Post by hawkeye on Aug 15, 2019 1:41:29 GMT
Claiming the center of the ring as his own, if only for a moment, the Announcer raised his mic and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is a Last Woman Standing Match! If Miranda Wainright wins, the Black Court will be forced to join the Church of Eternal Midnight. On the other hand, if Emily West wins, the Church of Eternal Midnight must disband forever!” The prospect raised a concerned murmur from those assembled. On one hand, the thought of a FAWN free of Miranda’s malevolent presence was heartening indeed. However a Church that swallowed the might of the Court was something no one dared imagine too long. The ramifications were still being mulled when the Announcer went on.
“Introducing first, representing the Black Court, hailing from Dunwich Massachusetts, she stands at five feet four inches tall and weighs in tonight at one-hundred and twenty-two pounds. She is the One Hundredth Percentile, the Amazing Academic and the Black Queen, I give to you… EMILY WEST!”
HANDLEBARS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=3w0qD6Atvo4
Her name made the FAWN’tron go heavy with static fuzz and the lighs wink out. It didn’t last long however. Accompanied by the plinking introduction to ’Handlebars’, a bank of spotlights illuminated the squared circle, transforming it into an eight by eight grid of black and white squares, the only chessboard worthy of FAWN’s Great Game. When Jonny 5 reminded everyone he could ‘keep rhythm with no metronome, no metronome’ Emily West strode forth to survey her game board.
EMILY WEST:
For the last third of her triptych of terror with the Prophet of Pain, West wore a gleaming black corset with half a dozen tiny silver buttons that started below her sternum and ended just above her navel. Beneath, the corset flowed seamlessly into a matching black skirt edged in delicate white lace. Traveling yet farther south (across perhaps three inches of exquisitely toned thigh) Emily’s strong legs were armored in black nylon stockings topped by more lace (albeit in black) and shiny black wrestling boots that reached to just below the knee. This regal style was accessorized with flat black pads at elbow and knee and a completed by a wide choker done in black velvet. From this choker hung a small onyx pendant carved into the shape of her favorite chess piece.
Exuding an air of complete confidence in spite of the remarkably high stakes, Emily made her way down the aisle and went straight to the steel steps, which she ascended without fanfare. Standing on the edge of her board, the Black Queen took a moment to survey the crowd, on the off chance that any of the Churchgoers dared defy the front office’s edict banning them (and the Courtiers for that matter) from ringside. Satisfied they had not, the Amazing Academic slipped through the ropes and reached the center of the ring as the lights returned to normal. Turning in a slow circle to better take in the whole of her board, Emily came to a stop facing the hard camera, whereupon she raised a hand and tapped her temple once, twice, thrice.
I’m. So. Smart.
Cheers in response. While the Black Queen would never be regarded as a classic fan favorite in the mold of Shea London (or even Sue Burlingame) the crowd recognized her as the last line of defense between them and Miranda’s dark tomorrow. Acknowledging their support with the slightest of nods, Emily backed into the far corner and offered her elbows, knees and feet to Senior Official Nick Castle without once taking her attention from the stage and the perpetual gloom lurking just behind the curtain.
“And introducing her opponent, representing the Church of Eternal Midnight, hailing from Raven’s Fair, Virginia, she stands at five feet four inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and nineteen pounds, she is the Straight-Edge Siren, the Prophet of Pain, the Beacon of Dark in this sad, lonely light… MIRANDA WAINRIGHT!”
EAST JESUS NOWHERE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=s4ptSaCG9pg
Darkness descended upon the congregation even as they raised their voice in a belligerent chorus. From the gloom an angry, judgmental voice promised, ‘And we will see how godless a nation we have become.’ From that bitter fruit blossomed Green Day’s ‘East Jesus Nowhere’, a simple riff that was repeated four times. Following every cycle a spotlight lit up to reveal a scarecrow-ish effigy mounted to a tall wooden stave that had grown up seemingly in an instant. The effigies, done up in a style best described as ‘Early American Psychopath’, were heretofore a sampling of the Church’s most heathenish targets. Tonight however each and every member of the quartet was unmistakably Emily West. Then the drums began to pound and a fifth spotlight illuminated the Septa of Sorrow.
MIRANDA WAINRIGHT:
Tonight Miranda wore the pitch black version of her usual vinyl one-piece. Scooped low in the back and high over the hips, it was accompanied by clunky knee-high gray boots and black elbow-length mesh gloves. As for her hair, it was still a lustrous, gleaming gold, its radiance seemingly in defiance of all the vile filth surrounding her. Immune to the ranting and raving of that astounding number of heathens, Miranda started down the aisle and kept her eyes on the squared circle until she reached the foot of the steel steps. Taking them slowly, she reached the apron, dipped her head and carefully removed her hat, which she set atop the ring post.
Once in the ring, she turned to the stage and extended both arms out at shoulder level in a rough ‘T’. A heartbeat later she brought her palms together in emphatic prayer and that was enough to make the quartet of effigies burst into flame. Smiling into the dancing fire, Wainright held her position until they were reduced to cinder and ash. Then she backed into the opposite corner where Castle checked her pads and boots. Wasn’t until he’d finished that the blonde even bothered to train her eyes on Emily. Just before the bell sounded she murmured, “The end times have come, sister.”
It all came down to this.
No monologues, diatribes or soliloquies tonight, the fate of two of the most powerful factions in recent memory came down to a single fall that would arrive sometime in the next half hour. FAWN’s very own Doomsday Clock had remained frozen at midnight for more than two years. Tonight it might finally move to twelve oh one… or Miranda Wainright’s Witching Hour would remain in perpetuity if the Messiah of Misery toppled the woman standing in the opposite corner.
All these thoughts and many, many more passed through Emily’s head in the moments after Castle’s final inspection, but they vanished when the bell sounded, leaving the Amazing Academic clear of mind and purpose as she strode toward the center of the ring. Wainright matched her step for step, the blonde clearly eager to sacrifice this fatted, golden calf upon the altar of Red, White & Bruised. Noting an increase in Miranda’s pace as the zealot closed in, West began to speed up only to slow by a half step when she saw Wainright pop the thumb on her left hand. Forewarned and thus forearmed, the Insidious Intellectual lunged for a Collar & Elbow she pulled back at just the right time to catch Miranda’s wrist when Wainright sought her eye. Squeezing until she felt bones grind, West murmured, “You’ll have to do better than that, MirandNNNNNGGGGHHHH!”
The Prophet of Pain stepped in and SLAMMED a knee into Emily’s crotch, the force of it strong enough to put the former World Champion up on tiptoe. Uncharacteristically quiet considering the pulpit before her, Miranda twisted her left hand free of West’s clutches, shoved her back on her heels and lashed out with viper-speed to THWHACK the heel of her palm into the brunette’s blasphemous face!
LEFT HAND OF RIGHTEOUSNESS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=icCnruwjVjg
Emily’s head snapped back and her knees went watery. She would’ve hit the deck in a matter of heartbeats if Wainright hadn’t caught a double handful of hair and reeled her into a Standing Headscissors. Alarm from those assembled as Miranda leaned forward, cinched her arms around Emily’s waist and muscled her up onto the point of her right shoulder. It could’ve been a Canadian Backbreaker but of course it wasn’t, Wainright had already halved her grip to cup a hand over Emily’s chin. The second was about to mirror the first when West grabbed hold of the True Believer’s fingers and wrenched them backward as hard as she could! Miranda screeched and released her hold, allowing West to return to the canvas directly behind her rival. Not so quick to give up her own grasp, Em used the fingerlock to spin Wainright around and THWHUMP that vaunted noggin into Miranda’s undefended chest!
QUEENLY HEADBUTT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=MW0VS0SgK2c
The Septa of Sorrow reeled, almost took a knee and found herself drawn into a Front Facelock instead. Tossing the blonde’s near arm over her shoulders, West caught a handful of waistband, dipped her knees and muscled the woozy wrestler directly overhead. The FAWNatics started to toll off a count, but they’d only reached ‘ONE!’ when Em kicked her legs forward and laid out on her back to SPIKE the crown of Wainright’s skull into the canvas courtesy of a Brainbuster!
BRAINBUSTER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=reHRGmTVGok
The Black Queen spun to one knee, pushed up and gestured to the flattened zealot. “Count her down!” she barked at Nick Castle.
Already in position, the Senior Official stepped up and did as bade. “ONE… TWO…. THREE… FOUR…”
Miranda rolled onto her stomach, braced both hands against the mat and pushed to one knee. It wasn’t actually enough to stop Castle’s count, yet it was sign enough for West, who stormed in and collected Wainright’s noggin in another Front Facelock. Second verse, same as the first, only now the brunette did hold the stall, the crowd getting all the way to ‘FIVE!’ before dropped down. Miranda bounced to a seat, turned and slopped out flat on her belly looking like she’d have trouble beating a fifty count, let alone ten.
CEREBRAL HEMORRHAGE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=y4TqRceRjhQ
Of course looks were often deceiving, which was why Nick Castle held his position for a second. “ONE… TWO… THREE… FOUR… FIVE… SIX… SEVEN…”
Wainright didn’t get up but she started to roll, the Septa of Sorrow tumbling beneath the bottom rope to reach the floor, and thus her feet, by the time the ref reached ‘NINE!’
“Clever.” Em said to no one in particular. “But clever’s not nearly enough to stop the dawn, dear.”
As eager to behold the sunrise as any other heathen, Emily hurried to the edge of the ring, slipped through the ropes and took two big steps down the apron before leaping off to THWHUMP a heavy Double Axehandle against the nape of Miranda’s neck! Wainright grunted, stumbled forward and crooked an arm around the ring-post to keep from going down. This didn’t bother Emily in the slightest, she merely collected her opponent’s wrist, stepped by her and dropped a hip to send Miranda hurtling down the narrow aisle toward the steel NO!
Wainright caught the Courtier’s wrist, planted her heels and reversed the momentum of the Whip to send West at the steps in her stead. Keeping her wits despite the abrupt shift, Em slowed as best she could and threw both hands out in front, bracing them against the top of the steps to blunt the worst of the collision. There was still a rather unpleasant ‘BWUNG’ as her thighs and knees collided with the steel, but it wasn’t enough to throw her off balance and she spun around to THUM-BWOOOM!
Already closing at a high rate of speed, Miranda leapt, raised her knees to chest-level and dove full force into Emily’s sternum, which in turn drove the Black Queen down spine-first atop the unforgiving steel! Miranda somersaulted free of the landing, came down on one knee and clambered to boot leather roaring, “COUNT HER DOWN, CASTLE! COUNT HER HEATHEN ASS DOWN!”
Already on the floor beside his charges, the Senior Official started at once. “ONE… TWO… THREE… FOUR… FIVE…”
Emily rolled over and would’ve tumbled to the floor if she hadn’t managed to get a hand on the bottom st--“OOOOOOOOW BYTCH!” West shrieked and recoiled, the brunette trying to pull her hand from beneath Miranda’s stamping boot.
