette, one move proves all it take to remind the FAWNatics of London’s agility, the Sensationa
One connecting with a Tornado kick that hits home against the small of Lydia’s back, and drops the smaller Englishwoman back to her belly.
TORNADO KICK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=_A3NJ04CqcU
Her Ladyship moans, the mere act of rolling over proving something of a chore for her, Lydia straining to keep her wounded lower back from settling against the mat. Her condition, along with Lethbridge’s alignment in the ring, spurs the Sensational One to eschew picking her up in favor of heading to the near corner.
From inside the ring, Shea deftly scales her way to the top turnbuckle, London’s back to her Ladyship. Save from the urgent rise and fall of her impressive chest as she tries to regroup, Lethbridge is all but motionless as Shea propels herself into a moonsault. While perhaps the elevation is not the same as a twenty-something Sensational One might have been able to achieve, her flight remains every bit as smooth and graceful…
Unfortunately, neither of those adjectives can be applied to London’s landing, not when Lydia manages to draw her knees up to her chest.
It can be hard for most fans to appreciate the agony of, say, the figure four leglock, or the devastating impact of a powerbomb when those moves are executed by professional. But anyone who has ever had the wind knocked out of them has an idea of the suffering that now grips the Sensational One, albeit the blonde’s torment is amplified by coming at the end of a descent of several feet. Shea flops over to her right hip, both arms moving to embrace her impaled tummy, and, ironically, her own knees draw closer to her chest as she attempts to regroup. But as much as her lungs might be on fire, the British blonde understands that she’s clawed her way from too far down to be able to afford squandering her advantage. Coughing and gasping, London wills herself out of her protective shell, shaky legs pushing her toward verticality…
… until her Ladyship’s knee SMASHES into the stooped Shea’s temple, an already risen Lethbridge rebounding off the ropes to connect with a brutal knee trembler.
KNEE TREMBLER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=BrCPnchcex8
London hits the deck like a sack of wet cement, lights all but turned out by the devastating knee. For a moment, Lydia considers simply rolling the Sensational One to her back and again placing a conquering boot against her chest…
But her Ladyship is feeling sadistic. Straddling her fellow Brit just above her hips, Lethbridge’s back to London’s head, the petite brunette gathers Shea’s left leg, tucking the older woman’s boot under her arm as if to apply a single leg crab. But then, Lydia spins back toward her opponent’s noggin, shifting London’s captured gam from under the brunette’s arm to between her thighs, before her Ladyship falls to her knees off the Sensational One’s left flank. The electric jolt from the torque on her trapped gam brings a little semblance of obvious consciousness back to London, but alas, not enough to allow her to prevent Lydia from snatching Shea’s wrists and pulling back, drawing the FAWN Original’s own arms across her throat!
Lydia’s Straightjacket STF is as punishing as it is innovative. With three of Shea’s four limbs ensnared, escape is all but impossible—not unless she can find a way to slip out of the toehold or the strength to yank an arm out of the straightjacket. And each second spent with her own arms strangling the fight out of her leaves London with less and less strength to accomplish that.
“Look,” Lydia whispers into the blonde’s ear, her voice honeyed venom, “over there. Do you see them?”
Shea elects to conserve her breath, rather than rise to the bait.
“Just over there,” Lethbridge repeats. “The ropes. Why don’t you just rea…?” Her Ladyship stops herself, lips curling into a wicked smirk as she gives herself a reproachful ‘tut.’ “Oh. Silly me. You want out? You’re going to have to say please.” Lydia’s tone then shifts into an exaggerated approximation of the Sensational One’s accent. “’Pleeeease, yer Ladyship! Please lemme lick tha sweat off yer arse! Please, I’m just a washed up chav, ready fer tha knacker’s yard!’”
London’s head twists side to side, her own constrained arms putting a damper on her act of defiance. “Shhhhyyyuuuuuuuuhhhh… shhhhuuuuuuttttt… shuttt yeeerrrr…” London mutters, though even as she fights to get the words out, the veteran blonde’s eyelids begin to flutter.
“Ms. London?” referee Reginald Worthington III asks, but before he can get any further in ascertaining the state of her consciousness, Lethbridge releases the straightjacket, allowing her foe’s upper body to pitch forward and hit the mat with a dull ‘THWAAAP!’
“No,” Lydia purrs, climbing to her feet. “No, you’re not going gently…”
Pulling an unresisting Shea into a standing headscissors, her Ladyship wraps her arms around the slightly bigger Brit’s midsection and, with a small grunt, swings the Sensational One up until London’s back lies across her right shoulder. As Shea’s feet instinctively seek out Lethbridge’s hips to ease some of the strain on her spine, Lydia’s hands again find the blonde’s wrists and pull London’s arms across her throat in a straightjacket. And then, almost under her breath--lest anyone accuse her Ladyship of a trace of humility--Lethbridge spits the following words…
“The queen is dead. Long live the queen.”
In the next instant, Lydia drops to her tush, Shea landing on her knees and sent flopping into a boneless starfish the moment the brunette releases her wrists.
ST. EDWARD’S CROWN:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=4jmtutGuRXY&t=600s
Lethbridge drapes herself across London’s chest, not even bothering to hook a leg as Worthington slaps off the…
ONE…
TWO…
THREE?
??
The Sensational One’s shoulders never break contact with the canvas, the insensate blonde’s eyelids never so much as twitching open. And yet, rather than hear the bell, Lydia feels a finger tapping her shoulder. Looking up, her Ladyship’s follows Reginald’s finger, to spy Shea’s ankle lying draped over the bottom rope.
