Post by dsb on Oct 22, 2019 5:11:57 GMT
“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is for the FAWN Intercontinental Title! First, the challenger...hailing from New York, New York, she stands at five feet eleven inches tall and weighs in tonight at one hundred and forty pounds. She is the Breathtaker, the Soulshaker, the Heartbreaker, this is… ASHLEY LOCKE!”
The name *almost* rang a bell with some of the fans, but they didn’t really have time to talk it over with their friends because the lights went out all over the arena. Their eyes were still adjusting to the dark when their ears were assaulted by a piercing guitar shriek from the speakers. This was followed by the pounding of drums and a few more shrieks. A spotlight kicked on in time with the first verse of Three Days Grace ‘Chalk Outline’ and the growing sense of unease among those assembled got that much stronger when they realized it seemed to be raining directly in front of the entryway.
CHALK OUTLINE
I've been cursed
I've been crossed
I've been beaten by the ones that get me off
I've been cut
I've been opened up
I've been shattered by the ones I thought I loved
Though she was looking at the floor, those in attendance were quite impressed even without seeing her face. Ashley Locke was indeed an Amazon, a statuesque blonde probably right at six feet with her boots and a good two thirds of that was probably leg. Said gams were exquisitely sculpted and looked downright dangerous, as did her shoulders, abdominals and chest, the latter armored in an orangish-red leather bikini top decorated with an intricate pattern of small metal studs. Her bottoms matched the top, as did her pads and boots, though the pads were basic lycra and lacked any sort of adornment. A detail for the discerning eye, the outer edge of each boot was adorned with a stylized head and shoulders of a black horse.
ASHLEY LOCKE:
Striding off down the ramp, the Amazonian blonde showed not the slightest interest in the fans reaching out to her, those legs carting her to ringside at a rapid rate. Climbing elegantly up the steps, the Black Courtier slips lithely through the ropes and out to the center of the ring, raising her arms in an invitation for all present to admire her godly form. And admire they did, wolf whistles mingling with the roars as the former tag champ strode to her corner and prepared to challenge for solo gold.
A thumping bass heartbeat rocked through the arena, followed by another, another and another. As the crowd volume raised in recognition, a huge pair of hyper-realistic eyes opened up on the ‘tron, blinking and focusing slightly as the song’s bass-driven chaos was joined by a surprisingly delicate vocal. The woman herself made an appearance soon after; picked out in a spotlight among twilight. Face hooded by a dark leather jacket, she looked impossibly tall and slender in the low lighting as she set off on a slow, methodical stride to the ring.
“And her opponent, hailing from Reykjavik, Iceland, standing at 6’2” of height and weighing in tonight at 139lbs…she is known as The Stranger, and is the reigning FAWN INTERCONTINENTAL CHAMPION…ASTRID WHITE!””
Tonight was the Icelander's first time holding gold on the biggest stage of them all, but there was no sign of any change in her appearance or demeanor as a result. The FAWNatics had a clear view of those impossibly long and well toned legs, ending in midnight blue lycra boy shorts. Her top was mostly covered by the dark leather jacket, but the opening exposed a white meshed top covering the modest swell of her chest, as well as a glimpse of arguably the most well-defined abs in FAWN. And trailed behind her by one hand was her title, the second most prestigious belt in FAWN reduced to an afterthought even on this grand stage.
ASTRID WHITE:
The Stranger reached the ring and carried on around to the back, stepping up on the apron in one stride and slipping through the strands, she made her way to one corner and ascended the second turnbuckle just as her music again paused. On the final bass heartbeat the lights flared back on, and White flicked her hood back at the same time to reveal her sharply contoured face framed by an artfully wavy blonde bob. She flashed a hand over one grey-green eye, tilting her head to form an A sigil. Out in the crowd a reasonable number raised their hands in response, but the Stranger’s fans were drowned out by the editable roar of a crowd eager for some destroyer-class action!
Moving before the bell's echo had died, Locke strode out of her corner, planting herself square in center ring and raising her arms high, although her eyes kept their focus on the champion. The former Aphrodite’s invitation for the crowd to bask in her glory got a reasonable roar from the FAWNatics, although it wasn’t clear whether this was for her undeniable charms or for the prospect of the titanic clash that was about to occur. For her part, the champion looked considerably more circumspect, dropping into a springy crouch and circling to one side. Her caution was quickly noted by the challenger, a sneer crossing her lips.
“What’s the matter, skinny girl?” she called over the crowd buzz, “does it scare you to see what a real champion looks like close up? Don’t worry, soon I’ll have the gold and you can slink back to the undercard where you belong.”
Anger flashed in the grey-green eyes of the stranger, but the rest of her face twisted into a small and entirely humourless smile. Taking a big stride towards her prey she stood to her full height, six feet and two inches of muscle and sinew unfolding as she stepped in. The height difference was notable even for a woman of Ashely Locke’s statuesque proportions, Astrid making a point of tilting her head down in order to meet the former tag champion’s gaze head on, much to the other blonde’s chagrin.
“Do you really think being tall is going to impress me?” Locke stepped forward, her words now hissed in the Icelander’s face. “Hype is temporary, but class is permanent. And no-one has more class than a goddess. Let me show you.”
One divine arm was raised high again, palm open, a clear invitation for a Test of Strength. White’s eyes flicked up to the outstretched fingers, then her own hand came up, hand ‘smecking’ into Ashley’s, the two blondes moving in mirror symmetry to bring their other hands up to bear as well.
Again the volume levels in the stands increased, FAWNatics eager to see the outcome of this clash between leverage and pure strength. Initially it looked like the champion’s extra reach was enough to give her the advantage, lifting her elbows up and bearing downwards to roll the New Yorker’s wrists backwards. But Locke had been known as one of the strongest women in FAWN since her early days as Aphrodite, and as the contest went on she used this to turn things her own way, sheer effort forcing Astrid’s hands downwards until the Scandinavian was forced to slide one boot backwards and brace herself.
Lips curling up into a snarl of triumph, Ashley poured forwards, pressing her advantage with all her might as White’s hands were pushed back and downwards. The champion made her earn every inch gained but it was clear she was losing ground, back foot sliding on the canvas, her spine arching further until…
Both blondes seemed to move at once. White’s front foot lifted off the matt, flashing up in a short, sharp kick aimed at the Deity’s chest. It would have landed if it wasn’t for Locke’s own movement, abandoning her grip and shoving herself forwards to wrap both brawny arms around the champion’s pale waist. She used her momentum to lift up and throw her burden forwards and down, Astrid crashing into the canvas covered plywood spine-first.
Spinebuster www.youtube.com/watch?v=L09zEI8BwOw
Astrid instinctively arched her back off the matt, one hand up clasping at the back of her head while the other reached around to massage her lower spine. Locke didn’t give her any time to recover though, throwing herself across the other blonde’s torso to press her back down into the canvas. She hooked one arm around both Scandinavian legs, hauling the stranger up into a high and tight pin as Craig Long dropped to count…
ONE
TWNoo
Discombobulated though she might be, White had far too much left in the tank to go down that easily, punching one arm up and kicking both legs to push the former Aphrodite off with authority. She rolled to her front, pushing up of the canvas and “WOULPH!” Locke Reared back on her knees and thumped a big Double Axehandle right into the base of her spine. The Stranger slumped forwards again, Ashley clambering into a mount and reaching down to grab a handful of blonde tresses.
“Kiss the canvas!” she demanded loudly. Astrid clearly had no intention of complying with the order, but she didn’t have much choice, the New Yorker leaning down and scrubbing those high cheekbones and porcelain features right into the rough matting. After a few futile attempts to push up and alleviate the humiliation, White changed tack, placing both hands down and bucking her hips and legs. The first big shove was enough to put Locke a little off balance and a second heave threw her off, lurching to one side while the champion rolled in the other direction, earning herself a little bit of distance.
Most of those at ringside seemed to be expecting White to use the time she had bought to take a breath, and certainly that seemed to be Locke’s assumption, pushing up to all fours ready to rise back to her feet. But the champion clearly had other ideas, rolling back the way she had come with those long legs scything around. The unorthodox Sweep caught the Black Courtier by surprise, both legs swept out from beneath her leading to a decidedly inelegant landing on her rear. Ashley clearly didn’t like this turn of events one bit, scrabbling back to her feet again.