“Shut your mewling mouth.” Wainright grabbed a double handful of dark locks and BWONKED Emily’s forehead off the second step. The sudden introduction of bone to steel silenced Em to Miranda’s satisfaction at least temporarily, which wasn’t to say the Churchgoer was even close to done. Boosting her way to a perch on the top step, Wainright pulled West to all fours and drew her into a Standing Headscissors. “I WILL have the loyalty of the Black Court, sister.” Miranda huffed after she’d secured a snug grip around her opponent’s waist. “If I have to destroy you to secure it… so it is written, so it shall come to pass.”
On that ominous prophecy she gathered her strength and lifted West upside down, the hapless brunette’s legs folding backward over the zealot’s shoulders. Miranda heard and enjoyed the murmur of alarm that rippled through the crowd, but she did not savor it. Indeed, she’d had Emily inverted for all of two seconds when she hopped up and dropped to her butt to BWAAAANG West’s skull into the steel!
Em’s head popped loose of the blonde’s thighs and for a moment she laid sprawled in Wainright’s lap. Then Miranda shifted ever so slightly and the Sensual Scholar slopped to the floor, West landing in an insensate sprawl at the foot of those callous steps.
Up at the top, Miranda got to her feet and stepped onto the apron. Leaning back against the rubber-coated steel, she nodded to Nick and said, “Count.”
Castle did. “ONE… TWO… THREE… FOUR… FIVE… SIX… SEVEN… EIGHT…”
Emily rolled over, reached out blindly and managed to grab hold of the barricade. Pulling herself to it, she latched on with her other hand and managed to haul herself to verticality as the official reached ’NINE!’
Miranda seemed unfazed by the brunette’s resilience, indeed she was smiling when she demanded, “Turn and face me, sister!”
Emily did, the former World Champion turning and stepping in the same movement, West clearly ready to bring the big fight to her Righteous opposit--“UUUUUUUUUNNNNNGGGHH!” Wainright dove from the apron with knees drawn high against her chest, hooked her hands aground the back of Emily’s skull and dropped to her back to THWHUMP the brunette’s prodigious chest with a huge Diving Inverted Lungblower!
Landing flat against the thinly-padded floor actually knocked the wind from Wainright’s lungs but it was infinitely worse for Emily, who popped back on her heels, hit the barricade at a bad angle and tumbled over into the front row! Calloused to the ‘HOLY SHYT!’ chants raining down, Castle hurried from the squared circle to take up a position between both of his charges. Miranda had managed to roll to her belly while Emily was slopped over on one side, the Black Queen mere inches from the feet of half a dozen startled FAWNatics. The Senior Official gave them a three second grace period that passed by with no real progress from either wrestler. Diligence done, he began to count.
“ONE… TWO… THREE… FOUR… FIVE…” Miranda groaned, pushed to one knee and hauled herself to verticality using the ref’s belt for assistance. Nick didn’t miss a beat, the count continuing unabated. “SIX… SEVEN…”
Emily grabbed the barricade, hauled herself up and collapsed into one of the vacated seats before returning to boot leath--THWHACK!
Miranda tagged her with a Super Kick from the other side of the guardrail to drop the Amazing Academic back to a glassy-eyed seat! Straddling the barricade in the wake of her pinpoint strike, Miranda looked from Castle to West and back again. “Such lazy slumping won’t trigger your count, correct, arbiter?”
Nick nodded. “Correct. She needs to be flat on the ground.”
“On this topic you and I could not agree more.” the Prophet of Pain noted as she climbed over the barricade to bury a hand in Em’s dark hair. “No more gilded thrones for you, false queen. But I will happily build the funeral pyre they‘ll burn you on.” Wainright doubled the hair-hold and jerked West forward to BWANG her forehead into the top of the barricade. The collisions were nasty and left Em on her knees without starting Castle’s count, just as Wainright intended. Shooing the nearest heathens away with little more than a glare, Miranda collected a pair of chairs and arranged them seat to seat, then did the same with another set to create a little two by two square of shiny steel malevolence. Pulpit set, the Septa of Sorrow stalked back to West, collected a handful of hair and scraped her up to secure a Front Facelock.
Give the Amazing Academic credit, she pounded half a dozen punches into Miranda’s trim abs, unfortunately Wainright answered with a Kneelift *just* below the navel that reduced the brunette to sludgy pliability for the short trudge back to the chairs. Draping the heathen’s near arm across her shoulders once they’d reached their destination, Miranda caught a handful of waistband and yanked ’em in a scorching half-wedgie that barely registered with the crowd before the blonde popped her hips to take West up, over and down onto the chairs with a hellacious CLATTERBWANG!
RIGHTEOUS SNAP SUPLEX:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=DATDJlFdPWo
Em’s landing knocked all the chairs over save one, so Miranda sat down, crossed her legs in rather demure fashion and said, “Count her down, please.”
Castle hadn’t jumped the barricade himself but his position was strong enough to confirm that Emily was indeed down and out, the wounded brunette stretched out full length on her right side. “ONE… TWO… THREE… FOUR… FIVE… SIX…” The Insidious Intellectual rolled over to the guardrail, grabbed as strong a grip as she could and hauled herself upright by the time Nick tolled ‘EIGHT!’
“What’s the point of this, sister?” the Deacon of Despair grunted as she rose from the chair. “Have I not already proved that you’re nothing more than a hapless pawn when isolated from the protection of the Court?”
West rounded on her, the Courtier’s back leaving heavily against the cool steel. “And what are you, Miranda?” she rasped. “Don’t answer, I’ll tell you. You’re nothing more than a delusional street corner prophet with a much bigger platform than moNNNNNGGGGHHH!”
Wainright rushed in and put the serpent-tongued heathen back on the other side of the barricade courtesy of a Clothesline that thumped West’s clavicle. Miranda was certain no mere Clothesline would keep this miserable sinner down, but that didn’t stop her from sneering, “COUNT!” to Castle as she backed up to prepare her next move.
Happy to see his charges getting closer to the ring, Nick rattled off, “ONE… TWO… THREE… FOUR…”
Emily pushed offa one knee, regained her feet and swayed in place, the brunette clearly working to catch her balance after-- Wainright charged and dove headfirst over the barricade, the True Believer reaching out with one arm like she meant to catch West’s noggin in a Front FaceloNO! The Amazing Academic twisted to one side and dipped her knees to catch Miranda out of the air in a snug Fireman’s Carry. Hooking an arm over the back of the blonde’s neck to keep her in place, Emily straightened up, ran straight at the nearest corner and BWUUUNGED the back of her neck into the ring-post! Wainright jolted violently but didn’t escape the Carry, at least not until Emily backed up and twisted in a half circle, whereupon she laid out on her side to THWHUMP the back of her foe’s head and shoulders into the thin blue mats with a textbook Death Valley Bomb.
DEATH VALLEY BOMB:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=DD0EepYkIwY
West rolled to one knee after the landing whereas Miranda tried to sit up only to collapse immediately thereafter. Breathing hard after the prolonged assault on the other side of the guardrail, Emily caught hold of the apron and used it to drag herself to verticality. “See if she’s got the will to stand, if you would, Nicholas.” the former World Champion huffed.
Castle didn’t need to be told twice. “ONE… TWO… THREE… FOUR… FIVE… SIX…”
Miranda groaned, sat up and turned over onto all fours. Technically it wasn’t enough for the Wainright to stop Nick’s count, but Emily knew she would, so rather than wait she helped herself to the zealot’s hair and hauled her up just high enough to double her over with a Kneelift. Clearing off by a few steps, Emily hooked both thumbs under the top of her left kneepad and pulled down to bare the bony joint. With that done she bore down on the vulnerable zealot, West building up a tremendous amount of momentum in the heartbeats before she THWONKED that knee into Wainright’s temple!
KNEE TREMBLER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=BrCPnchcex8
Miranda spun to the floor in the sort of stupor that would’ve produced an immediate count from Nick Castle if Emily hadn’t waved him off. Collecting the True Believer by trunks and tresses, West peeled her off the floor, wheeled around in a half circle and tossed her under the bottom rope. Em followed shortly thereafter, the Insidious Intellectual collecting Miranda’s wrists to draaaaaaaaaaaaag her over to the nearest corner. “Don’t seem too hapless at the moment, do I Miranda?” West asked once she’d dropped the blonde’s wrists and collected her boots instead. No answer from the Churchgoer, so Em crossed her ankles in a squashed ‘X’ and pressed it down so Miranda’s heels were snug against her own glutes. Wedging a foot into the crotch of that ‘X’, West leaned forward, seized the other wrestler’s wrists and pulled up to lift her head and chest off the mat. An unenviable position under the best of circumstances to be sure and one made nigh untenable by the presence of the bottom turnbuckle less than six inches from the blonde’s face.
With Wainright bound up tight, Em ground her heel into the nape of the zealot’s neck and slowly but surely increased the strain on her opponent’s elbows and shoulders. Most heathens in this position would’ve been spitting curses at their tormentor of shrieking curses at their tormentor, but Miranda Wainright was no heathen and she endured the punishing hold with nothing more than the occasional grimace. Surprised and mildly annoyed by the other woman’s reticence, Emily slid her plant foot north to grind the back of Wainright’s noggin with far more force. In the same breath she pushed the blonde’s features that much closer to the bottom buckle. Still nothing from the Septa of Sorrow. Eventually Emily asked, “Nothing to say, Miranda? I refuse to believe a faith as strong as yours has vanished amidst such a trial.”
“The scope of my faith is far beyond anything an intellect like yours could ever conceive.” Wainright replied at once. “But sister, you’ve not listened to a single word I’ve said in the last five years. So why should I waste a precious resource on willfully deaf--”
Emily stamped down between her shoulders and released both wrists to drive Miranda’s mug into the roughly-padded steel with an eye-watering BWUUUNG!
BRAIN DRAIN @ 4:07
www.youtube.com/watch?v=TAZ2l4451dQ
Stretched out in a facedown sprawl after the Brain Drain, Wainright managed to curl an arm around the bottom strand, though she made no effort to drag herself from the squared circle. And since touching the ropes meant nothing if she wasn’t trying to stand, it didn’t stop Nick from beginning his count. “ONE… TWO… THREE… FOUR--” Emily stepped onto the prostrate Churchgoer for what might’ve been another Surfboard if she’d reached down to secure Wainright’s wrists. Instead she hunched over the top turnbuckle, the former World Champion’s fingers deftly working on the knots that--there! An ominous cheer from the Red, White & Bruised throng when West peeled the pad away and dropped it to the outside. “Can’t count her down if you’re standing on her, Em.” Nick said once the initial noise died down. “You know that.”
“I do know that.” she agreed. “Just as you no doubt know that I have a very good reason for relieving this corner of a solitary pad.”
Castle didn’t bother to answer, he just removed himself to a safe distance while Emily hauled the stunned battler to verticality. Pressed in close on Wainright’s left side, the Amazing Academic slipped her head under Miranda’s arm and grabbed her left ankle in the same instant. After that she wedged Wainright’s heel up against her glutes and looped one arm around her waist, all the better to muscle her up and then-- Miranda shrieked in surprised agony, the sound of it more than loud enough to swallow the a low, decidedly ominous TWUNG when West dropped Wainright knee-first atop the exposed steel rung!