Lydia’s hands dive into her raven locks, her fingers coiling and pulling as she lets out a scream of almost primal frustration. Climbing to her feet, her Ladyship grabs some of Shea’s tresses now, roughly jerking the sweat-drenched blonde up onto unsteady legs before scooping London up against her chest. The Sensational One offers a soft moan as Lethbridge stomps forward.
“KNOW! YOUR! PLACE! BYTCH!” the brunette shouts, then drops to one knee, ramming Shea’s spine down across her outstretched thigh with a vengeful backbreaker.
BACKBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=XdfmACes4YE
A dismissive toss sends Shea crashing to the mat, the older blonde rolling to her hip and arching her back. Pushing her feet, a still seething Lydia stalks over to her opponent’s feet. “BEG ALL YOU WANT NOW,” her Ladyship bellows, “I’M NOT LETTING GO UNTIL I HEAR TENDONS SNAPPING!!!” Reaching down, Lethbridge begins to the Sensational One’s stems, her Lethbridge Lock moments away from claiming its most accomplished victim to date.
LETHBRIDGE LOCK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=rA143vjjG3k
However, before the brunette can get Shea’s legs crossed, the Sensational One manages to first extricate one gam from Lydia’s clutches, and then send that boot crashing into her Ladyship’s knee! Lethbridge is sent plummeting to her knees, but worse still, the younger Englishwoman’s head and right arm remain exposed, above and beyond the Sensational One’s parted thighs. In an instant, those shapely thighs clamp shut, Shea reaching up to grab Lydia’s arm and complete a stunning triangle choke!
KNEE KICK & TRIANGLE CHOKE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=IxDelwLx2O0
And suddenly, a nearly despondent crowd of FAWNatics is brought to its feet, the Sensational One returning to life with amazing vigor as she cranks on that arm and pulses her thighs. Lethbridge attempts to power up from her knees, but when those efforts fail, she has to settle for crawling, as best she can, until her free hand can grasp hold of the bottom rope.
“I’m sorry, Ms. London,” Reginald sighs, a hint of sympathy in his voice that pales in comparison to the groan from the capacity crowd. “Break the hold, please.”
It takes until the count of “THREE!” for the Sensational One to comply, Lydia’s escape act causing the British blonde’s surge of adrenaline to ebb, however slightly. Lethbridge continues to clutch at the cables, even as London works her way up to her feet. Hairhauling the brunette the rest of the way up, Shea takes her wrist and attempts an Irish whip…
The crowd groans as her Ladyship summons a reversal, but before she can send Shea hurtling toward the ropes, the Sensational One manages a reversal of her own—only in her case, London pivots to face the same direction as her opponent, reaching over her shoulder and pulling Lydia’s jaw over the shoulder. The British Blonde then immediately kicks her legs up and out, falling to her back, taking the petite brunette down with her, London Calling sending the FAWNatics shooting out of their seats!
LONDON CALLING:
youtu.be/6NCPRcQVtKE?t=347
With no wasted motion, Shea rolls back toward her splattered adversary, shoveling her Ladyship over to her back before falling across Lethbridge’s gently rising chest. As London’s arms gather up and hook Lydia’s outside legs, Shea’s legs scissor and secure the inside, the audience counting along with Reginald as his hands strikes the mat for…
“ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!!!!!!”
As soon as the bell begins to sound, the Sensational One discards Lydia’s gams and rolls under the bottom rope and out of the ring. There Shea remains, somehow exhausted and ebullient at the same time as her forearms rest against the apron. Reginald slips through the ropes himself not long after calling for the bell, approaching Shea and letting the veteran blonde slump against him as he raises his arm in triumph.
Back in the ring, Lydia begins to stir just as the announcer’s voice starts to come over the sound system. “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner, via pinfall… SHHHEEEAAA LOOONNNDDDOOONNN!!!!!”
As the FAWNatics erupt in celebration, Reginald assists the Sensational One back up the ramp, Shea occasionally pausing to both catch her breath and slap an offered hand. (Also, for the record, more than one feminine hand emerges from the crowd to pat and squeeze Worthington’s bicep.) Meanwhile, inside the ring, Lydia rolls to her knees, blinking in disbelief.
How could this have happened?
When Shea and Reginald disappear behind the curtain, the crowd turns its attention to her Ladyship. Only now, they don’t boo her.
They do something worse. They laugh at her.
“SHUT UP!!!!!” her Ladyship demands, punctuating her order with a stomp of her foot. Such a command has probably never achieved its desired end in the history of professional wrestling, and it fails to do so with the Orlando faithful as well.
Incensed, Lethbridge exits the ring, and does everything in her power to avoid the scoffs and jeers as she stalks up the ramp. But when she reaches the stage, the brunette stops, turning to give the reveling, unwashed masses one last sneer.
“Laugh while you can,” her Ladyship mutters. “Eventually, the joke’s going to be on you.”
At last, Shea felt like she was finally back.
SHEA LONDON
Though she had made her return to FAWN action at Mayhem, she had arrived at the FAWN Arena under the metaphorical cover of darkness, not having wanted to tip de Cyr (or anyone else) off in advance to her presence. But now, there was no mystery, freeing Shea up to arrive before the show at the usual time most of the talent arrived. She had dropped her bags off in her old dressing room, said hello to and caught up with some of the backstage personnel who dated back to her time, and even managed to have a brief chat with Jaime and Summer.
And now, she just awaited her cue, and her proper introduction.
Another wrestler of the Sensational One’s standing might have been offended, to have her first official match back in the company to be booked against someone who might be labeled ‘a preliminary wrestler.’ But, her surprise appearance at the last pay per view, London understood that it had been about two and half years since she had last competed regularly in FAWN. And as the saying goes, Father Time was undefeated. It was only natural for the powers that be—especially ‘powers that be’ in the mold of Bethany Christian—to want to see just what exactly Shea might have left in the tank.