Unfortunately Astrid had beaten the former Aphrodite to her feet by several seconds, one Muay Thai boot raised even as Locke turned to face her. Ashley threw up her hands, clearly expecting a kick to the face, but instead the Stranger stayed low, driving a short and brutally stiff Low Kick which crunched into the top of Locke’s left kneecap. Again the Pantheon member was caught cold, dropped to one knee with White rearing before her.
“Genuflection suits you.” Astrid’s voice was quiet, but the self proclaimed goddess clearly heard her, letting out a snarl of annoyance as she powered back up to two feet. But once again she found herself playing right into the champion’s hands, White leaping gorgeously off one foot and bringing that same knee up to CRUNCH right into the point of Locke’s jaw just as she had reached her full height! The sound of the New Yorker’s teeth clacking together could be heard across ringside, followed by an involuntary ‘oooooh’ of sympathy at the rapid-fire strike.
Bicycle kneestrike www.youtube.com/watch?v=lDOFF5qnFFs
Credit to Ashely Locke, she took a strike which would have flattened 95% of the roster and somehow maintained her footing. Reeling away from the blow, both arms windmilling, she looked to be stepping in post-holes as she backpedaled. The Stranger seemed well aware of this, taking a few back-steps of her own and then bursting forward before once again slipping the surly bounds of earth. This time she launched into a tight little spin, emerging with one elbow at decapitation height.
Snowblind www.youtube.com/watch?v=lEHFAfrBmj0
Now there was no chance for Locke to maintain verticality, the big blonde crashing down on her back while White skidded to a stop on her knees. She was quick to shuffle back, sprawling over the stunned deity and pushing her shoulders down for…
Under the full body pin of her fellow blonde, Ashley looks blankly into the predatory gaze of the Intercontinental champion through…
ONE…
TWO…
…and Locke shoots her hips off the canvas, quickly followed by her shoulders. Ashley flops to her side to keep White from collecting another pin attempt, but Astrid’s moved on, already rising and tugging the dazed goddess with her. The Icelandic Amazon latches onto a right wrist and shoulder then sends Locke zooming to the ropes with an Irish Whip. The champ waits a tick then takes off in a sprint behind the former Aphrodite.
Ashley gets only a couple steps out of the u-turn before a raised boot from the Arctic Blast CRASHES into Locke between her crystal blue pools.
White Heat ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=XMCf8tyDzsY )
White Heat sends Ashley rocketing in reverse and tumbling over the ropes in a backflip but somehow Locke has the wherewithal to wrap a white-knuckled palm around the uppermost cable and remain teetering on the apron’s edge.
As Pandora and Pappy’s partner wobbles on the precipice of a trip to the cement floor below, Astrid sends a toe kick between the ropes and DEEP into the belly of the deity. Ashley doubles over, groaning and White slips her foe’s torso between the upper and middle cables, pulling the lanky goddess back into the ring until she’s hooked at Locke’s ankles on the middle strand. With Ashley’s noggin in a front facelock, it’s clear what the titleholder has in mind and she doesn’t make anyone wait. Laying out, the Stranger SPIKES Locke’s skull into the thinly-sheathed plywood with a rope-assisted DDT.
Ashley’s cranium PLANTS like a lawn dart, the former Aphrodite absently flopping to her back, spreading into a lifeless starfish from the likely concussive blow. The champ scoops both legs with her right arm and rolls Ashley into a tight cradle, White’s back finishing across the chest of her challenger for…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Locke kicks a shoulder off the mat even if she doesn’t get herself fully free from the cool Icelandic grip of the Stranger. Astrid shifts into a scissors around Locke’s head from the front then locks on a triangle choke even as Ashley slides topside. Though she’s below, the champ still has the upper hand, that is until the goddess shows her otherworldly power. Getting her feet beneath her, she powers up to a wide, lowered stance, drawing an ‘ooooh’ from the assembled at the strength involved.
But Ashley’s not done, straightening to vertical, she hauls Astrid to belt-high before the size of White beckons even a goddess to return her to earth. She dumps the Stranger to the deck with a ring-rattling SLAM but the cool Nordic Amazon seems barely effected, maintaining her grip through the collision.
Triangle Choke Lock ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=o3eMmh1HCKU )
Astrid proceeds to roll atop Locke, increasing the danger for the former Aphrodite. But the crafty vet keeps the momentum of the maneuver and barrels both women to the cables, slipping an ankle over the bottom one. The ref quickly calls for the break and the stoic champion releases instantly upon the count of ‘one’ from the zebra. She untangles, rises and takes three steps back from the flustered challenger, Ashley hugging the bottom rope when her arms are free, treating the rubber-coated steel like an old friend.
“Keep that freakish mortal back,” Locke demands as she slowly pulls herself to vertical with the help of the cables.
With the former tag champ’s first step away from safety, Astrid charges her foe, right arm drawn for a forearm barrage. But the flaxen-haired immortal ducks under while wrapping her arms under the curve of White’s glutes. Ashley lifts and falls backward, hotshotting Astrid’s throat across the top rope. The Stranger’s head snaps back and the rest of the Amazon stumbles after, White gagging and grasping at her reddening neck from the former Aphrodite’s All Choked Up.
Trailing behind, Locke’s fingers dig into a shoulder of the towering Artic Blast and Ashley spins the champion to face her. Moving her grip to Astrid’s wrist, Ashley uses her left hand to chickenwing White’s right arm high and back, clearing a path for Locke to BURY a Heart Punch into the left side of the cleft of the Stranger’s bosom.
White’s blue-grey peepers cross from the heartbeat-skipping blow, her long, lean legs jellying. Ashley takes advantage of the clouded daze the Stranger enters. She pulls one of Astrid’s leaden arms between the long Icelandic legs of White. Leaning across the back of the stooped champion, Locke latches on at Astrid’s side and hauls all 6 feet-plus of her foe off the canvas, launching the Stranger to shoulder level before sitting out and THUMPING Astrid into the canvas with authority.
Pumphandle Situout Slam ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=iKapKb9LCtw )
White’s body bounces an inch off the deck from the force of the impact before settling between Ashley’s outstretched stems. The former Aphrodite leans forward to roll Astrid onto her shoulders, the Stranger’s cheeks pointed to the rafters for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
White spasms to life just in time, flopping off a shoulder as she spins to her chest. The disbelieving Ashley turns her gaze to the official who already has two fingers raised.
Appearing as if she plans to send the man to Hades, Locke jumps to her feet and lets him know what a goddess can do to a mortal man. The ref insists the pinfall attempt was short of the necessary three. Ashley scoffs at the erroneous arbiter and returns her attention to the champ, Astrid moving slowly, pushing to all fours before halting as she tries to gather her currently limited resources.
The flaxen-haired goddess of The Three has no such problem, reaching her feet and moving to the nearest corner. She climbs easily for her height, reaching the top in no time and turning to face the rising six-plus footer. Ashley waits patiently for the wobbling Amazon to turn in her direction. She launches from on high, the deity shooting like a thunderbolt out of the sky, the former Aphrodite delivering Cupid’s Arrow, a diving spear that nearly splits the Stranger in two.
The champion folds from the hellacious tackle and is driven to the deck in spectacular fashion. Locke is a little rattled herself from the collision, but she recovers quickly, diving across the splayed Astrid in a crossbody press for the…
ONE…
TWO…
The crowd carries right on to ‘THREE’, a roar of roughly equal pleasure and disapproval ringing out. Ashley looks like she’s convinced too, sitting right back onto her haunches and looking in Craig Long’s direction with a mixture of suspicion and hope. “Three!” she shouted at him, “why aren’t you ringing the bell?” The official’s only response is to point in the other direction, his eagle eyes having spotted that one of the champion’s long arms had just about reached out to grab the bottom rope before he could finish his count!
Snarling in annoyance, Locke pushes to her feet and aims a short’n’nasty kick in the direction of the blonde she thought she’d vanquished, Astrid rolling over with the momentum and reaching to grab the rope with her other hand, eyes still blinking away fog. The twin grips on the strands might have earned her a few seconds of breathing room as the former Aphrodite instead rounds on the referee, one finger pointing at him accusatorially.
“That was a count of three!” she hissed, “I know it, this whole crowd knows it, and you know it!”
Trying not to be cowed, the referee took an involuntary half-step back before he could find the words to justify himself. “She had the ropes, Ashley,“ he explained, “It was a close call, but you’re going to have to beat her fair and square if you want the title.”