Toppled to the deck with Emily still in possession of her left foot, Miranda reached for the ropes but her fingers only brushed them before West draaaaaaaaaagged her out into the middle of the squared circle. Once the ropes were out of play Emily did a little do-si-do around Wainright’s wounded leg so that her boot was pressed against the back of West’s right thigh. Immediately thereafter she stretched out Miranda’s other leg and laid the blonde’s left foot across her shin. Then she dropped to a seat, threaded her left leg over Wainright’s exposed ankle and pushed up on both hands to complete a textbook perfect Figure Four Leglock.
“AAARRRRRRHHHHHH, YOU VILE HEATHEN BYTCH!” Miranda bellowed as the hold put incredible pressure on her straining right knee.
Emily said nothing, though she jostled forcefully enough to make the Truest of the True Believers slam a white-knuckled fist against the canvas. The ‘TAP!’ chants started about this time, but neither Castle, Wainright or West paid them the slightest bit of attention. The Deacon of Despair could submit a hundred times over and the match wouldn’t end if she could regain her feet before the official reached ‘TEN!’ Both women knew this, which explained the look of seething hatred that passed from Miranda to Emily and back again.
“I should have known you’d pull something like this.” Wainright huffed once she’d managed to stifle the worst of the hurt. “You know you’re not strong enough to break my will so you target my bones instead.” Hands planted flat, she leaned forward to look the Insidious Intellectual dead in the eye. “A clever ploy, but it’s doomed to failure. Do you know why, sister?”
“I’m sure you’ll delight in telling me.” Em muttered as she sent another constriction through those knotted limbs.
Miranda snarled, her eyes shiny with pain, defiance or both. “Because the only thing weaker than your convictions is this pathetic excuse for a Leg-LockEEERRRRRRGGGGGHHHH!”
Emily leaned back and pushed up as far as she could, the Black Queen clearly happy to break the blonde’s spirit or her knee, whichever came first. “Tap out, Miranda.” West demanded. “It won’t end the match, but I’ll let you out on general principle. You might consider looking into the conc--”
The Prophet of Pain leaned forward, brought her left fist up, over and down in a whistling arc that would’ve ended at Em’s crotch if the brunette hadn’t intercepted her wrist at the last second. “You vicious bytch.” West murmured. “There’s nothing you won’t stoop to, is theMMRRRRRRRPPPPHHHH!”
Miranda’s free hand darted out sure as a snake-handler, not for Emily’s eyes but the heathen’s miserable forked tongue! Catching it between thumb and forefinger, she pulled and began to twiiiiisssssst! “You? You of ALL people would dare sit in judgment of all I have done? All I have accomplished? The depth of your hypocrisy is astounding, sister. It truly--” CRAAACK!
Emily didn’t try to free her tongue from the zealot’s pincer, she simply hauled off and slapped her across the face as hard as she could. Fuming at the disrespect, Wainright wrested her other hand loose of Emily’s clutches and returned the slap with enough interest to raise an instant welt. Doing so freed the serpent’s tongue from her trap, but Wainright didn’t lament the loss. Instead she braced both hands against the canvas and torqued her hips to tumble both wrestlers onto their stomachs and thus reverse the pressure of the Figure Four! “THAT’S IT, HEATHEN! SCREAM! SCREAM AT THE IMPLACABLE POWER OF ETERNAL MIDNIGHT!”
Miranda did a fair bit of screaming herself as she put every bit of her considerable leg strength into making Emily West suffer for her sins. And Emily did suffer, the brunette posted low on her forearms, head swinging back and forth to deny a submission that wouldn’t do a damned thing save scald her pride. What she did not do however was scream, a fact that did not go unnoticed by the Messiah of Misery. Shifting her weight to one elbow, Miranda reached back with her free hand, found Emily’s hair and pulled until the heathen was staring up into the overhead lights. “I said scream, you little heathen bytch. Don’t make me tell you agaWHAAHHHRRRRGGGGHH!”
While quite painful, the hair-pulling made it that much easier for Emily to roll onto her butt, thus resetting the pressure of the Figure Four back to its original arrangement. Alas there was no time to celebrate as Miranda rolled right on through to take both wrestlers under, then beyond the bottom rope! The fall was short but extremely awkward, their knotted legs ensuring neither blonde or brunette could brace for impact.
Landing hard on her right hip and shoulder, Em vaguely registered the demise of the Figure Four as she began clawing across the mats in search of something to help her get back on her feet. Crowded against the ropes directly above his charges, Nick Castle surveyed the situation and decided not to start the count because A) no one had asked him to do so and B) blonde and brunette had already made it to one knee, albeit at different spots in the narrow ringside aisle.
One shoulder leaned against the guardrail for support, Em looked over the other and saw Miranda clutching at the apron but otherwise making no attempt to rise. Certain that she’d inflicted serious damage on the True Believer’s knee, West clambered to boot-leather and trudged over to her foe, Emily plunging both hands into Wainright’s hair without so much as a wor--“OOOOOFFFFHHHH!”
The Septa of Sorrow’s other arm jerked backward, not for an elbow but to drive the butt end of her newly acquired Kendo Stick deep into the heathen’s belly! West hunched forward, her grip on Miranda’s locks going from aggression to support in a single stroke. Wainright didn’t approve one way or the other, that’s why she doubled down on the Kendo Stick and THUMPED another shot into West’s midsection. “It’s no flaming sword as far as weapons are concerned.” Miranda noted as she got to her feet while Emily stumbled backward. “Yet there’s a certain crude elegance to it that--” Wainright spun it one handed, then brought the stick down in a whistling overhead arc that ended with a vicious CRAAACK between Emily’s eyes! The Amazing Academic toppled to the floor like a puppet with cut strings, West making no effort whatsoever to pad her fall. Delighted by this truly righteous havoc, Wainright turned to Nick and pointed the stick in his direction. “Do your duty, arbiter.”
“ONE… TWO… THREE…” Miranda strolled over to the Timekeeper’s table, shoved the poor dope out of his chair and claimed it as her own. “FOUR… FIVE… SIX…” Seated behind the insensate heathen, Wainright laid the Kendo Stick across her thighs and beckoned Emily to rise. “SEVEN… EIGHT…”
The Black Queen sat up, then clambered to full verticality without once checking her six. It was instinct rather than slight, yet Wainright’s upper lip curled like the brunette had just spit in her eye. Rising from the chair with a low growl, she stormed forward and absolutely lit into the former World Champion’s shoulders, biceps and upper back with no less than half a dozen more shots from her faithful Kendo Stick!
Teeth clenched against a scream boiling in her throat, Em covered up as best she could, but a particularly nasty stroke across the back of her thighs sent the Insidious Intellectual to her hands and knees. That should’ve raised a count but instead of backing off to see if Emily could rise, Miranda knelt behind her and slipped the Kendo Stick beneath the brunette’s left armpit in an awkward sort of Half Nelson. Awkward or not, it proved a sturdy enough grip to let Wainright haul her prey upri-“NGH!”
Emily stabbed the point of her right elbow into Miranda’s belly three times, then grabbed the Kendo Stick in her left hand to “OOOOOOHHHH!” The Deacon of Despair quashed the heathen uprising with an ugly Kneelift between West’s thighs! “I appreciate your spirited resistance sister, I truly do.” Miranda sighed in Em’s ear as she reached across with her right hand to grip the stick. “But heathens cry and resistance must fall… when Midnight comes for one and all.”
Benediction complete, she pulled the Kendo Stick hard right which in turn drew it tight across the Courtier’s throat! It wasn’t exactly a traditional Cobra Clutch but it was a more than adequate substitute considering the flush that began creeping into Emily’s pained features. Not that West simply endured this punishment, she thrashed and twisted from side to side and reached back with both hands to catch desperate double fistfuls of the blonde’s long hair. “Luuuuuhhhhh…. LET GO!” Emily grunted even as she tried to liberate Miranda’s locks from her scalp. “I mean it MirandEEERRRRRHHHHH!”
Miranda worked her left hand into the brunette’s tangled tresses for a retaliatory tugging. “Save your breath, sister.” she hissed. “You’ll need it to plead with the darkness when it rushes up to meet OOOWWWW BYTCH! STOP THAT!”
With no escape hatch lurking in Wainright’s hair, Emily raised her right foot and brought it down hard, the former World Champ’s heel mashing Miranda’s toes! The Deacon of Despair endured the counter thanks to another breath-stealing tug on the Kendo Stick. Eventually Emily lifted her foot for another stomp, however Wainright twisted her own foot to one side and made her heathen pay with a Kneelift to the glutes.
“It’s said that patience is a virtue, sister.” Miranda hissed to her red-faced adversary. “But even mine has its limits… and I’m just tired of your f*cking mouth.” No response from West because the blonde immediately hopped up and ‘smecked’ her legs around Emily’s waist in a snug Bodyscissors! Emily stumbled forward beneath the added weight then collapsed to one knee, the Amazing Academic saved from a faceplant by the fortuitous bracing of her right hand. “You’re finished, sister.” Wainright proclaimed as the nastily augmented Cobra Clutch bit deeper and deeper. “Your precious Court is finished. And most of all your beloved ‘Game’ is FINISHWHOOAAAH!”
Emily pushed up as fast as she could and almost lost her balance as a result. Arms windmilling wildly, the breathless brunette steadied out after a few endless seconds, then stomped her way over to the apron and grabbed hold of the middle rope. “Fatigue must be burning out that legendary brain of yours, sister.” Miranda chortled. “The ropes can’t save you from HEYNNNGGGHHH!”
Turned out the ropes were just a guide, an anchor to keep West vertical as she backpedaled down the edge of the squared circle to BWUUUNG Wainright’s back into the nearest ring post! The Septa of Sorrow cried out in surprise and pain but somehow managed to sink her hooks that much deeper. “I… said… you’re finished.” Miranda rasped. “Please be so kind as to curl up and die like a good heathNGH! NGH! NGH! NNNNGGGGHHH!”
Em lurched forward and raced back, lurched forward and raced back, lurched forward and raced back, just smashing her righteous rider against the steel until Wainright’s hold gave way and both wrestlers collapsed to their hands and knees in an exhausted, huffing sprawl. All too aware of West’s loathsome presence off her left shoulder, Miranda dug deep and reared back on her knees. Eyes lighting at the sight of Em’s penitent noggin, the Prophet of Pain reached out and-- Emily straightened up, swatted the blonde’s hand aside and slapped her across the mouth for good measure!
Flashing a weary smirk in the face of Wainright’s hiss of rage, West huffed, “Hands to yourself, sisNGH!”
Miranda fetched her a return slap that snapped the Black Queen’s head back in a fine mist of sweat. “Force of habit, sister.” Miranda cooed. “My hands can’t help but slap the sin out of your filthy--”
Emily fired her return shot and just like that they were swinging for the fences. West and Wainright made no effort to avoid her opponent’s attacks, they merely steeled their nerves with the prospect of splitting a lip, breaking a nose or swelling an eye with their answering round. The exchange remained strictly one for one for the first fifteen seconds or so but Miranda’s hands dropped shortly thereafter and Em was holding her up with one shoulder strap, the former World Champion just lighting into Wainright’s flushed features with a high speed barrage that’d impress even the likes of Macy Renquist. Slowing only when her slappin’ palm started to tingle, West took a deep breath and-- Miranda’s hands flew up, only now they palmed West’s skull, all the better to hold her steady while she pressed her thumbs into the brunette’s “NNNGGGHHH!”