Not that Shea herself might be looking past her opponent tonight. No, the woman would be facing tonight might not possess either London’s resume nor de Chevalier’s buzz, but she was still dangerous.
And hungry.
The blonde Briton found herself pulled out of her thoughts by the voice of the ring announcer…
Now…
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the ring announcer declares, “your following contest is scheduled for…”
The man in the tuxedo lets his voice trail off, but the paying crowd is ready to take up the mantle. “ONE FALL!” the fans shout, prompting a nod from the announcer.
“One fall,” he echoes for a change, “with a 15 minute time limit. Introducing first, hailing from Manchester, England in the United Kingdom. She stands five feet four inches tall and weighs in this evening at one hundred and twenty pounds. She is the icon… the living legend… the Sensational One herself… SHHHEEEAAA LOOONNNDDDOOONNN!!!!!”
The arena PA system came to life, a voice posing a single question to tonight’s pumped up crowd:
“Do you wanna get rocked?”
Judging by the deafening roar from the FAWNatics, this is precisely their greatest wish.
”LET’S GET ROCKED”:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=VhM_LxeKgEQ
As Def Leppard’s “Let’s Get Rocked” pumps over the arena’s speakers, the curtains part, and “Sensational” Shea London emerges onto the ramp. While it is said that familiarity breeds contempt, there is nothing but love in the FAWNatics’ response to the returning legend. Just as in her previous appearance last month, the gorgeous blonde sports a pleasingly “Old School” look: visible underneath an open, traditional, red ring jacket is a one piece proudly emblazoned in the Union Jack, the red stripes of the cross running from the scooped neckline to between her legs and underneath her bosom, respectively, her eyes shielded behind a pair of stylish shades. Red knee and elbow pads along with blue boots complete her ensemble.
The blonde Briton darts down to the ring, her million megawatt smile on full display as she slaps hands with a FAWN fandom populous that still doesn’t seem quite fully ready to believe that this woman might once again be a part of the full time roster. But, back the British beauty is…
… and, despite current appearances, not everyone is happy about that.
Backstage, moments ago…
It was an insult.
That’s what it was. An unmitigated insult!
LADY LYDIA LETHBRIDGE
Granted, that description could justly be applied to FAWN management’s treatment of her through her entire career with the company, in Lydia Lethbridge’s mind. But tonight’s booking she found even more of an egregious affront. Just last month, Shea London had surprised the wrestling world by returning to the company for which she had been its inaugural champion. While Bethany Christian’s feelings toward the Sensational One were a matter of public record, it was still certain that this was an investment being made with a higher payoff in mind, one where it would not do for London to be embarrassed and humiliated in her first known match back.
No, the opponent selected for London for this match was intended to be nothing more than a patsy.
This was meant to be little more than a showcase for the Sensational One to show just how impressive a competitor she remained at this age.
Well, her Ladyship was more than just a whiteboard, on which London could scrawl whatever message she wanted.
And, unbeknownst to the British Bombshell, Lydia watched her from the shadows as Shea fidgeted and paced, awaiting her announcement. And only once London parted the curtains did the diminutive brunette move into the light.
Unlike her adversary, however, Lethbridge did not wait patiently for the announcer to (once again) fail to live up to giving her a proper introduction. Lydia instead charged through the curtains herself, even as the Leppard continue to fill the air…
Now…
Shea’s first inkling that anything might be amiss comes in the sensation of the air parting behind her back, an instant before her lower back is lit up with a jolt of pain from a narrow, cylindrical object striking home near the base of her spine. The British beauty arches her back, staggering forward with a cry of pain, but before she can get very far, a hand grabs her by the shoulder, spinning her around.
Before London’s blinking eyes can focus on her attacker, that hand moves to the neck of her ring jacket, swiftly pulling the garment up and over Shea’s noggin! The effect is twofold: not only does the legend now find herself blinded, but the garment’s current contortions force the Sensational One’s arms up and out, to her sides—and leave her midsection wide open.
Lydia adjusts her grip on her weapon—namely, a black, aristocratic walking stick, the base tipped in silver and the handle adorned by a wolf’s head shaped out of the same substance—and promptly connects with a swift trio of strikes to the more famous Brit’s midsection. Each blow produces a muffled gasp, the Sensational One’s pained exhales muffled by her own traitorous jacket. Looking to create enough separation that she could use to extricate herself from her makeshift bonds, Shea turns away from her attacker and manages to stagger forward a couple of strides…
Deprived of her sight, London cannot see Lydia behind her spin her walking stick, her hands trading their grip on its handle for one nearer the base. Nor can Shea see her Ladyship launch her next swing, this one coming in a more underhanded variety than the previous ones…
What Shea DOES soon feel, however, is the sensation of that silver wolf’s head sweeping upward, between her parted thighs and SLAMMING into her unsuspecting nether regions.
The foul blow instantly liquifies London’s legs, dropping the mewling icon first to her knees, and then down to her left hip. All of which leaves the diminutive Lydia towering over her fellow countrywoman, the jeers and abuse of London’s Legion doing nothing to diminish the haughty, satisfied smirk gracing her Ladyship’s features. Lethbridge stands stunning and resplendent in her customary wrestling ensemble: a red lace corset that offers her bosom plenty of (unnecessary) favors, cut high on the hips but nevertheless remaining fully seated, with matching elbow length opera gloves and thigh high stockings, her look completed with blue ankle boots.