The look he receives in response could have stopped traffic, the ex-deity’s eyes flashing rage. But Locke didn’t get to be one of the most dominant tag champions in history by letting herself get distracted, the big blonde wheeling around to focus her fury on the Stranger, now clambering unsteadily to her feet with the aid of the ropes.
As soon as White had regained some semblance of verticality the former Aphrodite was on the move, charging forwards and unfurling one brawny arm. Uncorking a HUUUUGE Running Lariat, the challenger threw herself forwards, her bicep smacking meatily into Astrid’s porcelain features. The force and momentum was enough to send both blondes sprawling over the top rope, the pair crashing down onto the ringside matting in a tangle of flaxen locks and perfectly-toned limbs.
Despite the undeniably rough landing Ashley had clearly fared the better of the two, shoving the Stranger’s battered body away from her own and rising to her haunches. Again she stalked her prey, body in a classic three-point stance, apparently looking to give the champion a second shot from Cupid’s Bow. With White reaching an unsteady crouch, the New Yorker braced those endless legs and powered herself forwards…
…And straight into the uncovered steel of the ring post! Foggy as she was, White somehow maintains the presence of mind to pull off a last-second matador move, slipping to one side and leaving the former tag champ to ram shoulder-first into the metal at full tilt. Ashley slumps down to her side, one hand reaching up to massage at the sudden thudding pain in her collarbone, with Astrid a few feet away, propped on the barrier and blinking away the last of the fog in her eyes.
Snatching some momentum for the first time in a fair few minutes, Astrid seems keen to keep things rolling, taking a stutter step forwards and then THWAPPING a short Soccer Kick which slams the toe of her boot right into that hurting shoulder joint. An involuntary wail escapes Ashley’s lips, but it seems that she’s in more trouble, the champion leaning down to grab two big handfuls of golden mane and haul her roughly up to standing. Once there, White wraps her arms around and lifts higher, shifting her burden around into a Fireman’s Carry with Locke’s head sticking out over the edge of one Scandinavian shoulder.
Spinning her package, White takes a big stride over to the crowd barrier and pushes up on her tippy toes, lifting Locke as high as she can. The Black Courtier can see what’s coming but doesn’t have enough time to prevent it, the Arctic Assassin dropping sharply to her butt beside the barrier. Ashley’s descent is far worse, her noggin dropping onto that lightly-padded metal with an evil-sounding ‘THUNK’ and then recoiling away, her body slumping over into a heap, half propped up on the barrier.
Awed shouts compete with more muted ‘oooohs’ of sympathy as the crowd reacts to the brutal head-drop they’ve just seen. But the champion doesn’t seem to be anywhere close to done, grabbing another handful of hair and leading the dazed New Yorker over to the ring apron and shoving her up under the bottom rope. Astrid herself simply lifts one long leg up and takes a mighty stride to climb right up alongside her, stepping over the prone former deity and slipping back into the ring. She doesn’t take Locke along with her though, instead lifting the challenger up between the top and middle ropes and dragging her body up to follow.
The result is Ashley’s shins draped over the middle rope, her long body stretched out, head trapped in a Front Facelock courtesy of the Stranger. Astrid holds her there for just a second, the crowd anticipation building still further. And then she drops sharply to her back, dragging Locke’s noggin along for the ride so that her crown explodes into the canvas from a hellaciously elevated position!
The force is enough to make Ashley complete an involuntary headstand, crashing over onto her back in a damp and dozy starfish. White simply has to roll on top of her, reaching down to hook one of those limp legs as Craig Long drops to count…
ONE
TWO
THRNOOOO!
The official’s hand had begun its third descent but never made it to the canvas, Ashley showing all kinds of championship pedigree by punching an arm and shoulder up into the air. Her defiance comes as a pleasant surprise to the crowd, eager for this clash of titans to continue. But Astrid’s face is unusually emotive, surprise giving way to annoyance in those grey-green eyes.
“Stubborn,” She murmurs matter-of-factly, “I know just the cure for that.” With Ashley occupied only with gasping in air and trying to blink the haze from her vision she has little chance to fight the champion off, Astrid reaching down to roll her to her front and then looping one arm across her throat from behind. Rearing back, the Stranger reaches her other hand behind, linking her fingers in an s-grip while wrenching back on the hurt former Aphrodite’s neck. Both of Ashley’s hands come up to fight the hold but she can’t help but be pulled backwards, White wrapping those endless legs around the other blonde’s trim waist and squeezing in on her signature choke!
Ashley’s arms flail, desperation setting in quickly as Locke realizes she might be seconds from fading into unconsciousness at the hands of the champion. After uselessly trying to pry her way free, Ashley streaks a set of nails down White’s back. The first is an annoyance Astrid grits her teeth through, the second is a stinging reminder how dangerous Ashley remains and that she could be finished without undergoing a growing series of welt lines.
The Stranger unloops her restraining arm and throws the back of Locke’s head into the canvas, Ashley’s skull bouncing brutally against the thinly-covered plywood. The champ climbs to her feet and surveys what’s left of the drained challenger, Astrid having effectively drawn the former Aphrodite to the edge of match extinction.
White coldly motions for Ashley to rise, allowing Locke to meet her end on her feet. The dazed Black Courtier slowly accedes to White’s wishes, head wobbling, legs rubbery as she reaches vertical. Instantly, the Stranger whips a roundhouse kick toward Ashley’s temple. Locke manages to not only duck under, but when the looping boot comes up empty and White ends turned away from Locke, the former Aphrodite slips her arms around the head and neck of Astrid, Ashley’s own considerable height making it JUST possible to secure a Cobra Clutch.
But Locke does so only for an instant, showing incredible recovery ability when she launches the Icelandic Amazon into the air and THUMPS her into the deck with a slam out of the Clutch.
Cobra Clutch Slam ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=wL13_MKELRQ )
Astrid’s body is POUNDED into the deck and she remains down and stunned. However, with the abuse Locke’s taken and the adrenaline used to pull off the counter, Ashley’s face down and motionless next to the Stranger.
‘This is awesome’ chants from the crowd stir both parties and it’s a race to see who can get to their feet first. It’s a veritable tie. But Astrid’s the first to attack, swinging a scythe-like clothesline at Locke’s clavicle. Ashley ducks the destructive swing and again a swing-and-miss pays dividends. The former tag champ cinches a bearhug around the waist of the mountainous Icelandic grappler from behind. Doing what few in FAWN could likely manage, Ashley uses her tight embrace to vault the champ heavenward, falling back and delivering White’s head and shoulders to a thumping collision with the canvas with a Release German Suplex.
The momentum of the impact sends Astrid tumbling over to her chest. But to Ashley’s wide-eyed concern, White rises to her feet almost immediately, getting up as quickly as the Black Courtier, shaking off the challenger’s offense like it’s a minor inconvenience. The same can’t be said when a furious Locke follows with a Big Boot to Astrid’s jaw that lays out the Arctic Assassin, White left in a shellshocked spreadeagle.
Smelling the Intercontinental title within her reach, Locke dives on the insensate Stranger in a crossbody, hooking an incredibly long leg, pulling the knee toward Astrid’s chin for the…
ONE…
TWO…
White shoves Ashley off emphatically, the Black Courtier looking in amazement at Long as if to ask what do I have to do? Craig shrugs and holds up two fingers.
Locke sinks her nails into Astrid’s blonde locks and with considerable effort ‘guides’ White to her feet. She dips and scoops Astrid onto her right shoulder, also quite an endeavor for anyone under the best of conditions. As Ashley is, she almost collapses under the effort but maintains her balance long enough to stumble a few steps to a corner and drop the pit of White’s knees over the top rope on either side of the buckles. The Black Courtier locks Astrid’s legs, tucking her toe tips under the middle ropes, placing the Stranger in the biggest Tree of Woe FAWN is ever likely to see.
With her boots at the ready, Ashley scrapes the soles across the champ’s face as a prelude of the ferocity to come.
“You may be an Arctic Amazon, but I’m a goddess made flesh!” Locke informs emphatically.
With that said, she jogs to the opposite corner and spins into a sprint at her fidgeting target. Astrid can’t find a way free before Ashley leaps into a baseball slide of a dropkick, the impact rocking the Stranger’s braincase back with a violent whip that draws a reflexive ‘ooooh’ from the Mania crowd.