West snapped forward, the brunette THWHUNKING the curve of her forehead into the bridge of Miranda’s nose! “If I… If I can impart only… one lesson…before this is all over…” the Amazing Academic gasped as she filled her hands with Wainright’s hair and started to regain her feet.. “I will consider this whole campaign a success if you NEVER stick a finger in someone’s--” ‘PWFWOOOOOOOOOSH!’
Shock for those assembled and anguish for Emily when Miranda rose up at full speed to blast a cloud of Red Mist into her archrival’s face!
Genuinely surprised and utterly dismayed by Wainright’s appropriation of her first acolyte’s sanguine signature, Emily forgot all about the hair-hold to scrub and wipe at her face, which in turn meant she was effectively defenseless when the Messiah of Misery stepped in and spiked a Kneelift between her thighs.
“Don’t you goddamned dare.” Miranda hissed, the blonde catching Em at trunks and tresses when her knees buckled. “We’re going to finish this in the center of your precious game board.” On the heels of that dire prophecy she spun through a rough half circle and tossed West under the bottom rope. Sliding in immediately thereafter, Wainright clambered to her feet but instead of going after Emily she pointed a stern index finger at Nick Castle. “Not so much as a one, arbiter. Not until I tell you otherwise. Understood?”
The Senior Official nodded but otherwise did as bade, a small show of comprehension that Miranda appreciated more than she’d ever let on. Fingers twined in West’s hair within heartbeats of threatening the ref, Miranda dragged Emily to all fours, stuffed the brunette’s head between her thighs and leaned forward over her back to cinch both arms around her waist. The FAWNatics buzzed about the prospect of a much delayed Thou Shalt Not, but when Wainright ultimately hoisted her burden off the mat she secured the traditional Piledriver stall. Not that this was any great improvement mind you, as illustrated when Miranda hopped up, kicked her legs forward and dropped to her butt to THWONK the crown of Emily’s skull into the thinly-sheathed plywood!
Emily would’ve bounced clear if her tormentor released the Waistlock, alas Miranda held on tight, meaning blonde and brunette stayed glued together while the former rolled to her knees and powered back to verticality. Lips curled in a downright beatific smile, Wainright lifted Emily again and *this* time she took her all the way up, the Septa of Sorrow setting West spine-first across the ball of her right shoulder. Adjusting her hips to ensure Em’s feet were braced against her upper thighs, Miranda dipped into a slight crouch and quickly but carefully moved her grip from the brunette’s tummy to across her chin. Then she stood up straight, kicked her feet forward and sat out for the second time in as many minutes, only now West’s aching skull TWHONKED against the top of her own head! Wainright released on impact and spun to one knee whereas Emily toppled forward onto her face, chest and belly, the Black Queen looking anything but regal at the moment.
THOU SHALT NOT!
www.youtube.com/watch?v=E-G3eRD5bg4
Nodding her appreciation for the hate radiating off the heathens, Miranda got to her feet and glanced at Nick. “Now, arbiter.” More than a little relieved to have something to you know, officiate, Castle stepped up and did as bade. “ONE… TWO… THREE… FOUR… FIVE…” Emily didn’t rise, she did however start to roll, albeit very slowly, toward the nearest set of strands. “…SIX… SEVEN…” West made the ropes, grabbed hold of the middle and hauled herself to one knee. “EIGHT… NINE…”
The Amazing Academic stood up in a flurry of motion, beating the count with no less than half a second to THWHACK! Miranda roared into the breach and smashed the Left Hand of Righteousness into the base of her opponent’s skull! West’s legs gave way, the vulnerable Courtier saved from a boneless tumble to the canvas by nothing more than the ropes and Miranda’s savage grip on her hair. Pressed in snug against the heathen’s back, Wainright looked this way and that, searching for the inspiration that’d finally allow her to finish the false queen once and for--
A glint of metal caught her eye, the turnbuckle Emily had exposed earlier in a misguided attempt to ruin her knee. The memory of it made Miranda flex the joint in question. It raised a painful (actually it was quite hellacious) ache, yet this proved all the motivation she needed to march / drag West to the corner in question and bwung-bwung-bwung-bwung-BWUNG her foe’s forehead against the steel rung no less than half a dozen times! She might’ve continued if a startled gasp from the sold-out crowd hadn’t given her pause. Tugging Em’s head back, she spotted a small but steady rill of blood running down the brunette’s face from a cut just below the hairline on the right side of her face.
Eyes lighting, Miranda dabbed her fingers in the flow and made an odd, slightly ‘V’ shaped sigil on her own forehead. “And now, anointed in the blood of a false prophet, I can truly usher in the era of Eternal Midnight.”
Emily only uttered a soft groan, so Wainright prized her back from the corner, dipped her head under one arm and hooked an arm around her waist, all the better to muscle the Amazing Academic into a slumped seat on the exposed steel. With her sacrificial altar properly prepared, Miranda slipped through the ropes to the apron and climbed the corner from the opposite side, her progress perhaps a little slower than normal because of that hinky knee. Even so, the Messiah of Misery reached her goal with only jeers from the heathens and no trouble at all from the bloodied lamb. The noise from the FAWNatics increased exponentially when Miranda grabbed Em’s noggin and wedged it between her thighs. An understandable reaction, considering that Wainright snaked her arms around West’s waist and muscled her ontoNO? NO!
Emily hooked an arm around the top rope to keep herself anchored in place, much to Miranda’s disgust. Abandoning the Waistlock for a moment, she crooked her left arm into a tire iron and brought it down on Emily’s back over and over again, the Deacon of Despair just hammering away until her shoulder started to ache. “Forgive me, sister.” Miranda sighed once she’d caught her breath. “I’ve forgotten one small but extremely important detail of this ceremony.” Sliding back a bit, she freed Em from the Scissors, grabbed a double handful of hair and pulled her up for a final look into the Black Queen’s bloodied face.
“Any last wordAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!” West’s right hand came up and across, viciously crooked fingers just raking the zealot’s eyes not once, but more than half a dozen times!
Miranda instinctively reared back to escape the mauling however the cramped confines of her perch meant she didn’t get far before Emily grabbed a double handful of hair and yanked her into a THWHONKING Headbutt to the bridge of the nose. Wainright felt warmth on her upper lip, vaguely recognized it as blood in the moment before Emily collected her head in a Front Facelock. Bearing down on the simple grip with everything she had left, West straightened up as best she could and carefully brought her legs back into the ring so that she was standing on the second rope rather than seated on that exposed steel.
“Last words are for the condemned, Miranda.” the brunette grunted in the midst of securing a handful of waistband. “But in the spirit of our great game, I offer you this: check, bytch.” Emily lifted the stunned blonde directly overhead, then twisted around and dropped off the ropes to return to the mat while Wainright BWAAANGED down head-first atop the exposed steel!
TURNBUCKLE CEREBRAL HEMORRHAGE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=M_ldEOrxlAE
Righteously devastated by the Turnbuckle Cerebral Hemorrhage, Miranda hit the deck in a heap and didn’t move until West shoved her onto her back and stretched out across her chest for--
Emily paused, reared back on her haunches and sighed deeply. One hand braced against the mat, she looked to Nick and nodded. “Count.”
“ONE… TWO… THREE… FOUR…” Emily tottered to her feet. Miranda did not. “FIVE… SIX… SEVEN…” Wainright rolled onto her stomach, set both hands flat and clambered to one knee. “EIGHT… NINE… T--”
Miranda LAUNCHED herself at West, the crippled Churchgoer stabbing from Hell’s Heart with a Spear aimed at Emily’s THWHACK! The Black Queen stepped back and brought her left foot ‘whicking’ up for a punt that took Miranda flush between the eyes! Planted on legs that looked like they’d give way at any moment, the blonde windmilled her arms in an effort to regain her equilib-- “OOOOOFFFFFFHH!”
Emily pounced on her with what was essentially a Thesz Press, but rather than unload punches on her nemesis’ face, Emily grabbed a double handful of hair, ripped Miranda to a seat and stuffed the blonde’s face into her waiting décolletage! Wainright reached for West’s hair at once, a response the brunette ignored so she could cinch her arms around the back of Miranda’s head. Cupping her own elbows for extra leverage, Emily threaded her legs around Wainright’s midsection, then rolled onto her back to draw the struggling wrestler down on top of her.
Scissored Front Sleeper, Emily West to Miranda Wainright.
Writhing like she was being subjected to a mild electric current, the trapped True Believer pulled and tore at Emily’s hair for five seconds or so before she abandoned those grips in favor of repeated punches pak-pak-pak-PAAAKED against the heathen’s ribs. Emily grimaced, shifted her left hand to the back of Miranda’s head and puuuuuushed down until she felt the tip of Wainright’s nose mashed against her sternum. “MMRRPPPHH! MMMRRRPPPPHHHHHHHHHH!” Miranda bellowed into the suffocating confines of her foe’s cleavage. “MMMMPPPPPHAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!”
Emily kicked both legs up and squeeeeeeeeezed while simultaneously scrubbing Wainright’s distended features against her sweltering curves. Cheek pressed to the top of Miranda’s feverishly sweaty head, “I know, I know. It doesn’t seem quite fair, does it?” Emily huffed. “A maniac like you deserves an appropriately epic send off, certainly these people would see your end come at the bottom of a smoldering crateerrrrrrghhhh…” Miranda raked her nails down the brunette’s biceps which earned her another pair of constrictions from the Courtier. “Yes, I know you’re thinking it can’t end like this. Certainly there’s no way that the forces of Eternal Midnight would let you burble and snuffle into oblivion like all the others that’ve tried to upend the game board. But if we’re being honest with each other…” Emily rolled Miranda onto her back, the former World Champion deftly transitioning from the Scissors to a Double Leg Grapevine. In the same breath she seized Wainright’s wrists and pinned them overhead, meaning the blonde was pinned down flat when the Amazing Academic slid forward and enveloped her face for a second time. Nodding as Wainright squirmed fitfully beneath those vaunted juggs, Em sighed, “…if we’re being honest, you’re all out of moves. I’m all out of moves. And I want this finished.” She stretched the Grapevine a little wider and pressed down with every bit of her weight.
Wainright whimpered softly, bucked her hips once, twice, three times, then settled down in a way Emily knew very well. Even so she held on for another fifteen seconds or so, the Black Queen patiently feeding Miranda jugg until she was sure there was nothing left. Raking a hand through her hair after she reared back on her haunches, West struggled to her feet and trudged over to the ropes. “Count, Nick. Count the bytch down.”
Castle needed no further prompting. “ONE… TWO… THREE… FOUR… FIVE… SIX… SEVEN… EIGHT… NINE…… TEN!”
Nick threw a sign, the bell clanged and then the Announcer confirmed, “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner and the Last Woman Standing… EMILY WEST!”