Content in the knowledge that London is no longer a threat, Lethbridge discards her walking stick and begins to sloooowly peel her right glove down her forearm, teasing the audience with its impending threat—the writhing and groaning Shea remaining obliviously tangled in her own jacket. Lydia brings her removed glove up to her lips, holding it between her teeth and freeing both her hands up to roughly extricate the Sensational One from her bonds, the British blonde’s shades being harshly ripped from her face along with the ring jacket. Dragging the FAWN Original up to her knees, her Ladyship takes the dangling ends of her glove with both hands, removes the velvet from her mouth, and wraps it around London’s throat!
Shea’s eyes begin to bulge, her fingers frantically trying to claw between the flesh of her own neck and the fabric to create some slack. Lydia will have none of it, planting a knee between her foe’s shoulderblades as she keeps trying to draw the noose tighter. In the ring, referee Reginald Worthington III takes a step toward the ropes, but then stops himself, torn between a desire to protect London’s safety and Bethany Christian’s long-standing edict to allow the wrestlers as much freedom to settle things between themselves as humanly possible. After all, technically speaking, the match hasn’t even begun yet, and therefore neither has his authority. Which, of course, also means that the wheezing, gurgling legend on her knees on the floor cannot rely on the official’s five count to save her.
And Lydia doesn’t have to worry about his annoying voice droning on in her ear. Instead, it’s Shea who is forced to listen to her Ladyship’s words, even as her head begins to swim and her vision cloud. “I am NO ONE’S ‘example’, London,” Lethbridge hisses, a particularly malevolent pull on her glove forcing the British blonde’s tongue to momentarily slip past her lips. “These dolts consider YOU some sort of wrestling royalty? You’re a pissant compared to me, not even worthy to lick the sweat off my ass. But I’ll allow that mercy to be the final act of your career.”
The changing hue of London’s features finally convinces the official to move toward the ropes, but before he can reach them, Lydia relaxes her grip. She doesn’t let the glove fall from her foe’s neck, however, even as the Sensational One’s hands fall in front of her, the gasping blonde sinking to all fours. Instead of choking the iconic Briton, Lethbridge contents herself with knotting the glove around Shea’s neck—snugly, certainly, but not enough to fully impair Shea’s breathing.
But it does leave a sizable stretch of the glove free for her Ladyship to use as a leash, which she does to guide a crawling London toward the ring, the FAWNatics growing increasingly passionate in their condemnation of the younger, smaller Brit. Dropping the end of that glove, Lydia turns her attention to the glove remaining on her left hand, peeling that one away with a little more urgency than she had previously. Deftly tying one end around London’s right wrist, Lethbridge climbs onto the apron and pulls up on the glove, forcing the Sensational One back to her feet as she loops the garment over the top rope and binds the Sensational One’s left wrist together with her right.
With London’s arms trussed above her head and the bound blonde forced up onto her tiptoes, Shea’s back to the ropes and the apron, her Ladyship hops down from the apron and saunters over to retrieve her walking stick. Again securing a two-fisted grip on the opposite end of the one intended, Lydia swings it again and again, driving the wolf’s head into the British Bombshell’s belly time after time after time, some of the blows landing with enough force to rip a couple of gashes into London’s one piece.
This time, however, the referee refuses to be a powerless bystander. While he might not be able to do anything to dissuade her Ladyship from administer forty lashes, or however many Lydia might have actually intended, Reginald can and does begin to untie Shea’s wrists.
Rather than become incensed with his presumptuousness, Lydia merely smirks and nods, tossing away the walking stick moments before the official finishes her work releasing the Sensational One. A now-freed Shea stumbles forward on shaky legs, slumping as she approaches Lethbridge. Her Ladyship welcomes her in, pulling London’s head under her left arm and grabbing a handful of fabric at Shea’s left hip. Muscling the living legend off her feet, Lydia falls to her back, her Golden Spike living up to its name and DRILLING Shea’s cranium into the concrete floor.
GOLDEN SPIKE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=lWWWegDgF38
And just like that, the crowd is silenced, and Shea herself is left a shuddering lump of flesh, face down on the concrete floor. Seated beside her prey, Lethbridge wipes the back of her hand across her forehead, before flicking whatever sweat it had accumulated onto the corpse of the Sensational One. Climbing to her feet, her Ladyship pulls Shea’s lifeless body up, pushes her onto the apron, then sends her tumbling into the ring with a shove. Climbing in after the demolished legend, Lydia drapes herself across London’s chest, gathers a leg and hooks it, to a cascade of boos…
… but NOT the beginnings of a count.
Glancing up, Lethbridge observes that the official is still standing, arms crossed at his chest. “Well?” she indignantly demands to know. “Are you waiting for an invitation?”
“No,” Worthington responds simply. “But you might have been best served waiting for the bell. I can’t count a pin when the match hasn’t officially started yet.”
“Then ring the damned bell, you insolent buffoon!”
Reginald shakes his head. “Not until I am convinced that Ms. London can have a proper match.”
Unaccustomed as she is to other people telling her no, it takes her Ladyship a moment to process what she has just heard. Finally, almost incredulously, she manages to utter, “I’m sorry?”
“I will not ring the bell,” the ref again tells her, “until I am satisfied that Ms. London can proceed. Ringing the bell now would be unfair to her.”
Incensed, Lydia tosses Shea’s gam aside and scrambles to her feet. Stepping over the Sensational One’s form, Lethbridge gets in the official’s face—well, as best she can accomplish such, giving up nearly a full foot in height to the man in charge. “Who the HELL do you think YOU are?” she snaps. “I could buy and sell you ten times over!”
“That’s as maybe,” Reginald replies, “but I think you’ll find it’s Ms. Christian who signs my checks, and not you. Therefore, I in no way answer to you, and this match will begin when, and ONLY when, I am ready to give it official sanction.”