Rising to her feet, Ashley unhooks the ragdolled titleholder’s legs and Astrid tumbles into a jumble of limbs and torso. Locke grabs a wrist and pulls White out of the heap she’s become. But instead of going for the pin, she hauls the Arctic Assassin to her feet, shoving White chest-first into the buckles recently used to form Iceland’s only tree, the tundra-filled country usually tree-free.
This time Ashley shows her strength in lifting Astrid to a stance first on the bottom rope, then with a huge grunting heave, to the middle ropes. Joining her, Locke wraps her arms around Astrid’s long, lean midriff. Usually, the former Goddess of Love likes to take her victims to the top of Olympus for her signature Love from on High but with Astrid’s size, the second rope would have to do. Gathering her reserves, she tries to lift the champion off her unsteady perch and deliver her to the canvas with a semi-superplex.
But Astrid’s locked a white-knuckle grip (pun intended) around the top cable. Frustrated at White’s continued show of resistance, Locke releases her hug to send hammer forearms to the back of the champ’s skull. Grip loosened, Ashley embraces and HEAVES the Stranger overhead, delivering Astrid to the deck. The landing shakes the ring and perhaps the course of the IC title’s history.
Locke’s also shaken by her landing. It takes a few seconds for her to crawl to the soon-to-be former champion and drop across her foe in a lateral press for the title-winning…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Astrid throws a shoulder up convincingly, if at the last possible moment, sending Ashley rolling to her back. Her hands reflexively move to her flaxen locks. Head in those hands, staring at the rafters, Ashley must be wondering what type of creature she’s fighting, no mere mortal she.
But the former Aphrodite has a couple arrows left in her quiver. Showing the strain of the fight with the Icelandic Amazon, Ashley struggles to get Astrid up for the end game. Still, she manages. Standing beside White, Asley drops a limp arm of the Stranger over her far shoulder and wraps her near arm around the muscular thigh of her foe. With a loud grunt, she tries to elevate Astrid for Love at First Sight to end the champion’s resistance once and for all.
Love at First Sight ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=6q-7JwUo8jk )
Sure enough the statuesque blonde bundles the champ up onto her shoulders and loops one arm around the back of her head. But those long limbs of White come into play once again, the Scandinavian flexing one knee up to drive the point into Ashley’s temple. The unorthodox shot is enough to send Locke staggering sideways but she regains her footing, powering up and lifting Astrid up off her shoulders before the inevitable head-first plunge into the canvas.
…Or perhaps it isn’t so inevitable. As a last desperate attempt Astrid reaches one long arm out, managing to snatch a grip of the nearest top rope even as she’s lifted skywards. The leverage is enough to briefly counteract gravity, the Stranger pulling herself sideways away from Locke’s clutches to land messily but far more safely on her feet.
Ashley seems distinctly unhappy about this, scrambling back to her feet while the champion is still leaning on the ropes. “You can run but you can’t escape,” she snarls, taking two fast steps towards her prey and bending to deliver yet another shot from Cupid’s Bow. Or at least that might have been the plan, but this time White is ready, stepping forwards to power a knee up into her onrushing face. Locke’s head rears back, killing a lot of the momentum, but she still sprawls forwards into Astrid, the two titanic battlers ending up in a heap of luscious limbs and sweat-matted blonde, tangled into the ropes.
Having stood toe-to-toe since the opening bell and having delivered and received almost everything they could throw at each other, it was no surprise that both blondes finally seemed to be showing some weariness. But as witnesses to this clash of behemoths, the crowds still didn’t seem to be quite satisfied, the noise rising to uncomfortable decibel levels as they encouraged one final crescendo of violence. Unusually, it seemed that Astrid was the fighter who responded to the crowd noise, the champ making it upright while Ashley was still on her knees and taking a few stagger steps back to buy herself some space. As soon as the Black Courtier reached a semblance of verticality she swept forwards, spinning with one foot up at murder height.
Icebreaker (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O4zJwRi4NYk )
None of the Stranger’s usual grace is on display with the strike, instead she just uses her momentum to plough the sole of her boot through Ashley’s temple. The former Deity drops like a bag of cement, ending on her back blinking up to the lights. Skidding to a stop a few feet away, White allows herself just a second to wearily drop her head and then wills herself back upright, standing to her full height and turning with a focused fury burning in those grey-green eyes.
Reaching down to grab two handfuls of the other blonde’s mane, the Arctic Assassin hauls upwards, dragging Ashley to some semblance of verticality and then ducking to lift up further. There’s a notable wobble in her legs as she lifts the New Yorker into a fireman’s carry, and for a second it looks like she might lose her grip, Locke thrashing her body in an attempt to engineer her own miraculous escape. But it seems that luck and time are not on her side, White pushing up through her legs, and powering her burden out into the void. Ashley falls the full six feet, landing on the back of her noggin between the champion’s splayed legs.
Fear Itself (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LEvjRW8KyZw )
Keeping a tight hold of those gorgeously tanned legs, White leans forward in her seat and pushes down. Locke finds herself shoulders down and ass up, the crowd counting along with Craig Long as he slaps the matt for…
ONE
TWO
THRNOOOOOO!
Someway, somehow, Ashley manages to find some final reserve of energy, bucking up through her hips and shoving her legs out from the pinfall. She flops over onto her back, chest heaving in the tight confines of her top, eyes open but unfocused. Sitting above her head, Astrid seems almost as devastated, eyes wide with surprise written with unusual expressiveness across her face. For just an instant, her gaze shifts to Craig Long, her almost superhuman composure finally seeming to be at its limits. But after a baleful gaze she manages to refocus, scrabbling to her knees and taking a mount over her prey.
Scrambling around, the Stranger takes a seat on Locke’s rapidly rising and falling chest. The FAWNatics prepare to once again raise the roof at the prospect of the champion’s positioning shifting further to deploy a very FAWN-style smother. But their hopes are dashed along with Locke’s when Astrid brings one long porcelain leg up and around to rest her shin across the throat of the semiconscious Deity. Crunching forwards, White grabs two handfuls of blonde mane and rolls to her back, uncurling her body while pouring crushing pressure on Ashley’s windpipe.
Whiteout (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mAkSnpX85Fg )
Deprived of what little air remains in her lungs, Locke immediately begins to flail, legs kicking, hands swinging wildly around her. After a few seconds she manages to find a bit of purchase, her legs tucking up, hands pushing off the rough canvas in a desperate attempt to lift herself free. For a few seconds she’s able to do so, lifting Astrid up until only her upper back was touching the canvas. But just as she did so White uncurled her other leg, lifting it up and then SLAMMING the heel of her boot down into the Black Courtier’s spine.
Suddenly, the escape attempt collapses again, Ashley’s torso slumping forwards again onto the mat. And now the Stranger’s teeth are bared, White pouring all her remaining reserves into squeezing the last remaining life out of Ashley Locke. The big blonde’s thrashing continues for only a few more seconds, those lithe limbs slowing to a patter and then slowly, steadily to a still.
Watching on with a look of concern, Long waits only a second or two more before checking his charge. “Ashley, are you still with us?” he asks, receiving nothing in response. His last check is to lift one hand, watching it drop lifelessly…
ONCE
TWICE
THREE TIMES!
Turning to signal for the bell, Long is quick to scramble over to the champion, tapping rapidly on her leg. “You win Astrid, now let her go!” he demanded. White’s teeth were still bared, the Arctic Assassin clearly still focused only on ending her challenger’s night. But after some more insistent tapping she unlocks her legs, shoving the now-snoozing New Yorker to one side and dropping to her back in a damp and messy starfish.
A few deep breaths are enough for the Champion to regain her cool, White sitting up and moving slowly and gingerly into a cross-legged position, head bowed. As the FAWNamania fans went wild around, she remained a pool of quiet calm, eyes open, watching as the ringside staff hurried her title back in her direction. By now Craig Long was familiar with the Icelander’s odd preferences around her title, reaching down to spread the belt out in front of her, Astrid moving not a muscle in thanks or acceptance.
For a few more long heartbeats she remained statue-still, simply staring at the title belt spread in front of her. And then finally she seemed to have paused for long enough, that long body unfurling again, scooping the belt up to hobble across to the nearest corner. Ascending carefully to the second buckle, the Stranger lifted one arm up and rolled her head sideways, her fingers spreading to form the tilted ‘A’ sigil again, turning to focus down the nearest camera as the FAWN feed cut to the penultimate set of commercials.