Nodding in exhaustion when the ref raised her hand for the fans, Emily noted a camera closing in and sighed, “Hear that? That’s FAWN’s clock striking twelve oh one. Means there’s still a whole night ahead of us and it could be dark and full of terrors, but the dawn IS coming. And when it arrives… a new game begins.”
Em swayed on the spot, steadied herself, then raised a hand and tapped her temple three times (I’m so smart) before exiting the ring and trudging up the aisle.
“Introducing first, representing the Black Court, hailing from Dunwich Massachusetts, she stands at five feet four inches tall and weighs in tonight at one-hundred and twenty-two pounds. She is the One Hundredth Percentile, the Amazing Academic and the Black Queen, I give to you… EMILY WEST!”
HANDLEBARS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=3w0qD6Atvo4
Her name made the FAWN’tron go heavy with static fuzz and the lighs wink out. It didn’t last long however. Accompanied by the plinking introduction to ’Handlebars’, a bank of spotlights illuminated the squared circle, transforming it into an eight by eight grid of black and white squares, the only chessboard worthy of FAWN’s Great Game. When Jonny 5 reminded everyone he could ‘keep rhythm with no metronome, no metronome’ Emily West strode forth to survey her game board.
EMILY WEST:
For the last third of her triptych of terror with the Prophet of Pain, West wore a gleaming black corset with half a dozen tiny silver buttons that started below her sternum and ended just above her navel. Beneath, the corset flowed seamlessly into a matching black skirt edged in delicate white lace. Traveling yet farther south (across perhaps three inches of exquisitely toned thigh) Emily’s strong legs were armored in black nylon stockings topped by more lace (albeit in black) and shiny black wrestling boots that reached to just below the knee. This regal style was accessorized with flat black pads at elbow and knee and a completed by a wide choker done in black velvet. From this choker hung a small onyx pendant carved into the shape of her favorite chess piece.
Exuding an air of complete confidence in spite of the remarkably high stakes, Emily made her way down the aisle and went straight to the steel steps, which she ascended without fanfare. Standing on the edge of her board, the Black Queen took a moment to survey the crowd, on the off chance that any of the Churchgoers dared defy the front office’s edict banning them (and the Courtiers for that matter) from ringside. Satisfied they had not, the Amazing Academic slipped through the ropes and reached the center of the ring as the lights returned to normal. Turning in a slow circle to better take in the whole of her board, Emily came to a stop facing the hard camera, whereupon she raised a hand and tapped her temple once, twice, thrice.
I’m. So. Smart.
Cheers in response. While the Black Queen would never be regarded as a classic fan favorite in the mold of Shea London (or even Sue Burlingame) the crowd recognized her as the last line of defense between them and Miranda’s dark tomorrow. Acknowledging their support with the slightest of nods, Emily backed into the far corner and offered her elbows, knees and feet to Senior Official Nick Castle without once taking her attention from the stage and the perpetual gloom lurking just behind the curtain.
“And introducing her opponent, representing the Church of Eternal Midnight, hailing from Raven’s Fair, Virginia, she stands at five feet four inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and nineteen pounds, she is the Straight-Edge Siren, the Prophet of Pain, the Beacon of Dark in this sad, lonely light… MIRANDA WAINRIGHT!”
EAST JESUS NOWHERE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=s4ptSaCG9pg
Darkness descended upon the congregation even as they raised their voice in a belligerent chorus. From the gloom an angry, judgmental voice promised, ‘And we will see how godless a nation we have become.’ From that bitter fruit blossomed Green Day’s ‘East Jesus Nowhere’, a simple riff that was repeated four times. Following every cycle a spotlight lit up to reveal a scarecrow-ish effigy mounted to a tall wooden stave that had grown up seemingly in an instant. The effigies, done up in a style best described as ‘Early American Psychopath’, were heretofore a sampling of the Church’s most heathenish targets. Tonight however each and every member of the quartet was unmistakably Emily West. Then the drums began to pound and a fifth spotlight illuminated the Septa of Sorrow.
MIRANDA WAINRIGHT:
Tonight Miranda wore the pitch black version of her usual vinyl one-piece. Scooped low in the back and high over the hips, it was accompanied by clunky knee-high gray boots and black elbow-length mesh gloves. As for her hair, it was still a lustrous, gleaming gold, its radiance seemingly in defiance of all the vile filth surrounding her. Immune to the ranting and raving of that astounding number of heathens, Miranda started down the aisle and kept her eyes on the squared circle until she reached the foot of the steel steps. Taking them slowly, she reached the apron, dipped her head and carefully removed her hat, which she set atop the ring post.
Once in the ring, she turned to the stage and extended both arms out at shoulder level in a rough ‘T’. A heartbeat later she brought her palms together in emphatic prayer and that was enough to make the quartet of effigies burst into flame. Smiling into the dancing fire, Wainright held her position until they were reduced to cinder and ash. Then she backed into the opposite corner where Castle checked her pads and boots. Wasn’t until he’d finished that the blonde even bothered to train her eyes on Emily. Just before the bell sounded she murmured, “The end times have come, sister.”
It all came down to this.
No monologues, diatribes or soliloquies tonight, the fate of two of the most powerful factions in recent memory came down to a single fall that would arrive sometime in the next half hour. FAWN’s very own Doomsday Clock had remained frozen at midnight for more than two years. Tonight it might finally move to twelve oh one… or Miranda Wainright’s Witching Hour would remain in perpetuity if the Messiah of Misery toppled the woman standing in the opposite corner.
All these thoughts and many, many more passed through Emily’s head in the moments after Castle’s final inspection, but they vanished when the bell sounded, leaving the Amazing Academic clear of mind and purpose as she strode toward the center of the ring. Wainright matched her step for step, the blonde clearly eager to sacrifice this fatted, golden calf upon the altar of Red, White & Bruised. Noting an increase in Miranda’s pace as the zealot closed in, West began to speed up only to slow by a half step when she saw Wainright pop the thumb on her left hand. Forewarned and thus forearmed, the Insidious Intellectual lunged for a Collar & Elbow she pulled back at just the right time to catch Miranda’s wrist when Wainright sought her eye. Squeezing until she felt bones grind, West murmured, “You’ll have to do better than that, MirandNNNNNGGGGHHHH!”
The Prophet of Pain stepped in and SLAMMED a knee into Emily’s crotch, the force of it strong enough to put the former World Champion up on tiptoe. Uncharacteristically quiet considering the pulpit before her, Miranda twisted her left hand free of West’s clutches, shoved her back on her heels and lashed out with viper-speed to THWHACK the heel of her palm into the brunette’s blasphemous face!
LEFT HAND OF RIGHTEOUSNESS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=icCnruwjVjg
Emily’s head snapped back and her knees went watery. She would’ve hit the deck in a matter of heartbeats if Wainright hadn’t caught a double handful of hair and reeled her into a Standing Headscissors. Alarm from those assembled as Miranda leaned forward, cinched her arms around Emily’s waist and muscled her up onto the point of her right shoulder. It could’ve been a Canadian Backbreaker but of course it wasn’t, Wainright had already halved her grip to cup a hand over Emily’s chin. The second was about to mirror the first when West grabbed hold of the True Believer’s fingers and wrenched them backward as hard as she could! Miranda screeched and released her hold, allowing West to return to the canvas directly behind her rival. Not so quick to give up her own grasp, Em used the fingerlock to spin Wainright around and THWHUMP that vaunted noggin into Miranda’s undefended chest!
QUEENLY HEADBUTT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=MW0VS0SgK2c
The Septa of Sorrow reeled, almost took a knee and found herself drawn into a Front Facelock instead. Tossing the blonde’s near arm over her shoulders, West caught a handful of waistband, dipped her knees and muscled the woozy wrestler directly overhead. The FAWNatics started to toll off a count, but they’d only reached ‘ONE!’ when Em kicked her legs forward and laid out on her back to SPIKE the crown of Wainright’s skull into the canvas courtesy of a Brainbuster!
BRAINBUSTER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=reHRGmTVGok
The Black Queen spun to one knee, pushed up and gestured to the flattened zealot. “Count her down!” she barked at Nick Castle.
Already in position, the Senior Official stepped up and did as bade. “ONE… TWO…. THREE… FOUR…”
Miranda rolled onto her stomach, braced both hands against the mat and pushed to one knee. It wasn’t actually enough to stop Castle’s count, yet it was sign enough for West, who stormed in and collected Wainright’s noggin in another Front Facelock. Second verse, same as the first, only now the brunette did hold the stall, the crowd getting all the way to ‘FIVE!’ before dropped down. Miranda bounced to a seat, turned and slopped out flat on her belly looking like she’d have trouble beating a fifty count, let alone ten.
CEREBRAL HEMORRHAGE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=y4TqRceRjhQ
Of course looks were often deceiving, which was why Nick Castle held his position for a second. “ONE… TWO… THREE… FOUR… FIVE… SIX… SEVEN…”
Wainright didn’t get up but she started to roll, the Septa of Sorrow tumbling beneath the bottom rope to reach the floor, and thus her feet, by the time the ref reached ‘NINE!’
“Clever.” Em said to no one in particular. “But clever’s not nearly enough to stop the dawn, dear.”
As eager to behold the sunrise as any other heathen, Emily hurried to the edge of the ring, slipped through the ropes and took two big steps down the apron before leaping off to THWHUMP a heavy Double Axehandle against the nape of Miranda’s neck! Wainright grunted, stumbled forward and crooked an arm around the ring-post to keep from going down. This didn’t bother Emily in the slightest, she merely collected her opponent’s wrist, stepped by her and dropped a hip to send Miranda hurtling down the narrow aisle toward the steel NO!
Wainright caught the Courtier’s wrist, planted her heels and reversed the momentum of the Whip to send West at the steps in her stead. Keeping her wits despite the abrupt shift, Em slowed as best she could and threw both hands out in front, bracing them against the top of the steps to blunt the worst of the collision. There was still a rather unpleasant ‘BWUNG’ as her thighs and knees collided with the steel, but it wasn’t enough to throw her off balance and she spun around to THUM-BWOOOM!
Already closing at a high rate of speed, Miranda leapt, raised her knees to chest-level and dove full force into Emily’s sternum, which in turn drove the Black Queen down spine-first atop the unforgiving steel! Miranda somersaulted free of the landing, came down on one knee and clambered to boot leather roaring, “COUNT HER DOWN, CASTLE! COUNT HER HEATHEN ASS DOWN!”
Already on the floor beside his charges, the Senior Official started at once. “ONE… TWO… THREE… FOUR… FIVE…”
Emily rolled over and would’ve tumbled to the floor if she hadn’t managed to get a hand on the bottom st--“OOOOOOOOW BYTCH!” West shrieked and recoiled, the brunette trying to pull her hand from beneath Miranda’s stamping boot.
“Shut your mewling mouth.” Wainright grabbed a double handful of dark locks and BWONKED Emily’s forehead off the second step. The sudden introduction of bone to steel silenced Em to Miranda’s satisfaction at least temporarily, which wasn’t to say the Churchgoer was even close to done. Boosting her way to a perch on the top step, Wainright pulled West to all fours and drew her into a Standing Headscissors. “I WILL have the loyalty of the Black Court, sister.” Miranda huffed after she’d secured a snug grip around her opponent’s waist. “If I have to destroy you to secure it… so it is written, so it shall come to pass.”