Her Ladyship’s fingers rapidly clench and unclench at her sides, her fury continuing to flash across her brown eyes. But then, with an exasperated sigh, Lydia turns away and marches toward a vacant corner, muttering something under her breath about overcompensation. Shea, meanwhile, has at last begun to stir, the woozy Briton struggling to work her way up to a seated position.
Dropping to one knee alongside her, Reginald asks, “How do you feel?”
The Sensational One starts to shake her head… and instantly regrets it, letting out a soft groan as her right hand moves to her forehead. “Unnnnhhhh… ‘ow…. ‘ow many did I ‘ave last night?” the blonde beauty asks.
“Do you know where you are?” Worthington questions her, trying to ascertain her cognitive functions.
Shea’s eyes blink rapidly. “I’m…” she stammers, before concluding, “I’m where I belong.”
“Ma’am,” he says, his voice somehow both gentle and firm at the same time, “in light of Ms. Lethbridge’s unethical assault, if you cannot proceed, I am prepared to declare this a no contest. It will not blemish your rec…”
Whether or not the Sensational One had understood herself to be in a wrestling ring and about to have a match prior to that point, she dismisses his offer with a wave of her hand. “Forget it, mate,” London mutters, pushing her way back to unsteady feet. “Tha…. Tha bytch isn’t about ta make me let these folks down…”
“Are you sure, Ms. London?” the ref asks, his hands moving cautiously to unfasten the velvet glove still knotted against her throat.
“I said I can go!” the living legend snaps back, her tone more convincing of that sentiment than the current state of her body. In a sign of her determination, Shea brushes away those offered helping hands, and with a shrug of his shoulders the ref calls for the bell.
With the sound of the bell still echoing in the air, Lethbridge shoots past the official, grabs the Sensational One by the back of the head, and drags the reeling blonde into the near corner, where she SLAMS Shea’s face into the leather padding of the turnbuckle half a dozen times. Snatching the dangling end of her former glove, her Ladyship turns her back to the FAWN icon and legend, pulling her makeshift leash over her right shoulder as she leads London to the next corner.
Continuing her concussive assault, the brunette gives her opponent’s face another four smashes to a turnbuckle, before spinning Shea around and pressing her back into the corner. Retreating to the middle of the ring, Lethbridge turns on a dime and charges back toward the corner, slamming a running European uppercut into London’s chest.
CORNER RUNNING EUROPEAN UPPERCUT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=LccUeL5FHxc
The impact proves too much for Shea’s shapely legs, sending the battered blonde crashing to a seat on the canvas. Lydia uses a pair of small, disdainful kicks to the blonde’s calves to force London’s gams open a little wider, before returning to the center of the ring. Just as before, her Ladyship charges toward her foe, only this time she dives into an incredibly low dropkick, Lethbridge’s soles soullessly connecting between the juncture of the Sensational One’s thighs.
“Ms. Lethbridge…” Reginald begins to admonish her Ladyship, but Lydia interrupts before he can finish.
“When I want your opinion,” she snarls, grabbing one of the mewling blonde’s ankles and dragging her away from the ropes, “I’ll tell you what it is.”
With the cables now safely beyond her opponent’s reach, Lethbridge plants a conquering boot atop Shea’s heaving bosom. As much as he might deplore her tactics, Reginald has to concede that it’s a valid cover, and thus slides into position to check London’s shoulders…
ONE…
TWO…
THNOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The Sensational One shoves her Ladyship’s boot away.
Correcting her balance, Lethbridge circles to position herself just above and to the right of London’s right shoulder. Then, with a malicious twinkle in her eye, the petite brunette hops into the air, extending her nylon encased legs in front of her and dropping a luscious thigh across the older Brit’s throat. Climbing back to her feet, her Ladyship connects with two more standing legdrops in swift succession, each one increasing the volume of the crowd’s scorn—not just with her techniques, but also with the sheer audacity of attacking the Sensational One with legdrops, even if hers hadn’t been launched from the top turnbuckle.
“Oh boo hoo,” a rising Lydia sneers, jerking Shea back to rubbery legs by a handful of hair. Keeping the Sensational One doubled, Lethbridge pulls the blonde into a standing headscissors before wrapping her arms around London’s gulping tummy. Then, showing off a bit of power in that pint sized frame, her Ladyship sweeps the slightly bigger blonde upward, until Lydia’s shoulder bisects Shea’s spine. As the blonde’s legs dangle behind Lethbridge, the brunette shuffles her stance, attempting to snag London’s boots against her thighs. Meanwhile, Lydia’s arms hook Shea’s and pull down, her Ladyship locking the Sensational One into a Gory Stretch!
GORY STRETCH:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=PeMH5FzQFl8
The Stretch itself would be diabolical enough, but Lydia has never been one for half measures. Lethbridge adds to Shea’s torment by dropping into a couple of squats, before slinging the Sensational One down in front of her like yesterday’s garbage. London bounces up from the impact before settling on the mat, face down, arms outstretched to her sides, her left leg bent at the knee. Maneuvering herself between Shea’s gams, her Ladyship bends down and worms her arms underneath the Sensational One’s stomach. Then, in another demonstration of strength, the brunette hoists her foe off the mat, bridges back, and DRIVES Shea’s head and shoulders into the canvas with a deadlift German suplex. Even the most dedicated of London fans can’t help but be impressed, even as Lethbridge sustains her bridge through…
DEADLIFT GERMAN SUPLEX:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=leeTZVr1rD4
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Shea bucks loose.