The name *almost* rang a bell with some of the fans, but they didn’t really have time to talk it over with their friends because the lights went out all over the arena. Their eyes were still adjusting to the dark when their ears were assaulted by a piercing guitar shriek from the speakers. This was followed by the pounding of drums and a few more shrieks. A spotlight kicked on in time with the first verse of Three Days Grace ‘Chalk Outline’ and the growing sense of unease among those assembled got that much stronger when they realized it seemed to be raining directly in front of the entryway.
CHALK OUTLINE
I've been cursed
I've been crossed
I've been beaten by the ones that get me off
I've been cut
I've been opened up
I've been shattered by the ones I thought I loved
Though she was looking at the floor, those in attendance were quite impressed even without seeing her face. Ashley Locke was indeed an Amazon, a statuesque blonde probably right at six feet with her boots and a good two thirds of that was probably leg. Said gams were exquisitely sculpted and looked downright dangerous, as did her shoulders, abdominals and chest, the latter armored in an orangish-red leather bikini top decorated with an intricate pattern of small metal studs. Her bottoms matched the top, as did her pads and boots, though the pads were basic lycra and lacked any sort of adornment. A detail for the discerning eye, the outer edge of each boot was adorned with a stylized head and shoulders of a black horse.
ASHLEY LOCKE:
Striding off down the ramp, the Amazonian blonde showed not the slightest interest in the fans reaching out to her, those legs carting her to ringside at a rapid rate. Climbing elegantly up the steps, the Black Courtier slips lithely through the ropes and out to the center of the ring, raising her arms in an invitation for all present to admire her godly form. And admire they did, wolf whistles mingling with the roars as the former tag champ strode to her corner and prepared to challenge for solo gold.
A thumping bass heartbeat rocked through the arena, followed by another, another and another. As the crowd volume raised in recognition, a huge pair of hyper-realistic eyes opened up on the ‘tron, blinking and focusing slightly as the song’s bass-driven chaos was joined by a surprisingly delicate vocal. The woman herself made an appearance soon after; picked out in a spotlight among twilight. Face hooded by a dark leather jacket, she looked impossibly tall and slender in the low lighting as she set off on a slow, methodical stride to the ring.
“And her opponent, hailing from Reykjavik, Iceland, standing at 6’2” of height and weighing in tonight at 139lbs…she is known as The Stranger, and is the reigning FAWN INTERCONTINENTAL CHAMPION…ASTRID WHITE!””
Tonight was the Icelander's first time holding gold on the biggest stage of them all, but there was no sign of any change in her appearance or demeanor as a result. The FAWNatics had a clear view of those impossibly long and well toned legs, ending in midnight blue lycra boy shorts. Her top was mostly covered by the dark leather jacket, but the opening exposed a white meshed top covering the modest swell of her chest, as well as a glimpse of arguably the most well-defined abs in FAWN. And trailed behind her by one hand was her title, the second most prestigious belt in FAWN reduced to an afterthought even on this grand stage.
ASTRID WHITE:
The Stranger reached the ring and carried on around to the back, stepping up on the apron in one stride and slipping through the strands, she made her way to one corner and ascended the second turnbuckle just as her music again paused. On the final bass heartbeat the lights flared back on, and White flicked her hood back at the same time to reveal her sharply contoured face framed by an artfully wavy blonde bob. She flashed a hand over one grey-green eye, tilting her head to form an A sigil. Out in the crowd a reasonable number raised their hands in response, but the Stranger’s fans were drowned out by the editable roar of a crowd eager for some destroyer-class action!
Moving before the bell's echo had died, Locke strode out of her corner, planting herself square in center ring and raising her arms high, although her eyes kept their focus on the champion. The former Aphrodite’s invitation for the crowd to bask in her glory got a reasonable roar from the FAWNatics, although it wasn’t clear whether this was for her undeniable charms or for the prospect of the titanic clash that was about to occur. For her part, the champion looked considerably more circumspect, dropping into a springy crouch and circling to one side. Her caution was quickly noted by the challenger, a sneer crossing her lips.
“What’s the matter, skinny girl?” she called over the crowd buzz, “does it scare you to see what a real champion looks like close up? Don’t worry, soon I’ll have the gold and you can slink back to the undercard where you belong.”
Anger flashed in the grey-green eyes of the stranger, but the rest of her face twisted into a small and entirely humourless smile. Taking a big stride towards her prey she stood to her full height, six feet and two inches of muscle and sinew unfolding as she stepped in. The height difference was notable even for a woman of Ashely Locke’s statuesque proportions, Astrid making a point of tilting her head down in order to meet the former tag champion’s gaze head on, much to the other blonde’s chagrin.
“Do you really think being tall is going to impress me?” Locke stepped forward, her words now hissed in the Icelander’s face. “Hype is temporary, but class is permanent. And no-one has more class than a goddess. Let me show you.”
One divine arm was raised high again, palm open, a clear invitation for a Test of Strength. White’s eyes flicked up to the outstretched fingers, then her own hand came up, hand ‘smecking’ into Ashley’s, the two blondes moving in mirror symmetry to bring their other hands up to bear as well.
Again the volume levels in the stands increased, FAWNatics eager to see the outcome of this clash between leverage and pure strength. Initially it looked like the champion’s extra reach was enough to give her the advantage, lifting her elbows up and bearing downwards to roll the New Yorker’s wrists backwards. But Locke had been known as one of the strongest women in FAWN since her early days as Aphrodite, and as the contest went on she used this to turn things her own way, sheer effort forcing Astrid’s hands downwards until the Scandinavian was forced to slide one boot backwards and brace herself.
Lips curling up into a snarl of triumph, Ashley poured forwards, pressing her advantage with all her might as White’s hands were pushed back and downwards. The champion made her earn every inch gained but it was clear she was losing ground, back foot sliding on the canvas, her spine arching further until…
Both blondes seemed to move at once. White’s front foot lifted off the matt, flashing up in a short, sharp kick aimed at the Deity’s chest. It would have landed if it wasn’t for Locke’s own movement, abandoning her grip and shoving herself forwards to wrap both brawny arms around the champion’s pale waist. She used her momentum to lift up and throw her burden forwards and down, Astrid crashing into the canvas covered plywood spine-first.
Spinebuster www.youtube.com/watch?v=L09zEI8BwOw
Astrid instinctively arched her back off the matt, one hand up clasping at the back of her head while the other reached around to massage her lower spine. Locke didn’t give her any time to recover though, throwing herself across the other blonde’s torso to press her back down into the canvas. She hooked one arm around both Scandinavian legs, hauling the stranger up into a high and tight pin as Craig Long dropped to count…
ONE
TWNoo
Discombobulated though she might be, White had far too much left in the tank to go down that easily, punching one arm up and kicking both legs to push the former Aphrodite off with authority. She rolled to her front, pushing up of the canvas and “WOULPH!” Locke Reared back on her knees and thumped a big Double Axehandle right into the base of her spine. The Stranger slumped forwards again, Ashley clambering into a mount and reaching down to grab a handful of blonde tresses.
“Kiss the canvas!” she demanded loudly. Astrid clearly had no intention of complying with the order, but she didn’t have much choice, the New Yorker leaning down and scrubbing those high cheekbones and porcelain features right into the rough matting. After a few futile attempts to push up and alleviate the humiliation, White changed tack, placing both hands down and bucking her hips and legs. The first big shove was enough to put Locke a little off balance and a second heave threw her off, lurching to one side while the champion rolled in the other direction, earning herself a little bit of distance.
Most of those at ringside seemed to be expecting White to use the time she had bought to take a breath, and certainly that seemed to be Locke’s assumption, pushing up to all fours ready to rise back to her feet. But the champion clearly had other ideas, rolling back the way she had come with those long legs scything around. The unorthodox Sweep caught the Black Courtier by surprise, both legs swept out from beneath her leading to a decidedly inelegant landing on her rear. Ashley clearly didn’t like this turn of events one bit, scrabbling back to her feet again.
Unfortunately Astrid had beaten the former Aphrodite to her feet by several seconds, one Muay Thai boot raised even as Locke turned to face her. Ashley threw up her hands, clearly expecting a kick to the face, but instead the Stranger stayed low, driving a short and brutally stiff Low Kick which crunched into the top of Locke’s left kneecap. Again the Pantheon member was caught cold, dropped to one knee with White rearing before her.