On that ominous prophecy she gathered her strength and lifted West upside down, the hapless brunette’s legs folding backward over the zealot’s shoulders. Miranda heard and enjoyed the murmur of alarm that rippled through the crowd, but she did not savor it. Indeed, she’d had Emily inverted for all of two seconds when she hopped up and dropped to her butt to BWAAAANG West’s skull into the steel!
Em’s head popped loose of the blonde’s thighs and for a moment she laid sprawled in Wainright’s lap. Then Miranda shifted ever so slightly and the Sensual Scholar slopped to the floor, West landing in an insensate sprawl at the foot of those callous steps.
Up at the top, Miranda got to her feet and stepped onto the apron. Leaning back against the rubber-coated steel, she nodded to Nick and said, “Count.”
Castle did. “ONE… TWO… THREE… FOUR… FIVE… SIX… SEVEN… EIGHT…”
Emily rolled over, reached out blindly and managed to grab hold of the barricade. Pulling herself to it, she latched on with her other hand and managed to haul herself to verticality as the official reached ’NINE!’
Miranda seemed unfazed by the brunette’s resilience, indeed she was smiling when she demanded, “Turn and face me, sister!”
Emily did, the former World Champion turning and stepping in the same movement, West clearly ready to bring the big fight to her Righteous opposit--“UUUUUUUUUNNNNNGGGHH!” Wainright dove from the apron with knees drawn high against her chest, hooked her hands aground the back of Emily’s skull and dropped to her back to THWHUMP the brunette’s prodigious chest with a huge Diving Inverted Lungblower!
Landing flat against the thinly-padded floor actually knocked the wind from Wainright’s lungs but it was infinitely worse for Emily, who popped back on her heels, hit the barricade at a bad angle and tumbled over into the front row! Calloused to the ‘HOLY SHYT!’ chants raining down, Castle hurried from the squared circle to take up a position between both of his charges. Miranda had managed to roll to her belly while Emily was slopped over on one side, the Black Queen mere inches from the feet of half a dozen startled FAWNatics. The Senior Official gave them a three second grace period that passed by with no real progress from either wrestler. Diligence done, he began to count.
“ONE… TWO… THREE… FOUR… FIVE…” Miranda groaned, pushed to one knee and hauled herself to verticality using the ref’s belt for assistance. Nick didn’t miss a beat, the count continuing unabated. “SIX… SEVEN…”
Emily grabbed the barricade, hauled herself up and collapsed into one of the vacated seats before returning to boot leath--THWHACK!
Miranda tagged her with a Super Kick from the other side of the guardrail to drop the Amazing Academic back to a glassy-eyed seat! Straddling the barricade in the wake of her pinpoint strike, Miranda looked from Castle to West and back again. “Such lazy slumping won’t trigger your count, correct, arbiter?”
Nick nodded. “Correct. She needs to be flat on the ground.”
“On this topic you and I could not agree more.” the Prophet of Pain noted as she climbed over the barricade to bury a hand in Em’s dark hair. “No more gilded thrones for you, false queen. But I will happily build the funeral pyre they‘ll burn you on.” Wainright doubled the hair-hold and jerked West forward to BWANG her forehead into the top of the barricade. The collisions were nasty and left Em on her knees without starting Castle’s count, just as Wainright intended. Shooing the nearest heathens away with little more than a glare, Miranda collected a pair of chairs and arranged them seat to seat, then did the same with another set to create a little two by two square of shiny steel malevolence. Pulpit set, the Septa of Sorrow stalked back to West, collected a handful of hair and scraped her up to secure a Front Facelock.
Give the Amazing Academic credit, she pounded half a dozen punches into Miranda’s trim abs, unfortunately Wainright answered with a Kneelift *just* below the navel that reduced the brunette to sludgy pliability for the short trudge back to the chairs. Draping the heathen’s near arm across her shoulders once they’d reached their destination, Miranda caught a handful of waistband and yanked ’em in a scorching half-wedgie that barely registered with the crowd before the blonde popped her hips to take West up, over and down onto the chairs with a hellacious CLATTERBWANG!
RIGHTEOUS SNAP SUPLEX:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=DATDJlFdPWo
Em’s landing knocked all the chairs over save one, so Miranda sat down, crossed her legs in rather demure fashion and said, “Count her down, please.”
Castle hadn’t jumped the barricade himself but his position was strong enough to confirm that Emily was indeed down and out, the wounded brunette stretched out full length on her right side. “ONE… TWO… THREE… FOUR… FIVE… SIX…” The Insidious Intellectual rolled over to the guardrail, grabbed as strong a grip as she could and hauled herself upright by the time Nick tolled ‘EIGHT!’
“What’s the point of this, sister?” the Deacon of Despair grunted as she rose from the chair. “Have I not already proved that you’re nothing more than a hapless pawn when isolated from the protection of the Court?”
West rounded on her, the Courtier’s back leaving heavily against the cool steel. “And what are you, Miranda?” she rasped. “Don’t answer, I’ll tell you. You’re nothing more than a delusional street corner prophet with a much bigger platform than moNNNNNGGGGHHH!”
Wainright rushed in and put the serpent-tongued heathen back on the other side of the barricade courtesy of a Clothesline that thumped West’s clavicle. Miranda was certain no mere Clothesline would keep this miserable sinner down, but that didn’t stop her from sneering, “COUNT!” to Castle as she backed up to prepare her next move.
Happy to see his charges getting closer to the ring, Nick rattled off, “ONE… TWO… THREE… FOUR…”
Emily pushed offa one knee, regained her feet and swayed in place, the brunette clearly working to catch her balance after-- Wainright charged and dove headfirst over the barricade, the True Believer reaching out with one arm like she meant to catch West’s noggin in a Front FaceloNO! The Amazing Academic twisted to one side and dipped her knees to catch Miranda out of the air in a snug Fireman’s Carry. Hooking an arm over the back of the blonde’s neck to keep her in place, Emily straightened up, ran straight at the nearest corner and BWUUUNGED the back of her neck into the ring-post! Wainright jolted violently but didn’t escape the Carry, at least not until Emily backed up and twisted in a half circle, whereupon she laid out on her side to THWHUMP the back of her foe’s head and shoulders into the thin blue mats with a textbook Death Valley Bomb.
DEATH VALLEY BOMB:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=DD0EepYkIwY
West rolled to one knee after the landing whereas Miranda tried to sit up only to collapse immediately thereafter. Breathing hard after the prolonged assault on the other side of the guardrail, Emily caught hold of the apron and used it to drag herself to verticality. “See if she’s got the will to stand, if you would, Nicholas.” the former World Champion huffed.
Castle didn’t need to be told twice. “ONE… TWO… THREE… FOUR… FIVE… SIX…”
Miranda groaned, sat up and turned over onto all fours. Technically it wasn’t enough for the Wainright to stop Nick’s count, but Emily knew she would, so rather than wait she helped herself to the zealot’s hair and hauled her up just high enough to double her over with a Kneelift. Clearing off by a few steps, Emily hooked both thumbs under the top of her left kneepad and pulled down to bare the bony joint. With that done she bore down on the vulnerable zealot, West building up a tremendous amount of momentum in the heartbeats before she THWONKED that knee into Wainright’s temple!
KNEE TREMBLER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=BrCPnchcex8
Miranda spun to the floor in the sort of stupor that would’ve produced an immediate count from Nick Castle if Emily hadn’t waved him off. Collecting the True Believer by trunks and tresses, West peeled her off the floor, wheeled around in a half circle and tossed her under the bottom rope. Em followed shortly thereafter, the Insidious Intellectual collecting Miranda’s wrists to draaaaaaaaaaaaag her over to the nearest corner. “Don’t seem too hapless at the moment, do I Miranda?” West asked once she’d dropped the blonde’s wrists and collected her boots instead. No answer from the Churchgoer, so Em crossed her ankles in a squashed ‘X’ and pressed it down so Miranda’s heels were snug against her own glutes. Wedging a foot into the crotch of that ‘X’, West leaned forward, seized the other wrestler’s wrists and pulled up to lift her head and chest off the mat. An unenviable position under the best of circumstances to be sure and one made nigh untenable by the presence of the bottom turnbuckle less than six inches from the blonde’s face.
With Wainright bound up tight, Em ground her heel into the nape of the zealot’s neck and slowly but surely increased the strain on her opponent’s elbows and shoulders. Most heathens in this position would’ve been spitting curses at their tormentor of shrieking curses at their tormentor, but Miranda Wainright was no heathen and she endured the punishing hold with nothing more than the occasional grimace. Surprised and mildly annoyed by the other woman’s reticence, Emily slid her plant foot north to grind the back of Wainright’s noggin with far more force. In the same breath she pushed the blonde’s features that much closer to the bottom buckle. Still nothing from the Septa of Sorrow. Eventually Emily asked, “Nothing to say, Miranda? I refuse to believe a faith as strong as yours has vanished amidst such a trial.”
“The scope of my faith is far beyond anything an intellect like yours could ever conceive.” Wainright replied at once. “But sister, you’ve not listened to a single word I’ve said in the last five years. So why should I waste a precious resource on willfully deaf--”
Emily stamped down between her shoulders and released both wrists to drive Miranda’s mug into the roughly-padded steel with an eye-watering BWUUUNG!
BRAIN DRAIN @ 4:07
www.youtube.com/watch?v=TAZ2l4451dQ
Stretched out in a facedown sprawl after the Brain Drain, Wainright managed to curl an arm around the bottom strand, though she made no effort to drag herself from the squared circle. And since touching the ropes meant nothing if she wasn’t trying to stand, it didn’t stop Nick from beginning his count. “ONE… TWO… THREE… FOUR--” Emily stepped onto the prostrate Churchgoer for what might’ve been another Surfboard if she’d reached down to secure Wainright’s wrists. Instead she hunched over the top turnbuckle, the former World Champion’s fingers deftly working on the knots that--there! An ominous cheer from the Red, White & Bruised throng when West peeled the pad away and dropped it to the outside. “Can’t count her down if you’re standing on her, Em.” Nick said once the initial noise died down. “You know that.”
“I do know that.” she agreed. “Just as you no doubt know that I have a very good reason for relieving this corner of a solitary pad.”
Castle didn’t bother to answer, he just removed himself to a safe distance while Emily hauled the stunned battler to verticality. Pressed in close on Wainright’s left side, the Amazing Academic slipped her head under Miranda’s arm and grabbed her left ankle in the same instant. After that she wedged Wainright’s heel up against her glutes and looped one arm around her waist, all the better to muscle her up and then-- Miranda shrieked in surprised agony, the sound of it more than loud enough to swallow the a low, decidedly ominous TWUNG when West dropped Wainright knee-first atop the exposed steel rung!
Toppled to the deck with Emily still in possession of her left foot, Miranda reached for the ropes but her fingers only brushed them before West draaaaaaaaaagged her out into the middle of the squared circle. Once the ropes were out of play Emily did a little do-si-do around Wainright’s wounded leg so that her boot was pressed against the back of West’s right thigh. Immediately thereafter she stretched out Miranda’s other leg and laid the blonde’s left foot across her shin. Then she dropped to a seat, threaded her left leg over Wainright’s exposed ankle and pushed up on both hands to complete a textbook perfect Figure Four Leglock.