Scowling as she rises, her Ladyship steps into a standing straddle of London’s waist. Leaning forward, Lydia looks down into her opponent’s dulled, unfocused eyes, the brunette’s expression one of utterly insincere concern—which is never more clear in that insincerity than when Lethbridge paintbrushes the Sensational One’s cheeks with slaps. “You are irrelevant,” the smaller, younger British woman hisses, before pulling Shea up to her knees.
“Get up,” Lethbridge commands, punctuating her order with a couple more slaps. “ON YOUR FEET, BYTCH!”
Dragging the Sensational One all the way back to verticality, her Ladyship locks Shea’s head under her left arm and helps herself to a handful of spandex at the taller Brit’s left hip. Lydia then starts to pop her own hips, looking to punish London’s back with a swift but brutal snap suplex. But the FAWN Original and icon hooks one of Lethbridge’s stems with one of her own, blocking the attempt. Unable to believe the blonde’s nerve, Lydia merely attempts to deliver the suplex a second time.
And again, Shea blocks. Only this time, the Sensational One doesn’t stop there, rocking back and pulling her Ladyship into a tight small package!
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Lethbridge kicks free.
Despite the veteran Briton’s sudden insurgency, Lydia still proves the fresher woman, beating the Sensational One to her feet and dragging Shea the rest of the way up by a handful of hair. Slipping in behind London, her Ladyship threads her arms underneath her fellow countrywoman’s, applying a full nelson. Rather than immediately attempt to break free, however, Shea vaults off her feet, bending her knees and pressing her legs to Lethbridge’s hips to keep her stabilized. The elevation also proves too much for the smaller brunette to keep her nelson secured, and as Lydia’s hands slip free of each other, the veteran blonde swings her upper body downward, through her Ladyship’s parted stems. Lydia is pulled off her feet and taken to the mat, Shea momentarily left seated on the brunette’s ample chest, Lethbridge’s legs in her possession. But rather than settle for the victory roll, the Sensational One pushes to her feet, turning Lydia over to her belly as she locks in an ankle lock!
VICTORY ROLL TRANSITIONED ANKLE LOCK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=DEfqgEJYXLQ
And suddenly, for the first time tonight, Shea London finds herself in control of the match.
“Do you wish to surrender, Ms. Lethbridge?” Reginald asks, doing his best to keep any satisfaction he might be experiencing over this turn of events hidden under a veneer of objective impartiality.
“Nooooooooooaaaah,” her Ladyship howls, one elbow digging into the canvas while her other hand plunges into her raven locks. “In no uncertain terrrrrrrrRRRRAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
A particularly meanspirited twist of Lydia’s ankle cuts short whatever her declaration might have been.
“Jump me from behind, would ya?” Shea mutters, her chest still heaving as she takes advantage of her current position to gather her second wind. “They told me ya were a cheatin’ skag, Lydia, but no one told me ya were a bloody coward.”
Their recent reversal of fortunes does nothing to introduce any sense of humility into her Ladyship’s vocabulary. “If you… do not… take your grimy, common hands off me this innnNNNNNGGGGGUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
“Manners,” the Sensational One scolds her. “They cost nothin’, y’know?”
“Ms. Lethbridge,” the referee again interjects, “should the pain be too much…”
“STUFF IT, MEATHEAD!!!” Lydia shouts, one last lunge allowing the brunette to grab hold of the bottom rope.
Under ordinary circumstances, Shea would have broken the ankle lock almost immediately once the referee called for it. However, the blonde’s anger over her Ladyship’s opening ambush has not yet had the chance to fully subside, and so London lets the official’s count reach “THREE!” before she releases her ankle lock. Bringing Lethbridge up to her feet, the Sensational One pushes the brunette back into the ropes before taking her wrist and attempting an Irish whip…
Unfortunately for the FAWN Original and her fans, Lydia still has enough of her bearings to dig in her heels and reverse the whip—though not, it must be noted, without a noticeable wince when she plants the foot that the Sensational One had just been twisting and turning moments ago. Still, her Ladyship appears poised and ready as London hurtles back toward her…
… until the blonde Briton launches herself into the air, landing with her knees against Lethbridge’s shoulders and driving her down to the mat via her London Blitz! Reaching behind her as she settles atop the brunette’s chest, Shea attempts to secure Lydia’s legs under her arms as the referee slides into position to count…
LONDON BLITZ:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=x2Iu6_EU_3k
ONE…
TWO…
THNOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!
Her Ladyship bucks London off.
Launched to her feet by Lethbridge’s escape from the pinning predicament, a look of realization flickers across Shea’s face for the briefest of seconds, before that expression is replaced by one of righteous indignation. With a defiant snarl, the Sensational One’s hands fly to her throat and make short work of ripping away the velvet glove that her Ladyship had used to choke and embarrass her. As the petite brunette rolls over to her stomach, London drops to her knees alongside, taking Lydia’s left wrist and wrenching her arm behind her back in a nice hammerlock, which only gets nicer and more painful when the British blonde places the crown of her skull against the canvas and flips forward, increasing the torque on the hold with, dare it be said, a “Sensational” bridge.
BRIDGING HAMMERLOCK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=-bcEsE8id_g
“YAAAAAGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” the formerly domineering, diminutive brunette cries out, slithering against the mat in a desperate effort to find some position that might lessen the strain on her shoulder socket, with little success.
“Give it up, Lydia,” Shea rasps, her voice contorted from the effort required to keep her bridge in place. “Rich as ya may be, when it comes ta wrestlin’, ya’re outta yer league, Duchess.”
“Well, Ms. Lethbridge?” the official asks. “Are you ready to concede?”