“Genuflection suits you.” Astrid’s voice was quiet, but the self proclaimed goddess clearly heard her, letting out a snarl of annoyance as she powered back up to two feet. But once again she found herself playing right into the champion’s hands, White leaping gorgeously off one foot and bringing that same knee up to CRUNCH right into the point of Locke’s jaw just as she had reached her full height! The sound of the New Yorker’s teeth clacking together could be heard across ringside, followed by an involuntary ‘oooooh’ of sympathy at the rapid-fire strike.
Bicycle kneestrike www.youtube.com/watch?v=lDOFF5qnFFs
Credit to Ashely Locke, she took a strike which would have flattened 95% of the roster and somehow maintained her footing. Reeling away from the blow, both arms windmilling, she looked to be stepping in post-holes as she backpedaled. The Stranger seemed well aware of this, taking a few back-steps of her own and then bursting forward before once again slipping the surly bounds of earth. This time she launched into a tight little spin, emerging with one elbow at decapitation height.
Snowblind www.youtube.com/watch?v=lEHFAfrBmj0
Now there was no chance for Locke to maintain verticality, the big blonde crashing down on her back while White skidded to a stop on her knees. She was quick to shuffle back, sprawling over the stunned deity and pushing her shoulders down for…
Under the full body pin of her fellow blonde, Ashley looks blankly into the predatory gaze of the Intercontinental champion through…
ONE…
TWO…
…and Locke shoots her hips off the canvas, quickly followed by her shoulders. Ashley flops to her side to keep White from collecting another pin attempt, but Astrid’s moved on, already rising and tugging the dazed goddess with her. The Icelandic Amazon latches onto a right wrist and shoulder then sends Locke zooming to the ropes with an Irish Whip. The champ waits a tick then takes off in a sprint behind the former Aphrodite.
Ashley gets only a couple steps out of the u-turn before a raised boot from the Arctic Blast CRASHES into Locke between her crystal blue pools.
White Heat ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=XMCf8tyDzsY )
White Heat sends Ashley rocketing in reverse and tumbling over the ropes in a backflip but somehow Locke has the wherewithal to wrap a white-knuckled palm around the uppermost cable and remain teetering on the apron’s edge.
As Pandora and Pappy’s partner wobbles on the precipice of a trip to the cement floor below, Astrid sends a toe kick between the ropes and DEEP into the belly of the deity. Ashley doubles over, groaning and White slips her foe’s torso between the upper and middle cables, pulling the lanky goddess back into the ring until she’s hooked at Locke’s ankles on the middle strand. With Ashley’s noggin in a front facelock, it’s clear what the titleholder has in mind and she doesn’t make anyone wait. Laying out, the Stranger SPIKES Locke’s skull into the thinly-sheathed plywood with a rope-assisted DDT.
Ashley’s cranium PLANTS like a lawn dart, the former Aphrodite absently flopping to her back, spreading into a lifeless starfish from the likely concussive blow. The champ scoops both legs with her right arm and rolls Ashley into a tight cradle, White’s back finishing across the chest of her challenger for…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Locke kicks a shoulder off the mat even if she doesn’t get herself fully free from the cool Icelandic grip of the Stranger. Astrid shifts into a scissors around Locke’s head from the front then locks on a triangle choke even as Ashley slides topside. Though she’s below, the champ still has the upper hand, that is until the goddess shows her otherworldly power. Getting her feet beneath her, she powers up to a wide, lowered stance, drawing an ‘ooooh’ from the assembled at the strength involved.
But Ashley’s not done, straightening to vertical, she hauls Astrid to belt-high before the size of White beckons even a goddess to return her to earth. She dumps the Stranger to the deck with a ring-rattling SLAM but the cool Nordic Amazon seems barely effected, maintaining her grip through the collision.
Triangle Choke Lock ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=o3eMmh1HCKU )
Astrid proceeds to roll atop Locke, increasing the danger for the former Aphrodite. But the crafty vet keeps the momentum of the maneuver and barrels both women to the cables, slipping an ankle over the bottom one. The ref quickly calls for the break and the stoic champion releases instantly upon the count of ‘one’ from the zebra. She untangles, rises and takes three steps back from the flustered challenger, Ashley hugging the bottom rope when her arms are free, treating the rubber-coated steel like an old friend.
“Keep that freakish mortal back,” Locke demands as she slowly pulls herself to vertical with the help of the cables.
With the former tag champ’s first step away from safety, Astrid charges her foe, right arm drawn for a forearm barrage. But the flaxen-haired immortal ducks under while wrapping her arms under the curve of White’s glutes. Ashley lifts and falls backward, hotshotting Astrid’s throat across the top rope. The Stranger’s head snaps back and the rest of the Amazon stumbles after, White gagging and grasping at her reddening neck from the former Aphrodite’s All Choked Up.
Trailing behind, Locke’s fingers dig into a shoulder of the towering Artic Blast and Ashley spins the champion to face her. Moving her grip to Astrid’s wrist, Ashley uses her left hand to chickenwing White’s right arm high and back, clearing a path for Locke to BURY a Heart Punch into the left side of the cleft of the Stranger’s bosom.
White’s blue-grey peepers cross from the heartbeat-skipping blow, her long, lean legs jellying. Ashley takes advantage of the clouded daze the Stranger enters. She pulls one of Astrid’s leaden arms between the long Icelandic legs of White. Leaning across the back of the stooped champion, Locke latches on at Astrid’s side and hauls all 6 feet-plus of her foe off the canvas, launching the Stranger to shoulder level before sitting out and THUMPING Astrid into the canvas with authority.
Pumphandle Situout Slam ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=iKapKb9LCtw )
White’s body bounces an inch off the deck from the force of the impact before settling between Ashley’s outstretched stems. The former Aphrodite leans forward to roll Astrid onto her shoulders, the Stranger’s cheeks pointed to the rafters for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOO!
White spasms to life just in time, flopping off a shoulder as she spins to her chest. The disbelieving Ashley turns her gaze to the official who already has two fingers raised.
Appearing as if she plans to send the man to Hades, Locke jumps to her feet and lets him know what a goddess can do to a mortal man. The ref insists the pinfall attempt was short of the necessary three. Ashley scoffs at the erroneous arbiter and returns her attention to the champ, Astrid moving slowly, pushing to all fours before halting as she tries to gather her currently limited resources.
The flaxen-haired goddess of The Three has no such problem, reaching her feet and moving to the nearest corner. She climbs easily for her height, reaching the top in no time and turning to face the rising six-plus footer. Ashley waits patiently for the wobbling Amazon to turn in her direction. She launches from on high, the deity shooting like a thunderbolt out of the sky, the former Aphrodite delivering Cupid’s Arrow, a diving spear that nearly splits the Stranger in two.
The champion folds from the hellacious tackle and is driven to the deck in spectacular fashion. Locke is a little rattled herself from the collision, but she recovers quickly, diving across the splayed Astrid in a crossbody press for the…
ONE…
TWO…
The crowd carries right on to ‘THREE’, a roar of roughly equal pleasure and disapproval ringing out. Ashley looks like she’s convinced too, sitting right back onto her haunches and looking in Craig Long’s direction with a mixture of suspicion and hope. “Three!” she shouted at him, “why aren’t you ringing the bell?” The official’s only response is to point in the other direction, his eagle eyes having spotted that one of the champion’s long arms had just about reached out to grab the bottom rope before he could finish his count!
Snarling in annoyance, Locke pushes to her feet and aims a short’n’nasty kick in the direction of the blonde she thought she’d vanquished, Astrid rolling over with the momentum and reaching to grab the rope with her other hand, eyes still blinking away fog. The twin grips on the strands might have earned her a few seconds of breathing room as the former Aphrodite instead rounds on the referee, one finger pointing at him accusatorially.
“That was a count of three!” she hissed, “I know it, this whole crowd knows it, and you know it!”
Trying not to be cowed, the referee took an involuntary half-step back before he could find the words to justify himself. “She had the ropes, Ashley,“ he explained, “It was a close call, but you’re going to have to beat her fair and square if you want the title.”