“AAARRRRRRHHHHHH, YOU VILE HEATHEN BYTCH!” Miranda bellowed as the hold put incredible pressure on her straining right knee.
Emily said nothing, though she jostled forcefully enough to make the Truest of the True Believers slam a white-knuckled fist against the canvas. The ‘TAP!’ chants started about this time, but neither Castle, Wainright or West paid them the slightest bit of attention. The Deacon of Despair could submit a hundred times over and the match wouldn’t end if she could regain her feet before the official reached ‘TEN!’ Both women knew this, which explained the look of seething hatred that passed from Miranda to Emily and back again.
“I should have known you’d pull something like this.” Wainright huffed once she’d managed to stifle the worst of the hurt. “You know you’re not strong enough to break my will so you target my bones instead.” Hands planted flat, she leaned forward to look the Insidious Intellectual dead in the eye. “A clever ploy, but it’s doomed to failure. Do you know why, sister?”
“I’m sure you’ll delight in telling me.” Em muttered as she sent another constriction through those knotted limbs.
Miranda snarled, her eyes shiny with pain, defiance or both. “Because the only thing weaker than your convictions is this pathetic excuse for a Leg-LockEEERRRRRRGGGGGHHHH!”
Emily leaned back and pushed up as far as she could, the Black Queen clearly happy to break the blonde’s spirit or her knee, whichever came first. “Tap out, Miranda.” West demanded. “It won’t end the match, but I’ll let you out on general principle. You might consider looking into the conc--”
The Prophet of Pain leaned forward, brought her left fist up, over and down in a whistling arc that would’ve ended at Em’s crotch if the brunette hadn’t intercepted her wrist at the last second. “You vicious bytch.” West murmured. “There’s nothing you won’t stoop to, is theMMRRRRRRRPPPPHHHH!”
Miranda’s free hand darted out sure as a snake-handler, not for Emily’s eyes but the heathen’s miserable forked tongue! Catching it between thumb and forefinger, she pulled and began to twiiiiisssssst! “You? You of ALL people would dare sit in judgment of all I have done? All I have accomplished? The depth of your hypocrisy is astounding, sister. It truly--” CRAAACK!
Emily didn’t try to free her tongue from the zealot’s pincer, she simply hauled off and slapped her across the face as hard as she could. Fuming at the disrespect, Wainright wrested her other hand loose of Emily’s clutches and returned the slap with enough interest to raise an instant welt. Doing so freed the serpent’s tongue from her trap, but Wainright didn’t lament the loss. Instead she braced both hands against the canvas and torqued her hips to tumble both wrestlers onto their stomachs and thus reverse the pressure of the Figure Four! “THAT’S IT, HEATHEN! SCREAM! SCREAM AT THE IMPLACABLE POWER OF ETERNAL MIDNIGHT!”
Miranda did a fair bit of screaming herself as she put every bit of her considerable leg strength into making Emily West suffer for her sins. And Emily did suffer, the brunette posted low on her forearms, head swinging back and forth to deny a submission that wouldn’t do a damned thing save scald her pride. What she did not do however was scream, a fact that did not go unnoticed by the Messiah of Misery. Shifting her weight to one elbow, Miranda reached back with her free hand, found Emily’s hair and pulled until the heathen was staring up into the overhead lights. “I said scream, you little heathen bytch. Don’t make me tell you agaWHAAHHHRRRRGGGGHH!”
While quite painful, the hair-pulling made it that much easier for Emily to roll onto her butt, thus resetting the pressure of the Figure Four back to its original arrangement. Alas there was no time to celebrate as Miranda rolled right on through to take both wrestlers under, then beyond the bottom rope! The fall was short but extremely awkward, their knotted legs ensuring neither blonde or brunette could brace for impact.
Landing hard on her right hip and shoulder, Em vaguely registered the demise of the Figure Four as she began clawing across the mats in search of something to help her get back on her feet. Crowded against the ropes directly above his charges, Nick Castle surveyed the situation and decided not to start the count because A) no one had asked him to do so and B) blonde and brunette had already made it to one knee, albeit at different spots in the narrow ringside aisle.
One shoulder leaned against the guardrail for support, Em looked over the other and saw Miranda clutching at the apron but otherwise making no attempt to rise. Certain that she’d inflicted serious damage on the True Believer’s knee, West clambered to boot-leather and trudged over to her foe, Emily plunging both hands into Wainright’s hair without so much as a wor--“OOOOOFFFFHHHH!”
The Septa of Sorrow’s other arm jerked backward, not for an elbow but to drive the butt end of her newly acquired Kendo Stick deep into the heathen’s belly! West hunched forward, her grip on Miranda’s locks going from aggression to support in a single stroke. Wainright didn’t approve one way or the other, that’s why she doubled down on the Kendo Stick and THUMPED another shot into West’s midsection. “It’s no flaming sword as far as weapons are concerned.” Miranda noted as she got to her feet while Emily stumbled backward. “Yet there’s a certain crude elegance to it that--” Wainright spun it one handed, then brought the stick down in a whistling overhead arc that ended with a vicious CRAAACK between Emily’s eyes! The Amazing Academic toppled to the floor like a puppet with cut strings, West making no effort whatsoever to pad her fall. Delighted by this truly righteous havoc, Wainright turned to Nick and pointed the stick in his direction. “Do your duty, arbiter.”
“ONE… TWO… THREE…” Miranda strolled over to the Timekeeper’s table, shoved the poor dope out of his chair and claimed it as her own. “FOUR… FIVE… SIX…” Seated behind the insensate heathen, Wainright laid the Kendo Stick across her thighs and beckoned Emily to rise. “SEVEN… EIGHT…”
The Black Queen sat up, then clambered to full verticality without once checking her six. It was instinct rather than slight, yet Wainright’s upper lip curled like the brunette had just spit in her eye. Rising from the chair with a low growl, she stormed forward and absolutely lit into the former World Champion’s shoulders, biceps and upper back with no less than half a dozen more shots from her faithful Kendo Stick!
Teeth clenched against a scream boiling in her throat, Em covered up as best she could, but a particularly nasty stroke across the back of her thighs sent the Insidious Intellectual to her hands and knees. That should’ve raised a count but instead of backing off to see if Emily could rise, Miranda knelt behind her and slipped the Kendo Stick beneath the brunette’s left armpit in an awkward sort of Half Nelson. Awkward or not, it proved a sturdy enough grip to let Wainright haul her prey upri-“NGH!”
Emily stabbed the point of her right elbow into Miranda’s belly three times, then grabbed the Kendo Stick in her left hand to “OOOOOOHHHH!” The Deacon of Despair quashed the heathen uprising with an ugly Kneelift between West’s thighs! “I appreciate your spirited resistance sister, I truly do.” Miranda sighed in Em’s ear as she reached across with her right hand to grip the stick. “But heathens cry and resistance must fall… when Midnight comes for one and all.”
Benediction complete, she pulled the Kendo Stick hard right which in turn drew it tight across the Courtier’s throat! It wasn’t exactly a traditional Cobra Clutch but it was a more than adequate substitute considering the flush that began creeping into Emily’s pained features. Not that West simply endured this punishment, she thrashed and twisted from side to side and reached back with both hands to catch desperate double fistfuls of the blonde’s long hair. “Luuuuuhhhhh…. LET GO!” Emily grunted even as she tried to liberate Miranda’s locks from her scalp. “I mean it MirandEEERRRRRHHHHH!”
Miranda worked her left hand into the brunette’s tangled tresses for a retaliatory tugging. “Save your breath, sister.” she hissed. “You’ll need it to plead with the darkness when it rushes up to meet OOOWWWW BYTCH! STOP THAT!”
With no escape hatch lurking in Wainright’s hair, Emily raised her right foot and brought it down hard, the former World Champ’s heel mashing Miranda’s toes! The Deacon of Despair endured the counter thanks to another breath-stealing tug on the Kendo Stick. Eventually Emily lifted her foot for another stomp, however Wainright twisted her own foot to one side and made her heathen pay with a Kneelift to the glutes.
“It’s said that patience is a virtue, sister.” Miranda hissed to her red-faced adversary. “But even mine has its limits… and I’m just tired of your f*cking mouth.” No response from West because the blonde immediately hopped up and ‘smecked’ her legs around Emily’s waist in a snug Bodyscissors! Emily stumbled forward beneath the added weight then collapsed to one knee, the Amazing Academic saved from a faceplant by the fortuitous bracing of her right hand. “You’re finished, sister.” Wainright proclaimed as the nastily augmented Cobra Clutch bit deeper and deeper. “Your precious Court is finished. And most of all your beloved ‘Game’ is FINISHWHOOAAAH!”
Emily pushed up as fast as she could and almost lost her balance as a result. Arms windmilling wildly, the breathless brunette steadied out after a few endless seconds, then stomped her way over to the apron and grabbed hold of the middle rope. “Fatigue must be burning out that legendary brain of yours, sister.” Miranda chortled. “The ropes can’t save you from HEYNNNGGGHHH!”
Turned out the ropes were just a guide, an anchor to keep West vertical as she backpedaled down the edge of the squared circle to BWUUUNG Wainright’s back into the nearest ring post! The Septa of Sorrow cried out in surprise and pain but somehow managed to sink her hooks that much deeper. “I… said… you’re finished.” Miranda rasped. “Please be so kind as to curl up and die like a good heathNGH! NGH! NGH! NNNNGGGGHHH!”
Em lurched forward and raced back, lurched forward and raced back, lurched forward and raced back, just smashing her righteous rider against the steel until Wainright’s hold gave way and both wrestlers collapsed to their hands and knees in an exhausted, huffing sprawl. All too aware of West’s loathsome presence off her left shoulder, Miranda dug deep and reared back on her knees. Eyes lighting at the sight of Em’s penitent noggin, the Prophet of Pain reached out and-- Emily straightened up, swatted the blonde’s hand aside and slapped her across the mouth for good measure!
Flashing a weary smirk in the face of Wainright’s hiss of rage, West huffed, “Hands to yourself, sisNGH!”
Miranda fetched her a return slap that snapped the Black Queen’s head back in a fine mist of sweat. “Force of habit, sister.” Miranda cooed. “My hands can’t help but slap the sin out of your filthy--”
Emily fired her return shot and just like that they were swinging for the fences. West and Wainright made no effort to avoid her opponent’s attacks, they merely steeled their nerves with the prospect of splitting a lip, breaking a nose or swelling an eye with their answering round. The exchange remained strictly one for one for the first fifteen seconds or so but Miranda’s hands dropped shortly thereafter and Em was holding her up with one shoulder strap, the former World Champion just lighting into Wainright’s flushed features with a high speed barrage that’d impress even the likes of Macy Renquist. Slowing only when her slappin’ palm started to tingle, West took a deep breath and-- Miranda’s hands flew up, only now they palmed West’s skull, all the better to hold her steady while she pressed her thumbs into the brunette’s “NNNGGGHHH!”