The brunette answer comes only in anguished groans, until the Sensational One releases the hold of her own accord. Lydia struggles to sit up, attempting to roll the lingering pain out of her shoulder. “I’ll show you where you belong compared to me, London,” her Ladyship hisses, pushing her way toward her feet…
… until a pair of arms slip around her waist. Instinctively, Lydia’s hands move to Shea’s wrists, looking to break the clasp of her opponent’s embrace. But before she can get anywhere, London bridges back, yanking the smaller Brit free of the mat and DRIVING Lethbridge’s head and shoulders into the canvas with her own German suplex that PLANTS the brunette ass over teakettle, her shapely legs weakly churning as Shea holds her bridge through…
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Lydia spasms loose.
A groaning Lethbridge rolls to her stomach, then pushes up to a less-than-Lady-like posture of hands and knees. Alas, a resurgent Sensational One hasn’t just regained her footing. She’s left them, Shea taking flight not from either a stationary or running start, but something more of a pirouette. As much as her offense since gaining control of the contest had focused on wringing a submission out of the stubborn brunette, one move proves all it take to remind the FAWNatics of London’s agility, the Sensationa
One connecting with a Tornado kick that hits home against the small of Lydia’s back, and drops the smaller Englishwoman back to her belly.
TORNADO KICK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=_A3NJ04CqcU
Her Ladyship moans, the mere act of rolling over proving something of a chore for her, Lydia straining to keep her wounded lower back from settling against the mat. Her condition, along with Lethbridge’s alignment in the ring, spurs the Sensational One to eschew picking her up in favor of heading to the near corner.
From inside the ring, Shea deftly scales her way to the top turnbuckle, London’s back to her Ladyship. Save from the urgent rise and fall of her impressive chest as she tries to regroup, Lethbridge is all but motionless as Shea propels herself into a moonsault. While perhaps the elevation is not the same as a twenty-something Sensational One might have been able to achieve, her flight remains every bit as smooth and graceful…
Unfortunately, neither of those adjectives can be applied to London’s landing, not when Lydia manages to draw her knees up to her chest.
It can be hard for most fans to appreciate the agony of, say, the figure four leglock, or the devastating impact of a powerbomb when those moves are executed by professional. But anyone who has ever had the wind knocked out of them has an idea of the suffering that now grips the Sensational One, albeit the blonde’s torment is amplified by coming at the end of a descent of several feet. Shea flops over to her right hip, both arms moving to embrace her impaled tummy, and, ironically, her own knees draw closer to her chest as she attempts to regroup. But as much as her lungs might be on fire, the British blonde understands that she’s clawed her way from too far down to be able to afford squandering her advantage. Coughing and gasping, London wills herself out of her protective shell, shaky legs pushing her toward verticality…
… until her Ladyship’s knee SMASHES into the stooped Shea’s temple, an already risen Lethbridge rebounding off the ropes to connect with a brutal knee trembler.
KNEE TREMBLER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=BrCPnchcex8
London hits the deck like a sack of wet cement, lights all but turned out by the devastating knee. For a moment, Lydia considers simply rolling the Sensational One to her back and again placing a conquering boot against her chest…
But her Ladyship is feeling sadistic. Straddling her fellow Brit just above her hips, Lethbridge’s back to London’s head, the petite brunette gathers Shea’s left leg, tucking the older woman’s boot under her arm as if to apply a single leg crab. But then, Lydia spins back toward her opponent’s noggin, shifting London’s captured gam from under the brunette’s arm to between her thighs, before her Ladyship falls to her knees off the Sensational One’s left flank. The electric jolt from the torque on her trapped gam brings a little semblance of obvious consciousness back to London, but alas, not enough to allow her to prevent Lydia from snatching Shea’s wrists and pulling back, drawing the FAWN Original’s own arms across her throat!
Lydia’s Straightjacket STF is as punishing as it is innovative. With three of Shea’s four limbs ensnared, escape is all but impossible—not unless she can find a way to slip out of the toehold or the strength to yank an arm out of the straightjacket. And each second spent with her own arms strangling the fight out of her leaves London with less and less strength to accomplish that.
“Look,” Lydia whispers into the blonde’s ear, her voice honeyed venom, “over there. Do you see them?”
Shea elects to conserve her breath, rather than rise to the bait.
“Just over there,” Lethbridge repeats. “The ropes. Why don’t you just rea…?” Her Ladyship stops herself, lips curling into a wicked smirk as she gives herself a reproachful ‘tut.’ “Oh. Silly me. You want out? You’re going to have to say please.” Lydia’s tone then shifts into an exaggerated approximation of the Sensational One’s accent. “’Pleeeease, yer Ladyship! Please lemme lick tha sweat off yer arse! Please, I’m just a washed up chav, ready fer tha knacker’s yard!’”
London’s head twists side to side, her own constrained arms putting a damper on her act of defiance. “Shhhhyyyuuuuuuuuhhhh… shhhhuuuuuuttttt… shuttt yeeerrrr…” London mutters, though even as she fights to get the words out, the veteran blonde’s eyelids begin to flutter.
“Ms. London?” referee Reginald Worthington III asks, but before he can get any further in ascertaining the state of her consciousness, Lethbridge releases the straightjacket, allowing her foe’s upper body to pitch forward and hit the mat with a dull ‘THWAAAP!’
“No,” Lydia purrs, climbing to her feet. “No, you’re not going gently…”
Pulling an unresisting Shea into a standing headscissors, her Ladyship wraps her arms around the slightly bigger Brit’s midsection and, with a small grunt, swings the Sensational One up until London’s back lies across her right shoulder. As Shea’s feet instinctively seek out Lethbridge’s hips to ease some of the strain on her spine, Lydia’s hands again find the blonde’s wrists and pull London’s arms across her throat in a straightjacket. And then, almost under her breath--lest anyone accuse her Ladyship of a trace of humility--Lethbridge spits the following words…
“The queen is dead. Long live the queen.”