The look he receives in response could have stopped traffic, the ex-deity’s eyes flashing rage. But Locke didn’t get to be one of the most dominant tag champions in history by letting herself get distracted, the big blonde wheeling around to focus her fury on the Stranger, now clambering unsteadily to her feet with the aid of the ropes.
As soon as White had regained some semblance of verticality the former Aphrodite was on the move, charging forwards and unfurling one brawny arm. Uncorking a HUUUUGE Running Lariat, the challenger threw herself forwards, her bicep smacking meatily into Astrid’s porcelain features. The force and momentum was enough to send both blondes sprawling over the top rope, the pair crashing down onto the ringside matting in a tangle of flaxen locks and perfectly-toned limbs.
Despite the undeniably rough landing Ashley had clearly fared the better of the two, shoving the Stranger’s battered body away from her own and rising to her haunches. Again she stalked her prey, body in a classic three-point stance, apparently looking to give the champion a second shot from Cupid’s Bow. With White reaching an unsteady crouch, the New Yorker braced those endless legs and powered herself forwards…
…And straight into the uncovered steel of the ring post! Foggy as she was, White somehow maintains the presence of mind to pull off a last-second matador move, slipping to one side and leaving the former tag champ to ram shoulder-first into the metal at full tilt. Ashley slumps down to her side, one hand reaching up to massage at the sudden thudding pain in her collarbone, with Astrid a few feet away, propped on the barrier and blinking away the last of the fog in her eyes.
Snatching some momentum for the first time in a fair few minutes, Astrid seems keen to keep things rolling, taking a stutter step forwards and then THWAPPING a short Soccer Kick which slams the toe of her boot right into that hurting shoulder joint. An involuntary wail escapes Ashley’s lips, but it seems that she’s in more trouble, the champion leaning down to grab two big handfuls of golden mane and haul her roughly up to standing. Once there, White wraps her arms around and lifts higher, shifting her burden around into a Fireman’s Carry with Locke’s head sticking out over the edge of one Scandinavian shoulder.
Spinning her package, White takes a big stride over to the crowd barrier and pushes up on her tippy toes, lifting Locke as high as she can. The Black Courtier can see what’s coming but doesn’t have enough time to prevent it, the Arctic Assassin dropping sharply to her butt beside the barrier. Ashley’s descent is far worse, her noggin dropping onto that lightly-padded metal with an evil-sounding ‘THUNK’ and then recoiling away, her body slumping over into a heap, half propped up on the barrier.
Awed shouts compete with more muted ‘oooohs’ of sympathy as the crowd reacts to the brutal head-drop they’ve just seen. But the champion doesn’t seem to be anywhere close to done, grabbing another handful of hair and leading the dazed New Yorker over to the ring apron and shoving her up under the bottom rope. Astrid herself simply lifts one long leg up and takes a mighty stride to climb right up alongside her, stepping over the prone former deity and slipping back into the ring. She doesn’t take Locke along with her though, instead lifting the challenger up between the top and middle ropes and dragging her body up to follow.
The result is Ashley’s shins draped over the middle rope, her long body stretched out, head trapped in a Front Facelock courtesy of the Stranger. Astrid holds her there for just a second, the crowd anticipation building still further. And then she drops sharply to her back, dragging Locke’s noggin along for the ride so that her crown explodes into the canvas from a hellaciously elevated position!
The force is enough to make Ashley complete an involuntary headstand, crashing over onto her back in a damp and dozy starfish. White simply has to roll on top of her, reaching down to hook one of those limp legs as Craig Long drops to count…
ONE
TWO
THRNOOOO!
The official’s hand had begun its third descent but never made it to the canvas, Ashley showing all kinds of championship pedigree by punching an arm and shoulder up into the air. Her defiance comes as a pleasant surprise to the crowd, eager for this clash of titans to continue. But Astrid’s face is unusually emotive, surprise giving way to annoyance in those grey-green eyes.
“Stubborn,” She murmurs matter-of-factly, “I know just the cure for that.” With Ashley occupied only with gasping in air and trying to blink the haze from her vision she has little chance to fight the champion off, Astrid reaching down to roll her to her front and then looping one arm across her throat from behind. Rearing back, the Stranger reaches her other hand behind, linking her fingers in an s-grip while wrenching back on the hurt former Aphrodite’s neck. Both of Ashley’s hands come up to fight the hold but she can’t help but be pulled backwards, White wrapping those endless legs around the other blonde’s trim waist and squeezing in on her signature choke!
Ashley’s arms flail, desperation setting in quickly as Locke realizes she might be seconds from fading into unconsciousness at the hands of the champion. After uselessly trying to pry her way free, Ashley streaks a set of nails down White’s back. The first is an annoyance Astrid grits her teeth through, the second is a stinging reminder how dangerous Ashley remains and that she could be finished without undergoing a growing series of welt lines.
The Stranger unloops her restraining arm and throws the back of Locke’s head into the canvas, Ashley’s skull bouncing brutally against the thinly-covered plywood. The champ climbs to her feet and surveys what’s left of the drained challenger, Astrid having effectively drawn the former Aphrodite to the edge of match extinction.
White coldly motions for Ashley to rise, allowing Locke to meet her end on her feet. The dazed Black Courtier slowly accedes to White’s wishes, head wobbling, legs rubbery as she reaches vertical. Instantly, the Stranger whips a roundhouse kick toward Ashley’s temple. Locke manages to not only duck under, but when the looping boot comes up empty and White ends turned away from Locke, the former Aphrodite slips her arms around the head and neck of Astrid, Ashley’s own considerable height making it JUST possible to secure a Cobra Clutch.
But Locke does so only for an instant, showing incredible recovery ability when she launches the Icelandic Amazon into the air and THUMPS her into the deck with a slam out of the Clutch.
Cobra Clutch Slam ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=wL13_MKELRQ )
Astrid’s body is POUNDED into the deck and she remains down and stunned. However, with the abuse Locke’s taken and the adrenaline used to pull off the counter, Ashley’s face down and motionless next to the Stranger.
‘This is awesome’ chants from the crowd stir both parties and it’s a race to see who can get to their feet first. It’s a veritable tie. But Astrid’s the first to attack, swinging a scythe-like clothesline at Locke’s clavicle. Ashley ducks the destructive swing and again a swing-and-miss pays dividends. The former tag champ cinches a bearhug around the waist of the mountainous Icelandic grappler from behind. Doing what few in FAWN could likely manage, Ashley uses her tight embrace to vault the champ heavenward, falling back and delivering White’s head and shoulders to a thumping collision with the canvas with a Release German Suplex.
The momentum of the impact sends Astrid tumbling over to her chest. But to Ashley’s wide-eyed concern, White rises to her feet almost immediately, getting up as quickly as the Black Courtier, shaking off the challenger’s offense like it’s a minor inconvenience. The same can’t be said when a furious Locke follows with a Big Boot to Astrid’s jaw that lays out the Arctic Assassin, White left in a shellshocked spreadeagle.
Smelling the Intercontinental title within her reach, Locke dives on the insensate Stranger in a crossbody, hooking an incredibly long leg, pulling the knee toward Astrid’s chin for the…
ONE…
TWO…
White shoves Ashley off emphatically, the Black Courtier looking in amazement at Long as if to ask what do I have to do? Craig shrugs and holds up two fingers.
Locke sinks her nails into Astrid’s blonde locks and with considerable effort ‘guides’ White to her feet. She dips and scoops Astrid onto her right shoulder, also quite an endeavor for anyone under the best of conditions. As Ashley is, she almost collapses under the effort but maintains her balance long enough to stumble a few steps to a corner and drop the pit of White’s knees over the top rope on either side of the buckles. The Black Courtier locks Astrid’s legs, tucking her toe tips under the middle ropes, placing the Stranger in the biggest Tree of Woe FAWN is ever likely to see.
With her boots at the ready, Ashley scrapes the soles across the champ’s face as a prelude of the ferocity to come.
“You may be an Arctic Amazon, but I’m a goddess made flesh!” Locke informs emphatically.
With that said, she jogs to the opposite corner and spins into a sprint at her fidgeting target. Astrid can’t find a way free before Ashley leaps into a baseball slide of a dropkick, the impact rocking the Stranger’s braincase back with a violent whip that draws a reflexive ‘ooooh’ from the Mania crowd.