West snapped forward, the brunette THWHUNKING the curve of her forehead into the bridge of Miranda’s nose! “If I… If I can impart only… one lesson…before this is all over…” the Amazing Academic gasped as she filled her hands with Wainright’s hair and started to regain her feet.. “I will consider this whole campaign a success if you NEVER stick a finger in someone’s--” ‘PWFWOOOOOOOOOSH!’
Shock for those assembled and anguish for Emily when Miranda rose up at full speed to blast a cloud of Red Mist into her archrival’s face!
Genuinely surprised and utterly dismayed by Wainright’s appropriation of her first acolyte’s sanguine signature, Emily forgot all about the hair-hold to scrub and wipe at her face, which in turn meant she was effectively defenseless when the Messiah of Misery stepped in and spiked a Kneelift between her thighs.
“Don’t you goddamned dare.” Miranda hissed, the blonde catching Em at trunks and tresses when her knees buckled. “We’re going to finish this in the center of your precious game board.” On the heels of that dire prophecy she spun through a rough half circle and tossed West under the bottom rope. Sliding in immediately thereafter, Wainright clambered to her feet but instead of going after Emily she pointed a stern index finger at Nick Castle. “Not so much as a one, arbiter. Not until I tell you otherwise. Understood?”
The Senior Official nodded but otherwise did as bade, a small show of comprehension that Miranda appreciated more than she’d ever let on. Fingers twined in West’s hair within heartbeats of threatening the ref, Miranda dragged Emily to all fours, stuffed the brunette’s head between her thighs and leaned forward over her back to cinch both arms around her waist. The FAWNatics buzzed about the prospect of a much delayed Thou Shalt Not, but when Wainright ultimately hoisted her burden off the mat she secured the traditional Piledriver stall. Not that this was any great improvement mind you, as illustrated when Miranda hopped up, kicked her legs forward and dropped to her butt to THWONK the crown of Emily’s skull into the thinly-sheathed plywood!
Emily would’ve bounced clear if her tormentor released the Waistlock, alas Miranda held on tight, meaning blonde and brunette stayed glued together while the former rolled to her knees and powered back to verticality. Lips curled in a downright beatific smile, Wainright lifted Emily again and *this* time she took her all the way up, the Septa of Sorrow setting West spine-first across the ball of her right shoulder. Adjusting her hips to ensure Em’s feet were braced against her upper thighs, Miranda dipped into a slight crouch and quickly but carefully moved her grip from the brunette’s tummy to across her chin. Then she stood up straight, kicked her feet forward and sat out for the second time in as many minutes, only now West’s aching skull TWHONKED against the top of her own head! Wainright released on impact and spun to one knee whereas Emily toppled forward onto her face, chest and belly, the Black Queen looking anything but regal at the moment.
THOU SHALT NOT!
www.youtube.com/watch?v=E-G3eRD5bg4
Nodding her appreciation for the hate radiating off the heathens, Miranda got to her feet and glanced at Nick. “Now, arbiter.” More than a little relieved to have something to you know, officiate, Castle stepped up and did as bade. “ONE… TWO… THREE… FOUR… FIVE…” Emily didn’t rise, she did however start to roll, albeit very slowly, toward the nearest set of strands. “…SIX… SEVEN…” West made the ropes, grabbed hold of the middle and hauled herself to one knee. “EIGHT… NINE…”
The Amazing Academic stood up in a flurry of motion, beating the count with no less than half a second to THWHACK! Miranda roared into the breach and smashed the Left Hand of Righteousness into the base of her opponent’s skull! West’s legs gave way, the vulnerable Courtier saved from a boneless tumble to the canvas by nothing more than the ropes and Miranda’s savage grip on her hair. Pressed in snug against the heathen’s back, Wainright looked this way and that, searching for the inspiration that’d finally allow her to finish the false queen once and for--
A glint of metal caught her eye, the turnbuckle Emily had exposed earlier in a misguided attempt to ruin her knee. The memory of it made Miranda flex the joint in question. It raised a painful (actually it was quite hellacious) ache, yet this proved all the motivation she needed to march / drag West to the corner in question and bwung-bwung-bwung-bwung-BWUNG her foe’s forehead against the steel rung no less than half a dozen times! She might’ve continued if a startled gasp from the sold-out crowd hadn’t given her pause. Tugging Em’s head back, she spotted a small but steady rill of blood running down the brunette’s face from a cut just below the hairline on the right side of her face.
Eyes lighting, Miranda dabbed her fingers in the flow and made an odd, slightly ‘V’ shaped sigil on her own forehead. “And now, anointed in the blood of a false prophet, I can truly usher in the era of Eternal Midnight.”
Emily only uttered a soft groan, so Wainright prized her back from the corner, dipped her head under one arm and hooked an arm around her waist, all the better to muscle the Amazing Academic into a slumped seat on the exposed steel. With her sacrificial altar properly prepared, Miranda slipped through the ropes to the apron and climbed the corner from the opposite side, her progress perhaps a little slower than normal because of that hinky knee. Even so, the Messiah of Misery reached her goal with only jeers from the heathens and no trouble at all from the bloodied lamb. The noise from the FAWNatics increased exponentially when Miranda grabbed Em’s noggin and wedged it between her thighs. An understandable reaction, considering that Wainright snaked her arms around West’s waist and muscled her ontoNO? NO!
Emily hooked an arm around the top rope to keep herself anchored in place, much to Miranda’s disgust. Abandoning the Waistlock for a moment, she crooked her left arm into a tire iron and brought it down on Emily’s back over and over again, the Deacon of Despair just hammering away until her shoulder started to ache. “Forgive me, sister.” Miranda sighed once she’d caught her breath. “I’ve forgotten one small but extremely important detail of this ceremony.” Sliding back a bit, she freed Em from the Scissors, grabbed a double handful of hair and pulled her up for a final look into the Black Queen’s bloodied face.
“Any last wordAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!” West’s right hand came up and across, viciously crooked fingers just raking the zealot’s eyes not once, but more than half a dozen times!
Miranda instinctively reared back to escape the mauling however the cramped confines of her perch meant she didn’t get far before Emily grabbed a double handful of hair and yanked her into a THWHONKING Headbutt to the bridge of the nose. Wainright felt warmth on her upper lip, vaguely recognized it as blood in the moment before Emily collected her head in a Front Facelock. Bearing down on the simple grip with everything she had left, West straightened up as best she could and carefully brought her legs back into the ring so that she was standing on the second rope rather than seated on that exposed steel.
“Last words are for the condemned, Miranda.” the brunette grunted in the midst of securing a handful of waistband. “But in the spirit of our great game, I offer you this: check, bytch.” Emily lifted the stunned blonde directly overhead, then twisted around and dropped off the ropes to return to the mat while Wainright BWAAANGED down head-first atop the exposed steel!
TURNBUCKLE CEREBRAL HEMORRHAGE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=M_ldEOrxlAE
Righteously devastated by the Turnbuckle Cerebral Hemorrhage, Miranda hit the deck in a heap and didn’t move until West shoved her onto her back and stretched out across her chest for--
Emily paused, reared back on her haunches and sighed deeply. One hand braced against the mat, she looked to Nick and nodded. “Count.”
“ONE… TWO… THREE… FOUR…” Emily tottered to her feet. Miranda did not. “FIVE… SIX… SEVEN…” Wainright rolled onto her stomach, set both hands flat and clambered to one knee. “EIGHT… NINE… T--”
Miranda LAUNCHED herself at West, the crippled Churchgoer stabbing from Hell’s Heart with a Spear aimed at Emily’s THWHACK! The Black Queen stepped back and brought her left foot ‘whicking’ up for a punt that took Miranda flush between the eyes! Planted on legs that looked like they’d give way at any moment, the blonde windmilled her arms in an effort to regain her equilib-- “OOOOOFFFFFFHH!”
Emily pounced on her with what was essentially a Thesz Press, but rather than unload punches on her nemesis’ face, Emily grabbed a double handful of hair, ripped Miranda to a seat and stuffed the blonde’s face into her waiting décolletage! Wainright reached for West’s hair at once, a response the brunette ignored so she could cinch her arms around the back of Miranda’s head. Cupping her own elbows for extra leverage, Emily threaded her legs around Wainright’s midsection, then rolled onto her back to draw the struggling wrestler down on top of her.
Scissored Front Sleeper, Emily West to Miranda Wainright.
Writhing like she was being subjected to a mild electric current, the trapped True Believer pulled and tore at Emily’s hair for five seconds or so before she abandoned those grips in favor of repeated punches pak-pak-pak-PAAAKED against the heathen’s ribs. Emily grimaced, shifted her left hand to the back of Miranda’s head and puuuuuushed down until she felt the tip of Wainright’s nose mashed against her sternum. “MMRRPPPHH! MMMRRRPPPPHHHHHHHHHH!” Miranda bellowed into the suffocating confines of her foe’s cleavage. “MMMMPPPPPHAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!”
Emily kicked both legs up and squeeeeeeeeezed while simultaneously scrubbing Wainright’s distended features against her sweltering curves. Cheek pressed to the top of Miranda’s feverishly sweaty head, “I know, I know. It doesn’t seem quite fair, does it?” Emily huffed. “A maniac like you deserves an appropriately epic send off, certainly these people would see your end come at the bottom of a smoldering crateerrrrrrghhhh…” Miranda raked her nails down the brunette’s biceps which earned her another pair of constrictions from the Courtier. “Yes, I know you’re thinking it can’t end like this. Certainly there’s no way that the forces of Eternal Midnight would let you burble and snuffle into oblivion like all the others that’ve tried to upend the game board. But if we’re being honest with each other…” Emily rolled Miranda onto her back, the former World Champion deftly transitioning from the Scissors to a Double Leg Grapevine. In the same breath she seized Wainright’s wrists and pinned them overhead, meaning the blonde was pinned down flat when the Amazing Academic slid forward and enveloped her face for a second time. Nodding as Wainright squirmed fitfully beneath those vaunted juggs, Em sighed, “…if we’re being honest, you’re all out of moves. I’m all out of moves. And I want this finished.” She stretched the Grapevine a little wider and pressed down with every bit of her weight.
Wainright whimpered softly, bucked her hips once, twice, three times, then settled down in a way Emily knew very well. Even so she held on for another fifteen seconds or so, the Black Queen patiently feeding Miranda jugg until she was sure there was nothing left. Raking a hand through her hair after she reared back on her haunches, West struggled to her feet and trudged over to the ropes. “Count, Nick. Count the bytch down.”
Castle needed no further prompting. “ONE… TWO… THREE… FOUR… FIVE… SIX… SEVEN… EIGHT… NINE…… TEN!”
Nick threw a sign, the bell clanged and then the Announcer confirmed, “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner and the Last Woman Standing… EMILY WEST!”
Nodding in exhaustion when the ref raised her hand for the fans, Emily noted a camera closing in and sighed, “Hear that? That’s FAWN’s clock striking twelve oh one. Means there’s still a whole night ahead of us and it could be dark and full of terrors, but the dawn IS coming. And when it arrives… a new game begins.”
Em swayed on the spot, steadied herself, then raised a hand and tapped her temple three times (I’m so smart) before exiting the ring and trudging up the aisle.