In the next instant, Lydia drops to her tush, Shea landing on her knees and sent flopping into a boneless starfish the moment the brunette releases her wrists.
ST. EDWARD’S CROWN:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=4jmtutGuRXY&t=600s
Lethbridge drapes herself across London’s chest, not even bothering to hook a leg as Worthington slaps off the…
ONE…
TWO…
THREE?
??The Sensational One’s shoulders never break contact with the canvas, the insensate blonde’s eyelids never so much as twitching open. And yet, rather than hear the bell, Lydia feels a finger tapping her shoulder. Looking up, her Ladyship’s follows Reginald’s finger, to spy Shea’s ankle lying draped over the bottom rope.
Lydia’s hands dive into her raven locks, her fingers coiling and pulling as she lets out a scream of almost primal frustration. Climbing to her feet, her Ladyship grabs some of Shea’s tresses now, roughly jerking the sweat-drenched blonde up onto unsteady legs before scooping London up against her chest. The Sensational One offers a soft moan as Lethbridge stomps forward.
“KNOW! YOUR! PLACE! BYTCH!” the brunette shouts, then drops to one knee, ramming Shea’s spine down across her outstretched thigh with a vengeful backbreaker.
BACKBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=XdfmACes4YE
A dismissive toss sends Shea crashing to the mat, the older blonde rolling to her hip and arching her back. Pushing her feet, a still seething Lydia stalks over to her opponent’s feet. “BEG ALL YOU WANT NOW,” her Ladyship bellows, “I’M NOT LETTING GO UNTIL I HEAR TENDONS SNAPPING!!!” Reaching down, Lethbridge begins to the Sensational One’s stems, her Lethbridge Lock moments away from claiming its most accomplished victim to date.
LETHBRIDGE LOCK:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=rA143vjjG3k
However, before the brunette can get Shea’s legs crossed, the Sensational One manages to first extricate one gam from Lydia’s clutches, and then send that boot crashing into her Ladyship’s knee! Lethbridge is sent plummeting to her knees, but worse still, the younger Englishwoman’s head and right arm remain exposed, above and beyond the Sensational One’s parted thighs. In an instant, those shapely thighs clamp shut, Shea reaching up to grab Lydia’s arm and complete a stunning triangle choke!
KNEE KICK & TRIANGLE CHOKE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=IxDelwLx2O0
And suddenly, a nearly despondent crowd of FAWNatics is brought to its feet, the Sensational One returning to life with amazing vigor as she cranks on that arm and pulses her thighs. Lethbridge attempts to power up from her knees, but when those efforts fail, she has to settle for crawling, as best she can, until her free hand can grasp hold of the bottom rope.
“I’m sorry, Ms. London,” Reginald sighs, a hint of sympathy in his voice that pales in comparison to the groan from the capacity crowd. “Break the hold, please.”
It takes until the count of “THREE!” for the Sensational One to comply, Lydia’s escape act causing the British blonde’s surge of adrenaline to ebb, however slightly. Lethbridge continues to clutch at the cables, even as London works her way up to her feet. Hairhauling the brunette the rest of the way up, Shea takes her wrist and attempts an Irish whip…
The crowd groans as her Ladyship summons a reversal, but before she can send Shea hurtling toward the ropes, the Sensational One manages a reversal of her own—only in her case, London pivots to face the same direction as her opponent, reaching over her shoulder and pulling Lydia’s jaw over the shoulder. The British Blonde then immediately kicks her legs up and out, falling to her back, taking the petite brunette down with her, London Calling sending the FAWNatics shooting out of their seats!
LONDON CALLING:
youtu.be/6NCPRcQVtKE?t=347
With no wasted motion, Shea rolls back toward her splattered adversary, shoveling her Ladyship over to her back before falling across Lethbridge’s gently rising chest. As London’s arms gather up and hook Lydia’s outside legs, Shea’s legs scissor and secure the inside, the audience counting along with Reginald as his hands strikes the mat for…
“ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!!!!!!”
As soon as the bell begins to sound, the Sensational One discards Lydia’s gams and rolls under the bottom rope and out of the ring. There Shea remains, somehow exhausted and ebullient at the same time as her forearms rest against the apron. Reginald slips through the ropes himself not long after calling for the bell, approaching Shea and letting the veteran blonde slump against him as he raises his arm in triumph.
Back in the ring, Lydia begins to stir just as the announcer’s voice starts to come over the sound system. “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner, via pinfall… SHHHEEEAAA LOOONNNDDDOOONNN!!!!!”
As the FAWNatics erupt in celebration, Reginald assists the Sensational One back up the ramp, Shea occasionally pausing to both catch her breath and slap an offered hand. (Also, for the record, more than one feminine hand emerges from the crowd to pat and squeeze Worthington’s bicep.) Meanwhile, inside the ring, Lydia rolls to her knees, blinking in disbelief.
How could this have happened?
When Shea and Reginald disappear behind the curtain, the crowd turns its attention to her Ladyship. Only now, they don’t boo her.
They do something worse. They laugh at her.
“SHUT UP!!!!!” her Ladyship demands, punctuating her order with a stomp of her foot. Such a command has probably never achieved its desired end in the history of professional wrestling, and it fails to do so with the Orlando faithful as well.
Incensed, Lethbridge exits the ring, and does everything in her power to avoid the scoffs and jeers as she stalks up the ramp. But when she reaches the stage, the brunette stops, turning to give the reveling, unwashed masses one last sneer.
“Laugh while you can,” her Ladyship mutters. “Eventually, the joke’s going to be on you.”