Rising to her feet, Ashley unhooks the ragdolled titleholder’s legs and Astrid tumbles into a jumble of limbs and torso. Locke grabs a wrist and pulls White out of the heap she’s become. But instead of going for the pin, she hauls the Arctic Assassin to her feet, shoving White chest-first into the buckles recently used to form Iceland’s only tree, the tundra-filled country usually tree-free.
This time Ashley shows her strength in lifting Astrid to a stance first on the bottom rope, then with a huge grunting heave, to the middle ropes. Joining her, Locke wraps her arms around Astrid’s long, lean midriff. Usually, the former Goddess of Love likes to take her victims to the top of Olympus for her signature Love from on High but with Astrid’s size, the second rope would have to do. Gathering her reserves, she tries to lift the champion off her unsteady perch and deliver her to the canvas with a semi-superplex.
But Astrid’s locked a white-knuckle grip (pun intended) around the top cable. Frustrated at White’s continued show of resistance, Locke releases her hug to send hammer forearms to the back of the champ’s skull. Grip loosened, Ashley embraces and HEAVES the Stranger overhead, delivering Astrid to the deck. The landing shakes the ring and perhaps the course of the IC title’s history.
Locke’s also shaken by her landing. It takes a few seconds for her to crawl to the soon-to-be former champion and drop across her foe in a lateral press for the title-winning…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Astrid throws a shoulder up convincingly, if at the last possible moment, sending Ashley rolling to her back. Her hands reflexively move to her flaxen locks. Head in those hands, staring at the rafters, Ashley must be wondering what type of creature she’s fighting, no mere mortal she.
But the former Aphrodite has a couple arrows left in her quiver. Showing the strain of the fight with the Icelandic Amazon, Ashley struggles to get Astrid up for the end game. Still, she manages. Standing beside White, Asley drops a limp arm of the Stranger over her far shoulder and wraps her near arm around the muscular thigh of her foe. With a loud grunt, she tries to elevate Astrid for Love at First Sight to end the champion’s resistance once and for all.
Love at First Sight ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=6q-7JwUo8jk )
Sure enough the statuesque blonde bundles the champ up onto her shoulders and loops one arm around the back of her head. But those long limbs of White come into play once again, the Scandinavian flexing one knee up to drive the point into Ashley’s temple. The unorthodox shot is enough to send Locke staggering sideways but she regains her footing, powering up and lifting Astrid up off her shoulders before the inevitable head-first plunge into the canvas.
…Or perhaps it isn’t so inevitable. As a last desperate attempt Astrid reaches one long arm out, managing to snatch a grip of the nearest top rope even as she’s lifted skywards. The leverage is enough to briefly counteract gravity, the Stranger pulling herself sideways away from Locke’s clutches to land messily but far more safely on her feet.
Ashley seems distinctly unhappy about this, scrambling back to her feet while the champion is still leaning on the ropes. “You can run but you can’t escape,” she snarls, taking two fast steps towards her prey and bending to deliver yet another shot from Cupid’s Bow. Or at least that might have been the plan, but this time White is ready, stepping forwards to power a knee up into her onrushing face. Locke’s head rears back, killing a lot of the momentum, but she still sprawls forwards into Astrid, the two titanic battlers ending up in a heap of luscious limbs and sweat-matted blonde, tangled into the ropes.
Having stood toe-to-toe since the opening bell and having delivered and received almost everything they could throw at each other, it was no surprise that both blondes finally seemed to be showing some weariness. But as witnesses to this clash of behemoths, the crowds still didn’t seem to be quite satisfied, the noise rising to uncomfortable decibel levels as they encouraged one final crescendo of violence. Unusually, it seemed that Astrid was the fighter who responded to the crowd noise, the champ making it upright while Ashley was still on her knees and taking a few stagger steps back to buy herself some space. As soon as the Black Courtier reached a semblance of verticality she swept forwards, spinning with one foot up at murder height.
Icebreaker (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O4zJwRi4NYk )
None of the Stranger’s usual grace is on display with the strike, instead she just uses her momentum to plough the sole of her boot through Ashley’s temple. The former Deity drops like a bag of cement, ending on her back blinking up to the lights. Skidding to a stop a few feet away, White allows herself just a second to wearily drop her head and then wills herself back upright, standing to her full height and turning with a focused fury burning in those grey-green eyes.
Reaching down to grab two handfuls of the other blonde’s mane, the Arctic Assassin hauls upwards, dragging Ashley to some semblance of verticality and then ducking to lift up further. There’s a notable wobble in her legs as she lifts the New Yorker into a fireman’s carry, and for a second it looks like she might lose her grip, Locke thrashing her body in an attempt to engineer her own miraculous escape. But it seems that luck and time are not on her side, White pushing up through her legs, and powering her burden out into the void. Ashley falls the full six feet, landing on the back of her noggin between the champion’s splayed legs.
Fear Itself (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LEvjRW8KyZw )
Keeping a tight hold of those gorgeously tanned legs, White leans forward in her seat and pushes down. Locke finds herself shoulders down and ass up, the crowd counting along with Craig Long as he slaps the matt for…
ONE
TWO
THRNOOOOOO!
Someway, somehow, Ashley manages to find some final reserve of energy, bucking up through her hips and shoving her legs out from the pinfall. She flops over onto her back, chest heaving in the tight confines of her top, eyes open but unfocused. Sitting above her head, Astrid seems almost as devastated, eyes wide with surprise written with unusual expressiveness across her face. For just an instant, her gaze shifts to Craig Long, her almost superhuman composure finally seeming to be at its limits. But after a baleful gaze she manages to refocus, scrabbling to her knees and taking a mount over her prey.
Scrambling around, the Stranger takes a seat on Locke’s rapidly rising and falling chest. The FAWNatics prepare to once again raise the roof at the prospect of the champion’s positioning shifting further to deploy a very FAWN-style smother. But their hopes are dashed along with Locke’s when Astrid brings one long porcelain leg up and around to rest her shin across the throat of the semiconscious Deity. Crunching forwards, White grabs two handfuls of blonde mane and rolls to her back, uncurling her body while pouring crushing pressure on Ashley’s windpipe.
Whiteout (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mAkSnpX85Fg )
Deprived of what little air remains in her lungs, Locke immediately begins to flail, legs kicking, hands swinging wildly around her. After a few seconds she manages to find a bit of purchase, her legs tucking up, hands pushing off the rough canvas in a desperate attempt to lift herself free. For a few seconds she’s able to do so, lifting Astrid up until only her upper back was touching the canvas. But just as she did so White uncurled her other leg, lifting it up and then SLAMMING the heel of her boot down into the Black Courtier’s spine.
Suddenly, the escape attempt collapses again, Ashley’s torso slumping forwards again onto the mat. And now the Stranger’s teeth are bared, White pouring all her remaining reserves into squeezing the last remaining life out of Ashley Locke. The big blonde’s thrashing continues for only a few more seconds, those lithe limbs slowing to a patter and then slowly, steadily to a still.
Watching on with a look of concern, Long waits only a second or two more before checking his charge. “Ashley, are you still with us?” he asks, receiving nothing in response. His last check is to lift one hand, watching it drop lifelessly…
ONCE
TWICE
THREE TIMES!
Turning to signal for the bell, Long is quick to scramble over to the champion, tapping rapidly on her leg. “You win Astrid, now let her go!” he demanded. White’s teeth were still bared, the Arctic Assassin clearly still focused only on ending her challenger’s night. But after some more insistent tapping she unlocks her legs, shoving the now-snoozing New Yorker to one side and dropping to her back in a damp and messy starfish.
A few deep breaths are enough for the Champion to regain her cool, White sitting up and moving slowly and gingerly into a cross-legged position, head bowed. As the FAWNamania fans went wild around, she remained a pool of quiet calm, eyes open, watching as the ringside staff hurried her title back in her direction. By now Craig Long was familiar with the Icelander’s odd preferences around her title, reaching down to spread the belt out in front of her, Astrid moving not a muscle in thanks or acceptance.
For a few more long heartbeats she remained statue-still, simply staring at the title belt spread in front of her. And then finally she seemed to have paused for long enough, that long body unfurling again, scooping the belt up to hobble across to the nearest corner. Ascending carefully to the second buckle, the Stranger lifted one arm up and rolled her head sideways, her fingers spreading to form the tilted ‘A’ sigil again, turning to focus down the nearest camera as the FAWN feed cut to the penultimate set of commercials.